Page 73 of The Sun King's Noon

Heavy clouds gatheredas the light began to fail. They had crossed a river by a stone bridge sometime in the late afternoon, and though no fence or marker proclaimed it, Richard knewthey were now in Estaran soil. The trees held none of the Ardenian charm of low-lying branches or trunks curling into horizontal loops. No, they loomed like soldiers standing straight in formation, frigid and watchful, and the hairs on Richard’s arms stood up.

As the sun dipped, Richard felt the first cold splatter. Within minutes, it was pelting down in great sheets that turned the track to soup.

“Should we build a shelter?” Richard shouted, swiping water from his eyes. His hood had given up its purpose and hung limp and bedraggled around his neck.

“No!” Kaelen’s voice cut through the downpour’s din. “It is too wet to pitch anything in the open, my king! We’d be frozen by morn! Keep on until we find something with a proper roof!”

Richard nodded. The reins were slick in his palms, his knuckles white, and rainwater had seeped under his collar to slither down his spine. He dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, and the mare lurched forward.

For the next while, the horses laboured, mud gripping at their hooves. The cold settled into Richard’s bones, numbing his hands and making his teeth chatter.

“There!” Kaelen flung his arm up at a dark gash in the hillside, half-curtained by ivy.

A cave.

They led the horses from the track and dismounted. Kaelen went in first, sword raised. A heartbeat later, he called out that it was clear. Richard led the horses as far as the cave mouth, then ducked inside and yelped when a low-hanging rock clipped the crown of his head.

“Pray, mind the roof, my king.”

“Yes, thank you, Kaelen.”

Inside, the cave ran only a few paces deep, and water had already puddled across the uneven floor. Still, the walls weredry, and the rain’s roar dulled to a muffled drumming against the rock outside.

Kaelen tied both horses at the mouth of the cave, rubbing their noses in apology when they snorted their displeasure. After rummaging in his pack, he pulled out a blanket rubbed with beeswax and tallow, and spread it across the driest patch of stone.

“No fire,” Kaelen said. “The wood’s all drowned, and in any case, we’d choke ourselves on the smoke in a space this size.” He set up two tin lanterns and coaxed the wicks alight. The flames sputtered in the draught, shadows lurching wildly across the walls.

“Cosy,” Richard remarked.

Kaelen sighed and thrust Richard’s pack at him. “Get changed, my king.”

Richard stripped. His tunic made a wet slap against the floor. His breeches followed, clinging to his thighs until he had to sit and peel them off. Through it all, he noted with some amusement that Kaelen had turned his back, gaze fixed on the horses.

“I am decent,” Richard said, pulling on a fresh cloak.

Kaelen grunted a reply and began his own change. Richard slipped past him to tend to the horses. By the time he returned, Kaelen had settled on the blanket with his sword across his knees and was drying his hair with a spare shirt. Richard sat close beside, trembling from the chill.

“Your hands are pale.”

Richard curled them in his lap, wincing at the throb. “They do so when I am cold. The blood rushes away from the fingers—oh.”

Richard gaped as Kaelen took his hands between his own. Kaelen brought the hands towards his mouth and blew slowly on the knuckles. Warm air unfurled, and Richard hid a shiver.

“How are you still so warm?” he croaked.

“The cold does not touch me as easily.” Kaelen kneaded Richard’s fingers. “Mother always said it was the god-damned stubborn Haramont blood.”

His thumbs traced slow circles into the hollow of Richard’s palm. As he began massaging each knuckle in turn, he heaved a sigh. “This is not how I’d have chosen the day to go.”

Richard blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Your first day of adventure.” Kaelen gestured at the cave and the rain. “I had thought we might be in time to reach a village inn with a hearth, a bath drawn hot. A comfortable bed for your back.” He scowled and shook his head. “Not this. Soaked through and huddled in a hole. You deserve better.”

His lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, and Richard chuckled.

“Kaelen, I am not unused to discomfort. I have slept in worse holes than this on campaign, and besides—” He tilted his head and smiled. “It was very good of you to spot this cave. I should have ridden straight past it. And thinking to bring a waterproof blanket was also well done of you.”

Kaelen froze for a beat, then puffed his chest and rolled his shoulders.