“Curious,” he said. “But there, that is the last bell before evening board, and here we are, still in bed.”
I sighed, but reluctantly I got up. We had to scrabble round the floor of the sitting room to find all our clothes. My headscarves were scattered everywhere. “I daresay you’ll find one or two of them behind the furniture months from now,” I said, peering under a cabinet.
He just laughed and patted my behind. “Go! Find Arran. I will be there soon.”
As soon as I stepped outside Ly’s suite I was bombarded with angry voices. A score of faces broke off whatever they were saying, and turned to me. “Most Powerful, I must…” “At last! The Drashona wants…” “If it please you, Most Powerful…”
Arran emerged from the throng to rescue me. “Later, everyone. Tomorrow, perhaps. Go now. The Drashonor needs to rest and eat.”
I needed neither, buoyed as I was by magic, but I didn’t argue, letting Arran tow me through the muttering throng. With my bodyguard clomping behind me, leather gear creaking, we reached our own private rooms and shut out the world.
“Is he all right?” Arran said, his face full of concern.
“Ly? He’s fine.”
“You were in there for hours. I was beginning to worry in case something was wrong.”
“Nothing wrong at all. You know how I get when I’m awash with magic.”
His eyebrows lowered. “You have been in bed? All afternoon?”
His annoyed tone irritated me intensely, but I didn’t want to argue with him. “There was a lot of magic.” I shrugged.
“You might have told me,” he grumbled. “I have been fending off irate courtiers for hours. Yannassia wants to see Ly as soon as possible. She sent a succession of messengers, of increasing importance, and escalating levels of irritation. Another few minutes and she might have come herself, and I could not have denied her entry, Drina. It was thoughtless of you.”
I gasped at his presumption. “I told you to go to the barracks precisely so that you wouldn’t have to deal with that. My steward is perfectly capable of turning people away. My bodyguard was there, too. I will write a note for Yannassia, but honestly, I have no idea what all the fuss is about.”
“Have you not?” he said coldly. “Half the court was waiting for news, and you were… you were screwing. With him. For hours.”
“He’s my husband, in case you’ve forgotten,” I hissed.
“As if you ever let me forget. There is the gong. Let us eat.”
That was the tensest meal I’ve ever endured in my own dining room. Arran said not a word to me the whole time. I couldn’t eat a thing, and that was only partly because of the magic in me. Halfway through the meal, Ly crept in, his face full of guilt, which annoyed me more than anything. Why should either of us feel any guilt for doing what married couples are supposed to do? It was ridiculous.
When the servants had cleared away everything but the fruit and nuts, Ly put both hands on the table, and took a deep breath. “Arran, I am very sorry—”
“No!” I said, pushing away my untouched wine. “You will not apologise to him. You have done nothing wrong.”
Ly’s eyes widened. “As you wish. May I go and see the children now?”
“There is something I want to say first,” I said. “To both of you. This is not an easy situation for any of us. We have managed for five years by strict demarcation – you each have your own rooms, your own times to be with me. It’s worked fine, but I don’t want everything to collapse just because of a change in routine. I don’t want you fighting, or apologising unnecessarily, or getting upset because I have to spend extra time with one or other of you.”
I looked at them, the two men in my life, one with head lowered, still looking guilty, the other sulky, defiant.
With a sigh, I said, “I love you both. Don’t make me have to choose between you.”
6: Family
Ly scuttled off to the nursery, and I, with my own guilt to deal with, left our private quarters to find a scribe to pen a message for Yannassia. After the melee earlier, the outer rooms were now a haven of tranquillity. Only three people remained – my steward, Hethryn and one of my waiting women, a young, rather pretty one, who was eyeing Hethryn with some enthusiasm.
“Hethryn? Are you waiting for me? Or perhaps your interests lie elsewhere.” I glanced at the waiting woman, who had the grace to blush.
