Lavinia shrugged a shoulder. “They were nice enough. I did enjoy being so close to the ocean, but six months was more than long enough for the novelty of that to wear off. Everyone was very friendly, and there were lots of galas and things to keep all us young people entertained.”

  “But?” Kincaid pressed, stretching his long legs out before him as he joined his wife on another settle.

  Henrik, left standing awkwardly, elected to perch on a wooden chest rather than sit beside Lavinia.

  “But…toward the end of my stay,” Lavinia continued dryly, “it became obvious that there was another reason for my enforced visit, one Mother hadn’t seen fit to mention to me.” She saw that all three of her listeners were watching her expectantly, and she flicked her auburn waves back over her shoulder in a defiant motion. “They were all scheming for me to marry Rodney, our cousin. And Mother is still sour that I didn’t go along with that plan like the docile daughter she wishes I was.”

  “Ah,” said Jocelyn. For some inscrutable reason she glanced right at Henrik, who tried not to fidget. “I see.”

  “Rodney?” Kincaid repeated vaguely. “We don’t have a cousin called Rodney.”

  Lavinia shrugged impatiently. “Second cousin, third cousin, I don’t know. You’ve probably never even met him. He’s the darling of Mother’s family, and he’s an unutterable bore. Can’t wait to take over the estate and spend his life overseeing tenants and managing the farmland.”

  “And Mother thought he would be a good match for you?” Kincaid asked disbelievingly.

  Lavinia sighed. “I think she hoped he would be a sobering influence.” The princess looked uncharacteristically subdued as she ran her hand along the curves of the settle, not meeting anyone’s eye. “Since I got back, she’s been at some pains to remind me that I’m almost nineteen, and she was married with Ormond on the way by that age.”

  She looked up at her sister-in-law, a spark of her usual vivacity returning as her nose crinkled in a mock pout. “And you don’t help my cause, Joss, married to Kincaid at barely eighteen.” She sighed. “It’s not fair. No one seems to think it’s relevant that Kincaid was twenty-one before you even met, or that Father was in his mid-twenties when he married Mother.”

  Jocelyn laughed. “You’re right, it’s not at all fair. But I wouldn’t worry too much, Lavinia. I don’t think anyone really believes you’re in danger of becoming a spinster.”

  “No,” Lavinia agreed, a dimple appearing on one cheek as she flashed a mischievous grin at the other princess. “But I do think Mother is terrified I’m going to run off with some adventurer.” She sighed mournfully. “And I probably would, if only one would present himself.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” Jocelyn chuckled, throwing a sideways glance at her husband. “I fell for a dashing, carefree adventurer, and he turned out to be a prince after all, with all the responsibilities and restrictions of a royal role.”

  “That is a sobering thought.” Lavinia laughed musically, and for some reason Henrik felt a weight lift from his own heart. There was something inherently wrong about seeing the outrageous princess serious and downcast. Laughter was a much more natural state for her. If only that twinkle in her eye wasn’t so dangerously attractive.

  “Poor old Cousin Rodney,” he said, before he could stop himself. “After a failure like that, he’s probably in as much trouble with his family as you are with yours.”

  Lavinia turned to him, a humorous look on her face. “I did feel a little sorry for him when he made his offer,” she acknowledged. “I don’t think he wanted to marry me any more than I wanted to marry him, but he was shouldering his duty very manfully. It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that I might refuse. The poor soul didn’t know what to do with himself.”

  Henrik shook his head, trying to picture the scene. “Every man’s nightmare,” he joked, with a dramatic shudder.

  Lavinia rolled her eyes. “Well, we all know you don’t have any experience of rejection,” she said, her voice suddenly dry again. “I daresay it’s impossible for you to imagine any woman not falling prey to your charms.”

  “Not entirely impossible,” Henrik muttered. He obviously hadn’t spoken quite as low as he’d intended, however, because Jocelyn once again shot him a shrewd look.

  “No need to rip up at Henrik,” Kincaid said, coming to his friend’s defense. “It’s not his fault that Mother tried to marry you off to some boring distant cousin.”

