Chapter 61: RHYERS - Suitors

Marshall Manse, Mane Country

RHYERS

“There’s a masquerade in a few weeks. Something I must attend.” Rhyers explained.

“You’re telling me because there’s going to be Cimmerii there?” Sam said.

Rhyers gave a grudging head tilt.

“Then I’m going with you.”

“I think that’d be unwise.” Rhyers cautioned.

Sam’s expression hardened in a way Rhyers had come to know well.

He’s going. Ugh. Rhyers rolled his eyes.

“When do we leave?” Sam asked. Sensing the matter was done being discussed.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re going to slow me down. Rhyers thought in annoyance. I’m going to have to ride in a carriage. Which will take three times as long as me travelling on foot.

“Where at?” Sam queried.

“Widow Valentine’s, Meadowbrook. In Grier.”

Sam grunted. Turning and moving papers on his desk. “Sounds good. I’ll let Ebony know.”

Ebony?

“Ebony!” Rhyers burst out. “Ebony isn’t going!”

“Yes she is.” Sam said turning to face him. “I can’t leave her here alone long enough to go to Meadowbrook. She’s going.”

“No. She’s not.” Rhyers looked at him incredulously. “Do you know how dangerous that could be?”

“We’ll be there.” Sam gestured to him. “You’ll protect her.”

“She’s not going.”

“She is.”

“She isn’t.”

“She is not going!” Rhyers announced. Standing in-front of the Marshall carriage door to prevent her from entering.

She was standing in the walkway with her bags. Looking impatient. “Bodin!”

“Not going.” He shook his head adamantly.

“She’s going.” Sam pushed him aside. “Let her through and quit being a jackanape.”

“I’m trying to look after her.” Rhyers pushed his way back in-front of the door. “Better than you, clearly.”

Sam’s jaw clenched and he reared back with a tightened fist.

“You hit me,” Rhyers straightened, giving him a steady look. “And I will beat you until you can’t lift that arm.”

Ebony laughed robustly. “You, Bodin? You couldn’t possibly hit him without dislodging that wig.” She pointed to the high contraption barely balanced atop his crown.

She may have a point.

He may not give me a choice. He was looking at Sam’s obstinate expression. He may force me to hit him.

Rhyers gaze lifted to Ebony and he realized that seeing him throttling her brother may be something traumatic to a Lady. He drew a staying breath. “Fine.” He tossed his hands. “Let her go!”

“Thank you.” Sam lowered his fist. Brown eyes still hard on him. “You should really be nicer to my sister.” He climbed into the carriage.

“Nicer?” Rhyers squawked turning to watch him getting in. “I couldn’t possibly be nicer to her.”

“She is right here.” Ebony shouldered past him with a withering look.

He caught her shoulders and spun her around to push her back against the side of the carriage. “Don’t go.”

She gave him a confused look. Surprised by the imploring note in his voice.

“You’re not going.” He cleared his throat and straightened. Taking a step back away from her.

She chased his step to put her foot overtop his. Putting her nose nearly up to his. “I most certainly am.”

His green eyes narrowed on her as he ducked his head to meet her look. Hoping to intimidate her.

Her petulant expression didn’t flicker. “And you most certainly could be nicer to me.” Tossing her black hair over her shoulder she gave him her back as she took the step into the carriage.

“How is that?” He made an agitated gesture. Tempted to grab her by the waist and haul her back out of the carriage, put her back in the drive and demand the carriage driver leave without her.

She’d probably chase it down. He groaned inwardly.

“Just pretend I’m one of your pretty brunettes.” She muttered contemptuously as she took her seat.

A horrifying thought.

“What was that?” He turned his ear, resting both hands along the door frame.

“Nothing, Bodin.”

Better be nothing.

I don’t ever want to hear something like that again.

Ebony slept soundly in the seat next to Sam. Stuffed into the corner for warmth. She was huddled with her wrap pulled tightly around her.

She’s cold. Evening was coming at the chill with it.

She was a petite girl and she looked even smaller when balled up. Black hair shining as it was wound around her crown then over one shoulder. Shining silkily. Her mouth was pursed in a pout as she slept. Slightly parted. Her nose was short and straight. Well-defined. Her features were becoming but still very youthful.

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked.

“She shouldn’t be attending balls.” He blurted.

“Whyever not?”

“She’s yet a girl.”

Sam scoffed. “Bodin, you really must get with the times. She’s a young woman. She’s been of marrying age for several years. Two suitors have already asked me for her hand.”