“I know how you feel about Karigan,” Laren said.

Zachary glanced sharply at her, but she did not quail from him.

“I know that it isn’t just ‘high esteem’ you feel for her. You love her and that is the reason you do not wish her to go into Blackveil.”

He faced her dead on, and she could feel the storm emanate from him.

“I believe it is my duty to bring this up,” Laren hastily continued, “as Karigan’s captain and as your advisor, but mainly as your friend. I realize feelings are difficult to tame, especially when they move in a direction contrary to duty, but you must not allow your heart to cloud your judgment. Our country needs your strong marriage to Lady Estora. I can’t tell you not to love Karigan, but you must let her go. Let her go.”

“I think I have heard enough, Captain.” And that was all he said. He strode out of the room, through the larger meeting chamber, and out into the corridor. She cringed when he slammed the door behind him.

She’d expected his fury, but it didn’t make it any easier to be on the receiving end of it. If it was any consolation, his vehemence indicated to her he knew she was right. Perhaps, with time, he’d come around and allow what was only sensible, that Karigan should be one of the Riders to enter Blackveil.

She’d needed to confront the issue of his feelings for Karigan before someone with ill intentions caught wind of it. The political repercussions, the danger to Karigan ... It had to be done, and as his friend and confidant, she was the best one to broach the touchy subject.

She could live with his wrath if it meant she’d averted larger problems. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Richmont Spane fussed with his papers and his coat as all the others filed out of the meeting room. He watched as Captain Mapstone and the king stepped into the adjoining chamber to have a few words. He’d another appointment to attend, but he was extremely curious and one never knew when a bit of eavesdropping might provide some useful intelligence.

With another glance to make sure the rest had departed, he crept to the doorway of the adjoining room. The door was ajar, so it was easy to hear the king and the captain speaking, though it was the captain who did most of the talking.

“Certainly,” the captain said, “but it is Karigan I’m specifically concerned about since you hold her, I believe, in a good deal of esteem.”

Richmont grew still, listening with great interest to the exchange that followed. When finally the king said, “I think I have heard enough, Captain,” Richmont scuttled from the chamber and into the corridor just in time. He watched as the king emerged and slammed the door shut behind him. There was a wild look in his eyes as he stormed off, his Weapon peeling away from his post at the door and following briskly.

Richmont rubbed his chin. From the king’s behavior, he deemed the captain had been right on the mark: the king was in love, in love with a Green Rider.

Richmont struck off in the opposite direction, thinking the captain was also correct to believe that love could cloud the king’s judgment in terms of the betrothal, and that would be a disaster for the alliance with Clan Coutre, for the country, and most important, for Richmont’s own ambitions. The Green Rider was a threat.

If this particular Rider was indeed going to Blackveil, it was quite possible she wouldn’t survive, and that would solve any potential problem.

It was also possible she’d return alive and well. He’d have to ensure the odds were in his favor. He smiled and hastened his step so he could set his plan into motion at once. This was, after all, what Lord Coutre wished him to do, wasn’t it? To make certain the marriage moved forward unhindered. He would do his duty to clan and country and eliminate any threats to that marriage.

THEIR MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Karigan limped away from the practice field, tired and soaked through from mud and sweat. Flogger had made her pay for the kill point she got on him earlier. At least she hadn’t disgraced herself in front of the king.

It occurred to her King Zachary hadn’t stopped by the practice field to observe her at all, that it was just coincidence he came by when she was there for her session. Maybe he paused there long enough only to spare her a quick glance, if even that much. She had not seen him at all, so she did not know.

She slicked loose hair back from her forehead. Did she really want him to see her looking like this anyway? Painfully, she just wanted him to see her, but even after her experiences in the tombs, even after her knighting, he had not called upon her to attend him.

All for the best, she decided, but such reasoning did not assuage her feelings, only made her more miserable.

So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she nearly walked into someone. Someone well-dressed and clean.

“Sorry, my lord,” she mumbled, and stepped aside to go around him.

But he moved into her path, blocking her. She looked up, startled.

“Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t the vanishing lady.”

It took a moment for Karigan to recognize the man, for he was attired in a fine frock coat and breeches, with a spotless silk shirt and cravat. He wore his raven hair tied back, and his light gray eyes glinted with amusement. The last time she’d seen Lord Amberhill, he’d been in a much more travel-worn and ragged condition.

“If I did not know better,” he continued, “one would think you were trying to dance with me.”

“Hardly,” she muttered, annoyed by his mocking tone. “I didn’t even see you.”