Page 181 of Silverbow
As youngest and perhaps Enya’s most ardent admirer, Dothebelle with her blonde braid now in the style of Enya’s, was the first Alsbet handed up. She settled in front of her in the saddle. The little goldsinger beamed as Enya bent to whisper something in her ear. She pressed the reins into Doth’s small hands and steered the mare off around the plaza.
He sighed as he saw Alsbet prowling toward him and held up a hand to stop her. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
Alsbet did a poor job of suppressing a smile, but she turned toward the onlookers. “It’s good to have you home, Oryn. Don’t you think it’s time to put down some roots?”
“I need a Treesinger for roots, Alsbet.”
She sighed. “You don’t.”
“I want to take my people home.”
She gestured at the palace. “After all this time, you don’t see us as your home? As your family?”
He winced but didn’t reply. She knew where he stood on the matter.
“I heard from the royal smith your hearth gift has been ready for two days.”
For a stone that held so many secrets, Drozia leaked like a sieve. Oryn patted his breast pocket. “The lady’s been occupied.”
A flurry of motion on the steps caught his eye. Leon bowled through a train of his advisors, crossing the plaza to where Oryn sat. He wore a scowl. Jerking his chin to Enya he said, “When you’re done, both of you in my audience chamber.”
Alsbet sighed, watching her children squabble over the horse. She went to retrieve a wailing Dothabelle, forced to give up her turn. “Immortality isn’t forever, Oryn. Don’t let your life pass you by waiting for your Treesinger.”
It had never felt like it was, until now. When Enya finally finished and the horse was handed off to one of Leon’s stable hands, he raised a hand in greeting. She smiled at him, peeling off her riding gloves. She looked…ladylike,and it was so unusual, he couldn’t stop staring. He started toward the palace and she fell into step at his side.
“Leon wants to see us.”
“About?”
“He didn’t say. Alsbet’s been keeping you busy.”
“I’m to go hawking tomorrow with Lady Goldmont,” she said excitedly.
“Lady Goldmont is a most competitive huntress. You should be well matched.”
Another frightening alliance, now that he thought of it.
“Are all courts this magnificent?” Enya asked.
Oryn clasped his hands behind his back. “I don’t think you’d much enjoy the formality of Oyamor or the scheming of Misthol or Durelli. The Zeskayranlords do not hold such a formal court. If you can get past the more…primitivebits, you may find the horse lords…enthralling.”
He saw the corners of her mouth turn up. “And Eastwood?”
“I am told it was much like Drozia,” he said. “My father and Lerrick were dear friends. Though my people did not have this notion of hearth gifts.” He drew the small box from his coat pocket and held it in the space between them. Enya hesitated, eyeing it like she might eye a snake. “Alsbet will exile me if you do not take it.”
Spots of pink appeared in her cheeks. “You really shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.”
He really should. “The smiths in Drozia like to be put to use. Open it.”
Delight lit her features when she lifted the lid. It was a simple broach in the shape of a finely worked bow, modeled after her own. Much to the smith’s chagrin, Oryn hadn’t allowed any embellishment, but the piece had been made by the finest silversmith beneath the mountain.
“The Silverbow,” she smiled, running her finger along the curve. “Thank you, Oryn.”
Their arrival at Leon’s door saved him from any further discussion. He pounded a fist against the stone.
“Come!”
Leon waved them to the chairs flanking his cluttered desk. Oryn spied the glint of a crown buried in a mountain of scrolls, but one scroll in particular caught his eye. It sat in the middle of the desk, the remnants of the fox head seal peering up at the ceiling. Dread coated his insides as Mosphaera seemed to raise her head, waiting.