Hethryn was not in the least abashed. He had been adult for five years now, and being the Drashona’s son and rather good looking, he was well used to female attention. “Just whiling away the time pleasantly. Mother asked me to bring her word of Ly, but not to disturb you on any account. Because of the magic, I suppose.” He grinned knowingly. Well, I suppose the effect it had on me was well known. Arran had enjoyed the benefits more than once, and had doubtless told his friends, which meant half the barracks.
But I had neglected Yannassia shamefully. Arran was right, in that respect, at least. I could not leave her in the dark any longer. “Is she engaged this evening? If she has a moment free, I will go to her. Or I can write.”
“She would like to come here, if you will allow it. She does not wish any of you to be traipsing through the Keep, but she would like to see you. All of you.”
“Of course, but it’s hardly appropriate—”
“She does not want any formality. There will have to be official meetings involving Ly, but for tonight, and perhaps tomorrow too, she regards it as a family matter. She considers Ly to be family.”
I wondered if that was true, or whether Hethryn was employing his diplomatic skills. Ly was still a prisoner, after all. He bore a thin silver bracelet on one wrist as the symbol of his captivity, all that remained of the shackles he’d once worn.
But when Yannassia arrived, wearing a plain gown, and accompanied only by Torthran and her bodyguard, it was clear that Hethryn spoke no less than the truth.
“How is he?” she said, when she was barely through the door of the sitting room. “I have been so anxious… And you, dear? Is all well with you?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Ly is with the children. I’ll fetch him.”
“I can go for him,” Arran said eagerly.
Yannassia must have caught something in his tone, because she looked sharply at the two of us. But she made no comment about it. “If you will allow it, I should like to go to the nursery. I have not seen your children for… oh, it must be a moon, almost, and they change so fast at that age.”
So we all went there, Arran running ahead to warn Ly that he was about to have the Drashona descend upon him. Ly was cross-legged on the floor, the baby on his lap, while the older two clung to him, one to each arm, playing a simple game with coloured stones.
“I am so sorry,” he said to Yannassia, his face stricken. “I cannot easily rise.”
“Nonsense, stay exactly as you are,” she said, sweeping Amandissia into her arms and settling on a footstool nearby. “Forgive me for arriving informally like this, but we were so worried about you, out there in hostile country. Such a relief to have you home safely! I knew Drina was taking care of you, but I shall sleep easier now that I have seen that all is well. What is it, little one? You want my necklace, is that it? So shiny! And Callon, how are you, little man? And I swear that baby has grown a handspan since I was last here.”
“He has a new tooth,” Ly said proudly.
“Oh, a second one!”
“Third – look, two here and now this one.”
I watched them all with a burst of affection. My family. I tucked my hand into Arran’s, and after a moment, he squeezed it gently, and threw me a little smile.
When I’d first arrived at Kingswell at the age of eleven, bitterly resentful to be dragged away from my birth mother, I’d been a raging bundle of determination to thwart Yannassia at every turn. She’d never berated me for my misbehaviour, simply absorbing me into her own family. Every sun, she’d spent an hour with her children, playing with them, cuddling the little ones, chatting
amicably. I tried to do that with my own, but so often there was something else that seemed more important at the time. But Ly always made the time. He was so good with them, far more at ease than I was.
Even so, I loved them all dearly. Callon was six now, the result of Arran’s brief marriage, and a child more like his father would be impossible to find. The blond hair, the nose, the chin with the little cleft in it, the eyes – but mostly the smile, that in the adult version spun my heart a thousand ways at once. My own two were far more mine than Arran’s. Their darker skin, dark eyes and curling hair were all me. When Amandissia was born, I’d been thrilled to see that she had blonde hair, but when the baby curls fell out, the new locks were dark. And Arrynyor’s hair was dark from the start.
Yannassia didn’t stay long, but with her usual skill, she’d effortlessly extracted all the information she wanted from Ly, while seeming to do nothing but play with the children.
