Spotting a thick, fallen tree, Ember climbed up on it and let her legs dangle.
“Ember, I want you to know that among the Guard you have friends,” Barrow said, his eyes back on the water. “Our lives are hard and we may seem equally hard as people. But we live and die for one another. We are more closely bonded than any others . . . at least that’s what I’ve found.”
Ember sat quietly. When Barrow spoke of the Guard, it was with quiet intensity. A question stirred within her, but it was one she was afraid to ask.
They find lovers where they will and when they will.
What did Barrow mean when he invoked the bonds of the Guard?
She had to know if Alistair had handed her lies in the hopes that he’d sway her.
“Barrow—” The thickness in her throat made her voice crack. Barrow looked at her, his brows raised in surprise.
“The Guard . . .” She dropped her gaze to the forest floor, not wanting to meet Barrow’s eyes when she put this question to him. “Are they truly chaste?”
For the longest moments Ember thought she’d ever experienced, the only answer that came was the babble of the brook as it made its way along the hillside. Then Barrow began to laugh.
FOURTEEN
EMBER JUMPED DOWN from the log and, squaring off with Barrow, folded her arms across her chest. He was still laughing as she glared at him.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Barrow shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Ember.” He drew a shaking breath and managed to quell his mirth. “It’s just that when you started to speak, I thought you were about to confess something horrible to me. Your face had no color whatsoever.”
“You think my question was funny?” Ember snapped. “Excuse me for taking the vows I spoke with some level of solemnity.”
A smile hopped on and off Barrow’s mouth, but he managed to keep from laughing again. “Of course, you’re right. You surprised me, that’s all.”
Despite her flare of anger, Ember remained desperate for an answer. “Well?”
“Well what?” Barrow didn’t bother to fight off his smile this time.
Ember stamped her foot and then cursed herself for stamping her foot because it made Barrow chuckle.
“You know what!” she blurted.
His smile faded. “Why are you asking this?”
“I heard rumors,” she said lamely. “I only want to know if they are true.”
“You should be wary of rumors. Particularly those regarding who’s been visiting whose bed.” His eyes grew distant and lost the spark of laughter. “But the answer to your question is: sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Beneath her arms, Ember felt her heartbeat speeding up though she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her nerves.
Barrow shrugged. “It’s a matter of choice. The only true restriction on one’s personal relationships is that they may not interfere with our service to the Guard. And love is an interfering thing by its nature, so some of us choose to avoid its entanglements altogether.”
“Is it really that simple?” Ember asked, frowning.
“We study the ways of this world’s finest warriors so that we may enhance our own skills. Our models are those we find in history, not the dictates of the Church,” Barrow said.
“History?”
“Think of the champions of Sparta,” he answered.
Ember nodded. “Few would compare.”
“We know that they prized love for one another—physical as well as the loyalty of friendship—and it bore no ill consequences for them in battle,” Barrow said.
“But what of the vow?” Ember grew more confused by the minute. Had her outrage at Alistair been unreasonable? If it was, why did her stomach still churn when she thought of his words and his attempt to persuade her into his bed?
Barrow stood up, pacing to the edge of the stream. “The vow has its place. And most of the Guard adhere to it, for safety’s sake.”
“Safety’s sake?” Ember followed his path, gazing into the rippling water.
“We may fight only by leave of the Church and the nobles,” he said. “The restraints we put on our own lives to serve the cause render us less threatening to them. By acting the part of monks, we offer them the semblance of servitude.”
“So it’s all an act?” Ember said bitterly. “The vow means nothing?”
Barrow turned suddenly, looking into her eyes. “Does it mean nothing to you?”
She gazed at him and slowly shook her head. What she’d given up had in turn granted her freedom. She thought of Caber’s pounding hooves and the wind tugging at her hair.
“It means everything,” she said.
“As it does to many of us, but the vow is about service to the order, not the choices of the individual,” he said. “I only suggest that you not judge those who have fallen under love’s spell despite their vows. Pride is an empty cup.”
