51. ROIRDAN THE CONQUEROR
If I was honest, I enjoyed horseback riding more than porting.
Vanir was right—to bypass the highlands with porting magic was a terrible injustice to the majesty of this place.
The trees were few and far between, but the landscape had no need for them.
The rolling hills wound between greater peaks adorned with rocky cliffs, and pristine glens with sparkling clear water.
It was an effort to keep my horse from stopping to sip from every stream she took me over.
She was a dappled beauty—dark gray with white spots drizzled over her entire body down to her blackened legs.
Vanir had warned me not even a few minutes into our ride, that the horse, whose name was Willow, made it her personal goal to drink from every water source she came across.
“I’d drink from every stream too if I were you,” I whispered to Willow as she bent to lap up a few mouthfuls at the latest water crossing.
Ahead of us, the rest of the group rode on, listening to Vanir’s deep voice as he told tales of the Ancient Fae who enchanted these waters to glow purple under cover of night, and laid protective stone circles for defense against the spirits that roamed in the dark.
Nivelle seemed fascinated. Her long, pale blonde hair flowed freely behind her, whipping this way and that every time Vanir pointed out a landmark or something out of the ordinary.
From a few horses behind, Roirdan watched her sway in the saddle and didn’t bother to hide his stare.
I shook my head, blowing out a breath and talking to Willow again since she was the only one within hearing distance. “That male is going to get himself in trouble with her.”
Willow snorted, as if to say, I agree.
“I think he likes her. And I think she likes him, but she’ll never say or show it—she’s too stubborn. And so is he.”
Willow tossed her mane, giving me a soft whinny in response.
“What are you two scheming about back there?” Niall called out from where he’d stopped his horse a few dozen feet away, waiting for me to catch up.
“Schemes are secret, my love. And I don’t think my observation is any secret.” I gently urged Willow into a faster pace until we were aside Niall and his red roan. “It seems to me like Roirdan has developed a weakness for Nivelle.”
Niall looked ahead, observing. “How can you be sure?”
“Are you telling me you haven’t seen the way he looks at her? Or how he acts in her presence? He’s a total prick—always giving her a hard time and making her squirm.”
“And that’s what led you to draw the conclusion that he likes her?”
I sighed. “It’s . . . different, I will admit. But I know when a male is covering his weakness with false strength. He doesn’t want Nivelle to know it, but at the very least, I can guarantee he finds her intriguing.”
“Do you think he’ll act on it?”
I thought about that for a moment. “I think if he’d had a chance last night, he would have.”
“Oh really?”
“He made a comment about dancing, but she had stormed off by then.”
“Well, he just might get his chance tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“The instruction from Vanir to ‘wear something special’ is because, apparently, he’s hosting a celebration for us—in honor of our union. And you know how his events can get.”
“That’s . . . so nice of him.” I looked ahead to the High Lord as he chatted about legends and lore, and reminded myself to personally thank him later.
Another celebration in Vahrenhall. I only had Lumeri to compare it to, but if this was to be anything similar . . . “Perhaps we should tell Roirdan—”
“No. Just let it unfold naturally. Besides, Roirdan operates better under stress than he does if he has time to plan everything out.”
“A strange quality for a commander, wouldn’t you say?”
“You would think so. But in all reality, the ones who can function best under high stress are the ones who generally have the better outcome. That’s why Aremis is my second.”
I nodded, knowing full well that Aremis had what it took to lead in Niall’s stead if need be.
Then, a thought popped into my head. “You’ve known Roirdan longer than Aremis, I’m assuming?”
Niall nodded, though he looked a bit curious as to why I would ask. “I met Roirdan when I was nearing my third century, and I didn’t meet Aremis and Remic until quite some time later. Why?”
“I was just beginning to wonder why Roirdan wasn’t your first choice for second-in-command?”
Niall shrugged. “I suggested it many times, but he had no interest. Said he appreciated that I even considered him for the position, but he didn’t want to rule.
Aremis didn’t like the possibility of ruling either, but he recognized that someone needed to do it, and out of the two of them, he had more knowledge and experience with how a court functioned.
I’m just thankful both of them found me worthy enough to pledge fealty to.
My rule as High Lord would have been a nightmare if I didn’t have them and Remic at my side. ”
“So how did Roirdan become your commander—”
“Niall! Auren!” Nivelle’s voice rang out from up ahead, where Vanir waved for us to catch up.