“We will talk more in a sun or two,” she said to me as she left. “We will have to give thought to what might be done about Greenstone Ford – if anything. But now that Ly is back, I will order the festival of celebration for your safe return.”
“Oh – you’re serious about that? I can’t imagine anyone even noticed we were gone.”
She laughed. “You have not been outside the Keep lately, have you? There is a huge crowd gathered outside the gates, waiting for news of you both. And the eagles, too, which surprised me a little. All their names are known, and people love to see them flying above the town, were you aware of that?”
My eyes were wide with astonishment.
“When you were first brought home, strapped unconscious to Diamond’s back, news spread and the crowd began to gather. We have had to post bulletins several times each sun, just to appease them.”
“Not the nobles – they wouldn’t care if I broke every bone in my body,” I muttered.
“You would be surprised how many were upset. But no, the crowds at the gates are the ordinary people of Kingswell – the shopkeepers and tanners and bakers and woodcarvers. They like you, because you are one of them – you came from very humble beginnings, and you are not arrogant and grand, like so many of the nobles. And many of them have met Ly at his little farm. There is a great fondness for both of you in this town, and people will be glad to celebrate your return. As will I.”
“They will also be glad to celebrate a sun with no work,” I said.
She laughed. “As will I, too. It is good for all of us to set the chores aside once in a while. You, too, Drina. You have had a difficult time lately. Cancel your engagements for tomorrow, and spend some time with your family.”
When she had gone, Arran murmured, “Shall we go back to our own rooms now?”
“I should like to stay for a while. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” he said at once, but his expression was wary.
So we played with the children until the nursery servants scolded us for over-exciting the little ones, and insisted they should go to bed.
Arran was still quiet when we reached our bedroom.
“Come over here,” I said, pointing to the window seat. “Sit down, and let’s talk.”
Not very eagerly, he sat, and I climbed onto his lap. “You mustn’t be jealous of Ly, my love,” I said, wrapping my arms round his neck. “There’s no need.”
“You said you loved him,” he growled.
“So I did, and so I do, but not at all in the same way as I love you. Darling Arran, you’re the one who warms my heart when you walk into a room.”
A little smile. “Am I?” He pulled me closer.
“You know you are. I like Ly well enough, but more as a good friend. But you – my life would be insupportable without you. I only agreed to be Yannassia’s heir if I could have you, remember?”
“I do remember, yes.” The smile broadened, then faded a little. “I am not jealous of Ly, exactly, but he takes you away from me. I hate it when you fly off with him and leave me behind. I wish I could fly on an eagle, too.”
“Oh, so do I! It would be wonderful if you could come with us. I really missed you on this last trip. I was so cold at night.”
“But you had Ly to keep you warm,” Arran said, pulling away from me in surprise.
“Yes, but he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his night, so he refused to touch me. I was frozen.”
Arran chuckled, a low rumble that rocked me on his lap. “I would have taken better care of you, my little flower.”
“So you would. And that long trip we took to the Port Holdings. We were away for moons and I missed you so much.”
His face fell. “That was when I—”
“Shh!” I put a finger to his lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you. That’s all in the past now.”
He sighed gustily. “See how much I need you. I get in a muddle without you to tell me what to do. Shall we go to bed? I suppose Ly has quite worn you out?”
His optimistic expression made me laugh. “Oh, I think I have a little energy left. Magic is a wonderful thing, don’t you agree?”
He answered me with a long, warm kiss.
~~~~~
The following sun, we went as a family to the Keep gates, to show ourselves to the crowds outside. I hadn’t really believed in Yannassia’s description of anxious hordes of well-wishers, but it was no exaggeration. Several hundred of them cheered enthusiastically when we appeared, thrust flowers and bags of fruit into our hands, ruffled the children’s hair and touched my arm reverently. A few young women rushed forward blushingly to steal a kiss from Ly or Arran before racing away giggling. Some of the men even sang a little song, giving thanks to the gods for our safe return.
