Mist on the Moon

He will miss her when she's gone

Another thought that kept entering her mind was his restriction on riding. "I could not ride today and continue my archery training." She looked up at him, awaiting his answer.

"Ah, yes, all riding is curtailed while the danger is present."

"It is what I like to do best."

"I'm sorry, my lady." Cara noted he said that with what seemed like honest sincerity.

"Why?"

"You don't know!?" It was an exclamation as well as a question.

Cara liked that she had elicited a strong response from Trent, but knowing something about men, especially with her father, she realized she shouldn't antagonize him. "It's because of the Magyars, I've been told." She had a sudden urge to reach out and touch his hand, and did, whether in propriety or not. "I'm sorry. I haven't even thanked you for coming. Without you and your men we could have been attacked. Our manor could have been captured."

"That was, is our concern," he said, now looking into her eyes. "The danger is very real. We know they are a restive people, and we try to keep track of where they are while we still have time to defend against attack. I believe they have learned for themselves that your manor is alerted to their trepidations."

Cara began to think of the future, but concern clouded her face. "But what might happen when you and your men leave? I am afraid they would choose then to attack us."

Trent reached the short distance across the table to take her hand in his. "Yes, there is always danger, but the Magyars are a nomadic people. They move to an area hoping to find a weakness they can exploit. They don't like to lose large numbers of their own fighting men. They will not fight at all unless they can do so without losing. So, after awhile, they move on and either return to the steppes from where they came, or on to another kingdom that is not as well prepared to stop them. They win by surprise"

"I see," she said.

"Enough of war and the enemy," he said, shaking his head as if to leave the idea behind. "I have heard that our entrance happened to come just when festivities were ongoing for you."

Cara's initial thought was to make little of it, but realizing that the prince had probably been well informed, she said simply, "Yes, my father wants me married." She had been looking down in saying that, but now looked up to see his reaction.

"I see." He still held one of her hands and squeezed it slightly in saying, "And you don't want it."

Cara wondered if her feelings on the matter were all so perfectly visible. They seemed so to this man. Another thought came to her. "I am honored, sire, that you requested me to dine with you," she started. Then, forgetting her temerity, she asked, "Why?"

He smiled; his eyes betrayed a twinkle as he looked at her. "Does a prince need a reason to request a meeting with a beautiful woman?"

Cara lowered her eyes in modesty. She had never thought of herself as particularly beautiful. When she looked up at him, his lips still held a bit of a smile, but there was something else in his eyes that she couldn't quite read.

One of his knights came to the table and in a quiet voice spoke to him. With the man's accent, Cara couldn't make out what he said. Trent stood up, and looking meaningfully into her eyes said, "I must go now. I will see you again."

Cara stood up as well. "Yes," she breathed. She noted he did not ask, his words were, "I will see you again." Was he a man who took what he wanted? Then, in seeming haste, he and his knight turned and strode out of the hall.