Ember blushed. Love’s spell—was that what had drawn Alistair to her? Perhaps she’d been too harsh. Her shock had overwhelmed any kindness merited by their long friendship.
Barrow was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Again I ask, Ember, is there something that troubles you beyond the rumors—which are indeed more than rumors—about some of the Guard?”
She flinched, not wanting to incur Barrow’s ill will toward Alistair, especially now that she was doubting her initial reaction to his advances.
She looked at Barrow. “What about you?”
“What about me?” He pulled a smooth stone from the streambed.
“Do you have a lover?” Ember paused, thinking of his comment about the Spartans, and suddenly gasped. “Is it Kael?”
Barrow dropped the stone. It plunked into the water and rapidly sank. “Is that what you think?”
Ember worried she’d offended him, but when he faced her, one corner of his mouth was crinkled in amusement.
“I’m not Kael’s lover, though I love him like a brother,” Barrow said. “As much as I admire the Spartans, I prefer the company of women in my bed.”
At that moment Ember wanted nothing more than to kick Barrow in the shin and run away. She couldn’t fathom why she’d have such a childish reaction to the calm conversation that she’d instigated. She also couldn’t bear the sudden hot stinging in her eyes. She turned away, bending down to place her palms against the stream’s surface so he couldn’t see her face.
Barrow continued, “I mean only if such were the case. I have no lover.”
Ember caught her breath, but she didn’t want to look at him. She still didn’t understand why her emotions veered wildly from one moment to the next.
“Why not?” she asked.
“One of the reasons that Kael and some others take lovers among the Guard is that it can be kept secret. With women it’s a much greater risk,” Barrow said.
“Why?”
Barrow coughed. “Because I wouldn’t shame a maid by giving her a bastard child.”
“Oh.” Ember blushed again. Of course that was a risk, and if Barrow fathered a child, he’d likely be forced out of the Guard and into marriage. Father Michael had spoken of this very thing when she’d been called to the Guard.
“And while some noblewomen find dalliances with warriors a welcome distraction from their older husbands, I’m not flattered by such offers.” Barrow shifted his sword on his hip.
Though it all made sense, Ember remained unsettled. “Do you not care about the vow? If you wanted a lover, would you take one?”
“I don’t know,” he said, giving her a half smile. “I’ve never had to make that choice. I believe in the vows I made. And I honor them, but I don’t believe love is a sin. I keep the vow because it lends me focus and strength in battle. I simply don’t begrudge the happiness of those who follow a different path.”
Ember finally rose from her crouch, facing Barrow. Her heart skipped a beat when she met his eyes. To her chagrin, she once again found her gaze moving over the hard angles of his jaw and chin, the shape of his
lips. It was no wonder noblewomen had tried to coax this warrior into their beds. The thought made her want to find a new target for her dagger.
Barrow’s expression changed, as if a cloud had passed over his face.
“If . . . if there is someone you wish to share your bed with . . .” His words carried an edge. “Sorcha could help you. There are herbs that reduce the chance you’ll become with child.”
She was so taken aback that it took her a moment to answer. “No!”
Her exclamation brought bewilderment to his eyes and she blushed.
“I mean . . . there is no one. That isn’t why I asked.” She kept her gaze on the waterfall, thinking that her mind felt too much like the tumbling river.
After an unbearable space of silence, Barrow cleared his throat. “We should make our way back to the keep. You still need to get some practice in with those weapons Morag crafted for you.”
Ember was grateful he turned his back because she was certain her own shock at the audacity of her examination and speculation about Barrow’s would-be lovers was written clearly on her face. Why would she even ponder such things? As her mentor, Barrow deserved her respect, and instead her mind drummed up fodder worthy only of gossiping, shrewish wives.
Shame-filled, Ember kept her distance as they made the slippery climb back up the falls. Barrow gave a short whistle, and a moment later Toshach and Caber appeared from within the forest’s shadows.