  Henrik couldn’t quite stop himself from fidgeting this time. For some reason, Jocelyn was still watching him with uncomfortable intensity, whereas Lavinia suddenly seemed to be at great pains not to look in his direction.

  “But you’re not wrong that it’s a bit unfair for Mother to be hassling you just because you’re a girl,” Kincaid went on, clearly oblivious to the silent communication going on around him. “I mean, Ormond is so much older than you, and he’s the one who needs to father an heir. Why aren’t they hassling him?”

  “But they are!” said Lavinia, straightening up in her seat, her eyes bright with gossip. “Haven’t you heard? That’s why he wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived yesterday. He was meeting with Lord Thornton at his estate, in the southeast.”

  “What’s that got to do with—”

  “I’m getting to that,” Lavinia cut her brother off impatiently. “The official reason he was there was to discuss the harvest concerns for those of Lord Thornton’s tenants affected by those storms. His land was the hardest hit, you know.”

  Henrik leaned forward, his interest caught as he remembered the confrontation he’d witnessed the day before.

  “But the real reason,” Lavinia went on mischievously, “was to pay another visit to Lord Thornton’s oldest daughter, the lovely Lady Brielle.”

  “Is that so?” asked Kincaid, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Don’t tell me Ormond has finally noticed a girl!”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” said Lavinia, kicking her slippers off so she could curl her legs up under her, clearly ready for a comfortable gossip about her oldest brother.

  Henrik noticed that Jocelyn, far from settling in for a comfortable chat, looked uncharacteristically ill at ease as she shifted around on her settle. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who realized that his presence wasn’t entirely appropriate.

  “Mother and Father are basically arranging the whole thing,” Lavinia was continuing cheerfully. “They think it’s about time Ormond settled down, and the Thorntons are a very loyal, very influential family. But I don’t get the sense that Ormond’s against the idea. Honestly, I think it’s a relief to him.”

  “Yes, I can imagine,” grinned Kincaid. He glanced at his friend.

  Henrik smiled absently at the unspoken reference to their earlier conversation about Ormond being cut out of his last arranged marriage by his little brother. Jocelyn still looked uneasy, and Henrik was distracted from the conversation by his attempts to find a suitable reason to excuse himself.

  “What’s Lady Brielle like?” Jocelyn asked, her voice quieter than normal.

  “I haven’t actually met her,” said Lavinia. “At least, not recently. I believe she’s been to Bryford a number of times, but I don’t remember her. She’s several years older than me, so we probably didn’t have much to do with each other. I asked Ormond what she’s like, but you know how he is. He gave me such a bloodless answer I couldn’t get any sense of her at all.”

  “I wonder why she’s not married yet, if she’s so much older than you,” mused Kincaid. He raised a teasing eyebrow at his sister. “Since you’re basically on the shelf. Maybe she’s ugly.”

  “Kincaid,” Jocelyn scolded, without much conviction.

  But Lavinia chuckled. “I wondered the same thing, but I don’t think that’s it. Apparently her mother was very unwell for a long time, and Lady Brielle cared for her, as well as shouldering a lot of her mother’s responsibilities on the estate. But her mother has passed away now, and Lord Thornton seems to have realized he’s left it a little late to look for a husband for his daughter. As you can imagine, he’s very eager about the whole idea.”

  “Poor thing,” said Jocelyn softly. “Sounds like she’s had a difficult time.”

  “Yes,” said Lavinia, with a dramatic shudder. “And then to be landed with a cold fish like Ormond for a husband on top of it all…”

  Henrik hid his smile as Kincaid chuckled. He knew that the pair were both fond of their brother at heart, for all their jokes. But however much Ormond’s overly serious formality might invite the mirth of his less responsible siblings, Henrik knew he shouldn’t be privy to their teasing. Even Jocelyn, who was now a sister-in-law to Ormond, wasn’t laughing along.

  “Well,” said Henrik, standing up quickly. “I’d better be off. My commander has given me orders to report back for duty tomorrow, so I’d better let my mother know. She had all sorts of plans for my last two weeks of leave, so she won’t be too happy with me.”

