“Oh, my father would kill me!”
“I rode with your father on the way to the Udalyn Valley. He's a wonderful man!”
“He is a lovely man, and he'd still kill me! This hair is a Tremel family heirloom, he tells me. ‘My father and his father's father went into battle with this red hair flowing in the sunlit breeze…’” It was a fair approximation of Teriyan's rough inn-talk, an imaginary ale clasped in one hand.
Sofy laughed delightedly. “You're exactly like Sasha described! What a delight…we're going to have some stories to-”
“Uh…girls?” Jaryd interrupted from the doorway. Both young women turned, each with a hand on the other's arm in midconversation. Women were astonishing sometimes, they could establish love or hate at first sight. “I hate to spoil something so beautiful as friendship, but I think I'm missing something here. When last I saw Princess Sofy she was about to agree to wed some horrible shit in the Bacosh…someone by the name of Arrosh, I recall, Regent Arrosh's first son and heir. There was this whole war thing depending on it, and the future of Lenayin or something. Now she's turned up here in Baerlyn in a storm, a long way from where she should be, with no apparent guard or escort. What am I missing?”
Sofy blinked at him, then looked at Lynette. “Is he always this sarcastic?”
“Oh sarcasm is an improvement,” Lynette returned drily. “Usually he just snarls, or communicates in animal grunts.”
Lynette refused to let Sofy tell her tale until she'd had some food. Sofy ate ravenously, sitting before the fireplace, her clothes only a little damp thanks to the heavy cloak she'd worn. Jaryd and Lynette ate too, as the fire leaped and snarled.
Sofy, Jaryd noted, looked different from the way he remembered her. How was that possible, when it had only been a month and a half? She wore different pants and jacket than she had on the ride to the Udalyn Valley. Those had been hurriedly borrowed from the spare clothes of men in the column, clothes intended for younger brothers or cousins. These were tailored, the pants a thick, soft cloth with a leather belt and a light black leather jacket with designs and filigree stitching weaving down its front. She even had a lowlands-style hair clasp to hold her ponytail, although it was carved with Lenay craftsmanship.
Lynette noticed too. “Where do I get a jacket like that?” she said enviously between mouthfuls.
“It is rather nice, isn't it?” Sofy balanced her plate on her lap and moved to the edge of her chair, offering Lynette a feel of the leather. “I've been riding quite a bit since I returned to Baen-Tar, and I found that dear Sasha was right after all-it's just impossible in dresses. But of course there are no riding clothes for women. No women ride save for you and Sasha. I had these made especially, so that I had something nice to wear while riding.”
“And what's made you so interested in riding?” Lynette pressed, clearly fascinated.
Jaryd could tell what she was thinking; another woman in Lenayin who rides! And not just any woman, but Princess Sofy!
“Well, I became very attached to my little horse, Dary,” said Sofy with a private smile at Jaryd. Jaryd remembered Dary well, he'd been tasked with protecting the horse and his royal rider for much of the journey north, being capable of little else with his broken arm. “I went to see him in the stables every day, and of course he needed exercise, so I would ask stablehands if they could take him riding…but it was so sad not to be riding him myself. And after a few days back in Baen-Tar, facing the grim displeasure of the world in general,” and here her tone took on a sombre maturity, but only for a moment, “I began to miss the open fields and the wind in my face. There's nothing more amazing than trying something entirely new that you never thought you'd be good at or interested in, and discovering that you're both.”
“And the king let you ride?”
“The king,” Sofy said primly, the sobriety returning, “is not the problem. Koenyg is the problem. Koenyg blames me for the rebellion, in part. After a few animated discussions, I grew tired of arguing with him and sought refuge elsewhere.” She took another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully, then washed it down with some wine. Jaryd might have blinked at that, too. Before the ride north, Sofy had never drunk wine in her life. “He forbad me from riding when he heard of the preparations I made with the tailors. He said it would be a disgrace to the crown and a reminder to all Lenayin of the rebellion and my part in it.”
“And what did you do?” Lynette asked breathlessly.
Sofy shrugged, but gave a faint smile. “I ignored him. I truly don't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner.”
“Did that work?”
“Oh, wonderfully!” Sofy said with enthusiasm. “I mean, what can he do? If I'm unhappy or upset about something, it doesn't take very long for the staff, servants, stablehands and all to be spreading rumours throughout Baen-Tar, and those rumours spread to the cityfolk who then carry it all over Lenayin. I told Koenyg that the only way he could stop me from riding was to lock me in my chambers. I mean, I'm about to be wed to the heir of Regent Arrosh-” with a meaningful glance at Jaryd, “and the future of Lenayin depends on it…” She raised her eyebrows as Jaryd smiled faintly, “and the heir to the throne and the princess in question are having a blazing row, and now he's gone and locked her in her chambers with armed guards to restrain her from doing or saying anything she shouldn't…I mean, can you imagine? It would look terrible, just as he's trying to recover people's faith after a rebellion, too. He dare not lay a hand on me, and he knows it.
“So we compromised. I would ride when and where I pleased, and he would give me a Royal Guard escort to ensure my safety. And, wouldn't you know it, it worked wonderfully. People were actually pleased to see me…I mean, they don't get to see princesses very often, we're always holed up in the palace. So I would ride through the fields and farmers would wave, and their children would chase me, and then I'd ride through Baen-Tar town and people would actually come out and cheer. I began stopping to talk with them sometimes, and that went down very well…some had complaints or petitions, but others were just pleased to talk. Recently I went out to Mesheldyn to see the new temple they're building on the king's coin, and I found the temple looked grand, but the irrigation channels from the river were falling apart and farmers were complaining their water was low and crops were dying, so I told Damon about it and he's seeing it fixed.
“So Koenyg doesn't bother me about the riding any more, I'm sure his spies tell him the people like it and it seems to be helping them forget the rebellion, not remind them of it. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried it himself, just riding out and meeting people. Gods know it would do him some good.”
It was the same Sofy Lenayin, Jaryd decided, she'd just grown up a bit. She could still talk endlessly without prompting, and her eyes and voice would sparkle at every point of fascination, which with Sofy meant several times a sentence. And yet, it seemed there was something different about her manner, even if her character remained unchanged.
“Good spirits,” Lynette exclaimed, her eyes wide, “you're probably the only person in Lenayin who'd dare defy Prince Koenyg!”
“Someone has to,” Sofy said cheerfully. “And he's not so scary really. Lenay people just have this way of building everyone into a legend, good or bad. Koenyg's just Koenyg and, however annoying, he's still my brother.”
Doubt, Jaryd realised. Sofy's character was the same as he recalled, but she was missing something, and that something was doubt. The girl he remembered from the ride north had been quiet and uncertain, her eyes darting, worried that she was making an inconvenience of herself simply by being there…which she was. But that girl had also ridden in a rebellion, slept on hard ground, shared meals with warriors, cared for her horse, minded a pair of headstrong Udalyn children, learned as much as she could of a forbidden language, and tended the grievously wounded upon the field of battle. She'd also risked death, defied her father, drunk wine and had even got her hands dirty in a Udalyn garden. Such experiences might change a girl, even a princess. They had certainly changed some men.