Free A Knot in the Grain by Robin McKinley Page A

that. I woke up … here … and there you were, the little lost princess from Arn.” He smiled at her and it occurred to her that he was trying to be charming, so she smiled back. “Maybe I’m supposed to help you,” he said.
    It was her turn to look out over the lake. That, I suppose, is what Luthe has had in mind all along, she thought, and suddenly felt tired.
    The next morning Luthe presented himself to Gelther for the first time. “Prince,” said Luthe, and bowed; and Gelther glanced sidelong at Ruen to make sure she registered the title before he bowed back. “Forgive my long delay in greeting you.”
    Gelther accepted the lack of explanation with what seemed to Ruen uncharacteristic docility, but after Luthe had left them, he said to her accusingly, “You didn’t tell me he was a mage.”
    â€œI didn’t know,” said Ruen.
    â€œDidn’t …? By the Just and Glorious, can’t you read the mage-mark?”
    â€œNo,” she said, and he shook his head; and she thought that for the first time he understood the boundaries of her life with her uncle; it was as though she had said she had never seen the sky, or never drunk water.
    Luthe said, at their next meeting, “I am glad to see you recovering so quickly from your hurt.”
    â€œI have had excellent care,” said Gelther, and smiled at Ruen, who fidgeted. “And I thank you, sir, for your hospitality—”
    â€œYou are welcome to all that my house may afford you,” Luthe interrupted smoothly. “And as soon as you are quite healed—for you are a little weak yet, I believe—I will set you on your way home again.”
    Prince Gelther, however forthright he might be to common mortals, had the sense to leave mages well enough alone, so he did not inquire how he happened to be here or where here was. Ruen could see these questions and others battering at one another behind his eyes, and she could guess that Luthe saw them too; but none escaped Gelther’s lips, and Luthe offered nothing but a smile and a bright blue glint from half-shut eyes.
    â€œSir,” said Gelther carefully. “I would ask … perhaps a great favor.”
    â€œSay it,” said Luthe, with the careless generosity of a great lord who may instantly retract if he chooses.
    â€œI would beg leave to take the lady Ruen with me, for I believe that I might help her, and her country and her people, escape the heavy reign of the false Regent.”
    â€œAn excellent plan,” said Luthe. “I applaud and bless it.”
    Ruen sighed.
    They set out a few days later, on foot, bearing a small, heavy bundle each, of food wrapped up in a thin blanket; it was nearing summer, and travel was easy. Luthe bade them farewell in the small court before his hall; he was at his most dignified with Gelther, although his words were cordial. But he set his hands on Ruen’s shoulders and stared down at her with almost a frown on his face. “Gelther is a very able man,” he said at last; “you and your country are fortunate to have gained him as an ally.”
    â€œYes,” Ruen said dutifully.
    Luthe dropped his hands. “You were born to be queen,” he said plaintively. “There is a limit to the miracles even I can produce.”
    â€œYes,” repeated Ruen. “I thank you for all you have done.”
    â€œAh, hells,” said Luthe.
    Gelther and Ruen went down hill all that day, and the trees were so tall and thick they could not see the sun but in occasional flashes, useless to give them a sense of direction; but Luthe had told them to go down hill, and that they would not lose themselves, and Luthe was a mage, so they did as he said. They went down hill the second day as well, sliding on the steep bits and holding on to convenient branches; and in the afternoon the trees grew thin and the slope eased, and Gelther said, “I know where we are!” and