“I’m sorry. I should not have snapped at you. It has been one hell of a morning. First Liriel wanted to monitor me, then she said I had to go to Arilinn, and then something happened in the dining room, and Ariel has taken her children away for fear I will put the evil eye on them.” She sighed.
“’I heard about it while Piedro was getting the coach ready. He is fit to be tied, poor fellow. I regret that my sister is so silly—no laran and enough emotion for six people—that’s Ariel. But I came to find you, to see if you wanted to ride with me around Armida. I’ll even let you ride Dorilys,” he teased.
Margaret thought of the pewter-gray mare, and the start of a smile moved her lips. “I would love that! In fact, a good ride would help me shake off the feeling I have that . . . I have done something dreadful. But Dom Gabriel didn’t seem to think she was a proper mount for a ‘mere’ female. And there is a storm coming, too.” She had a mild pleasure in the very idea of doing something her uncle would not approve of, and more so in doing it with Mikhail.
“I know. But we won’t be gone long. And my father thinks all women, including my mother, should ride weary old nags who couldn’t gallop if their lives depended on it. But he is not here, so let’s take advantage of his absence and get into mischief.” He smiled at her broadly. She’s so beautiful, and I don’t think she knows it!
This thought distracted Margaret from wondering where Dom Gabriel was. No one had ever called her beautiful before. Indeed, while she worked with Ivor Davidson, she rarely thought about her appearance except to be clean and tidy. Her aversion to mirrors had kept her from spending much time in front of them, and she always thought that Dio was the epitome of beauty, not herself. “While the cat’s away . . . I think some fresh air would do me a world of good. I’ll go change. Where will I meet you?”
“Go to the back of the house, past Liriel’s lair, and there is a door opening onto the Stable Court. I’ll be waiting.” I’ve been waiting all my life—what’s a few minutes more.
Margaret didn’t permit herself to dwell on Mikhail’s thoughts. They were too disquieting, for she knew she felt an answering emotion, a tender, new-born desire for her cousin. What a mess! Things were in enough of a muddle without adding that!
When Margaret entered the bedroom, she found Rafaella sitting on the trundle bed, her eyes streaming and her nose a glowing red. “What’s the matter?”
The Renunciate snuffled. “I have caught a dreadful cold, I think.”
“Then get undressed and go to bed! I’m going riding with cousin Mikhail, but I won’t be long.”
“It looks like it is going to rain soon, Marguerida. Are you sure?” Riding with Mikhail? That will put the cat among the pigeons! Oh, dear, I should go with her! Lady Javanne will have my head, if she learns about it. But I ache all over.
Margaret pulled her riding skirt out of the closet. “I am sure that if I stay in this house much longer, I will go stark raving mad. It will do me good to get out. I miss the road, you know. A little rain won’t hurt me, and it might just cool my temper. What a morning!” She gave a sharp laugh as she put on her skirt. “I never thought I would willingly forgo the delights of roofs and convenient bathrooms for the out-of-doors, but right now, I would be glad if the two of us were going about as we did before I got sick. You are splendid company, Rafaella. Now, get into bed.”
“Am I? No one ever told me that before.” The Renunciate sneezed enormously. “My head feels three sizes too large.”
“I’ll find a servant and ask for some tea for you before I go out.”
“Thank you. You are good company, too, Marguerida.” Please, be careful!
Ignoring the risk of infection, Margaret bent down and gave Rafaella a long hug. She brushed a strand of hair off her companion’s brow and patted her shoulder comfortingly. Then she hurried out of the room.
When Margaret reached the Stable Court, she realized it was the place she had seen from the window of Liriel’s room. What had Mikhail called it? Her lair? A good name for it. She could smell the pleasant scent of horses, dung, and wet stones as she crossed the open area. Grooms and hostlers were busy with their tasks, currying horses and checking hooves. It was a vast relief from the tension of the house, from the demands of her new family and all they expected of her.
A lad in a russet tunic led Dorilys out of the stable, and Mikhail followed behind. The mare was fairly dancing on the stones, clearly looking forward to the expedition as much as Margaret was herself. She approached the horse and let Dorilys take her scent, speaking to her in a low voice which made the animal prick up her ears and snort, pawing the paving stones impatiently.