“I think that’s a question you should ask him later,” Niall said, winking at me as he urged his horse into a trot. Willow got the hint, taking to a trot as well, following the roan’s lead.
When we caught up to Vanir, he slowed his steed’s gait and pointed down the sloping ridge into the valley below, where jagged rock formations formed a maze that scribbled its way through the lush green grass.
In the center, a circular, fenced area held half a dozen disgruntled beasts that paced impatiently and growled through their restraints at the fae males who were standing watch nearby.
“These are the newbloods,” Vanir said, looking proudly over the scene. “We caught them the day before your mating ceremony, they just need to be broken in.” He turned in his saddle to address Roirdan directly. “Which is where you come in.”
Roirdan smirked. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He slackened his horse’s reins and dug his heels in, launching down the hillside like a loosed arrow. Remic and Silas did the same. Three boys ready to play with their new toys.
Nivelle’s horse shuffled nervously, but she tugged the animal into submission and stayed by mine and Niall’s side, though she kept a close watch on Roirdan as he led his cavalry of misfits into Dreki territory.
“Fearless, he is,” Vanir observed, shaking his head.
“What are they?” Nivelle asked, setting her sights on the beasts whose wings were bound to their bodies with rope, and whose tails lashed at the air as if it were a physical entity intruding on their personal space.
“They’re called Dreki. All the ones you see there are males.”
“The females are bigger,” Niall added.
Nivelle’s eyes widened. “What do you do with them?”
“I breed them,” Vanir said. “Mostly for battle, but I’d be lying if I said we didn’t use them for a bit of entertainment and competition every now and then.”
“The arena games are a good time. I’ve won many bets on your champion bull,” Niall said.
“He’s still undefeated—intelligent bastard. As cunning as he is strong. One day he’ll meet his match, but until then, I’m counting on many more years of raking in my own winnings.”
I imagined the so-called “arena games” to be a wild throng of highland fae, chugging ale like it was water, and cheering on their chosen champion as they watched the Dreki battle it out with each other. It probably wasn’t much different from an event like the King’s Guard competition.
The thought soured in my mind the more I lingered on it.
“So, you ride them?” Nivelle pressed, an eager lilt to her voice.
“We do.” Vanir leaned around Niall and me to get a good view of the witch. “You seem most intrigued. Something you’d like to try your hand at, perhaps?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she watched as Roirdan dismounted at the fenceline and hopped onto the first rung of the wooden partition alongside the other fae. He hung his arms over the top beam, pointing at the different Dreki as conversation ensued.
“I’ll watch, for now,” Nivelle finally said.
“Clever.” Vanir grinned. “Come on. Let’s not miss all the fun.”
With our horses secured nearby, and the enclosure emptied of all but one Dreki, we joined Remic, Silas, and the other handlers as Roirdan, who now stood shirtless, wrapped his hands and wrists with cotton bindings.
I couldn’t believe he was about to climb atop such a brutal looking creature.
Each of its scales had to be the size of my hand.
And its claws were razor sharp. One swipe, and any being would be flayed in two.
“Figure out a name for him yet?” Vanir called out to Roirdan from inside the fence, where he held the rope that kept the snout of the angry creature closed.
“Nope. I’ll figure that out once I get him in the air.” He finished his bindings and beat his fists against his bare chest, making sure the cloth held, then punched the air a couple of times—for good measure.
Beside me, Nivelle rolled her eyes.
The fence gate swung open and Roirdan stalked inside, tying his hair back with a leather strap as he locked eyes with the beast. It thrashed its dark green head, yanking Vanir a step out of place and earning a sharp tug against its maw in return.
The growl it let out was a seething, menacing sound, fully aimed at its handler.
Vanir sent out a pulse of power in a show of dominance, and the creature seemed to settle, though its barbed tail still beat the ground with malice.
It did not want to be ridden, but Roirdan approached the beast with every intent of breaking its resolve.
He was a conqueror ready to lay waste to the creature’s innate instinct and bend it to his will.
Or he was completely insane, just like Vanir.
I gripped the fence, anxious and excited at the same time, while Niall stared ahead, eyes narrowed on his commander as if he were conveying some sort of pep talk to him in his mind. When Roirdan smirked and shook his head, I knew that was exactly what he was doing.