Barely half a year of hard work after the King's attack on Farlan, most of the damage to the capital had been repaired in time for the harsher weather of winter, which was now drawing to a close. It was also busier than ever every day, with new immigrants pouring in from all corners of the Kingdoms. Farlan had a standing military, but was not actively at war with any of the duchies or kingdoms around it, so it was an ideal haven for trade as well as for families that were sick of the demands of military campaigns. It meant that the town was a bit poorer and dirtier than it had once been, especially around the edges of the city, but Dorran thought it was probably worth it to see the city grow and flourish instead of the way it had seemed before, always fading with the ghosts of men long gone and families long fled.
There were still more women in the town than men, but with the impact of the war stretching all over the Kingdoms as it did, that was hardly surprising. What was surprising, though, was how quickly and efficiently the women in Farlan, following Thea's example, had started taking over everything from politics to artisan shops to scholastic realms. The only field in which men still outnumbered women was the military...though if Edith and her rapidly expanding fighting school for women had any say in the matter, the scales for that, too, might tip, someday in the far-off future. And in the meantime, further warfare seemed blessedly unlikely Nora had been sent as an ambassador to the King several weeks after the release of the first prisoners to the border, and while no one (except perhaps the Queen) had any idea what had transpired there, the King had been much more cordial in his relations to Farlan ever since.
Dorran slipped from his horse and shook out his shoulders, giving him horse an affectionate pat on the nose before giving him over to a stable hand named Amy. He tossed her a coin in exchange for unsaddling him a task he would normally undertake himself and hurried on.
He entered the castle through the barracks a route which had always been his favorite, but was even dearer to him now because of what was going on inside. The training hall was again filled with excited shouts and the clashing of blades, but the noise was louder than ever almost deafening, even in the hallway, when compared to the quiet outside. Knowing he had a bit of time left before his appointment, he decided to take a detour and check how the formal training of Farlan's small militia was progressing.
When he pushed the door open, he saw a crowd on the other side. There were hundreds of men and women, separated into dozens of groups and training at a variety of levels.
"Ho, Edith!" he called, raising a hand, and all the students that noticed his arrival saluted him smartly before returning their attention to their comrades.
Edith took a second to complete an instruction to one of her younger students, then strode over, raising a hand of her own in greeting.
"Sir! How was the final delivery?" she asked.
"It went perfectly smoothly," he said. "It was a bit odd, at first, having some of the King's old soldiers helping us guard the last batch of prisoners. But I saw nothing suspicious not even any riots from the prisoners this time." He grinned. "They may have been the ones to tell us they wanted to return to the Kingdoms, but I think even these prisoners might have developed a soft spot for this place."
Edith gave him a faint smile of her own. "Maybe." Her mouth took on an amused tilt. "And where are the rest of your troops?"
"I left them behind an hour or two back," he admitted, slightly abashed. "I have an audience with the Queen I can't afford to miss."
"Is that so?" she asked. She was trying for her normal deadpan response, Dorran could tell, but the twinkle in her eye ruined the effect.
"It is." Dorran shot her a quick, slightly nervous grin before settling back into a semblance of business. "Anyway, how is this lot holding up?"
"Well," she said, but then put her hand on her hip as she added, "Though I told you already that we'll need more space soon. If you can't give me a solid answer on a supplementary training area, I'm going to have our fighters training in the hallways for extra space."
"I understand," he said quickly. "I'll have one for you soon, I promise."
Edith looked unimpressed. "You'd better."
"I will. Ah..." Dorran recognized the convenient opportunity to escape her demanding gaze, and took it. "Well, in any case, I really should be going," he said hastily, fidgeting nervously with the sword on his hip. "I don't want to keep Her Majesty waiting."
"I'm sure." Edith didn't protest, but that flat gaze of hers followed him out, and Dorran couldn't help heaving a sigh of relief as he shut the training hall doors quietly behind him. Then he continued the rest of the way up to the castle proper, continuing straight to the Queen's chambers on the upper floors of the castle.
He had requested a private audience with Queen Thea upon his return through a short letter that he'd sent ahead. He'd made a point of arriving in plenty of time for it, and was fairly confident that his request would be met with approval, but found his heart thudding nervously all the same as he waited outside the entrance to the Queen's private council chamber.
"Come in," Thea called, and Dorran strode past the guard on duty Kell and into the Queen's audience.
She looked the happiest Dorran had seen her since before the death of Duke Jaren, seeming to flourish as Farlan flourished. Dorran, for his part, found more joy in serving her than he ever had in his preparation to be her heir, and had learned that she saw nothing wrong with lavishly praising his work when such praise was well earned.
"Your Majesty," he said now, kneeling.
"Son," Thea said warmly, and Dorran took that as his cue to stand and smile at her. "It is a pleasure to see you returned safe and well, with your errand well run."
"I thank you, Mother," he said, "for your praise and the honor of your ear. As the captain of your Guard, and as your son, there is something I would ask of you."
She tilted her head slightly to one side, curious. "And what is that, my son?"
