hope for a return to amicable relations among all our houses," Lew said carefully, as he had learned to do during his years as Senator to the Terran Federation, "I cannot act as your agent, even indirectly. I am happy to communicate your willingness to enter into negotiations for a marriage alliance, but more than that, I cannot in good conscience undertake. I am sure you understand why."
"Forgive my eagerness." Francisco bowed his head a fraction, so that his expression was hidden. His voice, however, was warm and cordial. "I would not abuse your goodwill by placing you in such an awkward position."
"No offense was taken, and no pardon is necessary. It is a difficult business, but with time and goodwill on both your parts, all may be well," Lew replied, adding that even if the marriage did not come about, the effort would not be wasted.
With smiles and reassurances, Lew took his leave.
Marguerida gazed across the breakfast table at the man who had shared her life for these long years, enjoying one of the few peaceful moments together since word had come of Javanne's death. Sun drifting through the half-opened window glowed on Mikhail's hair, almost as bright as the day she had first seen him. Yet how much brighter was their love, both for the crises they had endured together and the thousand tiny everyday events that, like silken threads, bound their hearts into one.
He sensed her mood, as he always did, and creases formed a smile around his blue eyes. Without any need of spoken words, they shared a pulse of deep understanding, a moment only, for the day's business could not be long delayed.
A tap at the outside door broke the moment. Lew came in. His hair was combed, his clothing immaculate, but Marguerida instantly noticed the deep circles below his eyes, the scars etched into his face like erosion runnels.
Father, what is the matter?
Mikhail, always more deliberate, invited Lew to sit with them. Lew did so, although he refused jaco or herbal tisane.
"I have come to discuss my meeting yesterday with Francisco Ride-now," Lew said heavily.
"Yes, I wondered about that," Mikhail said, sitting forward in his chair. "Since you did not send word last night, I surmised the matter must not be urgent. Is it as we hoped, and does Francisco wish to reestablish himself among us?"
Lew's expression tightened minutely. Marguerida knew her father too well for him to disguise his unease, even though he had barricaded his thoughts.
"Whatever it is, let's hear it." Her words came out more forceful than she had intended. "It's always best to have it out, straight."
"Very well," Lew nodded. "Omitting all the courtesies and indirect hints, Francisco proposes to end the animosity between you with a marriage between Domenic and his daughter, Sibelle."
Outrage flared in Marguerida. What century does the man think we are living in to barter our children for political gain ?
Years of living among the Comyn, however, had taught her to take a deep breath before she opened her mouth. What Francisco proposed was not unreasonable in Darkovan terms. Even today, many noble families arranged marriages for their sons and daughters, and, she had to admit, many of those marriages were as successful as those made for love alone.
Marguerida did not know how to think about this new development. Was it a good thing? A terrible mistake? Was it even possible? Being in light rapport with Mikhail, as she often was, she sensed his surprise quickly give rise to serious consideration.
He met her astonished glance. " Preciosa , set your fears at rest. Whatever happens, I will never pressure our son into a burdensome marriage."
Domenic — and Rory and Yllana as well — must be free to marry where their hearts lead them ! she insisted.
"None of us are entirely free to do that," Mikhail replied gravely. "We Comyn cannot choose our lives the way ordinary people do. Even if we no longer command marriages in order to breed laran talents, there are other
"Forgive my eagerness." Francisco bowed his head a fraction, so that his expression was hidden. His voice, however, was warm and cordial. "I would not abuse your goodwill by placing you in such an awkward position."
"No offense was taken, and no pardon is necessary. It is a difficult business, but with time and goodwill on both your parts, all may be well," Lew replied, adding that even if the marriage did not come about, the effort would not be wasted.
With smiles and reassurances, Lew took his leave.
Marguerida gazed across the breakfast table at the man who had shared her life for these long years, enjoying one of the few peaceful moments together since word had come of Javanne's death. Sun drifting through the half-opened window glowed on Mikhail's hair, almost as bright as the day she had first seen him. Yet how much brighter was their love, both for the crises they had endured together and the thousand tiny everyday events that, like silken threads, bound their hearts into one.
He sensed her mood, as he always did, and creases formed a smile around his blue eyes. Without any need of spoken words, they shared a pulse of deep understanding, a moment only, for the day's business could not be long delayed.
A tap at the outside door broke the moment. Lew came in. His hair was combed, his clothing immaculate, but Marguerida instantly noticed the deep circles below his eyes, the scars etched into his face like erosion runnels.
Father, what is the matter?
Mikhail, always more deliberate, invited Lew to sit with them. Lew did so, although he refused jaco or herbal tisane.
"I have come to discuss my meeting yesterday with Francisco Ride-now," Lew said heavily.
"Yes, I wondered about that," Mikhail said, sitting forward in his chair. "Since you did not send word last night, I surmised the matter must not be urgent. Is it as we hoped, and does Francisco wish to reestablish himself among us?"
Lew's expression tightened minutely. Marguerida knew her father too well for him to disguise his unease, even though he had barricaded his thoughts.
"Whatever it is, let's hear it." Her words came out more forceful than she had intended. "It's always best to have it out, straight."
"Very well," Lew nodded. "Omitting all the courtesies and indirect hints, Francisco proposes to end the animosity between you with a marriage between Domenic and his daughter, Sibelle."
Outrage flared in Marguerida. What century does the man think we are living in to barter our children for political gain ?
Years of living among the Comyn, however, had taught her to take a deep breath before she opened her mouth. What Francisco proposed was not unreasonable in Darkovan terms. Even today, many noble families arranged marriages for their sons and daughters, and, she had to admit, many of those marriages were as successful as those made for love alone.
Marguerida did not know how to think about this new development. Was it a good thing? A terrible mistake? Was it even possible? Being in light rapport with Mikhail, as she often was, she sensed his surprise quickly give rise to serious consideration.
He met her astonished glance. " Preciosa , set your fears at rest. Whatever happens, I will never pressure our son into a burdensome marriage."
Domenic — and Rory and Yllana as well — must be free to marry where their hearts lead them ! she insisted.
"None of us are entirely free to do that," Mikhail replied gravely. "We Comyn cannot choose our lives the way ordinary people do. Even if we no longer command marriages in order to breed laran talents, there are other
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