But Linnea . . . Linnea was different.
I have done them—a nd myself—n o honor in this.
Had the world gone otherwise, had Regis not been born Heir to Hastur and therefore under constant pressure to produce sons, would things have been different? Even then, Danilo told himself savagely, there would have been other people who loved Regis. How could they not?
But not as I have. Not as I do.
Not as he loves me.
Was it too late? Had he lost everything they shared because of one difficulty?
A tap at the door roused him. A servant came to summon him for dinner. Danilo finished making himself presentable.
A small group of men and women, most with the flaxen hair and distinctive features of the Ridenow, stood talking in the near end of the hall. DomValdir was not in attendance, being back at Thendara, but Francisco came forward to greet Danilo. Francisco, although more confident in his own home, looked younger and less arrogant. Danilo wondered how much of what he had seen in Thendara had been Valdir’s influence.
“ DomDanilo Syrtis-Ardais,” Francisco said, with a friendly smile, “allow me to present my cousin, DamiselaBettany Sabrina-Ysabet Ridenow.”
A young woman stepped forward and curtsied. In her brocade gown, her flaxen hair arranged in ringlets over her shoulders, she looked very young. A second glance showed her to be well grown but excessively thin. The vacuous expression in her eyes contrasted with a hint of stubbornness in her mouth and chin.
“S’dia shaya,”she said, her eyes lowered.
Danilo bowed and returned the appropriate greeting. She hesitated as if unsure what to do next. He said, meaning only kindness, “I am paxman to Lord Hastur, and he has sent me here to escort you to Thendara for your wedding and to prepare you as best I can for your new life.”
“But why did he not come for me himself?”
Francisco looked aghast. “We have explained that to you, chiya.Please excuse my cousin, DomDanilo, she is—this is all very new to her.”
“So I see,” Danilo replied dryly. Poor Rinaldo,he couldn’t help thinking as Francisco led her away to the table. Was the girl simple or merely ignorant and ill-mannered?
The dinner itself was small for the occasion, for the Ridenow, like other great houses of the Comyn, were much reduced in numbers. About a third of the guests were neighbors, holders of small estates, and clearly excited to be invited.
As the meal progressed, Danilo noted traces of economy. Despite the costly imported goods in his own chamber, the carpets were worn almost through, the wine was not the best, the room was almost too cold for comfort, and there were not enough servants for the number of diners. Another guest might not have noticed, but Regis had taught Danilo to observe details. Lerrys and Geremy had lived richly among the stars without thought to the welfare of their own Domain.
Danilo had been placed some distance from Bettany, making any conversation between them awkward. Instead, he talked with the other men, the women being meek and, for the most part, silent. If this was the way Bettany had been brought up, no wonder she was graceless and inexperienced. She seemed not to have any immediate family present, certainly no female relatives. Throughout the meal, she picked at her food, played with her napkin, and drank more wine than was proper for a young woman.
The talk ranged from the unusually cold weather to the social season in Thendara to oblique questions about how the new Lord Hastur fared and then back to predictions of a bad winter.
After the meal, any hopes Danilo had of a word with Bettany disappeared as an older woman in the plain clothing of a nurse took the girl in charge and swept her from the hall.
“I am sorry to deprive you all of further entertaining news,” Danilo said, bowing to the other men, “but I must see to my horses and my trail guides.”
The Renunciates had set up their camp in the stables. Even without a fire, it was quite snug, warmed by the body heat of the animals and out of the wind and snow. He felt their instant alertness as he entered and asked if they needed anything.
Darilyn stood up. “The horses are resting comfortably. The head groom did his best for them with hot mashes and blankets. The hay is not the best, but there is plenty of it. We have not had to dip into our supply of grain.”
“I am glad of it,” Danilo said. “Is there any reason why we cannot leave for Thendara in the morning?”
The Renunciate offered a small smile. They understood one another. The weather was not bad enough to pin them down here, and the risk of worse would increase every day.
When Danilo returned to main hall, he found Francisco and a few of the men still in conversation. “ DomFrancisco, I trust the damiselawill be ready to leave at dawn.”
Francisco hesitated, and Danilo saw in that moment of panic that the young Ridenow did not have much influence over his cousin’s behavior. Danilo would not have been surprised to learn that Bettany was accustomed to sleeping as late as she liked. It was better to make expectations clear now than to wait until tomorrow morning. Being awakened and dressed at a decent hour, with or without breakfast, would be good for her. He smiled as he headed for his own chamber.
The next morning, the Bloody Sun rose on a cloudless sky. Danilo woke well before dawn, arranged for hot porridge and jacoto be sent to the women in the stables, took his own breakfast in the kitchen, and went about supervising replenishment of trail provisions and the loading of the bride’s dowry as well as her personal possessions. No one questioned his orders. The house steward, an older man whose mouth seemed permanently set in an expression of disapproval, responded with quiet efficiency. Danilo suspected the man was relieved to be rid of the girl and reassured that she would arrive at her destination with no blemish upon her former dwelling. Apparently Bettany was being sent away without a proper chaperone, since the Renunciates provided the necessary female company.
Just as Danilo was finishing his own work and beginning to wonder what he would do if Bettany did not appear, whether he had license to drag her from her bedchamber and throw her over the back of a horse in her nightgown, she rushed into the stable yard. Her nurse and two other women trailed behind. Danilo bade her a good morning but received only a sullen nod. At least her traveling dress had split skirts for riding astride and stout boots housed her feet. A fur-lined cloak completed her ensemble. Sniffling, her nurse thrust a pair of mittens and matching scarf, obviously knitted with care, into her hands.
“Pah! I don’t want those,” Bettany pouted. “They’re for babies!”
“You will want them before the hour is gone, I assure you.” Darilyn looked up from checking the harness on one of the pack animals. With a friendly smile, she took the items and slipped them into the saddlebag of Bettany’s pretty white mare. “Here, let me show you how to check the girths and under the saddle cloth to make sure your horse is comfortable for a long ride.”
Bettany shook her head. “I am a lady and soon to be the wife of a great lord. Such tasks are for servants.”
Danilo expected Darilyn to object, but the Renunciate shrugged. “As you wish. If your saddle slips on the trail or your horse bucks because a wrinkle in her blanket has worn a sore on her back, it is yourhead you will fall upon, not that of a horsegroom.”
Darilyn arranged the riders, taking the lead herself and placing Danilo beside Bettany. They set off through the gates at a brisk walk to warm the horses up.
“Why do you suffer this indignity?” Bettany asked him. “Surely, youshould ride in the position of honor. You are the only man among us, and a Comyn lord. It’s demeaning for you to take orders from a hired servant!”