Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [6]
“Your Highness, you look exhausted,” Degwa said. “Do you think it's wise, the way you climb around the towers and suchlike?”
“Most unwise, I'm sure,” Bellyra said. “But it's better than brooding about the baby and wondering what's going to happen to me once it's born.”
Degwa winced. Bellyra took her usual chair close to the fire, but she sat spraddled, propped up by cushions. Degwa sat opposite. Elyssa brought a cushioned stool for the princess's feet, then fetched a chair for herself and placed it beside.
“My poor highness!” Degwa said. “You look so uncomfortable.”
“I am,” Bellyra said. “And tired, too.”
“It's all that climbing around in the dun,” Elyssa joined in. “Do you truly think you should, my lady?”
“You could quite wear yourself out,” Degwa said.
“You're both right enough,” Bellyra said. “But it gets tedious, sitting around all day. I don't know what I'm going to do when I finish my book.”
“That troubles me, truly,” Elyssa said. “But mayhap you'll think up another one. About the Holy City itself, say.”
“It's the oldest place in all Deverry, after all,” Degwa put in. “There must be splendid tales about it.”
“And all the legends, too,” Elyssa went on. “About King Bran and how he saw the white sow and all of that. It would make a lovely beginning.”
“Now there's a good idea!” Bellyra suddenly smiled. She could just see how to do the opening pages. “My thanks.”
Elyssa and Degwa glanced at each other, then away, as if perhaps they had planned this suggestion together. She should be grateful to them, Bellyra supposed. Yet she felt like snarling because they had reminded her of the birthing madness, prowling at the edge of her mind just as Braemys's army prowled at the borders of her husband's lands. It will be different this time, she told herself. She wished she could believe it.
The silence grew heavy around them. With a little shake of her head, Degwa stood up, stepping toward the hearth. In the firelight a silver brooch pinned to the left shoulder of her dress sparkled with a long glint of light.
“There's not a lot of firewood left, Your Highness. Shall I send one of the servants for more?”
“Please do,” Bellyra said. “Or wait! What's that on your dress, Decci?”
“A little gift.” Degwa smiled, glancing away. “From an admirer.”
“Not Councillor Oggyn?” Bellyra clapped her hands together. “It's quite pretty.”
“So it is,” Elyssa put in. “Is that real glass set in it?”
“It is.” Degwa's face had turned a pleasant shade of pink.
Elyssa and Bellyra exchanged a pointed glance that made Degwa giggle.
“If only he were noble-born!” Degwa said. “As it is, I can hardly count him a true suitor.”
“Oh, now here!” Bellyra said briskly. “After all the fine service he's paid our prince, who would scorn you if you should marry him?”
Degwa blushed again. She was no longer a lass, but certainly not an old woman, though she'd been widowed for many years now. With her dark curly hair and fine dark eyes, she was attractive, as well, despite her weak mouth and weaker chin.
“I'll take pity on you, Decci,” Elyssa said smiling, “and talk of somewhat else. Speaking of jewelry reminds me, Your Highness. I met Otho the smith down in the great hall this morning, after you'd left. He asked for news of you and sends his humble greetings.”
“How kind of him. I hope you told him I was well.”
“I did.”
“Good. I've always had an easy time of it with the babies. Until afterwards.”
“Oh, don't!” Elyssa leaned over and laid her hand on Bellyra's arm. “Don't think about it. Just don't.”
“You're right. I'll try not to.”
Bellyra wasn't able to say why this mention of Otho gave her the idea, but it occurred to her that afternoon to give Maddyn a token of some sort, a little trinket such as queens often bestowed upon favored courtiers, to take to the wars and bring him luck. That evening, she had Otho summoned and met him outside the door to the women's hall, while her serving women stood with her for propriety's sake.
“I want to give my bard a pin to match that silver ring,” Bellyra told the smith. “One with a rose design.