Another groom led out Mikhail’s horse, a fine bay with a white star between its eyes and two white socks on its fore feet. Her cousin came to her, to help her mount. As he reached for her hand, Gabriel appeared from within the stable, his face sullen. He pushed Mikhail roughly aside, grabbed Margaret’s arm, and said, “Be off with you, Mik. It isn’t your place to show Marguerida around.” He won’t take my place!
Margaret pulled away from his touch. “I prefer to mount myself, thank you,” she said coldly. “And my plan was to go riding with Mikhail, not with you.”
She could feel Mikhail seething before his brother’s abrupt dismissal, and she realized there was something more going on. Margaret caught a wisp of thought from the younger man. I never thought I would want anyone so much. No woman has ever . . . I might as well wish for the moons! I can never have what I want, neither woman nor kingdom. Though just now I’d forgo the kingdom for . . . it doesn’t bear thinking of.
“I don’t care what your plans are, cousin. I and no one else will show you Armida! Take Dorilys back into the pasture, Asa. You must be mad, Mik, thinking of putting a mere woman on her. She’s too . . .”
“Gabe, your manners are shameful.” Mikhail spoke quietly, but his voice echoed against the stones. There was a kind of authority in his tone, a sureness she had not heard before, something of his mother or his uncle
Regis. She was startled at this, and pleased. She began to suspect that Mikhail Hastur was much more his own man than anyone imagined, and thought it was a dreadful shame he was the youngest son and not the eldest.
“I wish to ride Dorilys,” Margaret said, before either brother had a chance to speak. They were sure to get into a fight if she did not prevent it, and she had had quite enough of exalted tempers for one day. She wondered how they managed, with everyone being so touchy all the time. “Mikhail has said I may, and, if I understand it, she is his to give.”
Gabriel sulked and glared at his brother. “She is too much horse for anyone, let alone a softy like you, cousin. I know best. You must trust to my judgment. As for Mikhail, he is interfering where he has no business.”
“You know nothing about me, Gabriel, nothing whatever.” With that, Margaret set her foot into the stirrup and mounted the dancing Dorilys, and looked down at the two brothers. The horse nickered with pleasure and tossed her head merrily.
Gabriel looked ready to explode. Instead, he shoved Mikhail aside with a great push, knocking him to the stones of the court, and mounted the bay horse. “You had better learn to do as you are told, cousin!” He bellowed at her in rage, and Margaret could feel his roiling emotions as she turned the horse away.
Margaret was so angry she wanted to scream. Why couldn’t she be left alone, to have a little peace and quiet. She had been looking forward to seeing Armida with Mikhail, and Gabriel had spoiled everything. Then she felt the horse respond to her emotions and decided that she had better calm down. She breathed deeply and slowly, and let Dorilys have her head a little. The mare broke into a trot and whickered with delight. The black mane tossed.
Margaret could hear the sound of hooves from the horse following her, but she ignored them. Gabriel was swearing at his mount, and she turned and looked over her shoulder. The bay was fighting his rider, and seemed reluctant to catch up with her. Did laran apply to animals? Or did the big bay merely dis
like his rider?
She came to an earthen trail that led across wide pastures toward the hills, and she could see the clouds gathering above them. It was beautiful. The air was clean and fresh, and even the distant threat of thunder did not lessen her delight in the freedom of the open country. She could see thick stands of trees beyond the cultivated fields of pasture and grain. This was rich land, fertile and well cared for by her Uncle Gabriel. He might be formal and much too full of himself for her taste, but she was reminded, yet again, that he knew how to manage the land. He obviously took his responsibilities quite seriously.
Margaret saw a wider track and turned Dorilys onto it, still refusing to acknowledge Gabriel’s pursuit. She found the rhythm of the horse and matched it as they moved into a good canter. Dorilys was well-gaited, a smooth, light-mouthed filly, though Margaret knew she had a mind of her own. Still, they were moving together, as one, and after the horrors of the morning, that was all she asked.
