Free The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn Page A

touch of petulance. “The ground was a lot wetter than it looked.”
     
    Justin gave her a quick, unsympathetic look. “Better get yourself something to eat. We ride out in ten minutes,” he said.
     
    She shoved herself to her feet. “Thanks for the generous warning,” she grumbled, as she took off for a little privacy.
     
    Her usual sunny temperament had reasserted itself by the time they were on the move again. She had always been able to make do with minimum amounts of water to freshen up her hair and face, and she had always been able to manufacture clean clothes out of soiled ones. Justin must have lent Romar a razor, because the regent was clean shaven for the first time since they had found him, and he, too, managed to improve his appearance before they took off. Justin always looked presentable, in a rough and dangerous sort of way, and Cammon never did, so nothing had changed there. And naturally, the wolf had not bothered with a toilette at all.
     
    They were heading southeast at a deliberate pace through countryside that was rocky, uneven and sparsely covered with low brush and spindly trees. Justin was in the lead; Cammon was in the back to pick up any intimation of pursuit. Donnal was roaming, though he came back periodically to pace alongside Justin as if waiting for the Rider to issue him orders. Not much love lost between those two, either, though Justin had a grudging respect for Donnal’s fighting and scouting abilities. They worked together like jealous brothers, understanding each other even when their dislike was at its strongest.
     
    Kirra rode alongside Romar and had a grand time of it. They had been successful in their mission; they were out of danger; and she was the lone woman in a crew of men, the most handsome of the four riding at her side. She could not help but enjoy herself hugely.
     
    “So, you promised to tell me the tale of your adventures,” Romar said shortly after they set out. “The story of what turned the silly and superficial serramarra into a cold killer in service to the king.”
     
    “I don’t think the transformation was quite that dramatic,” she said with a laugh. “But it certainly was an adventure.”
     
    She spent the next hour or so giving him the colorful details of her trek across Gillengaria last winter with Cammon, Justin, Donnal, Tayse, and Senneth. He was familiar with the general outline, of course, because the king had shared the story with him. He knew that Halchon Gisseltess had told Senneth to her face that he wanted to be named heir to the throne. He knew that Halchon’s sister, Coralinda, had styled herself the head of a devout order known as Daughters of the Pale Mother, and that she was sending her novices out to proselytize for that revived religion. He knew that mystics had been prosecuted and murdered throughout lands held by many of the southern Houses. But he hadn’t heard the tales of their exploits in Dormas, Neft, and Lochau—or the story of Tayse’s capture and rescue from the Lumanen Convent—or confirmation of the rumor that Halchon Gisseltess wanted to wed Senneth Brassenthwaite before he took over the throne of Gillengaria.
     
    “But he’s married,” Romar exclaimed.
     
    “He seems to not consider that an obstacle,” Kirra said.
     
    “It would be a good match. For him, I mean—for a man bent on taking over the throne. Brassenthwaite and Gisseltess—at least six of the other Houses would follow their combined lead. I applaud him for his strategy even as I hate him for his treason.”
     
    “No need to worry,” Kirra said. “Senneth will never marry him.”
     
    “Her brother Kiernan had better be looking for another match for her,” Romar said. They had effortlessly slipped into one of the favorite pastimes of the aristocracy: plotting bloodlines and alliances. “What about Rappengrass? Ariane seems most loyal to the king. That strengthens the crown in the southern region and gives Rayson Fortunalt a reason