Ashyn and Guin followed Ronan at a distance. It was easy enough. He didn’t expect trouble now that he traveled alone. Ashyn just had to wait until they had enough distance from Tyrus that Ronan couldn’t send her back to him.
“Do you love him?” Guin asked as they rode.
Ashyn started to say an abrupt no, then stopped herself and said instead, “That’s a complicated question.”
“No, it isn’t. You do or you don’t. It’s that simple.”
“Is it?” Ashyn looked at the young woman. “I used to think so. I’m not so sure anymore. It isn’t like lighting a candle, which either catches or it doesn’t. It’s like trying to light a fire. Sometimes you get a spark and you aren’t sure if it’s enough. It might start the fire. Or it might just sputter out.”
“Candles can be lit and then go out.”
“True.”
“Love can, too. Or perhaps it isn’t love. You think it is, and then it goes wrong, and you realize it probably wasn’t at all. It was just desperation.”
Ashyn looked over sharply. Guin kept her face forward, expressionless.
“I imagine such a realization would be . . . difficult,” Ashyn said carefully.
“It is, at the time. Later . . .” Guin shrugged. “Later you see your error. Unfortunately, it can come too late.”
“There was someone, then?” Ashyn prodded. “For you?”
“No. There was no one for me.” Another moment of silent riding, then she continued, “I simply thought there was. I have mentioned that my parents had difficulty finding me a husband. I became a burden, as unwed daughters do. I tried to fix the problem. I was too thin, so I ate as much as I could, but it went into the wrong places. I was plain of face, so I tried elixirs of every sort, but all they gave me was bad skin. I sought to be pleasing to men in other ways, to be accomplished and sweet-natured, and I discovered . . .” She shrugged. “I discovered I was a poor performer. I cannot be what I’m not.”
“One shouldn’t need to.”
“One does, if one wishes a husband and has nothing else to entice him with. Finally, as I approached my twentieth summer, my parents sent me to a widowed shopkeeper, to cook and to clean for him. To replace his wife, as my mother said. I did not fully know what that meant. I soon learned.”
Ashyn paused, trying to think what Guin did mean. Then she realized it and said, “Oh,” her cheeks heating.
“Yes. I was to warm his pallet as well. It was not as unpleasant as I expected. He was quite unattractive, but there is pleasure to be had in a man’s embrace, and if the lantern is off, it hardly matters what he looks like.”
“I . . . see.” Ashyn was sure her cheeks were bright red now, but Guin took no notice.
“He told me he loved me, and I began to believe I loved him in return. Then I became pregnant.”
“You . . .” Ashyn stopped her horse. “You had a child?”
Guin continued riding, her gaze straight ahead. “No, I did not.”
Ashyn caught up. “I’m sorry.”
“As was I, at the time. In fact, when I first learned I was with child, I was delighted. I thought the shopkeeper would marry me. Instead, he sent me back to my parents and demanded the return of all consideration. That means he wanted back what he’d paid for me. Of course, it was not legal to sell a free citizen, even in that age, but there could be an exchange of goods for services. Which is the arrangement he’d had with my parents.”
Ashyn tried not to stare in horror.
“My parents were displeased with me.” Guin hesitated. “No, that is what I believe is called an understatement. I had dishonored them. Whored myself, they said.”
“But—but—they . . . They expected you to share his pallet.”
“Yes, but because they’d said no such thing, they claimed innocence. As they must. Selling one’s daughter as a whore is as bad as selling her as a slave. Perhaps the tradesman misunderstood the deal, but I do not think he did. Either way, I had shamed them. Though, in truth, I do not know what they expected.”
Guin rode a few paces in thoughtful silence before continuing, “I suppose they thought I would take measures to prevent pregnancy. However, to do such a thing requires knowing that it exists. I don’t know if the situation has changed, but in my time, one certainly did not discuss those matters with girls.” Another thoughtful pause. “Though it would seem, since they are most affected, they ought to know.”
“Yes,” Ashyn said. “They ought.”
