Page 33 of Traitor Son

“I wish I had a carrot for you, clever boy,” she said, stroking his gray muzzle.

“There are carrots in the front of the wagon, Your Highness, feel free to give him one.” The tinker spoke without moving to follow her. He knew perfectly well that the duke wasn’t finished with him. With a flick of his fingers, Remin ordered Bertin and Ortaire around to the front of the wagon, to keep an eye on things.

“Will you be staying in town tonight?” he asked. “I’d welcome the chance to talk to someone who knows my wife so well. I’m sure we could find space at the inn for you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Rou replied, and unwittingly passed the first test. Remin would have thought less of anyone who would accept a bribe so easily. “The moon will be full tonight and the roads are good, I mean to put some miles behind us.”

“That’s a shame.” Remin made a decision. “We have need of tinkers in the Andelin.”

“I had heard that Your Grace was taking things in hand,” the tinker said, nodding slowly. “It might be an opportunity for an enterprising man.”

Ophele appeared around the side of the wagon, pausing to make certain she wasn’t interrupting. “Pardon…do you have new books, Rou?”

“I do indeed. Take any of them that you like as my wedding gift, Your Highness.” The man’s smile looked genuine. He even tapped the brim of his hat in a small salute, and then glanced up at Remin. “With your permission, of course.”

“It’s a generous gift. Are you sure I can’t compensate you?”

“It is a gift.” There was a gentle emphasis on the last word. And Remin would look through the books himself, later. He knew he was paranoid and accepted it. Any number of unlikely-looking people had tried to kill him.

But as the tinker doffed his battered hat to say farewell, Remin found himself hoping that the man would make his way to the Andelin. Trade between the small villages was almost nonexistent and he would prefer to keep his eye on a man who was such a good friend to the princess.

“Did you take all his books?” he asked as Ophele appeared, bearing a tottering stack of books that ended at her nose. “Bertin, Ortaire, carry those.”

“No,” she said unconvincingly as the squires relieved her of her cargo. “But Rou said I could have the ones I liked, and I haven’t read these yet…”

She had to be bullied into accepting a second formal gown, but was willing to rob a tinker if it was books. The corner of Remin’s mouth twitched.

“I would be surprised if anyone has ever readA Second Treatise on the Will Immanent and the Will Absolute,”he observed dryly, reading off one of the better titles. “We’ll need another wagon to carry all these.”

“Will we? I didn’t think of that,” she said, crestfallen.

“I am teasing you,” he informed her, drawing her beside him to walk together up the hill. The sky was brilliant with sunset and it had been surprisingly pleasant to watch her wander the market. Lights glimmered in the windows of the houses as they went by, added a pleasant golden glow to the evening, but then the sight of a lamp in a window had always made him think,home.“There’s plenty of room in the wagon.”

She nodded, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He could see her watching him from the corner of her eye and waited until she finally said, “Rou is my friend.”

“So I gathered.”

“I only mean, I hope you don’t mind what he said,” she said, looking up at him anxiously. “He always likes to tease, he doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I am glad you have such a friend.” He hadn’t decided whether he would ask more about the content of the teasing, or whether he would ask it ofher,but it would be cruel to make her worry in the meantime. Covering her hand with his own, he squeezed. “Are you feeling well? You walked a lot this afternoon.”

“Yes.” Ophele turned a little pink and glanced back to make sure Bertin or Ortaire were a discreet distance away before she whispered, as if it were a deadly secret: “Riding hardly hurt at all today.”

“Good. You’ll ride a little bit more tonight.”

“I will?”

Stars, she was going to kill him. Remin stretched his legs, hurrying her toward the inn.

He was a civilized man. He let her eat dinner. It wasn’t the finest inn in Celderline, but they still managed to find two maids to serve the Exile Princess, and he steadfastly ignored the subtle and not-so-subtle jibes of his men as he tried to estimate how long it would take them to bathe her. It took about half an hour to wash his horse, but she had all that long hair to tend, and the maids in Celderline had rubbed all manner of sweet things into her skin…

The image of his pretty wife lingering in her bath did not make it easier to be patient. Remin glared into his cup of wine for nearly an hour before he said goodnight and went up, pausing to give himself a scrub in the common baths. For some reason, he was more unsettled tonight than he had been on his wedding night.

But something in his chest seemed to loosen when he opened the door to find her sitting alone by the fire, cross-legged on the floor with a book in her lap.

“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t get up.”

She watched him with those solemn eyes as he approached, her cheeks still rosy from her bath. It was clear that she expected him to pounce on her, and perversely this made him want to draw things out. She was the Emperor’s daughter, yes, but she was surprisingly sweet-tempered and he was finding her company far more pleasant than he had expected.

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