The Queen's Rising(105)

I shoved him in the arm and said, “I think you have counted your eggs before they hatch, dear brother.”

But the smile he gave me told me otherwise. “I hear Aodhan Morgane is an expert sword master. I should probably practice.”

“All right, enough.” I laughed and nudged him again.

I had not seen Cartier since three days ago in the hall, which already felt like a year. But he was a lord now. He had his people, his lands to restore. I told myself I would not see him until Lannon’s trial, which would come the end of next week. And even so, we would be consumed with the task.

Before Luc could tease me anymore, a group of children ran through the field, searching for him.

“Lord Lucas!” one of the little girls cried excitedly when she spotted him in the shade of the oak. “We found you a lute! It’s in the hall.”

“Oh, excellent!” My brother rose, brushing stray clover buds from his clothes. “Care to join us for some music, Brienna?”

Music made me think of Merei, which made my chest feel far too small for my heart. Yet I smiled and said, “Go on without me, brother. I shall be along shortly.”

He hesitated; I think he was about to ask me again when the little girl boldly grabbed his sleeve and tugged on him, giggling.

“Last one to the courtyard has to eat a rotten egg,” Luc challenged, and the children squealed in delight as they tore across the field, as he chased them all the way to the courtyard.

I waited until I saw that he was, indeed, the last one to the courtyard—I would have loved to see Luc eat a rotten egg—but my heart was still restless. I rose and began to walk toward a copse of trees that grew along the river, Nessie trotting at my side as we followed the silver thread of water, eventually coming to a mossy bank.

I sat in a patch of sun and dipped my fingers to the rapids, trying to identify why I felt a shade of sadness, when I heard his soft tread behind me.

“This was where I married my wife.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Jourdain leaning against a river birch, quietly regarding me.

“No grand celebration?” I asked, and he moved forward, sitting beside me on the moss with a slight grunt, as if his joints were sore.

“No grand celebration,” he said, propping his elbow on his knee. “I married Sive in secret by handfasting, on this riverbank by the light of the moon. Her father didn’t particularly care for me, and she was his one and only daughter. That is why we married in secret.” He smiled as he reminisced, staring into the distance as if his Sive were standing on the other side of the river.

“What was she like? Your wife?” I asked gently.

Jourdain looked down to the water, and then to me. “She was graceful. Passionate. Just. Faithful. You remind me of her.”

My throat tightened as I glanced to the moss. All this time, I worried he would look at me and see Allenach. And yet he looked at me as if I truly were his daughter, as if I had inherited his wife’s attributes and character.

“She would have loved you, Brienna,” he whispered.

The wind rustled the branches above us; golden leaves drifted loose and free, eventually caught by the river to be carried away downstream. I wiped a few tears from my eyes, thinking he would not notice, but not much escapes a father.

“I miss Valenia too,” Jourdain said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t think that I would. But I find myself longing for those vineyards, for that politeness, for a perfectly tailored silk doublet. I even miss those eels upon sops.”

I laughed, and a few more tears escaped me. Eels upon sops was disgusting.

“I know that you still have family there,” he continued, serious once more. “I know you may choose to return to Valenia. But always know that you have a home here, with Luc and me.”

I met his gaze as his words settled like gentle rain over me. I had a home, a family, and friends on both sides of the channel. I thought of my brave Merei, who had departed Maevana to return to Valenia, despite my begging her to stay. She still had obligations, a four-year contract with Patrice Linville to uphold. But when those four years were over . . .

I had shared my idea with her, hoping it would eventually draw her back. It was a purpose that had begun to blossom in the far reaches of my mind, one I was almost afraid to speak aloud. But Merei had smiled when I told her; she even said she might return for such a purpose.

“Now,” Jourdain said, rising to his feet, offering his hand to pull me up along with him. “There is a horse saddled and ready for you.”

“For what?” I asked, letting him guide me from the copse of trees.

“Lord Morgane’s holding is only a short ride from here,” Jourdain explained, and I swear I saw a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Why don’t you ride there now, invite him for a celebratory feast in our hall tonight?”

I had to hold back another laugh, but he saw the helpless crinkling of my nose. I was surprised by how he knew it too, this irresistible draw between Cartier and me. As if it were obvious for the world to see when I stood near my former master, like the desire was a catching flame between our bodies. But perhaps I shouldn’t be shocked; it had been evident even before the solstice, before I had come to wholly realize it.

Jourdain led me to where he had the horse waiting, in the cool shadows of the stables. I pulled myself up in the saddle, felt the wind sigh golden with hay and leather in my hair as I looked down at my father.