than

for show,” Martis frowned, feeling a little dubious herself. “We aren’t supposed to have to do any hard riding, or long, except for the gallop to take us through the Gates. A day’s ride to the first Gate, half a day to the second. In and out of both Gates, then a ride of less than half a day to the city.”
“If all goes well. And what if all does not go well?”
“I—” Martis fell silent. “Well, that’s why you’re along.”
Lyran looked back over his shoulder at the horses, and grimaced. “This one will do the best one can, Mage-lady,” he said formally. “Will the Mage-lady mount?”
Martis had been doing more with Lyran’s aid than her colleagues suspected. A few moons ago she would not have been able to mount unaided—now she swung into her saddle with at least some of the grace of her lover. The exercises he had been insisting she practice