Chained (Chained Trilogy) by Elise Marion

not matter to Orrick that his brother, Prince Favian, had kidnapped Krea and sired a bastard upon her, or that he’d angered the king by refusing to return her. Orrick had lost two brothers to the great war at the hands of Daleraians, and while he was happy for peace, his bitterness ran deep.
    “They were a nasty lot,” Orrick added, closing his fist around the pin, “but you did away with them, and justly. Why bring this matter to me?”
    Gwen shrugged. “It seemed important. Why would Daleraians seek to cause trouble in Dinasdale? What if there are more of them? Should Lord Theodric decide that he no longer wishes to keep peace—”
    “Gods , girl,” Orrick chided, “do not speak that way. Do you know what it could mean if that were true?”
    “Of course I do!” she insisted. “Why do you think I’m coming to you? My father is ill, too weak to bear this burden, and my brothers are quick to anger. I know that you will tell me what I should do about this.”
    Orrick stood. “Nothing, for now. This is not evidence of treachery by Lord Theodric, only proof that Daleraian scum have crossed our borders looking for a bit of sport in the form of rape and murder. They were dealt with swiftly and justly, and for now the matter is at rest.”
    “I do not like this,” Gwen declared, standing as well. “I have a feeling it is only the beginning.”
    Orrick nodded. “You may be right, girl, but I pray you are not. The implications … they are too much to be borne.”
    He was right, of course. Gwen usually took pride in her sharp intuition, but now she hoped that jus t this once, it had failed her.
     
    ***
     
    The smell of bacon greeted Caden as he stepped from his tent. The sun had yet to breach the horizon, but the men Caden had selected to accompany him had awakened early. The rest of the large camp was still, save for the few knights, men-at-arms, and squires tending to the horses and preparing for travel. Sir Odard Bostel, a knight in the service of Lord Cedric Durville, tended the fire and the bacon frying over it.
    “Good morning, milord,” he called with a grin, as Caden left the shadow of his tent and came near the fire. Urien had already risen and, like the good squire he was, appeared at Caden’s side with a mug of stout ale.
    “M’ lord,” he said as Caden accepted the cup, “Golias has been fed, groomed, and saddled. I’ll see to your things now.”
    Caden nodded at the boy in approval. Only ten and four years of age, he’d been sent to Minas Bothe for fostering and had begged to be in his service. Once he’d gotten over his nerves and learned how Caden preferred things, they got along quite well. “Good lad,” he said, sending Urien off. He accepted a trencher from Sir Odard, piled with greasy bacon and soft bread.
    “Beautiful morning for a ride,” said Lord Guyar Durville, sauntering toward the fire, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His doublet was the rich red of house Durville, and rubies adorned the hilt of his shortsword and the signet ring he wore on his right hand. His dark hair was a tousle of waves around his face, and his eyes were a merry blue. Short and broad, he had the look of all the Durville men about him: olive skin, dark hair, craggy, rugged features. Brother to Lord Cedric Durville, and heir to Quaos unless a male heir was produced—Lord Cedric had no offspring—Guyar was a good friend to Caden, despite the difference in their years. Lord Guyar had children Caden’s age—three daughters to be exact, one of whom he seemed to hope Caden would marry. “An even more beautiful morning for intrigues. Tell me, what is this errand we are about? Why the secrecy?”
    Caden shrugged. “There is no secrecy. We are simply journeying to Dinasdale for pleasure. I’ve heard that Lady Gwendolyn Toustain is betrothed to Prince Gaiwan Bainard of Lerrothe. We simply wish to offer our congratulations, perhaps with a betrothal gift.”
    Lord Guyar laughed. “Now I see the way