To Bind in Blood

Chapter 21

Though the weather was a bit of a shock from Sardin's heat, the mood was light as the Viannic-Quellen party entered Black Vale. It had been a long journey home-at least it had felt like it-but thankfully they had not encountered any Remans in the borderlands. The biggest issue they had faced was the Viannic soldiers' inability to adapt to the cold. Even now they rode bundled in all their spare clothing, their empress shivering along with the rest of them. Jurion had lent Nadeina his spare cloak, but he could tell from her pale cheeks and the hunch of her shoulders that it would take a while for her to adjust to the Quellen cold.

Despite the late hour, the people of Black Vale were preparing for the Winter Festival. The main road bustled with people, many who had traveled from the outer reaches of the realm to attend the festival. Banners and streamers decorated the front of the buildings and booths that lined the cobbled road. Lanterns hung from lines strung between buildings, giving the city a cozy glow. Black Vale was more charming than grand, more homey than modern.

They were met by an escort of soldiers who were enthused to see their Great Lord had returned. The soldiers were more wary of Nadeina and her riders, regarding them with more than a hint of suspicion. But the people-they were too concerned with the return of their fellow Quellens to let the Viannic presence dampen their spirits. Many stopped their festival preparations at the sound of hooves clopping on the stones and waved, calling out friendly greetings. No one swarmed their group like the mob had in Sardin. No one jeered and spat at them. No one called out insults or accused them of witchcraft.

Bless these people, this land. After being away from it for so long, Jurion did not know if he had it in him to eventually leave it again.

"How strange," said Nadeina, breath fogging in the cold air, "that they do not come to pay homage, Great Lord."

Jurion glanced at her and reined his horse closer, minding the dogs that trotted at Nadeina's heels. "Quellens welcome their leaders as they would a friend, Nadeina. We prefer sincerity over fanfare." His voice was mild, restrained.

They wound their way through the streets, some wide and others narrow, all cobbled and clean despite the snow on the ground outside the city. The estate loomed ahead, set on a gentle rise overlooking the rest of the city sprawled across the valley. Jurion's heart swelled at the sight of the worn stone walls and the dark buildings peeking over the top. There would be a meal ready for them when they arrived, soft beds and hearty fires warming the rooms. His father and mother would come out to greet them, his brother and sister not far behind . . .

He shook off the thoughts along with the pain. Fantasizing about a warm welcome from people who were dead did nothing to bring them back.

They passed through the gates and dismounted in the wide courtyard. As if happy to be home and impatient for her food, Issar stomped her foot. He gave her neck a pat and caught a glimpse of Wrell's horse nudging her arm with a similar demand.

Amid the noises of hungry, tired horses and people, the grooms appeared, taking the horses away to be rubbed down and fed. Not long after, a leather-clad woman with black hair and a smooth, pale face that made her appear younger than he suspected appeared. Bowing low while eyeing the hounds that accompanied the empress, she said, "Great Lord, I am Audred Nirsan, just recently appointed captain of the guard. Welcome home."

"Thank you, Captain. You were appointed during my absence?"

"Yes, my lord. The Lady General appointed me, with the lesser lords' confirmation. I hope to serve you well."

"Well-met, Captain Nirsan. I trust my sister's judgment." Most of the time.

The captain met Jurion's eye but did not linger, her focus shifting to Wrell standing behind. "Wrell. It has been a while."