"I ask your leave to marry," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. "Not right away, nor would I expect some sort of leave of absence...but because I am your son, and because the woman I wish to court is under your care, I thought it might be appropriate to ask first."
Thea raised a brow. "And does this woman have a mother or father you can ask about this?"
"Only you, Your Majesty," he said.
She smiled gently, knowingly, before her regal demeanor fell away. She gestured to a chair that was waiting, empty, behind him. "Well," she said, "have you asked this fine lady for her own opinion?"
"Not yet," Dorran said sheepishly, perching obediently on the edge of the chair. "I'm finding it difficult to come up with a way to ask."
"Using words and asking clear and simple questions is generally believed to be helpful," Thea said with an amused grin.
Dorran shook his head, grasping his forearms nervously. "Do you really think I'm that bad?"
"Not at all, dear," Thea said kindly. "I'm simply remembering your father's difficulties in courtship."
Dorran didn't know whether that was a better or worse alternative. He warmed automatically to the thought of being compared to his father, but then again, he didn't envy his father the challenge of courting a future Duchess, let alone one with Thea's intimidating personality. Though it wasn't as if the individual he had in mind was any less intimidating, the thought; she was just impressive in an entirely different way, with power that was anything but up front and straightforward.
"I definitely intend to ask her opinion," he said, letting his nerves leak into his voice. "I just thought I'd check with you first...for your approval."
Thea's face softened. "Dorran...I know I've said it before, but I'm proud of you. I think you've done very well by me and by Farlan, and I believe you'll do well by yourself if you finally ask Myriel permission to court her."
"And you won't mind that she's a 'valuable asset'? Or that I'm technically a prince?" Dorran asked, just to be certain.
"Not at all," Thea sai
d, waving her hand. "Oh! However..." She leaned forward slightly. "I hope you'll forgive an old woman's sentimental curiosity what exactly are you planning to tell her?"
Dorran swallowed. "Honestly, Mother? I wish I knew exactly what myself."
Dorran found Myriel in her quarters an hour or so later, apparently enjoying a rare moment of peace in the winter afternoon. From the open door, he could see her profile as she sat on a bench beside a high window with shutters open and craned her neck slightly to see down to the streets down the hill, a beaten up tin cup of tea steaming in one hand. He spent a moment to admire the image, seemingly suspended in time, then took a deep breath and tapped on the door frame.
She turned around quickly but calmly, and her expressionless face turned into a smile at the sight of him. "Dorran," she said warmly. It had taken a bit of doing to convince her to call him by his first name, but it had been worth it. These past months, he had watched her come to terms with the idea that he ranked little higher than she, and her demeanor towards him had changed accordingly. He felt the same sort of warmth from her now that he occasionally did from Edith and the other soldiers...except that overlaid on it was a different sort of feeling altogether.
"Myriel," he said with equal affection in his voice. "I trust you've been well the past few days?"
"Yes," she said politely. She looked a little puzzled at the way he lingered at the doorway instead of coming inside, but said nothing about it. Instead, she added, "It's a relief to know that the last of the King's men are on their way back or settled here. I suspect many of the Guard will sleep more easily."
"We will," he affirmed. "Ah, although Edith's lighting a fire under me, do you think you might be able to advise me on selecting a second training hall for the recruits in the barracks? She says we're running out of space."
"Certainly," Myriel said. She took a thoughtful sip of her tea, and Dorran took the moment to frantically consider how to broach the subject. He saw, all in one panicked flash, himself fail to ask her now, and then fail over and over, until he was humiliated beyond recovery or lost his chance whichever came first. As he remembered his mother's advice, the words came out in a quick tumble.
"Myriel," he said quickly, "would you possibly consider giving me leave to court you?"
He saw her stiffen in surprise, the hand around her teacup twitching, but that was the only outside indication she gave of her shock at the sudden question. Then she raised an eyebrow at him, and he saw every criticism she could have given him, as well as many that his sisters, mother, and even Edith probably would when they heard about this later.
Instead of voicing any of them, though, she just graced him with an arch, diplomatic look. "I don't see why not," she said. "You know, if you should like to live closer by, there's space available in the servants quarters." Her expression was so straight that for a moment he thought she was toying with him. "I know you're living in the barracks at the moment, but if you wanted...?"
He considered it for only a second. "Farlan isn't in any immediate danger at present," he conceded. "I don't need to spend all my time around the barracks to keep her safe and besides," he added, smirking, "being with you means I'm likely to know about any threats to her almost before they arise."
"You give me too much credit, my lord," Myriel said, but she was grinning, and he felt himself grinning back at her as the joy in his chest threatened to burst through his ribs.
"Myriel..." He began happily, and then he was hurrying across the room on light feet as she carefully set down her tea and allowed herself to be gathered up into his arms.
As she placed a small, tentative kiss, he reflected that he never would have expected an outcome such as this. There was a hard road ahead for Farlan and for Dorran's family. A road of political intrigue, possible famine, the afterbirth pangs of a new nation, and a wider world still ravaged by generations of warfare but he had been given a chance at a life he valued more highly than that of duke, prince, or king: a life of peace, prosperity, honor, and hard work well loved and well done.
Noble Beginnings Page 19