Ember watched as Barrow spoke softly to his horse and then swung into the saddle. She cringed when he noticed him scrutinizing her.
“I still believe you’re keeping something from me, Ember,” he said. “Your every move bespeaks worry. If you have other questions, you’d best ask them before we return to Tearmunn.”
She shook her head as she tightened Caber’s girth. “It’s nothing.”
He sighed. “I won’t press you, but I’d be lying if I claimed not to be saddened that I’ve not yet earned your trust.”
With a cluck of Barrow’s tongue Toshach was off at a trot, leaving Ember to stare after him, startled by his words. She cursed under her breath as she swung into the saddle. Urging Caber into a swift gait, she sought to catch him.
“Barrow!”
He pulled up at the edge of the forest. Toshach pranced, snorting and jerking at the reins.
Barrow patted the stallion’s neck. “What is it? He’s ready for a good run and I’m of a mind to let him go.”
Caber had picked up Toshach’s restlessness. Ember struggled to keep him checked.
“You have it,” she said through gritted teeth. The stallion was strong and he wanted to take the bit from her.
“I have what?” Barrow raised an eyebrow as he watched her fighting for control of her steed.
“My trust . . . gah!” Caber sprang forward, leaping onto the moor. He set out at a dead run, the bit firmly grasped in his teeth.
Ember righted herself in the saddle and hauled back on the reins. Despite throwing all her strength into the effort, Caber was aflame with his own power and paid her no heed. He bolted across the sodden ground, tearing up earth in great clods that flew out behind him. The wind burned Ember’s face and made her eyes water, blinding her. She could hear Barrow’s shouts at her back and the thunder of Toshach’s hooves as he chased her.
Caber ran as if the hordes of hell pursued him. Ember shouted, pleading with the stallion to slow. He ignored her, plunging on with a shrill whinny. At her wits’ end, Ember dropped the reins, throwing her body against Caber’s neck. She reached forward, grasping the bridle on either side of his mouth, and gave it a sharp jerk. At the same moment she shouted with all the breath in her lungs, “Stop!”
Startled by her shout and the new leverage against the bridle, Caber abruptly pulled up. His hooves slid along the wet ground, sending a shower of grass and soil in a cascade around them. While the horse had stopped, Ember did not. She catapulted over his neck and head, crashing to the ground on her back. The impact knocked her breath away. Stunned by the earth’s blow, she didn’t move but stared up at the flat, gray sky.
As she waited for air to fill her lungs again, Ember heard Barrow pull up. Curses spewed from his mouth as he berated Caber for his unbidden race toward home. Ember rolled onto her side. She knew she’d bruise but could sense no serious injury as she gingerly sat up. She finally drew a long breath, only to be horrified that it entered and left her as a shaking sob.
Tears streamed down her face. She wept angrily, rubbing at her traitorous eyes. First Alistair, and now she’d made a fool of herself by letting Caber run wild. How could she be a warrior if she couldn’t even control her own horse?
She hid her face in her palms when Barrow approached.
“Ember!” He knelt beside her. “Are you hurt?”
She tried to say no, but all that came out was a sob. Barrow’s face paled as he searched for signs of injury, while she carried on—a mess of shaking muscles and salty tears.
After a few minutes Barrow rocked back on his heels.
“Hush, little one.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “There’s no harm here. You’ve gotten a shock, that’s all.”
His gentle tone made her wail and shake her head. “Caber . . . I couldn’t . . .”
Hearing his name, Caber walked over, nosing her with a soft whicker.
“He apologizes.” Barrow laughed. “And there’s no shame in it. I’d bet my life there’s no rider who hasn’t let a spirited horse get out from under him. When I was training Toshach, I doubt there was a night I went to bed without bruises. It’s simply the price you pay for finding a mount who isn’t a broken-down nag or a fat, spoiled palfrey.”
Ember looked at him through bleary eyes. She sniffled, grateful for his consolation but horrified that she’d fallen to pieces in front of him.
