impression?” Sionell asked. “His half-sister sat next to me at the races, being subtle.” She snorted. “She practically asked which boot Pol puts on first. As if I’d know anything, not having seen him for so long.”
“Audrite and I got the same treatment,” Hollis said, nodding. “And she knows him much better, his having been a squire at Graypearl.”
“None of you ladies said anything to the point,” said Tallain. Reverting in Arlis’ absence to the squire’s role he had held at Stronghold for many years, he rose to refill everyone’s cups.
“No, but—thank you, Tallain—but why would Miyon’s sister ask such questions?” Hollis dipped a spoonful of honey into her taze. “Not political, personal. Private things.”
“She’s only a few years older than Pol,” Walvis offered. “Maybe his grace of Cunaxa sees a match?”
Sionell stared. “With a bow-legged, thick-ankled, witless shatter-skull?”
“I agree, Ell. Pol has better taste,” Rohan said. “But maybe you’ve got something, Walvis. Which of Miyon’s allies have daughters, sisters, or cousins around Pol’s age? Pretty ones, I mean. An interesting idea.” Rising, he stretched and yawned. “That’s all for this evening’s meeting of the informal High Prince’s Council,” he smiled. “Hollis, with your permission I’ll join you in tucking Chayla and Rohannon into bed— again. ”
“You’re welcome to try.” She grimaced. “Thank the Goddess dragons don’t fly over Whitecliff more often. It took both their nurses plus Pol’s poor steward to catch my twin terrors today.”
Sionell went upstairs to her room, escorted partway by Tallain. She had finished unplaiting her hair and was brushing it out for the night when her father came in, looking very thoughtful. After asking permission to be seated—even in a room he himself inhabited, the good manners learned as Rohan’s squire stayed with him—he settled in a chair and meditatively stroked his beard.
“What is it, Papa?” she asked at last.
“I don’t quite know how to begin,” he said with a bemused smile. His blue eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her tease tangles with the brush. He had given her those eyes, but she more closely resembled her mother and had Feylin’s dark red hair. “You’ve spent more time at Radzyn and Stronghold than at home these last couple of years. I suppose I haven’t really noticed that you’ve grown up.”
“Surprise,” she smiled.
“Rather! I like the way you’ve turned out—though I miss my pudgy little pest,” he added, his smile becoming a grin.
Until last winter, Sionell had despaired of ever acquiring a waistline. Desert dwellers tended to be vain about their slim figures. In Gilad, a comfortably rounded woman was much preferred over a slender one—but Sionell no longer had to wish she lived in Gilad.
“I suppose there’s no way to get around it,” her father sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about Pol.”
She felt her cheeks burn. “A childish habit I’ve grown out of.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She’d have to, sooner or later.
“You’re very young, darling. I thought this might be the case. It would hurt your mother and me to see you dream after a man who can marry whom he chooses—as long as his Choice is highborn and faradhi. ”
“I know.”
“I needed to be sure because of something that happened tonight.”
He was watching her in a way that made her want to squirm. Thinking over the conversation at dinner and afterward, she remembered her outburst regarding Miyon’s half-sister and blushed again.
Walvis was quick to see it. “So you have an idea about it already. I’m glad. He’s a worthy man, and a good friend. He quite rightly asked permission to begin a formal courtship. But I told him I’d have to consult you first. As fine a man as he is, and as good a husband as he’d make you, I wouldn’t give my consent even to Tallain if you were still—”
The brush
“Audrite and I got the same treatment,” Hollis said, nodding. “And she knows him much better, his having been a squire at Graypearl.”
“None of you ladies said anything to the point,” said Tallain. Reverting in Arlis’ absence to the squire’s role he had held at Stronghold for many years, he rose to refill everyone’s cups.
“No, but—thank you, Tallain—but why would Miyon’s sister ask such questions?” Hollis dipped a spoonful of honey into her taze. “Not political, personal. Private things.”
“She’s only a few years older than Pol,” Walvis offered. “Maybe his grace of Cunaxa sees a match?”
Sionell stared. “With a bow-legged, thick-ankled, witless shatter-skull?”
“I agree, Ell. Pol has better taste,” Rohan said. “But maybe you’ve got something, Walvis. Which of Miyon’s allies have daughters, sisters, or cousins around Pol’s age? Pretty ones, I mean. An interesting idea.” Rising, he stretched and yawned. “That’s all for this evening’s meeting of the informal High Prince’s Council,” he smiled. “Hollis, with your permission I’ll join you in tucking Chayla and Rohannon into bed— again. ”
“You’re welcome to try.” She grimaced. “Thank the Goddess dragons don’t fly over Whitecliff more often. It took both their nurses plus Pol’s poor steward to catch my twin terrors today.”
Sionell went upstairs to her room, escorted partway by Tallain. She had finished unplaiting her hair and was brushing it out for the night when her father came in, looking very thoughtful. After asking permission to be seated—even in a room he himself inhabited, the good manners learned as Rohan’s squire stayed with him—he settled in a chair and meditatively stroked his beard.
“What is it, Papa?” she asked at last.
“I don’t quite know how to begin,” he said with a bemused smile. His blue eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her tease tangles with the brush. He had given her those eyes, but she more closely resembled her mother and had Feylin’s dark red hair. “You’ve spent more time at Radzyn and Stronghold than at home these last couple of years. I suppose I haven’t really noticed that you’ve grown up.”
“Surprise,” she smiled.
“Rather! I like the way you’ve turned out—though I miss my pudgy little pest,” he added, his smile becoming a grin.
Until last winter, Sionell had despaired of ever acquiring a waistline. Desert dwellers tended to be vain about their slim figures. In Gilad, a comfortably rounded woman was much preferred over a slender one—but Sionell no longer had to wish she lived in Gilad.
“I suppose there’s no way to get around it,” her father sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about Pol.”
She felt her cheeks burn. “A childish habit I’ve grown out of.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She’d have to, sooner or later.
“You’re very young, darling. I thought this might be the case. It would hurt your mother and me to see you dream after a man who can marry whom he chooses—as long as his Choice is highborn and faradhi. ”
“I know.”
“I needed to be sure because of something that happened tonight.”
He was watching her in a way that made her want to squirm. Thinking over the conversation at dinner and afterward, she remembered her outburst regarding Miyon’s half-sister and blushed again.
Walvis was quick to see it. “So you have an idea about it already. I’m glad. He’s a worthy man, and a good friend. He quite rightly asked permission to begin a formal courtship. But I told him I’d have to consult you first. As fine a man as he is, and as good a husband as he’d make you, I wouldn’t give my consent even to Tallain if you were still—”
The brush
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