Twelve

Taking Marravae back into the camp was possibly the hardest thing Gaeleath had ever done. He wanted to put her on a horse and send her home but there was no possible way to do that without letting the Cuphisian know he was aware of what had been done to his sister. His father would counsel him to keep a cool head. 

If Myrin feigned innocence convincingly enough it was possible the arrangement would be permitted to stand. No. The wager and the hunt would give his sister the opportunity to be free of the man permanently. The diplomats could mend whatever rift was caused-

Marravae pressed closer to his side pulling him from his thoughts as the Cuphisian Prince approached. She’d never flinched from anything in all her life and the thought of her being afraid made his fury solidify into an icy fist around his heart.

“My dove…” Myrin held out his hand to her and then drew it back looking at Gaeleath in startlement, “You look as dour as Volas.”

“My sister was poisoned.” He bit back the rest of what he wanted to say. 

“She should be taken back back to the palace. The hunt will have to wait.” The concern in his voice almost sounded genuine.

“No.” Marravae straightened herself but kept her arm around her brother’s waist. “I’m well enough and there is a wager…” 

“Volas will forgive-”

“If you forfeit, I will take Marravae and ride for the Vimt.” The Arek spoke firmly. “Her brother may join me.”

“Her Highness should be well enough to enjoy the spectacle.” Myrin’s eyes hardened. “She and I will have something to celebrate-”

“No woman of Cemir will take a husband who breaks his word.” Marravae spoke firmly. “A wager is a promise.”

The Cuphisian studied her face for a moment, “If that’s what you require, my dove. You’ll still stand next to me?”

“No.” Volas answered for her. “She isn’t well enough to leap out of the way if you fail. Marravae will watch from the safety of a tree. I insist.”

With a deep exhale she inclined her head, “He’s capable but for once I’m not.”

“Sit and watch, sister.” Gaeleath gave her a tight smile, “I’ll even try to kill a boar again today myself. Watching me fail might cheer you.”

“I’m never happy when you fail, Gaeleath.” She kissed his cheek and his smile warmed as she whispered, “You’re capable of everything I am when you put your mind to it.”

“I will do my best.”

“If you need instruction…” Volas inclined his head, “I’m competent with the spear.”

Gaeleath smiled wryly. “After breakfast you and my sister can make certain I haven’t forgotten anything.”

The meal, cold roasted boar, eggs, and soft slightly sour bread that looked like it had been brought from the palace, was eaten in relative silence.  Myrin seemed pensive and watched Marravae closely. For her part, Marravae tried to put on an unconcerned face. As her brother, however, Gaeleath could see that she would have preferred to be anywhere else and her usually robust appetite was lacking.

Volas finished first and fetched a pair of spears. Leaving his plate next to Marravae, Gaeleath took one up and crouched into the first position they’d been taught. He threw his spear and sank it nearly up to the quillons into the unoccupied log.

The Arek grunted in surprise. “Well done.”

“Marravae, my dove, I need to speak with you privately.” Myrin stepped behind Marravae.

“You’ve had enough private time with my sister.” Gaeleath crossed to pull the spear free, managing it in two sharp yanks as he kept his eyes on the Cuphisian Prince.

“She was willing-”

His sister cut the man off sharply. “You put something in the-”

“In your brother’s drink, my dove!” Myrin moved to kneel in front of Marravae. “I wanted him to sleep deeply so that I could slip out and have some time with you alone. That you might drink the glass of Zophin I poured for him never occurred to me. I don’t want you to be angry or to regret letting your intended into your bed.” He tried to take hold of her hands but Marravae pulled them away looking ill.

“I don’t feel well. I want to lie down.” 

“Use my tent.” Volas pushed Myrin aside as he stood and guided Marravae into the far tent.

“Gaeleath, I need you to believe me,” Myrin approached, “It was foolish, and you can be angry with me for trying to give you something to make you sleep deeply, but I didn’t poison her or you. Be reasonable-”

“Reasonable?” He realized he had pointed the spear at Myrin as the Prince’s hands came up. Gaeleath pointed it across himself as Myrin stepped back. “If it had been Myrae, how reasonable would you feel right now? If I had tried to put something in your drink and she drank it? If it made her foggy, pliable, and she woke violently ill only remembering bits and pieces of the night before?”