'Where now the horse and the rider?'
Prequel to 'Rain on the Mountain'.
Before the storm clouds of war gathered.
Before the growing shadow in the East took form.
Before the Riddermark knew the choking hold of a wizard's malice.
Before the illegitim...
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
Chapter 11
"Is this what it feels like to be a scorned woman?"
Théadain twisted her lips as she muttered the words, stirring listlessly through the stew set at the table before her, several nights after her confrontation with Éothain.
Fenmer raised an eyebrow at her words, looking up from where he had been watching his young son, Fenmund, playing in the centre of the Golden Hall with the other children. Following her gaze he could see where it had settled upon the far side of the hall, where Éothain was stood, speaking closely with Saelith. The dark-haired girl was smiling up at him as they spoke, leaning closer to him as they both laughed at some passing comment.
"Can you truly feel scorned when you were the one that jilted him?" Her mentor murmured, shifting a little closer to her on the bench they shared so they would not be overheard, "Or are you simply feeling guilty for rejecting him?"
"Why should I?" Théadain dropped her gaze to her stew, scowling as she mashed her spoon into a chunk of potato, "Have I ever indicated that I would leave this company for a man?"
"You could forgive him for thinking it, Théa." Fenmer reasoned gently; "It is simply what is done. Riders reach an age where they realise it would be pleasant to have their own warm hearth and bed to return to after a patrol. Perhaps he thought you would want the same."
"I can hardly warm his bed if I'm out riding on patrol myself." She scoffed softly, shaking her head as she glanced back to the man in question; "Still, it does not seem to have taken him long to move on to the next suitable girl."
Fenmer smothered a chuckle at the bitter mutter of his young captain, knowing that despite her assurances that she had no desire to be fawned over by the other rider, her pride was still wounded by how swiftly he had moved on. "Do not forget, not everyone can afford to follow their heart into marriage. Some people are only seeking security, and a companion they can endure."
"Though that is not the path you chose?" She looked back to him with a raised eyebrow, a small smile quirking her lips as she watched her mentor's face break into an easy grin at the mention of his wife.
"No." He confirmed fondly, "I think I loved Cynelith from the moment I laid eyes upon her."
Turning back to her meal, Théadain smiled softly, "I understand, I felt the same way the moment I first saw Folca."
"Did you just compare my wife to your horse?"
"Not exactly-" Théa giggled and ducked to avoid the playful swipe from her Marshal, batting his hand away with her own.
"I pity any man that tries to win your affections – he will always have Folca to compete with." He chuckled, shaking his head in mock-despair at the grinning girl, glad that her mood had lifted from her sulking.
