Page 83 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

Enya smiled at Liam over her plate as their hosts and their children launched into endless questions. The clinking of cutlery was lost in the roar of conversation and despite being assailed by small interrogators, neither she nor Liam hardly got a word in edgewise .

Oryn

Oryn watched with amusement as Alsbet rose to push a second piece of pie onto Liam’s plate.

Enya had long since given up and laid her fork down in surrender.

It wasn’t Mistress Alys’s cooking, but starving in a dwarf’s hold was as impossible as freezing in Zeskayra in summer.

Despite sitting at Leon’s right hand, he only half heard the conversation eddying around him.

His attention was split, listening to her exchanges with Alsbet and the girls.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Dothebelle wriggle into her lap.

Leon’s youngest had been a mewling newborn babe the last time Oryn had stayed in the palace.

Now she seemed to hold a court of her own with flocks of handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting chasing after her.

He wondered if it was that wild, kindred spirit that drew her to the Silverbow as she twined chubby hands into her copper hair and pressed her face close to Enya’s.

“Thank you again for your hospitality,” Enya was saying to Alsbet.

Alsbet waved a hand. “It’s the least we can do.”

Her claim of sanctuary would have been enough to see she had what she needed in Drozia.

Had she been just any other bounty, Leon likely would have paid handsomely to have her gift at his disposal, but she wasn’t just a bounty, so he had claimed for her what he’d never claimed for anyone.

Guest right made her a member of the court for the duration of her stay, however long that would be.

Regrettably, it was likely to be little more than Alloralla’s required two weeks.

They would need to reach Highgard before summer faded to autumn.

The risk of early season snow in the mountains made the trek more dangerous than it already was and when it came to Enya, time seemed determined to work against him.

But his arrival in Drozia with a woman in tow, a woman he’d claimed guest right for, had snagged Alsbet’s intrigue.

He could see her plotting at the other end of the table.

“Any friend of Oryn’s is a friend of ours.

Isn’t that right, Leon?” Oryn doubted Leon even heard over the clamor of their children.

When Liam finally gave up his battle with the half eaten slice of pie, Alsbet clucked to her little chicks.

They excused themselves from the table as they raced for pursuits more interesting than dinner.

The elder lingered, Gitaela and Orimum taking up places in the sitting room to entertain their guests.

That too was new since his last visit. Leon’s children were growing up .

Oryn settled into an armchair as the prince opened his snuff box.

The stable boy declined the offer of a pipe, reclining back into the cushions beside Enya.

Leon chuckled as he took in the boy’s heavy lids, but Oryn eyed the arm he sprawled across the back of the sofa in annoyance.

He busied himself with his pipe and fished in his coat pocket for the purse he’d taken off the ship captain in Westforks. He tossed it onto the table.

Leon nodded his thanks. “No trouble, I presume?”

Oryn opened his mouth to answer, but a padded toy arrow sailed through the sitting room and struck Enya in the back.

Behind his eyelids, the horror of the crossbow bolt flashed, sending a jolt through him.

She blinked in surprise, but she set her teacup on the low table and looked around at the children.

Then, to squeals of delight and great peals of laughter, she was grabbing at her chest as she sank onto the floor, feigning a wound.

As the youngest crowded in, she popped up, chasing Orobryn for his toy bow.

He darted a look at Alsbet. The Princess of Dwarves lay sprawled on the chaise, chuckling as she watched Lady Silverbow roll across the stone floor in her borrowed silks.

It was entirely unladylike and entirely something he should have expected.

She wrested a bow away from one of the children and sent a soft tipped arrow into Liam’s heart.

Despite his drooping eyelids, he followed her lead, collapsing in a heap.

With a whisper from Enya, he disappeared in a heap of limbs as the younger children piled atop him shouting, “Robber! Robber! Robber!”

Leon puffed at his pipe, watching the flames as his wife watched the chaos.

“You’ve redecorated,” Colm remarked.

Oryn shot him a warning look. He had noticed that all of the furniture had changed but hadn’t wanted to set Alsbet off on a lecture about how often he visited.

She twined a curl around her finger. “We have to every time Dothebelle has a tantrum.”

Oryn blinked in surprise. “She’s a singer?”

As predicted, her head snapped toward him. “A goldsinger, no less. You would know if you cared to visit.”

That made three singers among Leon’s children, a Warder in the Vale, and a Silverbow running through the dining room. Oryn scratched at his jaw. Perhaps the old things really were coming anew. He needed to return to his search for the Treesinger .

He watched archers and robbers for a long enough that he’d lost track of who was what, pondering where to go after delivering Enya to the Vale.

They hadn’t spoken any more of what would come after, not since he’d made the offer for her to remain in their company.

He didn’t have any idea what she would choose to do, where she would go, after handing the eggs over to the Nine on High and that was enough to sour his good mood.

“Children, children,” Alsbet called as if suddenly remembering herself. “Lady Enya was healed by Lady Alloralla only hours ago. We must let her rest.”

Dothebelle, who clung to Enya’s back, looked as if she might start wailing when Alsbet raised her eyebrows.

Enya whispered something to the girl, a promise for tomorrow, as the other children let out their final whoops and calls of who’d won.

Alsbet’s brood began to sprawl on the rug and Enya settled between them with her back to the flames as the calls for stories began.

“Perhaps Lady Enya would favor us with a story of Estryia,” Alsbet said.

Oryn watched her chew her lip, casting around for something to say. “I’m afraid I don’t know any stories you wouldn’t have already heard from a gleeman or a court bard.”

“Perhaps you could tell us something of your home?” Alsbet prodded.

Oryn held his breath, poised to intervene, but Liam smiled and nodded beside her. Enya caught his eye and some silent conversation passed between them. She turned back to the young, eager faces gathered around her.

“Far from here in the southern foothills of the Greenridge Mountains, there was a farmhouse called Ryerson House,” she began.

“What are they like?” Dezamri asked of the mountains.

“Compared to the soaring peaks of Tuminzar, the Greenridge Mountains are little more than anthills,” she smiled. The boys swelled with pride for their home. “The Greenridge Mountains get their name because they are almost always green, covered in patches of forest and grassy valleys.”

“Are there snowcats?” Orhuck asked.

“No snowcats.” The boys looked rather disappointed.

By dwarven standards, a wilderness without snowcats wasn’t very wild at all.

“Behind Ryerson House, to the north, lay Greenridge Forest. To the south the Queen’s Road, and to the east and west, pasture for the horses and a sprawling apple orchard.

But the most beautiful part of Ryerson House was the stable.

“In the house lived Lord Ryerson, his daughter,” she laid a hand over her heart at that, “and Master and Mistress Ashill, who looked after us all. Tucked in the stables was a cozy apartment where Stablemaster Marsh and his son Liam lived.” Liam nodded to indicate himself.

“And above them in a loft lived a loyal old Captain of the Guard who protected us all.”

Oryn caught Colm’s eye. Neigel Marwar was not a knight they’d ever heard of, but the captain of Maia’s Queen’s Guard, a man sure to wear a vow mark, would need a new name.

“Ryerson House was a lower house. We collected no tithes and leased no lands, but we produced the finest horses for the lords and ladies of the realm.” The children glanced to Oryn as if to confirm and he gave a nod.

“Every spring, we had a stable full of foals, but summer was what we always looked forward to. When the babies were big enough, and our own pasture worn out, we’d herd everyone up into the mountain passes and turn them loose to graze.

Stable hands would camp with the herd all summer, to watch for wolves and bears and make sure no one wandered off. ”

Oryn watched the shadow of memory flicker across her face and for the first time, realized the mask of anger had vanished.

He studied her, trying to piece together what had taken its place.

It wasn’t contentment, not exactly, but he took in the lines of her face, the set of her shoulders, and landed on resolve.

It was a quiet, steely resolve that had probably been there all along, buried beneath the rage and guilt and grief.

“Liam and I had to stay behind at the house for our lessons and the harvest. We would help the men swing scythes and bundle hay for the winter, but when it was finished, my father would take us up to camp for the last weeks of summer. It was there that I learned all the important things a lady must know,” she said, turning to the girls and shooting an apologetic glance at Alsbet.

“How to fish, hunt, track…” The girls giggled.

Liam cut in. “One time, when we were camping, we had all settled down to dinner, but Enya decided she wanted to ride off to chase the sunset. Of course, she didn’t tell anybody, and when she went to get her horse from the picket line, she couldn’t reach.

Instead of asking for help or giving up, she cut the whole line and set all the horses loose.

It took us all night to catch everyone on foot. ”

That drew laughs from the rug, Enya included. As he watched her push a lock of copper hair back behind her ear, Oryn wasn’t convinced the Silverbow had ever stopped trying to catch the sunset.

“That same summer, Liam dropped a torch and set my father’s tent on fire,” she said to more hoots of laughter .

“Did you get in trouble?” Gitaela asked.

“Oh yes,” Enya answered. “Loads. We had to stack firewood and haul water for the rest of the time we were there.”

“We would have had to do that anyway,” Liam answered.

“It sounds like a wonderful home, dear,” Alsbet said.

Enya’s throat bobbed. “It was.”

“What happened to it?” One of the children asked.

Enya hesitated, her eyes scanning the sitting room as if she might find the right answer tucked behind the furniture. “It…”

Liam shifted almost imperceptibly to rest a knee against hers in a show of quiet solidarity. “It was lost in a fire.”

“Will you go back there one day?” Bargitelin asked.

“I hope so,” Enya answered, but there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes that told Oryn she didn’t expect to ever see it again.

Blessedly, Gitaela changed the subject. “What horse did you like the best?” She asked.

Enya smiled fondly. “Arawelo, of course. As soon as she was born, I knew she would be mine.”

“Because everyone else had the good sense to give her a wide berth,” Liam muttered.

“Can we ride her?” The children began pleading.

“Perhaps, after she’s had a chance to rest from our journey, if it’s alright with your parents,” Enya answered.

Alsbet nodded. “Our guests have traveled a long way children. We must let them rest before tomorrow’s feast. Go on to bed now, off with you.”

The royal children lined up like ducklings, pecking their parents on the cheeks before they scampered off toward the stairs. A handmaiden took a sleepy eyed Dothebelle in one arm and let the twins hang off the other.

Colm bid them a goodnight as Liam’s jaw cracked with a yawn, leading the stable boy and his companions back down out of the royal apartments. Enya remained where she was, stretched out on the rug like a cat, eyeing him and their hosts.

“Listening ears and wagging tongues departed, I want to hear of Drulougan,” Alsbet said .

Enya obliged, diving into her story with more detail than she’d shared with anyone so far. He studied Leon and Alsbet, on the edge of their seats with delight. They chuckled as she needled Oryn for his reaction.

“I got the idea from him, actually,” she said of the vow. “I never would have known how to swear one had Oryn not taught me.”

Bloody wonderful. He felt Leon’s eyes linger on the strip of marked skin that sometimes peeked through his coat sleeve. He would have questions about that, no doubt, but he let out a hearty, rumbling laugh as he contemplated aloud what Pallas would do when he realized the nest had been plundered.

Oryn had difficulty finding humor in that. His brother may have reinforced his wards, but wards were not infallible. Not when a dragon fired the ward stones.

Enya finally failed to stifle a yawn. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highnesses, I really am quite tired.”

“By all means, dear.” Alsbet waved her off, content with the tale.

Oryn listened to the hum recede up the stairs with her footsteps, lamenting the silence when the sound was lost to him.

The Princess of Dwarves turned, her eyes sharp. “Wherever did you find such a treasure, Oryn?”

“Plucked her out of some trouble in Trowbridge,” he sighed. “And she’s been turning my hair gray ever since.”

Alsbet’s gaze swept over the silver gray hair he had been born with. The princess gave a wry laugh, but Leon’s knowing look made Oryn chuckle.