  “You won’t be on patrol tomorrow night, will you?” asked Lavinia quickly.

  “I don’t know,” Henrik said, turning to her. “Why?”

  Lavinia looked down, sounding a little too casual. “Oh, the welcome banquet, you know. For your return.”

  “Ah, of course,” said Henrik. He had forgotten about the customary gala hosted by the king and queen to welcome back their younger son and his family after each summer’s visit to Kyona. He gave a forced chuckle. “It’s hardly for my return, though, is it?”

  “Sure it is,” said Kincaid cheerfully. “It’s a welcome feast in honor of the whole delegation, and you were on the delegation this year, weren’t you? Don’t think you can leave me to face the bowing and scraping on my own.”

  “You don’t have to twist his arm, Kincaid,” said Lavinia dryly. “Henrik has never shared your distaste for flattering and being flattered by every girl in father’s court.”

  “That’s because he didn’t spend his whole youth being constantly hounded by girls who were only after his title,” said Kincaid darkly.

  “Too true, sadly,” said Henrik. He tried to speak lightly, not wanting to show how irritated he was by Lavinia’s openly poor opinion of him, but there was a bite in his voice nonetheless. “With no title whatsoever to inherit, I’ve never had anything but my natural appeal to work with.”

  Kincaid snorted. “And yet you seem to do all right. Lady Claudette already seems quite taken with you, for example.”

  Henrik didn’t immediately answer, distracted for a moment by the memory of his conversation with the visiting noblewoman that morning. He was quite taken with her as well, there was no point denying it to himself. His gaze passed absently to Lavinia, and he saw that her eyes were narrowed as she looked at him.

  He straightened his shoulders, sick of her criticism. After all, she wasn’t one to talk. She’d been scandalizing her parents with her flirtatious ways since she was fourteen. He well remembered her entertainingly childish attempts to flirt with him at that age. Being some five years older, he’d found no difficulty in laughing it off, and thankfully she’d grown out of that habit quickly. Or at least, shifted her attention to more responsive targets.

  “Well,” he said at last, a barb hidden beneath his polite words, “since Princess Lavinia assures me that every girl in the court will be there, I don’t see how I can resist.”

  Chapter Six

  It was with relief that Henrik reported to his commander the following morning. Between his mother’s disappointment that he was resuming his duties immediately, and his rankling annoyance over Lavinia’s jabs, he had worked himself into a surly state by the end of the previous day, and he was more than ready to have something active to do with himself.

  He would have been even more relieved if he had been needed for patrol that night, but he had no such luck. Without Henrik even bringing it up, the commander informed him that he would of course release Henrik to attend the banquet, as a member of the returning delegation.

  Henrik barely suppressed a groan. Whatever Lavinia might think, he felt no enthusiasm at the prospect of an evening surrounded by admiring courtiers’ daughters, who would expect him to turn on the charm for them. Of course, he had created those expectations over years of being overly liberal with his flirtatious compliments, but that knowledge did nothing to improve his mood.

  Even the certainty that Lady Claudette would be there created mixed emotions. Henrik had gone back over the previous day’s interaction with the Thoranian woman in his mind several times, and it puzzled him. He remembered that at the time he had been drawn to her for her confidence and determination. But when he reflected on what he had actually heard, he struggled to recall what he had admired in her words. If anything, the whole conversation seemed…suspicious.

  But he was sure that couldn’t be right. He was left feeling disoriented and confused, and was only too glad to put the matter from his mind as he spent the morning in training exercises with others from his squadron.

  Having been away from duty for so long, he counted himself fortunate to be given a patrol to lead on his first afternoon back. Even if it was a low priority patrol. He tried to remain watchful as he led his group northward, but he had little expectation of seeing any action. Valoria’s North Wilds were well known for their lawlessness, but the squadron wouldn’t be going anywhere near that far north.

