Adrina turned at the voice to find Tarja riding up behind her with a sergeant and a number of troopers in tow. He dismounted, amused by the expression on her face.
“It’s... glorious!”
“Well, it is for now. Give it a few hours and most of this will have turned into slush,” he warned with a wave of his arm. “It’s too warm for it to last long and too early in the year for a decent fall.”
“Oh,” she said in disappointment.
Tarja seemed to take pity on her. “Would you like to take a good look while it’s still in all it’s pristine glory?”
“Don’t you have something better to do?”
“I’ve got plenty to do, but nothing that can’t wait. Besides, It’s Founder’s Day. It’s supposed to be a holiday.” The red-coated Defender hurried forward. “Sergeant! Her Highness would like to borrow your horse. Tell Hadly I’ve been delayed then go find some breakfast. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
The man saluted and retrieved his mount for Adrina, holding it for her while she mounted. Tarja swung into his saddle and walked his horse forward.
“Ready?”
“This is very noble of you, Captain.”
They moved off at a slow walk, letting the horses pick their own way through the camp.
“Being noble is vastly preferable to discussing the riveting topic of horse feed with Hadly, your Highness.”
She smiled at him, wondering if Damin had lied to her about Tarja. He seemed anxious for her company. Maybe he was feeling the loss of the absent demon child. A lonely man was a vulnerable one.
“Well, I still think you’re being noble, Captain. You have rare good manners.”
“For a Medalonian?” he teased.
“That wasn’t what I meant. I just meant that compared to some people around here...”
Tarja laughed. “Ah! You speak of our Warlord. I thought you two were starting to get along quite well.”
Adrina frowned and reminded herself that this man was Damin’s friend. It would be inadvisable to tell him what she really thought of the Hythrun.
“Lord Wolfblade can be tolerable, when he’s not trying to be abrasive.”
He looked at her oddly. “Well, you can’t really blame him, can you? Not after what you did.”
“What did I do?”
He refused to answer her question. Instead, he kicked his horse into a canter.
“Captain!” she called as she raced after him. “I believe that statement demands an explanation!”
“The sun will be fully up soon,” he remarked as she caught up with him, admiring the scenery with determination. “Most of the snow will be melted by midday.” They had ridden past the northern edge of the camp and crossed into the deserted training grounds.
“Don’t ignore my question! What did you mean by, ‘not after what I did’?”
He glanced at her and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business. You and Damin should sort out things between yourselves.”
“I’d be happy to,” she snapped. “If I had any idea what you were talking about!”
“You really don’t know?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I did!”
Tarja reined in his mount and turned to face her. “He claims you tried to kill the High Prince of Hythria.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Tarja shrugged. “I’m just telling you what he told me. He said you hired some boys to do the job, but they killed themselves rather than carry out your orders.”
Adrina felt her fury rising like a volcano. All her plans to be nice evaporated in the face of such a terrible accusation. “That arrogant, lying...”
“I take it you have a somewhat different opinion?”
“How dare that... that... degenerate... even think such a thing! Let me tell you about your pet Warlord, Captain! He’s a savage, unfeeling monster who doesn’t deserve to breathe! I never tried to kill his damned uncle, although I wish I had! I gave those boys my knife to spare them from the twisted lust of a depraved old man.”
Tarja was taken aback by her fury, but seemed determined to believe his friend’s version rather than hers. “Yet you kept the collars as a souvenir. Why?”
“To remind myself why his whole damned family should be destroyed!”
He frowned, then suddenly wheeled his horse around. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
He led her north toward the battlefield. Adrina urged her horse to follow, wishing for a sorcerer-bred mount, rather than this sturdy, but uninspiring beast. She no longer felt the cold. Her anger warmed her better than any cloak, better than any fire. As they neared the snow-covered mangonels, he veered right, away from the field. The soldiers manning the front paid them little attention as they rode by, their attention focused on what lay north of the border. This was the closest she had come to the border since escaping from Karien and she allowed herself a moment to wonder what Cratyn was doing. He and that damned Hythrun would have made quite a pair.
Tarja led her east, away from the field until they reached a low stone wall that encircled a large snow covered mound. Adrina looked about in puzzlement.
“You brought me here to show me this?”
“It’s a grave.”
“Whose grave?”
“Your Fardohnyans. The men who died on the battlefield.”
Adrina swallowed an uncomfortable lump in her throat. It was so big. Had there been so many? She wiped away bitter tears that suddenly stung her eyes.
“I thought Medalonians cremated their dead?”
“We do. Burial is illegal in Medalon but Damin refused to allow the Fardohnyans to be cremated. He had his own men dig the grave. He buried them with their weapons, to honour your War God. Your captain was buried separately because he was of royal blood.”
“Tristan! Where? Where did they bury him?”
Tarja pointed to a small rock cairn on the southern side of the mound. Adrina flew from the saddle and ran to it, no longer caring if Tarja saw her crying.
Tristan! Oh, Tristan!
Tarja dismounted and followed her slowly, leading her mount with his. He waited patiently as she knelt by the cairn, not caring that her knees were being soaked by the snow, her face in her hands, as she let go of the grief she had so tightly controlled until now. She sobbed until her throat was raw. She sobbed until she had no more tears to shed.
Finally, she had no idea how long, she sat back on her heels and wiped her eyes, the scabbed over wound of her grief lanced and washed clean by her tears. It was then that she noticed the position of the cairn in relation to the mound. It was facing southwest. Toward Fardohnya.
“They buried him facing home.”
“That’s your savage, unfeeling monster for you.”
She turned and looked at him sharply. “Don’t try to tell me this proves anything! Cratyn is the most devout man that ever lived, but it doesn’t stop him from being a bastard!” She sniffed inelegantly and climbed to her feet. “I’ll grant you I’m surprised, but it hardly makes Wolfblade a saint.”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But I think you do him an injustice.”
“I’m the one falsely accused of attempted murder.”
“Then take it up with Damin, your Highness,” Tarja said wearily. “We should be getting back. Hadly’s waiting for me.”
He handed her the reins of her borrowed horse before swinging into his own saddle. Adrina stared at the mound for a moment, marking the place in her memory, before mounting the dun gelding.
“How did my brother die?”
Tarja hesitated for a moment before he answered. “He died in battle, your Highness. Isn’t that all you need to know?”
“I want to know who killed him.”
“To what purpose?”
Tarja’s reluctance to give her a straight answer made her suspicious. “It was Wolfblade, wasn’t it? That’s why you’re looking so uncomfortable. Damin Wolfblade killed my brother then buried him here as some sort of barbaric boast, so he could come and gloat over his grave.”