She was so deeply involved in the pleasure of the ride that she was startled when a strong hand seized the reins and yanked. Margaret heard the protest from the horse, and matched it with her own. “Stop that!” Dorilys reared slightly, and she turned on Gabriel. “If you have cut her mouth, I will . . .”
“What?” He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were glaring. “What do you think you can do to me, you little cat!”
“Get your hand off the reins!”
“You had better get used to doing as I say, cousin. It will make our marriage much less difficult.”
“Marriage? If you were the last man in the known universe, I wouldn’t have you.”
“You won’t have any choice,” he answered smugly.
“Mother and Father have decided that you will marry me. I can’t say I really like the idea any more than you do, frankly. I don’t want a woman who doesn’t obey orders. But I know my duty, and you will learn yours.” It’s the only way to keep Armida!
Margaret wrenched the reins out of his hand, and her horse capered away, giving a nervous whinny. She set her heels into the horse, and Dorilys leaped forward like a bolt. In a moment they were galloping along the packed trail, heading for the closest stand of trees. Margaret leaned forward across the horse’s neck and smelled the warm scent of the animal. Not too far behind, she could hear Gabriel swearing and cursing, trying to catch up with the flying hooves of the pewter mare.
She rode into the trees, and she could tell that Dorilys knew her way. The branches were high enough to pass above her head easily, and the horse turned this way and that. Clearly the little mare thought this was a fine game, and was determined to have the best of it.
The light between the trees turned from gold to silver quite suddenly, and Margaret looked up toward the sky. The clouds she had seen over the hills had moved, and the sky was dark and threatening. She could smell electricity in the air, and a moment later she heard the ominous boom of thunder. She was going to get soaked, but just then she did not care. If she caught Rafaella’s cold, she could go to bed and avoid the entire family!
A flash of lightning brightened the sky for an instant, and she heard the pounding of Gabriel’s horse nearby. Dorilys whinnied and flickered her sharp ears, but she did not seem much disturbed by the storm. Still, she slowed to a trot, and Margaret stroked her neck. What a wonderful animal!
Gabriel, puffing and snorting, drew up beside her. “That was a stupid thing to do! You might have broken your neck.”
“That would be very convenient for everyone, wouldn’t it?”
“Is that what you think of me—of me and my parents? You must be as mad as your father! Not to mention your mother!”
“You leave the Senator out of this! And keep your hands off this horse. I won’t be ordered by you, Gabriel. And I certainly will not marry you.” She ignored the reference to Thyra, but it upset her more than a little. She was damned if she was going to argue with this man, this stupid man! How dare he!
“You don’t understand. You have to. You don’t have any choice.”
“No, it is you who doesn’t understand. I am not a piece of property to be handed around. I belong to myself, not to you or your stupid parents, or Armida or anything else.” For an instant she had an image of coupling with Gabriel, and it was so revolting she nearly jerked the reins against the bit. Better to die a maiden than to have him touch her.
Gabriel gripped her arm painfully, almost as if he were hearing her thoughts, and dug his strong fingers into the muscles. Margaret gave a small yelp. “You see,” he gloated. “You don’t really have the power to deny me.” And I will get what I want, at last! I will best my sneaky little brother and have Armida for my own!
Margaret turned and looked at his triumphant expression in disbelief as rain began to pour down on them. “So what are you planning? Are you going to try to rape me?” She could not keep the disdain from her voice, nor the anger. If she had been on foot, she would have used the self-defense techniques she had learned at University, but horseback was no place for that. She struggled to contain her emotions. Dorilys tossed her head and danced, jerking away so that Gabriel lost his hold on Margaret’s arm.
The man gave a gasp, and all the color faded from his face. “Of course not.” He looked horrified, as if he had just realized how his actions might be construed.
“Good. Because I really wouldn’t want to test my laran on you.”
He swelled up again. “Do you mean to tell me you would actually . . . that is disgusting! You bitch! You misbegotten, underbred bitch! I am going to break you, and I am going to enjoy it!” I could kill you!
