Empire of Night (Age of Legends 2)

She took a deep breath. "It's very sweet of you to ask, Simeon, but I have so much upheaval in my life that I am not looking for romance."

"You prefer warriors? I know young women do, and you are surrounded by them."

"No, actually, artisans and scholars are more my--" She stopped, realizing that this would not soften the rejection. "I have no preferences, Simeon, because I have no interest in romantic relationships at this time."

"Is it Tyrus, then?"

"Prince Tyrus," she said, annoyance clipping her words. "No, I do not have designs--"

"You must. There's hardly a girl in the empire who doesn't dream of the handsome young prince turning his gaze her way. His attention is for your sister, yet you imagine a day when he tires of her ill manners and boyish ways. Or, perhaps, when he discovers that rough-mannered young women who embrace the warrior life do not fancy young men at all."

Ashyn stared at him as his lip curled and his gaze hardened.

You rejected him. He has an ego, despite his awkward ways. And it doesn't matter how gentle your refusal, it was still rejection.

"My sister likes young men very much," she said. "Though if you hoped to insult her by suggesting otherwise, it's a poorly aimed dart because I would care not whether she liked women or men, so long as she was happy. I understand that you are displeased with my words, but they are truly spoken. If you wish to upset me, you have only to insult my friends. If you wish to divest yourself of my company completely, you have only to insult my sister. I see her riding back. I'll take my leave."

They did not reach Riverside by sundown, and it was not the fault of the horses. They stopped short because Ronan spotted the bandit camp. The minor counselor, Tyrus, and the girls left their exhausted horses and followed Ronan across the wooded fields. Now they lay on a hillock, peering at the camp below.

"It's them," Moria said. "See the huge, bald man? That's Barthol. The smaller man with him is Fyren."

"I count ten tents," Tyrus said. "Presuming two men to a tent, that's twenty. Less than I would have expected. It could be enough to capture a town, though."

"It is," the minor counselor said. "Riverside has only a few hundred people, and perhaps ten warriors. Warlord Jorojumo's compound is to the east. They can call on him for aid, so they do not require more."

"We'll dispatch one of our men to ride to the warlord then. I will request his assistance."

"It is better to demand it, your highness."

"You're right. I'll do that," Tyrus said. "I see no sign of shadow stalkers, but I suppose they'd not keep them with the camp. I don't know how easily they are controlled."

"According to legend, they are under the command of the sorcerer who raised them," Moria said. "The fact that they seemed able to kill women and old men--while leaving the children--supports that they can be restrained. Either way, I'd not want them in my camp."

"I suspect these bandits would agree. So the shadow stalkers will be held elsewhere, under guard."

"Meaning they have more bandits or warriors nearby," Moria said. "Guarding the shadow stalkers."

Tyrus nodded. "And more still with the children. We'll send those in our party who are not warriors on scouting missions, searching for the shadow stalker camp and the one holding the children. One warrior will go to speak to the warlord. When he returns--hopefully with others--we will attack, in hopes of catching them off guard."

He glanced at the counselor.

"A sound plan, your highness," the man said.

"Then let's return to the others and prepare."

TWENTY

While one rode to speak to the warlord, the other warriors suited up. They did not have full battle armor. The emperor had not dared send them with it, even hidden in the wagons, in case Alvar's men insisted on searching and found Emperor Tatsu's warriors prepared for more than simple negotiations. They had worn breastplates and helmets when they approached Fairview, but they did have gauntlets and leg guards in the wagons, and they were putting them on now.

The process was not simple, and Tyrus and Moria took their leave of the group to help each other. They started with the undergarments--a short robe and breeches. Before Tyrus put on his robe, he glanced at Moria several times, until she asked, "Do you need help?"

"No, I was just . . . I was wondering if you'd do something for me."

"That's what I'm here for."

"It's not the armor. It's . . ." Spots of color rose in his cheeks and he fingered the dangling ends of his amulet band. "Would you bless this before I cover it? I know it's an old custom, and no longer--"

"I have done it before," she cut in. "Simply because a custom is old does not mean it is