  He was inclined to think the strange bandit attack had been an isolated incident, anyway, but even if not, there would be no real reason for thieves to be raiding the highway north from Bryford. The route to the southern coast, where goods from trade ships made their way to the city, would be a much more logical target. Or even a patrol heading east toward the suffering farmland might see some unrest, given the open displeasure of some of the farmers. But the northern patrol was nothing more than a chance to stretch the horses’ legs.

  Which was why Henrik was absolutely astonished when, several hours into the patrol, he saw the unmistakable signs of a wagon being held up on the road ahead. They had turned off the highway some time before, and were on their way back toward Bryford by way of a smaller road. They were less than an hour’s ride from the city, and the road was just passing through a small copse of trees.

  “What the blazes?” muttered one of his knights, a young man around his own age, as he took in the masked men surrounding the cart. “Who would hold up a produce wagon?”

  “Took the words out of my mouth,” agreed Henrik grimly. But there was no time to discuss the ineptitude of the bandits. He raised his voice, calling the patrol to action, and half a dozen of the king’s best horses sprang forward.

  The thieves turned at his cry, and Henrik saw that just as during his last encounter with bandits, the men’s faces were completely swathed in dark fabric. They must have slits for their eyes, but from a distance, Henrik couldn’t make out a single feature. This time they were quicker to respond to the arrival of the knights. They were all mounted and riding into the trees before the squadron was upon them.

  Without breaking stride, Henrik directed his men, leaving two to assist the waylaid travelers, and taking the others with him as he plunged into the copse. The bandits didn’t have much of a head start, and he expected to catch them without difficulty, but he soon realized his error. The trees were thicker than he’d expected, and when the little grove ended, it gave way not to smooth grassland, like much of the area, but to an uneven slope strewn with massive boulders.

  Visibility was poor, and after a few fruitless minutes of searching, Henrik was forced to acknowledge that he had no idea which direction the masked men had taken. With barely contained frustration, he called his men together, returning to the road to see what the travelers could tell them.

  Very little, it turned out. The owners of the cart, a farmer and his son, seemed more bewildered than alarmed. They said that the bandits had come from nowhere only scant minutes before Henrik’s group had arrived. Thankfully no one had been bludgeoned this time, but the armed men had quickly overpowered the pair, and tied them up. Just as with the attack on Lady Claudette, the thieves had said nothing beyond a curt demand that the travelers hand over anything of value.

  “Which, o’ course, we couldn’t do,” said the farmer reasonably, flexing his freed wrists, “seeing as how we don’t have anything of value.” He shrugged. “I told ’em all we had were the vegetables, an’ since I didn’t see how they planned to make off with a cartload o’ them, it seemed as how we weren’t no use to them.”

  “And how did they respond?” Henrik asked, frowning at the absurdity of it all.

  The farmer shrugged again. “They didn’ respond. You fellas rode up, and they took off.”

  Henrik’s frown deepened as his eyes followed the direction the bandits had taken.

  “Beats me why armed thieves would try to rob a farmer on the way to market,” said one of the other knights, a middle aged man. He chuckled. “Unless they were just after a snack.”

  “Well, what else were they expecting to find, raiding a northward road at this time?” said another member of the squadron, perplexed. “Quite apart from how it’s the stupidest spot for such a robbery—how do you get such cumbersome goods through all those trees?—anyone with anything worth stealing lives east or south of the capital.” He nodded to the farmer. “No offense.”

  “None taken, none taken,” said the farmer amicably, his attention on his horse, who seemed more spooked by the encounter than its human companions. “Nonsensical robbery, my boy and I said as much ourselves.”

  “Yes, there’s not much sense in it, is there?” Henrik mused, his eyes still on the trees, and his thoughts on the rocky slopes beyond.

  “They might be useless thieves,” said the knight who had been riding beside Henrik when they had approached the hold up. He spoke quietly, his gaze following Henrik’s. “But they must be good horsemen to get over that terrain so quickly, and without leaving any trail.”

  “Yes,” said Henrik, his mind passing methodically over every aspect of the incident. He said nothing further, saving it for his report to the commander. But it hadn’t escaped him that while the spot had been poorly chosen for a successful robbery, it had been very well chosen for a clean getaway.

 

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