Margaret had no idea what was driving the man, what forces in his past had made him lose control like this. She tried to think of some way to calm him, but nothing came to mind. The tension in her chest was almost unendurable, and it found release in laughter, much to her astonishment and shame. “How? You are a fool, Gabriel. I am sure that a well-mannered telepath would never think of defending herself with her Gift, but I am not constrained by your rules. Do you think you can beat me into submission? Are you really so blind that you imagine you could?”
Gabriel’s hand whipped out and slapped her face. Her skin stung, and Margaret felt something arise within her, something strong and previously unknown. Her temples pounded, and the distant thunder seemed to roll along her bones. She wanted to kill him for touching her, for striking her.
A woman’s face, twisted with rage, loomed above her, and small, strong hands slapped her face back and forth. Then someone dragged the woman away, screaming in fury, and she saw the silver-eyed man holding her. Thyra and Robert Kadarin wrestled, the man trying to control the woman without injuring her. She heard her own sobs, and felt her child-rage. She had wanted to kill the woman.
There was a flash of lightning and the vision vanished. Ancient rage warred within her for a second, and then she turned Dorilys aside, putting a little distance between them. The rain roared down, and the thunder boomed. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll burn your brain to cinders!” She had no idea if she could actually accomplish such a terrible thing, but she was so furious she almost imagined that she could.
The man flinched. “I’m sorry, Marguerida. I must have been mad.” The rain flattened his hair against his skull, and he looked utterly miserable. “I was going to be nice, and ask you nicely to marry me. I don’t know what got into me.” Mikhail! This is all his fault, the little swine. Pushing in where he doesn’t belong! I have to fix this, somehow, or Mother will be furious. She has to choose me, because she has already rejected Rafael, and there isn’t anyone else.
“It wouldn’t have done any good, Gabriel. You could have been the nicest man on Darkover, and I still wouldn’t have said yes.” And you aren’t, by a long piece, she thought .
“Why are you being so stubborn? Don’t you see that you already belong to me, by right. Why can’t you stop being so damn . . . do you really think we are going to let you do what you please? If he must, my father will go to the Comyn
Cortes and have you declared his ward, and then you will find out that you can’t do as you wish, but only as you are told. You are much too independent, and you don’t know what is good for you. I do. I am older than you are, and wiser. It will be much easier if you just do as you are told, and stop trying to avoid your duty.”
Margaret wondered if he might be right about that. The laws of Darkover might force her into marriage no matter what. “Gabriel, you don’t have enough wisdom to fill a thimble. You can’t threaten me in one breath and then tell me you know what is best for me in the next.”
Another flash of light illuminated Gabriel’s face, and she realized that he thought just that. There was a look in his eyes, an inward gaze, that suggested to her that he rarely listened to anyone but himself. She had seen this sort of solipcism before, in academics enamored of some pet theory or other, but never in a healthy, strong male. There was something more, too. Margaret sensed something unstable, a kind of willfulness that denied anything which did not agree with what he imagined was correct. He was not as stupid as she had thought, she realized, but like his sister Ariel there was something amiss within. Whether it was too much inbreeding for too many centuries or just a dreadful narcissism, she could not guess. All she could be sure of was that he was not a man who could accept her rejection mildly. Sitting astride Dorilys in the rain, Margaret sensed a whiff of desperate madness in Gabriel. It was in his eyes, and in the way he bent toward her as if nothing had happened, as if he had not threatened her and she had not spoken at all.
“Listen to me, Marguerida.” His voice was loud above the roar of the storm. “I am going to be your husband, and you had better accept it. I’ll have you and I’ll have Armida, and that is that!” He was shouting above the storm, and the bay shifted restlessly beneath him.
“I’ll see you in hell first!” Lightning struck a tree not a hundred paces away, and Dorilys decided she had had enough. She reared slightly, then started through the trees, sending clods of mud flying in all directions. Margaret clung to the reins and coiled her left hand into the mane, leaning forward against the neck of the animal. The mare bolted as the trees became fewer, and she hung on, pressing her chilled knees into the horse. She had no further thought for her unhappy cousin, but could only focus on staying in the saddle as the horse almost scraped her off beneath a low-hanging branch, then raced into the open.