I had no answer to that. In truth, it was a rock-hard sympathy she gave me.
“I’m sorry,” she said again when some little time had passed. “You must think me heartless. I know my cousin Deerkin does. But all I can say to him is what I’ve said to you. I do not understand. And I cannot approve. I will always think Old Blood a magic better left alone.”
“If I had a choice, perhaps I would feel the same,” I replied. “But I am as I was born.”
“As is the Prince,” she said after a long moment’s consideration. “Eda save us all, and keep his secret safe.”
“Amen to that,” I said heavily. “And mine, as well.” I gave her a sideways glance.
“I do not think Lord Golden would betray you. He values you far too highly as a servant,” she replied. It was a reassurance that she never even considered I might be thinking of her tongue wagging. A moment later, she set my thoughts on a different trail when she delicately added, “And may my bloodlines not become common talk.”
I replied as she had. “I am certain that as Lord Golden values you, both as a friend and as the Queen’s devoted Huntswoman, he would never breathe a word that might discredit or endanger you.”
She gave me a sidelong glance, then asked shyly, “As his friend? Do you think so?”
Something in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth warned me not to answer that question lightly. “So it would appear to me,” I said, somewhat stiffly.
Her shoulders lifted as if I had offered her a gift. “And you have known him well and long,” she embroidered my words. I refused to confirm that speculation. She looked away from me for a time, and after that we did not speak much, but she hummed as she rode. She seemed light of heart. Ahead of me, I marked that the Prince’s voice had faltered to a halt. Lord Golden chatted on, but the Prince rode looking ahead, and silent.
Buckkeep Castle was a dark silhouette on the black stone cliffs against a bank of dark clouds when we reached Buckkeep Town. The Prince had pulled his hood well up over his face and dropped back to ride beside me. Laurel rode by Lord Golden now, and seemed well pleased with the change. Dutiful and I spoke little, each busy with our own thoughts. Our journey back to Buckkeep would take us up the steep path to the lesser-used West Gate. As we had left, so would we enter. We passed once more the scattering of cottages at the bottom of the climb. When I saw the first drape of greenery on a door lintel, I thought it was but an overeager celebrant. But then I saw another, and as we rode on, we eventually came to a group of workmen setting up a celebratory arch. Nearby, townsfolk busily plaited ivy with heffelwhite vines, ready to drape the arch. “A bit early, aren’t you?” Lord Golden called to them congenially as we passed.
A guardsman spat and laughed aloud. “Early, milord? We’re damn near too late! All thought the storms would delay the betrothal ship, but the Outislanders seemed to have used them to fly here with the wind’s own wings. The treaty galleys arrived at noon with the Princess’s honor guard. We’ve heard she’ll make landfall before the sun sets, and all must be ready.”
“Really?” Lord Golden enthused. “Well, I dare not be late for the festivities.” He turned his smile on Laurel. “My lady, I fear we must ride as swift as we can. You lads may follow at your own pace.” And with that he set his heels to Malta, and she plunged nimbly forward. Laurel matched him. The Prince and I accompanied, but at a more sedate gait. As we trailed them up the winding road to Buckkeep Castle, Lord Golden and Laurel continued up the main road and entered at the gate. But in a thicker patch of woods, I turned Myblack’s head from the path and motioned for the Prince to follow. There was little more than a game trail, but I pushed Myblack through the tangles of brush, along a path I scarcely remembered, and Dutiful fell behind. We shadowed the keep wall until we came to the place the wolf had shown me so long ago. Thick thistles still covered that old breach in the wall, but I had my suspicions. In the shadow of the keep wall, we dismounted.
“What is this place?” he demanded. He pushed his hood back and looked about curiously.
“A place to wait. I will not chance taking you in either of the gates. Chade will send someone to meet us here, and I am certain he will devise a way for you to reenter the keep so it may seem that you have never left. You have seen fit to spend these days in meditation, and now you will emerge to meet your betrothed. None need be the wiser.”
“I see,” he replied bleakly. Overhead the clouds were growing thicker, and the wind began to pick up. “What do we do now?” the Prince asked softly.
“We wait.”
“Waiting.” He sighed. “If a man can become perfect at something by practicing it, I should be perfect at waiting by now.”
He sounded both tired and older than his years.
“At least you’re home now,” I said comfortingly.
“Yes.” He did not sound glad. After a moment, he asked, “It seems a year since I was last at Buckkeep, and it is not even a full month. I remember lying on my bed and counting the days I still had before the new moon, before I had to face this. Then for a time I thought I might never have to face it. It seemed strange, all day today, to know I was riding back to my old life, that I would pick up all the threads, all the details, and go on as if I had never left. It was overwhelming. All day, riding back here, I promised myself a quiet day or two. I wanted some time alone, to decide how much I had changed. Now… this very night the delegation arrives from the Out Islands to formalize my betrothal. This night my mother and the Outislander nobles set the course of the rest of my life.”
I tried to smile, but I felt I was delivering him to his execution. I had come near as a knife’s edge to a similar fate once. I found something to say. “You must be very excited to meet your bride.”
He gave me a look. “Apprehensive is perhaps a better word. There is something rather dreadful about meeting the girl you will marry when you know that your own preferences have absolutely no bearing on the situation.” He gave a small, sour laugh. “Not that I did so well when I thought I was choosing someone for myself.” He sighed. “She’s eleven. Eleven summers old.” He looked away from me. “What shall I discuss with her? Dolls? Embroidery lessons?” He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the cold stone wall. “I do not think they even teach women to read in the Out Islands. Nor men, for that matter.”
“Oh.” I struggled desperately but could think of no other words. To say that fourteen was not that much older than eleven seemed a cruelty. We waited in silence.
With no warning at all, the threatened rain suddenly sluiced down on us. It began abruptly, one of those downpours that soak a man and fills his ears with the sound of falling water. I was almost grateful that it made conversation impossible. We huddled miserably, the water streaming down the horses who stood with their heads hanging.
We were both completely drenched and cold when Chade appeared to escort the Prince back into the castle. He spoke little, a hasty greeting in the cascading downpour and a promise to see me soon, and then they were gone. I grinned sourly to myself as they left me there in the wet. It was as I had expected. The old fox had not closed off this secret back door, but he was not going to show the entrance to me. I drew a deep breath. Well. My errand was done. I’d brought the Prince safely back to Buckkeep Castle in time for his betrothal. I tried on emotions. Triumph. Joy. Elation. No. Wet, tired, and hungry. Cold to my bones. Alone. Empty.