Firebrand

He ducked under Condor’s neck to work on his other side, and Zachary reminded himself that if it took him so long to recover from the arrow wound—both mentally and physically—he could not expect Karigan to be all better in so short a time. She hadn’t even the benefit of Ben Simeon’s true healing ability to help her.

He had been tortured himself at the hands of Grandmother, but with no obvious lasting wounds. He remembered pain, but no longer felt it. He could not recall much about what was done to him during that time. Perhaps one day he’d know if he’d given up any information. There was no evidence of torture upon his body. Not like Karigan, who would bear the scars for the rest of her life.

Estral wandered over and surveyed the clumps of chestnut horse hair snagging on grasses and brush. “You make a fine groom, Your Majesty.”

He smiled. “Spring shedding, a sure sign of winter in retreat, at last.”

“Poor Bane looks like he wants a little love, too.”

“I will work on him next. We could stuff a mattress with his hair.” A glance revealed that Mist looked as pristine as ever as she daintily cropped at the coarse grass.

Estral chuckled, then sobered. “I saw what you did with Condor earlier, taking him to see Karigan. Did it help at all? Did she respond?”

Zachary paused and picked hair off the curry comb. “Not much, I’m afraid. I—I fear that perhaps I am pushing too hard. I have never seen her so despondent. But you have known her longer . . .”

Estral slowly shook her head. “I haven’t either. I’ve seen her angry, upset, grieving. Nothing like this, but then I don’t know how one is supposed to be after having been hurt like she was. That on top of all that happened to her in the future time.”

Her loss of Cade, Zachary thought. He slowly worked the curry comb over Condor’s hind end.

“I can’t help thinking,” Estral said, “that she has some battle going on inside, and it is taking all she has.”

Zachary stopped. “That is an apt description. I have tried to help, but I am afraid I am more of a hindrance. She feels . . . she is scrupulous about not wanting to interfere with my marriage, and I am afraid my own desire to help only hurts her, makes it all the worse.” He was not afraid to speak of such things to Estral for she had shown she already very clearly knew there were feelings between him and Karigan.

“I can see it is difficult,” Estral replied. “She must be torn, both wanting to be comforted by you, and to be distant.”

“I do not know what to do, if helping is hurting her.” Facing an army of Second Empire seemed easier. It was concrete, he knew what to do, it was a problem he could solve.

“It may be,” Estral said, “it is a battle she must fight on her own.”

Zachary thought back to his own struggles after the arrow wound. Karigan may want to be left alone, but she shouldn’t be. She may have to fight her inner battle on her own, but she needed friends to lend support. But maybe he shouldn’t be one of them.

“I must admit,” Estral said, “she has me a bit perplexed this time around. She’s pretty resilient, but maybe it gets harder to rebound after a while.”

“So, you’ve no advice for me?”

“I know what I’d tell you if you were not married to someone else,” Estral said, “but since you are? It’s a little harder. Still, I don’t think love is ever misplaced.”

He watched after her as she wandered away; then he exchanged the curry comb for a stiff brush, planning to work Condor from nose to tail. Before he started, however, the gelding rested his chin on Zachary’s shoulder and heaved the longest, deepest, most heartfelt sigh ever.

Zachary patted his neck. “I know exactly how you feel, boy.”

• • •

By the time Zachary finished with both Condor and Bane, he was overcome with a sense of accomplishment he hadn’t felt in far too long. He was also covered in horse and pony hair, but the two gleamed in the sun and had seemed to bask in the attention. He’d combed and pulled Condor’s mane and tail, as well, and now wound some of the coarse tail hair into a circle and inserted it into his belt pouch.

He was trying to brush the hair off his clothes when he heard some commotion in the campsite. He left the horses at a jog, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Or, rather, Karigan’s sword.

To his relief, Captain Treman had finally arrived, accompanied by one of his officers, as well as Fiori, and, to Zachary’s surprise, Rider-Lieutenant Connly and a pair of Weapons. Actually, one of the Weapons was a trainee in dark gray. The other, the full Weapon, was Donal. Estral and Enver had already gone forward to greet them.

When he approached, the Weapons dismounted and bowed before him. The others followed their example. The formality felt odd after so long away from court.

“Your Majesty,” Donal said, “we are pleased to see that you are safe. Your message, which Lord Fiori bore, has been sent on to the castle with Rider Oldbrine. Lieutenant Connly is at your disposal, should you like to send any others.”

He glanced at Connly, who was, at the moment, speaking softly with Estral and Enver. He followed them into Enver’s tent. Good, Zachary thought. Perhaps the presence of another Green Rider would help Karigan.

Zachary, the captain, his lieutenant, and Fiori sat beside the campfire. The Weapons stood off some distance taking up their customary watchful stances, which was a familiar feeling, and not unwelcome. Perhaps he could now put much of his ordeal as a captive behind him.