Her own father had asked a neighbor woman to explain the facts of “marital relations” to Ashyn and Moria. He’d had the foresight, however, to stay within earshot, and later he’d had to explain it properly, to his obvious embarrassment. As for avoiding pregnancy, he’d only mumbled something about speaking to a healer once they were older. Much older.
At the time, Ashyn had thought Moria might need that conversation a little sooner, but she’d never had the nerve to suggest it. Now, hearing Guin’s story, she realized she ought to make sure Moria did speak to a healer about it. Soon.
“Did you . . . lose the child?” Ashyn said. “I do not mean to pry—”
“You do not pry. I broached the subject. As I said, my parents were displeased. My mother gave me the name of an old healer and told me not to come home until I’d visited her. The woman lived quite far from our village. I told her my situation and gave her the money my mother sent with me. The next thing I knew, I woke in a field, alone and bleeding. Apparently, she had ended the pregnancy, and something had gone wrong.”
Ashyn gripped the horse’s reins so tight her fingers ached. She waited, barely breathing. But Guin said no more.
“And then?” Ashyn prompted finally. “What happened then?”
“Nothing. That was the end.”
“Th-the end? Y-you mean . . .” Ashyn stammered and stared, unable to get the words out, until finally they came and she blurted, “You died?”
“Yes.”
“There? In that field? Alone?”
“Yes.”
Nothing Guin had said was more horrifying than the way she said this. So calm. So matter-of-fact. As if this was all one could expect from life. To be sold to a man, impregnated, rejected by your family, and sent to a stranger—with no idea what she has in mind—and then to wake in a field, the baby gone, your own lifeblood seeping into the ground. Used, abused, abandoned, and left to die. Alone. Utterly alone.
“I . . . I’m sorry,” Ashyn said. “I don’t know what else to say but that.”
Guin’s lips curved in the smallest smile. “You say it and you mean it, and you know me hardly at all. That is more than I expect. I’m glad I told you.”
“I’m glad you did, too.”
She reached to squeeze Guin’s hand, seeming to startle the girl. But Guin managed a smile in return, and they continued on in silence.
When Ronan paused to eat a quick meal by the roadside, Ashyn and Guin rode his way. He reached for his blade but stopped when he saw Tova. Ashyn braced, expecting him to scowl and march over to confront them, but he only smiled.
“Changed his mind, did he?” Ronan got to his feet and scoured the landscape. “Where is his highness? Off prowling as usual?”
“He headed west.”
“There’s nothing there. I just came from that way.”
“So did we. I meant that he headed west after you left. We’re going with you.”
Now the scowl came. “I hope that’s a joke, Ash.”
“It is not. I’m going with you so I can get the news from the city. It’s our best chance of hearing gossip on Moria. When you return to Tyrus, we’ll ride back together.”
He argued, but there was little he could do now with Tyrus long gone. Finally, he waved at Guin. “And her?”
“I asked Guin to come along,” she lied for Guin’s sake. “I thought that best. She can find a place in the city and—”
“I’m coming to care for your siblings,” Guin cut in. “So you will have no cause for concern on their behalf.”
Ronan sputtered, then settled for aiming an accusatory look at Ashyn.
“That was not what we discussed,” she said slowly. “But perhaps it is not a bad idea . . .”
“Not a bad idea? She’s been non-corporeal for an age. She’s barely stopped walking into walls.”
Guin glowered at him. “I have not walked into anything since my second day in this body. I can care for children. I had younger siblings when I was alive. They all survived the ordeal of my care.”
Ashyn expected Ronan to snap back a retort, but he only glanced away and grumbled, “You’ll not care for my siblings. Since the prince is long gone, though, I must accept Ashyn’s companionship.”
“You’re too kind,” she murmured.
He glared at her and said to Guin, “And since I accept hers, you—unfortunately—come as part of the deal. But if you impede our progress or endanger Ash at any turn—”
“I would never endanger Ashyn,” Guin said hotly. “You, perhaps. But not her.”
Ronan opened his mouth to reply, but Ashyn cut him off. “If I can find information on my sister, I’d like to do that soon. Can we stop arguing and start riding?”