The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [109]
“Ah. Oh horseshit!”
“Just so.”
“If I were a lass, and I had a choice twixt the High King of all Deverry and a silver dagger, and a silver dagger I am still, whether I get that land or no, I doubt me if I’d think twice about which I’d choose.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve told Lilli you want an honorable marriage. Who knows how long the prince’s fancy for the lass will last? He has his pick of half the women in the kingdom, and the other half are too old.”
When Maddyn laughed, Branoic glowered at him until the bard fell silent.
“My apologies,” Maddyn said. “I don’t mean to twist a knife in a wound.”
Branoic shrugged the concern away. He thought hard, but he found only one thing worth saying.
“Ah horseshit!”
Prince Maryn and his entourage stayed in the ward until the silver daggers had ridden out of sight. As he turned to go, Maryn hesitated and gestured Nevyn over. Oggyn and the pages waited expectantly, but the prince waved them away. The pages ran off shouting to join the other boys at the far end of the ward. Oggyn withdrew so slowly that he practically crawled into the great hall. Maryn waited until he was well gone.
“Branoic told me he wants to marry,” Maryn said. “I take it that Lilli is the woman.”
“She is, Your Highness,” Nevyn said.
Maryn’s face might have been carved of wood. For a moment the silence held.
“Will you prevent them?” Nevyn said finally.
“Of course not! Ye gods, what do you think I am?” Maryn’s composure splintered into rage. “Your wretched apprentice has made it clear that she thinks me beneath her, and by the Lord of Hell’s arse, that’s that!”
Maryn stormed off, heading for the stables. So that’s what’s wounded him! Nevyn thought to himself. He allowed himself the luxury of wishing that he could take his apprentice and go off into the wilderness where they could both devote themselves to dweomer and dweomer alone. Unfortunately, the kingdom needed him just where he was.
It seemed to Lilli that wherever she walked in the dun, Maryn would be waiting. Most times he was accompanied by his entourage, and he would restrain himself to a glance her way or a few pleasant words. She would curtsy and keep her eyes modestly downturned, just as Bevyan had taught her, until he walked on and released her. Every now and then, however, she would come face-to-face with him alone in some empty corridor or isolated corner of the ward. At those times court manners did her no good. He never pressed her, never came within two feet of her, in fact, but he could have been halfway across a room and still her traitor body would have responded to his smile.
On a rainy morning she woke suddenly to the sound of a rustle at the door. She sat up on the verge of screaming. The memory of her mother’s ghost oozing around her chamber was all too fresh in her mind. In the grey light and early shadows nothing moved. When she summoned her courage and looked at the door, she saw a scrap of something white lying on the floor. A letter of some sort? She rose, picked it up, and scurried back to her warm bed to study it. Although she was making good progress in learning to read, she still had to sound out most words a letter or so at a time.
“There is someone whose heart aches each night when he dreams of you.”
That was all it said, no signature, no hint of who this someone might be. Maryn was her first thought, but she couldn’t imagine the prince entrusting this sort of sentiment to a scribe. She puzzled over the letter for a long while. