Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [70]
“Good,” she remarked to Gwerlas. “The hard part, though, is going to be getting back through the dun gates. Well, one thing at a time.”
She dismounted and led the horse in. The wall here stood a good ten feet thick, and the “gate” was more a tunnel with a stout oak and iron-bound door standing half-open at the far end. As they hurried through, heading for the sunlight and the town, she passed big piles of rocks, stockpiled to clog the opening in case of an attack. Just as she led Gwerlas out into the dusty street, a man stepped in front of her. She screamed aloud when he grabbed her arm, but it was only Yraen, snarling as he barred her way.
“I thought so,” he snapped. “If you were clever enough to get out, I figured you were clever enough to try to get back in and pretend naught had ever happened.”
“You let me go! I’m a princess now, and you’re supposed to be humble round me.”
“Don’t you realize what a scare you’ve given us all? Ye gods!” He gave her arm a shake. “You could have been killed, riding out on your own.”
“I was safe enough. I made sure of that.”
“Hah! You without even a table dagger in your belt! And with all this talk of shape-changers riding the winds and evil spirits under every bush and stile! Are you daft?”
“All I wanted was to be alone for just a little while. You don’t know what it’s like, being shut up like a prized mare, never getting to do anything without half the court following you round.”
At that he let her go.
“Well, I do know, as a matter of fact. But ye gods, Carra! I mean, Princess, Your Highness—you’re right. My apologies. I forget myself.”
“Well, it’s hard to remember to be formal and all that when we nearly got ourselves killed together.”
Yraen nodded, looking absently away.
“So we did, so we did. Here, mount up, will you? And I’ll lead your horse back for you.”
“I can walk, thank you very much.”
“Ye gods, don’t come over all haughty on me, will you? Get on your wretched horse before I put you on him.”
“Just try.” Carra set her hands on her hips.
For a moment they glared at each other.
“Well, I don’t suppose your husband would take it kindly if I did lay hands on you. Walk if you want to.”
Yraen turned on his heel and strode off toward the dun. Grabbing Gwer’s reins, Carra followed, keeping his broad back in sight as he found them a path through the round houses and looping alleyways that led this way and that but always uphill. Finally she could stand it no longer.
“Yraen, don’t be a rotten beast, will you? I’m sorry.”
He stopped and let her catch up with him.
“I’ll escort you back,” he said. “Then I’d best ride out after the others and tell them you’re safe.”
“Well, truly, that’s a good idea. Or I can find my own way back.” She grinned at him. “I found my way out, didn’t I?”
For a moment he kept his face expressionless, then slowly, as if he begrudged the effort, he smiled in return.
“I’ve got to get a fresh horse anyway. Here, I really should be leading Gwer for you.”
When he held out his hand, she gave him the reins, and they walked side by side when they went on. Carra never knew what to think of Yraen. Although he was technically a handsome man, he was as cold and hard as a steel blade in winter, occasionally smiling, rarely laughing, always, it seemed, on the edge of some great rage. Even Rhodry, with his wild berserker fits, seemed more human, more warm that Yraen ever did. As they plodded along, his silence began to get on her nerves.
“I’m still surprised you knew where to look for me,” she said.
“I know what a sneak you can be, that’s all. So I thought, well, if I wanted to slip back into a dun, what would I do? And so I waited