Page 7 of Silverbow
“What are you laughing at, girl?” Del called. “I’ve been watching you dance with that dragon for weeks now. Don’t tell me you’re getting ideas about running off to the Vale.”
Enya snorted a laugh. “Do you reckon the Vale has suitors?”
“I reckon if you don’t pay attention and get that horse’s head up, you won’t need a dragon. He’ll do a fine job of launching you to the moon all on his own.”
Enya frowned and shortened her reins.
“Approach!”
The gate guard’s call rang through the yard, summoning a limping Marwar. Ryerson House had not risen so far they kept more than a single man on the gate. Still, Enya found herself wishing for brigands over suitors, and the look her father exchanged with the Master of Arms told her this was not a planned social call.
Relief washed over her as she turned the colt the other direction. She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that had turned off the Queen’s Road. A man stopped just before the open gate and raised a hand in greeting.
“Good day to you, my lords. We seek Ryerson House.”
He was a handsome man with a sun bronzed face and long golden hair tied up in a soldier’s topknot, but it was the warhorse flanking him that drew Enya’s eye. The creature that stepped into the yard with haughty pride was blacker than the space between the stars. He lifted his massive head to take in the bustle and ignored the wickers of the horses that called out in greeting. It was the most magnificent horse Enya had ever seen.
Her gaze traveled up and snagged on his rider. For a moment, she forgot her reins altogether. It was a mistake. The horse beneath her suddenly flung himself about like a ship caught in a storm.
“Inside rein,” Del said quietly.
She tried again to pull his head up. Suddenly responsive where he’d been ignoring her only a moment before, the horse stopped short, making her teeth clack together.
“On what business?” Marwar growled. The hand that did not grip his staff rested casually on the hilt of the sword at his hip.
“One of our horses is lame. We were pointed here for a remedy, or perhaps a remount.”
“I am Renley Ryerson,” her father said, his attention split between her and the newcomers. “My stablemaster can take a look at the horse.”
Del reluctantly left her to meet the men that tromped into the yard. It was not unusual for men to seek out Ryerson House, but this party was different from the usual merchants and traders. One eye on her mount and one on them, Enya stole glances at their guests.
Despite his size, the man with the topknot was light of foot as he dismounted and introduced himself as Andril Turner. Like two of his companions, he was broad of chest and shoulder, with the hardened look of a fighting man. But an easy smile lit his blue eyes, eyes that seemed to see everything all at once.
It was the slighter man who looked to be of an age with her that brought forward the chestnut mare with a hitch in her step. Brown hair brushed his collar, but with gray eyes that had a mischievous sparkle about them, she thought he could have been Liam’s cousin, if not brother. He named himself Aiden.
When she looked again at the man atop the black warhorse, her heart leapt into her throat. Eyes the color of a cold mountain lake stared back at her. His silver-gray hair, unlike any she’d ever seen, was cut short and swept back from his handsome, hard planed face. A face that unabashedly watched her.
He hung back with the last of the party, a dark and brooding man with a stare harder than an anvil. Deep lines had been etched by the scowl he wore like armor, and his shoulder length black hair was giving way to white at the temples. Where the others wore one at the hip, twin swords crossed above his shoulders, and Enya quickly looked away when his eyes roved over her, assessing.
Del was asking after the mare’s history as he watched Aiden lead her around the yard. He beckoned him over and ran his hands around her hind leg, lifting it to flex joints and inspect her hoof.
“Hard riding ahead of you?”
Andril Turner nodded.
“I’m afraid her days of hard riding are likely behind her.”
“We thought that might be the case,” he sighed. “In Westforks, it is said you have the finest stock in Estryia. Do you have a mount that might suit my nephew?”
Her father bowed his head graciously, but before he could answer, Enya dismounted in a hurry and offered up the bay colt for free. She took a step back out of biting range and stared back at the silver haired man who still watched her intently. He hadn’t given a name, and if he was bold enough to stare, she was almost bold enough to ask. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marwar inch in her direction.
“Now daughter, we hardly know these gentlemen, and I wouldn’t wish that horse on my worst enemy,” he said lightly.
“And you let her ride it?” Aiden asked, adding a belated, “My lord.”
Her father laughed. “Better her than me. My daughter is one of the finest riders you’re like to find on the continent, stickier than bedstraw.”
Enya swelled with pride, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
