Cryl shot the man a look.
Scara Bandaris burst out laughing, forcing up a smile from Cryl.
Perhaps, Cryl reconsidered after a moment, with jests erupting from the soldiers behind them, followed by yet more laughter, his need for solitude was at an end.
‘ Where is he? ’
The cry made the handmaids flinch back, a detail that savagely pleased Enesdia, if only momentarily. ‘How dare he run away? And Father does nothing! Have we ceased to respect the ancient tradition of hostages, to so let him vanish into the wilds like some half-wild dog?’ The array of blank faces regarding her only frustrated Enesdia the more. Hissing under her breath, she marched from the room, leaving the handmaids to scurry after her. A gesture halted them all. ‘Leave me, all of you.’
After a lengthy, increasingly irritating search, she found her father out behind the stables, observing the breaking of a horse in the corral. ‘Father, are we to lead the way in the rejection of all valued traditions among our people?’
Jaen regarded her with raised brows. ‘That strikes me as somewhat
… ambitious, daughter. Best I leave such things to the next generation, yes?’
‘Then why have we abandoned our responsibilities with respect to our hostage?’
‘I was unaware that we had, Enesdia.’
‘Cryl has vanished — for days! For all you know he could be lying at the bottom of a well, legs shattered and dying of thirst.’
‘Dying of thirst in a well?’
She glared at him until he relented and said, ‘I sent him in search of eckalla in the hills.’
‘A hopeless quest!’
‘No doubt, but I imagine he is familiar with those.’
‘What do you mean?’
Jaen shrugged, eyes once more on the horse as it fast-trotted round its handler, hoofs kicking up dust. ‘This is your time, not his. In fact, his sojourn with our family is coming to an end. It well suits him to stretch his lead, as it does every young man at his age.’
She disliked hearing such things. Cryl was her companion, a brother in every way but blood. She struggled to imagine life without him at her side, and she felt a tremor of rising shock as it suddenly struck her that, once she was married, her time with Cryl would be truly at an end. After all, had she really been expecting him to join them in the new house? Absurd.
So much had been happening, devouring her every thought; only now was she thinking things through. ‘But I miss him,’ she said. Hearing the weakness of her own voice misted her eyes.
Her father faced her. ‘Darling,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her away from the railing. ‘A changing world is a most frightening thing-’
‘I’m not frightened.’
‘Well, perhaps “bewildering” is a better description.’
‘He’s just… grown past me. That’s all.’
‘I doubt he sees it that way. You have made your choice, Enesdia, and the path before you is now certain, and the man who will walk at your side awaits you. It is time for Cryl to find his own future.’
‘What will he do? Has he spoken to you? He’s said nothing to me — he doesn’t say anything to me any more. It’s as if he doesn’t even like me.’
They were returning to the Great House, Jaen electing to use a side entrance, a narrow passageway leading into an enclosed garden. ‘His feelings for you are unchanged, but just as you set off into your new direction — away from this house — so too must Cryl. He will return to his own family, and it is there that his future will be decided.’
‘The Duravs — they are all soldiers. Cryl has only one brother left alive. The wars almost destroyed that family. He’ll take up the sword. He’ll follow in Spinnock’s footsteps. Such a waste!’
‘We are no longer at war, Enesdia. The risks are not what they once were, and for that we can all be thankful. In any case, the youngest born among the nobility have few recourses these days.’
They stood in the garden, in still air made cool by the raised pond commanding the centre. The fruit trees trained up two of the inner walls were laden with heavy, lush fruit, the purple globes looking like dusty glass. She thought, if one should fall in the next moment, it might shatter. ‘I have been unmindful, Father. Selfish. We are parting, and it will be difficult for both of us.’
‘Indeed.’
She looked up at him. ‘And even worse for you — is not Cryl the son you never had? This house will seem so… empty.’
Jaen smiled. ‘An old man treasures his peace and quiet.’