to study her, so she kept her face blank while she forced herself to swallow her bread. Apparently satisfied that she was not about to self-destruct in front of him, Daken gobbled the last of his bread and pushed away from the table. "Come. I've found us a ride to Bosuny."
"A ride?" The thought of not having to walk down miles of road broke her out of her suppressed hysterics.
"Yes. A fur merchant is carrying his wares to market. We will drive one of his wagons."
"No more walking?" She wiggled her bruised and blistered toes, delighted at the thought of a prolonged rest.
Much later, after her backside was black and blue from the wagon bench, she wondered if walking might be better. Or riding, though she'd never ridden a horse in her life. That thought led her to another question that had hovered in the back of her mind since this morning.
Just before Daken had risen, she'd seen a clearly wealthy youth rush in on a tall, shaggy steed, stop for breakfast, then ride off. He was exactly how she'd pictured Daken in his younger days—a handsome young man dashing about with speed and flair.
Then it struck her that Daken was on foot.
Now, bouncing painfully on a buckboard, Jane got the courage to ask the potentially insulting question. "Daken, how come you don't have a horse? I mean you're a King and all. I'd think you'd travel in style."
Daken was driving a covered wagon, just like on a vid about the open prairie, except the horses were more of those squat, shaggy things that smelled like a garbage dump in summer. But even with her complete ignorance about horses, she could see Daken stiffen, unnecessarily jarring the horses, which caused them to hit a rather large rut, which in turn jostled Jane painfully on their bench seat.
Criminy, she cursed silently as she tried to adjust to a less bruised position. Hadn't these people ever heard of pillows? Cushions? A rock would feel better than this bench. Perhaps if she'd been less interested in finding a distraction from her rear end, she would have been smart enough to avoid the topic. But she was looking for a diversion, and this was close enough.
"I mean," she continued. "You're King of Chigan, right? So why don't you have a carriage to take you to court? Or at least a horse. A king shouldn't have to walk, should he?"
"My lands are very rich and fertile. I am a wealthy man," he said stiffly.
She blinked at his huffy tone. "Well of course you are. I never meant to imply—"
"I owned a horse and a carriage. But my stallion was killed during the last Tarveen raid."
"The last what?"
"It is planting season. It seemed ridiculous to take two much needed horses from the plowing just to plod their way to Bosuny."
"I didn't mean to imply—"
"I am a fast walker and quite adept at catching rides."
"I'm sure you are—"
"And as you could see from the inn, I am a quite wealthy man."
"Geez, Daken. Relax. I was just curious."
"Now you know."
"Yeah. Now I know that you're real touchy about the silliest things."
"You think my wealth is silly?" If he sat any straighter in his seat, his back would break.
"Heck, no. Look, Daken, I think it's great you'd walk however many miles to Bosuny rather than take away some horses. I think it's noble of you. Many kings wouldn't do that."
His shoulders relaxed just a bit. "You think so?"
"Of course. You're obviously a king who cares about the well-being of your people over your own comfort. I think that's admirable."
He lifted an eyebrow and allowed his head to turn a little in her direction. 'Truly?"
"Truly." Good God, no matter what the planet, men's egos were the same.
"I was not always so concerned," he said, his face shifting into a rueful quirk of his lips. "In fact, I was incredibly reckless. But as second son, I was never supposed to inherit the kingship. When I did..." He shrugged. "Being king makes one reevaluate one's own comfort."
His little speech could have sounded pompous, but Jane found it endearing. It must have been
"A ride?" The thought of not having to walk down miles of road broke her out of her suppressed hysterics.
"Yes. A fur merchant is carrying his wares to market. We will drive one of his wagons."
"No more walking?" She wiggled her bruised and blistered toes, delighted at the thought of a prolonged rest.
Much later, after her backside was black and blue from the wagon bench, she wondered if walking might be better. Or riding, though she'd never ridden a horse in her life. That thought led her to another question that had hovered in the back of her mind since this morning.
Just before Daken had risen, she'd seen a clearly wealthy youth rush in on a tall, shaggy steed, stop for breakfast, then ride off. He was exactly how she'd pictured Daken in his younger days—a handsome young man dashing about with speed and flair.
Then it struck her that Daken was on foot.
Now, bouncing painfully on a buckboard, Jane got the courage to ask the potentially insulting question. "Daken, how come you don't have a horse? I mean you're a King and all. I'd think you'd travel in style."
Daken was driving a covered wagon, just like on a vid about the open prairie, except the horses were more of those squat, shaggy things that smelled like a garbage dump in summer. But even with her complete ignorance about horses, she could see Daken stiffen, unnecessarily jarring the horses, which caused them to hit a rather large rut, which in turn jostled Jane painfully on their bench seat.
Criminy, she cursed silently as she tried to adjust to a less bruised position. Hadn't these people ever heard of pillows? Cushions? A rock would feel better than this bench. Perhaps if she'd been less interested in finding a distraction from her rear end, she would have been smart enough to avoid the topic. But she was looking for a diversion, and this was close enough.
"I mean," she continued. "You're King of Chigan, right? So why don't you have a carriage to take you to court? Or at least a horse. A king shouldn't have to walk, should he?"
"My lands are very rich and fertile. I am a wealthy man," he said stiffly.
She blinked at his huffy tone. "Well of course you are. I never meant to imply—"
"I owned a horse and a carriage. But my stallion was killed during the last Tarveen raid."
"The last what?"
"It is planting season. It seemed ridiculous to take two much needed horses from the plowing just to plod their way to Bosuny."
"I didn't mean to imply—"
"I am a fast walker and quite adept at catching rides."
"I'm sure you are—"
"And as you could see from the inn, I am a quite wealthy man."
"Geez, Daken. Relax. I was just curious."
"Now you know."
"Yeah. Now I know that you're real touchy about the silliest things."
"You think my wealth is silly?" If he sat any straighter in his seat, his back would break.
"Heck, no. Look, Daken, I think it's great you'd walk however many miles to Bosuny rather than take away some horses. I think it's noble of you. Many kings wouldn't do that."
His shoulders relaxed just a bit. "You think so?"
"Of course. You're obviously a king who cares about the well-being of your people over your own comfort. I think that's admirable."
He lifted an eyebrow and allowed his head to turn a little in her direction. 'Truly?"
"Truly." Good God, no matter what the planet, men's egos were the same.
"I was not always so concerned," he said, his face shifting into a rueful quirk of his lips. "In fact, I was incredibly reckless. But as second son, I was never supposed to inherit the kingship. When I did..." He shrugged. "Being king makes one reevaluate one's own comfort."
His little speech could have sounded pompous, but Jane found it endearing. It must have been
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