“You’re lucky you’re not noble, then,” said Rizu, a shadow passing over her face. “We’re supposed to think our cages are open air.”
The supper bell chimed at last. Daja was the first to get up and leave the room. As she passed Rizu, she linked her arm through the woman’s, drawing her along with her. “Come away with us, then,” she offered casually. “Live without cages.”
Rizu threw her head back to laugh. The light gilded the line from her chin down to her bosom. Daja looked at that gilding, and away, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.
They sent up a tray of food from supper when Sandry refused to come downstairs. She poked at it with her fork, far too angry to eat. She kept trying to sort out her feelings, but they continued to tangle. How can I feel selfish for yelling at my friend, proud because I finally said something, humiliated at the idea that I might be carried off a prize sheep, frustrated because I hadn’t unraveled those disgusting kidnappers all the way, ashamed of myself for sulking, and homesick? she asked herself, stacking vegetables on top of meat for entertainment’s sake. All at once?
I hate it here, she decided, pushing away from the table. I hate how you never know what people are really thinking. I hate being a prize sheep.
Someone tapped on her door. “Come in,” she called, thinking that Gudruny had come to collect the tray.
Fin opened the door and stepped into the room. “We missed you at supper, Lady Sandry,” he said. “Ambros told us what happened.”
Oh, dear, thought Sandry as he came over to kneel by her chair. He’s going to try to court me.
Fin caught her hand. “Forgive me that I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said, his blue eyes blazing. “I should have been. I’d have sent those dogs on their way before they could set so much as a wrinkle of worry on your brow. I’ll do it now, if you ask it. Ambros can give me a couple of squads and I’ll find those curs and bring them back for your judgment.”
“That’s very good of you, though I am certain they are long gone by now,” Sandry replied gently. “But truly, I needed no defenders. I can take care of myself, Fin. And Cousin Ambros needs the men for plowing.”
“Plowing, over your honor and safety? I knew Ambros was little better than a bookkeeper, but what an insult! And you shouldn’t have to defend yourself!” he protested. “You are a gentle creature who must not be touched by sordidness like that! From now on, I’m your devoted servant. My sword is at your command. And if any more hedge-knights distress you, I’ll make sure they get a lesson they’ll remember for what’s left of their lives.” He kissed Sandry’s hand fervently. “Unlike them, I care only for your happiness.”
Sandry couldn’t help it. Her mouth curled with disdain. “And my moneybags?”
Fin kissed her hand again. “Don’t interest me in the least,” he assured her. “You don’t see something precious and beautiful and consider its cost—or, at least, a true nobleman does not. Leave that for the merchants, and the Traders. Those of us of rank know what real value is.”
She got rid of him finally, after two hand kisses and more fervent promises of protection. He waited until after dark to offer to go recapture those men, Sandry thought dismally as she wiped her hand with her cloth napkin. Oh, I’m not being fair. He’s been fidgeting ever since we came—no doubt he wants to go kidnapper-chasing.
Briefly she remembered Dymytur’s furious, red face as the man had shouted at her. For an instant she fought the urge to call Fin back and to order Ambros to give him enough men to capture Dymytur and his uncle. It was harder than she had expected to resist the temptation.
Humiliation again, Sandry thought glumly. I hate uncomfortable emotions. They’re so ... Her stomach cramped. Sandry wrapped her arms around her waist and thought, Uncomfortable.
She had managed a spoonful of stewed apples when someone else knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said, thinking this must be Gudruny.
Jak entered, a smile in his brown eyes and on his handsome lips.
Mila of the Grain, have mercy on me, thought Sandry as she gave Jak her most polite, chilly smile.
“I came to see how you did,” he said easily, digging his hands into the pockets of his light indoor coat. “I missed you at supper.” Sandry had noticed that, in the jockeying at mealtimes, Jak had most often gotten himself into the chair next to Sandry, being smoother and more adept at distracting others than Fin. “Ambros told us what happened,” Jak continued. “You should write to Her Imperial Majesty.”
“I thought she was contemptuous of women who got taken, since she managed to escape when it happened to her,” replied Sandry.
“Well, she’ll approve of you taking care of the matter yourself, but it’s not just that. May I sit?”
His eyes were so open and friendly that she caught herself gesturing to a chair before she’d really considered it. Jak dragged the chair over beside hers and sat, leaning forward to brace his arms on his knees.
“You are all right, then?” he asked. “No aftermath jitters, no fiery wish for revenge now that you’ve had time to reflect?”
Sandry smiled. “None at all. Such men are their own worst enemy.”
“You certainly deserve better,” Jak replied. “A man of culture and refinement. Someone who can make you laugh.”
“But I don’t want to be married,” Sandry pointed out reasonably. “I’m happy being single.”
“But think of the freedom you’d have as a married woman!” protested Jak. “You can ride wherever you like—within limits, of course. There’s crime everywhere. But on your own lands you’d be safe. You’d have your lord’s purse to draw on, his lands and castles and jewels to add to your own, an important place at court ... what?” he demanded us Sandry gave way to giggles. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because I’m not interested in any of those things, Jak,” she explained when she could speak. “I know other girls are, but I have all I need when it comes to wealth, and if I were as poor as a Mire mouse, I would be able to earn my way with my loom and my needles. With Uncle Vedris I am important at court. You’re sweet, truly you are, but you don’t know me in the least.”
Jak looked down. “And I suppose that gardener, that boy, does?” he asked quietly.
“Briar?” Sandry cried, shocked. “You think I prefer—please! He’s my brother!”
“I hadn’t noted the family resemblance,” Jak said.
“Well, it’s there,” Sandry replied. “I would no more kiss Briar than ... oh, please! It’s just too grotesque to even think about!”
Jak grinned at her. “Well, that’s a relief, at least.” He must have heard the genuine disgust in Sandry’s voice. “Look, just forget what I said,” he continued. “We can still be friends?”
“Yes, of course,” Sandry told him, offering her hand. Jak clasped it with a smile, then left her alone.
He’s sweet, she thought. If I wanted a husband ...
Suddenly she saw Shan’s face in her mind’s eye: the easy smile, the wicked twinkle in his eyes, the firm, smiling mouth.
Nonsense, she told herself strictly. “I don’t want a husband. Any husband.” She said it aloud, in the hope that it would sound more real that way.
She shook her head with a sigh and put all of the dinner things back on the tray. She opened the door, then fetched the tray and set it in the hall. With that chore taken care of, she closed and locked her bedroom door. Gudruny and her children had their own door to their bedroom, which meant Sandry could have a good night’s sleep without one more interruption, from anyone. I’ll write to Uncle and set a date for my return home, she told herself, taking out paper and pen. After that, I know I’ll sleep well.