Page 14 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

My mouth is so dry, I’m afraid I will croak when I answer. “I’ve already told him no.”

“Do you think he will accept it?”

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

Just so I have something to do with my hands, I take another bite.

“So, you’re not stringing him along so he’ll find Dimitri for you?”

I inhale sharply. “How could you think that? Of course I’m not!”

He rests his forearms on the table. “There was a man in the group next to us. I spoke with him after you left.”

The conversation turns so quickly, I’m almost dizzy. Confused, I wait for him to finish .

“He’s from Vernow. Irving is right; there are festivals galore this time of year.”

What has Galinor found out? I lean forward, eager to hear more.

“If you go south from here tomorrow, you will arrive in Crayhope just before evening. The festival starts the next day.”

In other words, we will part in the morning. Galinor will go on to his castle, and I will go to Vernow. I push my plate away, no longer hungry.

“I thought you would be happier.” Galinor’s voice is soft. “You have somewhere to begin.”

I fake a smile. “I am happy.” Even I don’t trust my words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stands, hesitating by the door. “Goodnight, Anwen.”

I nod and stare at the wooden door long after he shuts it.

It’s mid-morning, but the sun has decided to hide behind a thick blanket of low-hanging clouds. The weather suits me. My eyes are blurry, and I’m more than a little irritable.

“Anwen.” Marigold turns the mirror in her hand so her reflection meets my eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” I mumble as I twist strands of her hair and a ribbon into a tight braid that travels down her back, perfect for a day of riding.

“Irving’s told me the two of you are traveling to Vernow from here,” she says. There’s something indiscernible in her tone.

My hands go still in her hair. “You aren’t riding with us?” I tie the ribbon at the bottom. It should hold. “I had hoped you would come.”

“No. I will travel with Galinor to his home and wait for Irving there.”

Galinor and Marigold are traveling together.

We are quiet for several seconds before Marigold finally sets the mirror aside and twists in her seat to face me. “Is there something between you and Galinor?”

I prepare my answer as she asks the question, but I lose my words when she says “Galinor.” I expected her to ask about Irving.

“It’s all right.” She sighs, turning forward. “No girl can keep her head around him. Not even I managed it.”

“Pippa did.” I cringe as I say the princess’s name.

Marigold laughs. “Pippa was already in love.”

My friend’s words strike me to my core. Was Pippa’s love so much greater for her archer than my love for Dimitri? Even now I would like to believe the best of him, so why am I not immune to Galinor?

I braid my own hair, thinking the question over in my head. I come to no conclusion, but it matters little. Today he and I will part ways, and I doubt I will see him again.

We enter the inn’s main room and find the men clustered around a table, looking solemn. There’s no banter between them—no smiles or jokes. I raise an eyebrow at Marigold to see if she notices the difference, but she only shrugs.

Their conversation conspicuously ends right as we join the table. They are all a little too quiet, and no one will meet my gaze.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Galinor finally looks up. His eye looks terrible this morning, all bruised yellow and purple. “Our horses seem to have been stolen last night.”

“Stolen?” I exclaim, shocked.

Marigold sits between Irving and Bran. “Was it Errintonians?”

I take a seat on the other side of Galinor.

Irving shakes his head, disgusted. “There was a note.”

He holds it up, and I snatch it from his hand.

“ Thank you for the horses ,” I read. “ We’ll call our debts even .”

I shake the paper in the air. “What does this mean?”

“Orick’s men,” Galinor says, scowling at Irving.

“Surely they wouldn’t take our horses!”

Or would they? What would stop them?

Irving works his jaw but doesn’t answer.

“How much money did you win, Irving?” Marigold asks as she nervously runs her hand down her long braid.

“Five hundred gold pieces.”

I gasp. “Five hundred gold pieces?”

Irving shrugs. “They shouldn’t have gambled if they couldn’t afford to lose.”

Marigold scowls. “I thought King Ewan forbade gambling in Lauramore.”

Bran helps himself to another sausage from the platter in front of us. “His own son was running the games from the knights’ hall.”

I turn to Irving. “Can’t you buy more horses? After all, you seem to have a surplus of gold.”

“We’ve bought two from the inn keeper and one from an old farmer.”

I scowl at our party of six. “Three?”

“There are no more to be bought. As it is, we’re taking the inn keeper’s only two—for an exorbitant price, I might add—and I agreed to have two younger, stronger replacements sent once we reach Primewood.”

With a sugared scone halfway to my mouth, I freeze. “But we’re not going to Primewood.”

Irving gives me an exasperated look. “Anwen, we can’t travel through Vernow on the old nag I bought today.”

Galinor sets his hand on my arm. “Come as far as my castle. We will provide you with all the supplies you need.”

That sounds reasonable, and it gives Galinor a little more time to change his mind about joining us. I finally nod. Galinor flashes me a reassuring smile and then moves his hand back.

When we’ve all finished breakfast, we go to the small fenced pasture behind the inn to examine the new horses Irving has bought.

Danver sniffs around, looking for mice. Marigold and I sit on the old fence as the men inspect the lot.

It would be nice to have Pippa’s riding tunic again, but I gave it back when we left Lauramore.

Instead, I’m in Leonora’s rose dress, and I must be careful not to snag the delicate trim on the splintering wood.

Irving inspects a gray horse’s teeth. “This one is about twenty.” Disgusted, he moves on to the next. “Same with this one.”

Bran checks out the last. “Eighteen, maybe a little older.”

“We’ll have to double up,” Galinor says. “Who’s riding together?”

I meet his gaze and then look away.

“I’ll ride with Irving,” Marigold says. “Anwen can ride with Galinor, and Dristan and Bran will have to ride together.”

Dristan scowls at his brother. “Absolutely not.”

Marigold gives him a withering look. “Two men will have to ride together. It makes the most sense if it’s the two of you. Galinor is too large, and neither of you could put up with Irving for most of the day.”

Bran groans, but he doesn’t argue.

“We could leave Irving in a ditch,” Dristan suggests, eyeing Irving.

Irving grins. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bran and Dristan finally accept our riding arrangement on the condition that we will switch occasionally. We’re all on our horses except for the two brothers.

“I will not sit in front,” Bran says, looking at Marigold and me as if to prove only women ride in front. “I’m eldest. I will ride in back.”

“I’m taller than you are,” Dristan argues. “You can’t see over me.”

Irving rolls his eyes. “Would the two of you hurry up?”

Finally, Bran gives in, but he gives Irving a good scowl before he mounts.