dropped to the rug.
“So you didn’t know.”
Her wits reeled like hatchling dragons darting through the sky. Tallain?
“He admires you and would like to know you better. Give you the chance to know him. If you both like what you see, and can love each other, then your mother and I would be very happy with the Choice.”
Humiliating that her first coherent thought was: I could have him if I wanted—that’d show Pol!
“He wants to spend part of the winter at Stronghold so he can visit Remagev every so often. He won’t rush you, love. He knows you’re only seventeen, and certainly by next Rialla you’ll have an even wider choice of young men than you did this year.”
And there had been plenty—but Tallain had not been among them. He had danced with her only once. Shyness? She doubted it. Fear of competition? Not with those eyes and that hair and that face—not to mention all that money. Abruptly his words about the riches to be obtained from Cunaxan merchants took on new meaning and she almost giggled. Subtle of him, to indicate he didn’t need her dowry. More seriously, she realized that he didn’t need her family’s connection to the High Prince, either. If he Chose her, it would be for herself alone. Sionell was forced to admire his tactics. And his wits. And his sense of humor. And his looks.
He wasn’t Pol—but no man could be. And Pol would never be hers.
With a suddenness that stopped her breath for a moment she recalled the previous afternoon’s conversation with Pol. He knows—that’s why he said all those things about Tallain—trying to get me married off!
Her father was talking again, a bit nervously as she stayed silent. “Think it over for now, Ell. You don’t have to decide yet. There’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t need any time,” she heard herself say. “Tallain can come visit me if he likes.” After a brief pause, her lips curving slightly, she added, “But we don’t need to tell him that just yet.”
Walvis blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’d keep him guessing until the moment you accept him, wouldn’t you?”
Sionell answered only with a shrug, but she was thinking, Yes, and if he thinks he has to work harder to win me, we’ll probably both fall in love. Nothing so interesting as someone unattainable, as I well know. But if I do marry Tallain, it’ll be because I can make a life with him. She had a brief vision of Pol hurrying to join the flirtatious maidservant. He’d look at every woman in the world but her. She’d known that since childhood. But now she believed it.
Walvis rose and ruffled her hair as if she were still ten, saying she was too clever for her own good. Then he went back downstairs to persuade Feylin to leave her musings about the dragon population and come up to bed.
Sionell smoothed and rebraided her hair with automatic movements. If not Tallain, then someone else. But she did like him. And it was soothing to be admired by a handsome, wealthy young lord.
“Lady Sionell of Tiglath,” she whispered. Then, even more softly: “High Princess Sionell.”
No decisions tonight, except the one allowing Tallain to try. But if he was as she believed him to be, then it wouldn’t be difficult to love him. Not as she loved— had loved—Pol, of course. Tallain would know that. But he would never say anything about it, no more than Ostvel ever said anything to Alasen about Andry.
And it was very nice to be wanted. Very nice indeed.
Chapter Six
726: Swalekeep
A utumn was breathlessly hot in Meadowlord. Nothing moved. Swollen gray clouds neither blew away nor rained nor seemed able to do anything but loiter. Even the mighty Faolain River lay sluggish just outside the city walls, as if reluctant to flow. The stillness would break soon. But until it did, even walking through the stifling air was an effort.
If autumn affected Swalekeep’s population, who were used to it this way, it was even worse for visitors. Two such, longing for the
“So you didn’t know.”
Her wits reeled like hatchling dragons darting through the sky. Tallain?
“He admires you and would like to know you better. Give you the chance to know him. If you both like what you see, and can love each other, then your mother and I would be very happy with the Choice.”
Humiliating that her first coherent thought was: I could have him if I wanted—that’d show Pol!
“He wants to spend part of the winter at Stronghold so he can visit Remagev every so often. He won’t rush you, love. He knows you’re only seventeen, and certainly by next Rialla you’ll have an even wider choice of young men than you did this year.”
And there had been plenty—but Tallain had not been among them. He had danced with her only once. Shyness? She doubted it. Fear of competition? Not with those eyes and that hair and that face—not to mention all that money. Abruptly his words about the riches to be obtained from Cunaxan merchants took on new meaning and she almost giggled. Subtle of him, to indicate he didn’t need her dowry. More seriously, she realized that he didn’t need her family’s connection to the High Prince, either. If he Chose her, it would be for herself alone. Sionell was forced to admire his tactics. And his wits. And his sense of humor. And his looks.
He wasn’t Pol—but no man could be. And Pol would never be hers.
With a suddenness that stopped her breath for a moment she recalled the previous afternoon’s conversation with Pol. He knows—that’s why he said all those things about Tallain—trying to get me married off!
Her father was talking again, a bit nervously as she stayed silent. “Think it over for now, Ell. You don’t have to decide yet. There’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t need any time,” she heard herself say. “Tallain can come visit me if he likes.” After a brief pause, her lips curving slightly, she added, “But we don’t need to tell him that just yet.”
Walvis blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’d keep him guessing until the moment you accept him, wouldn’t you?”
Sionell answered only with a shrug, but she was thinking, Yes, and if he thinks he has to work harder to win me, we’ll probably both fall in love. Nothing so interesting as someone unattainable, as I well know. But if I do marry Tallain, it’ll be because I can make a life with him. She had a brief vision of Pol hurrying to join the flirtatious maidservant. He’d look at every woman in the world but her. She’d known that since childhood. But now she believed it.
Walvis rose and ruffled her hair as if she were still ten, saying she was too clever for her own good. Then he went back downstairs to persuade Feylin to leave her musings about the dragon population and come up to bed.
Sionell smoothed and rebraided her hair with automatic movements. If not Tallain, then someone else. But she did like him. And it was soothing to be admired by a handsome, wealthy young lord.
“Lady Sionell of Tiglath,” she whispered. Then, even more softly: “High Princess Sionell.”
No decisions tonight, except the one allowing Tallain to try. But if he was as she believed him to be, then it wouldn’t be difficult to love him. Not as she loved— had loved—Pol, of course. Tallain would know that. But he would never say anything about it, no more than Ostvel ever said anything to Alasen about Andry.
And it was very nice to be wanted. Very nice indeed.
Chapter Six
726: Swalekeep
A utumn was breathlessly hot in Meadowlord. Nothing moved. Swollen gray clouds neither blew away nor rained nor seemed able to do anything but loiter. Even the mighty Faolain River lay sluggish just outside the city walls, as if reluctant to flow. The stillness would break soon. But until it did, even walking through the stifling air was an effort.
If autumn affected Swalekeep’s population, who were used to it this way, it was even worse for visitors. Two such, longing for the
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