It was touching to be so well-liked, and Ly had tears in his eyes, quite overcome by it. But it worried him, too. “Have they forgotten the war already?” he whispered to me at one point.
It was a question I couldn’t answer myself. But a war is never truly forgotten. Even if almost everyone survives unscathed, and life goes on as before, somehow it can never be quite the same. Many people had died in the brief but vicious war between Bennamore and the Blood Clans. Homes and businesses had been destroyed in Kingswell, and further north, the relentless march of the Clanfolk had wiped out whole villages that had had the misfortune to fall in their path. The nobles had mostly scuttled away to safety, but they still resented Ly for his part in the destruction.
Now we had an uneasy peace with the Blood Clans. They sold us a small amount of precious bark from the black-bark forests which grew only in their territory. We paid them in silver, which they used to buy healing spells from our mages. It seemed like an equitable arrangement to me, with benefits to both sides. However, on the rare occasions I’d visited the Clanlands since my marriage to Ly, the resentment had been palpable, both against Bennamore in general and me in particular. And against Ly, oddly. He was byan shar, their god and leader, but they treated him with disdain. I didn’t know what to make of it, frankly.
But whatever the lingering resentments, there were many in Kingswell who loved Ly and me, and Arran, too. The idea of the festival of celebration took hold and many feasts and parades and entertainments were planned by the nobles and richer inhabitants. Everyone liked the idea of a festival, and it was a time of year with few other opportunities to celebrate. Summer, autumn and winter all had their special times, to mark the harvest, an anniversary date or a religious occasion, but late winter was a long, weary haul to the better weather and the first crops and new meat.
For us Yannassia decreed that there should be a special assembly to mark the occasion, followed by a parade through the principal streets of the town, some dramatic entertainments in the afternoon and a great feast at night. Ly was dreading it, of course. He hated public appearances.
“You won’t have to do anything except sit and be bowed to and waved at,” I said, as he was fitted, grumbling, for a new outfit for the occasion.
“It will be fun,” Arran said, grinning. He had a new
outfit, too, a rather splendid military affair, since he had several honorary army roles now. There was nothing he liked better than fancy new clothes, and he’d even designed a new gown for me, in stiff gold brocade encrusted with gems. I dared not guess how much it had cost, but Yannassia had simply smiled and said, “The treasury can afford to buy you a new gown occasionally, dear.”
The assembly was a tedious affair, where various nobles recited bad poetry or played rather dull music composed specially for the occasion. The only bright spot was that Arran’s father had made the journey from Hexmore to help us celebrate. He was quite elderly now, and it was the first time in years he’d ventured so far. His delighted face as he sat in a position of honour on the dais with us somehow made the tedium worthwhile.
Then there was the procession through the streets. For the ordinary folk of Kingswell, this was the highlight, for it gave them a rare chance to see the whole of the Drashona’s family collected together at once. Yannassia and Torthran took the first open carriage, then Ly, Arran and I in the second carriage. Behind us, my brother Axandor, the army High Commander, rode with an escort of senior commanders. Then Hethryn and the other possible heirs in rank order, then some of the mages and senior scribes, making a very long train of carriages.
The streets were jammed with people, waving and cheering and throwing ribbons. People climbed on lamp-poles or leaned out of upper windows to get a better view of us as we went by. Some of them toasted our health with tankards of ale, and not their first of the morning, either. The town would be a pretty rowdy place before the sun went down.
We waved back to the crowd, or at least Arran and I did. Ly sat rigidly, a fixed smile on his face. Poor Ly! He was used to the Keep now, with its hushed corridors and respectful courtiers speaking in low whispers, but the noise and crowds on the streets terrified him. The army kept the spectators away from us, but even so, it was overwhelming. I took Ly’s hand and held it firmly. He smiled at me wanly, but I don’t think it helped much.
The Second God Page 6