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“Thank you, Pip,” Lysander said. “My lady, a wedding gift.
Looking over at him, I saw that contagious smile light up his face. I felt warmth in my heart as I walked to the gray mare and petted her silky sheen. “She is beautiful, my lord. I’ve never seen the like. What is her name?”
“She’s yours to name, my lady. She’s built for the cold climate here. I purchased her weeks ago. She was delivered only yesterday.”
“Well,” I said, moving my hand up and down her neck. Her muzzle thumped my cheek, and I laughed. “I will just have to get to know you better, beautiful, before I name you, won’t I?”
I turned to Lysander and saw he was pleased.
“You are good with animals, I see.”
I nodded. “I’ve never met a creature I didn’t like, my lord. Sometimes I find animals better company than people.”
He laughed. “Now, that I can relate to. Come, let’s get saddled up and enjoy the rest of the morning.”
With our lunch basket strapped to the back of Aspen, we both took to our mounts and rode out, leaving the stables and the manse behind us as we rode west.
The morning sun was close to its noon apex and shone down on us softly. The sky was as clear as a robin’s egg, and the air was sweet and crisp.
We rode hard, turning north, passing thin streams that ran parallel at our side, past silver pine trees and down rocky knolls. The Mor’s perimeter, that gray brick wall, had to have been miles and miles long. There was so much space, most of it flat, on top of Great Mountain, and my mind couldn’t believe that I, Sierra Linden, was here, riding a horse with an Ongahri prince.
Lysander pointed at an area near the bank of a wide river, where a small boat banged against the posts of a short pier. We dismounted and saw to the horses, letting them roam nearby. He spread out a blanket he’d found inside the basket, then began placing all the foodstuffs and the rest of the contents onto the blanket.
He uncorked a bottle of wine and poured us two glasses.
“A toast. To us.” He raised his glass, and I tapped mine to his, the chiming ding singing in the air.
“To us.”
The wine was full-bodied and crisp. I took a deep sip, set it aside, and removed my gloves. We were facing the river, which flowed at a startling speed south.
“That’s the Glacius River,” he said. “Never freezes no matter how cold it gets here. It moves too fast. As a boy, I remember waiting patiently for it to freeze over so I could play on it. Sometimes, blocks of ice as big as tree trunks form, traveling down the mountain and west, out to the sea. But no matter how much I waited, the current just wouldn’t allow more than that.”
I watched that current now, how swiftly it moved. It would be impossible to swim in it, I thought, even if the water wasn’t capable of freezing one’s limbs.
He was quiet for so long, I looked over at him. He was deep in thought, eyes still on the river.
We had hit another bout of awkwardness. I glanced down at the bounty the kitchen had packed, thinking food would put us back on more comfortable ground. Sandwiches and cheeses, the usual picnic fare and some items I had never seen before. I picked up a skewer from several that sat on a cheese cloth. I recognized chicken and red peppers, but not the yellow cubes.
“What are these?” I asked, pointing to the food in question.
“Hmm? Oh. Pineapple. Something I doubt you’ve had before?”
“Never. Is it a vegetable?”
“May I?” When I nodded, he took the skewer from my hand and removed the chicken and pepper, tossing them into his mouth. The pineapple he offered to me. “Open.”
My eyes on him, I parted my lips. Dense texture released a sweet and sour juice inside my mouth, flooding my tongue. “Oh!” I chewed, savoring every bit. It was delicious, neither pine nor apple.
He grinned. “They grow in the Aires. Mari can’t part from them too long, and I know as soon as the cellar starts emptying, she’ll be sending a convoy out to get more of her favorites from home.”
He took another skewer, handed me one, and took one for himself. “So, tell me about Providence.”
“Well,” I said, swallowing a bite of chicken. “It’s not a city, nothing urban like Burva or Cattalone. It’s more a vast farmland. Lots of cattle, livestock, and vineyards. Beautiful. With all four seasons.” I laughed. “I will miss the summers there. But this….” I looked around us at the beauty of the stark landscape, still not quite believing I was here at Goth Mor Helle. “It is so refreshing. And the manse. I have no words. It’s very peaceful here. More raw and ancient.”
“It is definitely ancient.” He drank more wine, offered to top mine, but I had only sipped at what was still in my glass.
“Which do you prefer? The Aires or Great Mountain?”