“Ember.” He leaned close, speaking softly. “What ails you?”
His face was etched with concern, and his questioning gaze finally drew a confession from her.
“Alistair—” she whispered.
“What of him?” Barrow kept his tone even, but his eyes narrowed.
She told him everything about the previous night. Alistair’s profession of love, his desire for her bed, his claims about the freedom of love, and even lust, among the Guard. Her words came out as quickly as her tears. While she spoke, he listened intently, occasionally nodding, but he didn’t interrupt her or question her. When she finally stopped and drew a ragged breath, Barrow spoke.
“He is a coward and a cur.” His hands clenched into fists, leaving his knuckles bloodless.
Ember was taken aback by the cold fury in his voice. “But Alistair has always been my friend. Perhaps I’ve done wrong by him . . . After all, you said yourself that love is not a sin.”
“If I’d known the source of your query, I would have chosen other words,” Barrow said, grinding his teeth. “Love is not a sin. What Alistair did is not love but only served his own desires.”
She wiped lingering tears from her cheeks, relieved that she was no longer carrying last night inside her.
“If he loved you, he would have told you of this plan before you took your vows,” Barrow said. “He should have asked your father to marry you.”
Ember shuddered. She didn’t want to marry Alistair or anyone else. She suddenly wondered if Alistair had chosen this deceitful route to her bed because he’d known she would refuse or at least protest any offer of marriage he made.
“I’ll take this up with Lukasz.” Barrow helped her to her feet.
“Please don’t,” she said. “Alistair knows his feelings are unrequited. He made a mistake, but I don’t want it to cost him his place in the Guard.”
“He should not go unpunished for this offense,” Barrow said.
“My rejection is punishment enough.” Ember sighed, remembering the broken look on Alistair’s face when she’d shoved him away. As much as she was still furious at him, she was also brokenhearted over their ruined friendship. “He may have ke
pt his feelings for me a secret, but I believe them to be genuine. I’ve hurt him deeply by refusing him. He was my friend, and I am sorry for that hurt.”
Barrow frowned, but nodded. “If you truly wish it, I’ll keep your confidence. I am honored that you’ve shared this secret with me.”
“Thank you,” Ember said.
“But if he doesn’t respect your choice . . .” Barrow’s voice became close to a growl. “I will not let it pass.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Instead she turned to Caber, taking his face in her hands. “You will not steal the bit from me again.”
He blew softly against her neck and she stroked his velvety nose.
“That’s a good lass.” The menace in Barrow’s words had given way to warmth. “Are you ready to ride again?”
In answer Ember swung into her saddle. Caber twisted his head to look at her, flicking his ears back and forth in question. It might have simply been that he’d gotten the run out of his system, but the horse’s gaze seemed full of concern for her welfare.
“I’m fine,” she said to the horse. “But no more racing.”
“Aye.” Barrow took Toshach ahead at an easy canter.
As they steadily made their way home, Ember withdrew into her thoughts. She watched Barrow’s lean, straight back as they flowed over the hills, the horses carrying their riders along in smooth, graceful strides. Though her confession had come as a relief, she worried about its consequences. Would Barrow tell Lukasz about Alistair despite her plea?
For his own part, Barrow kept Toshach in the lead rather than riding beside her or slowing so that they could carry on a conversation. He’d been kind to her in many ways today. The watchfulness of his eyes and his gentle words had been a balm to her stinging heart. But it also threw her feelings awry. He’d spoken of leniency when it came to bending the Guard’s vow to accommodate love—yet his fury at Alistair’s actions had been sudden and unrestrained. She wasn’t sure what that meant. She forced her eyes off him when she realized she was entranced by the way the wind whipped through his hair and the strong set of his shoulders. Gazing at his form, his easy command of Toshach, and the way the mist left dark streaks in his brown hair sent a shiver over her skin that did nothing other than to unsettle her further. When she’d begun training with Barrow, she’d admired but feared him. That fear had slowly eroded and was being replaced by . . . what?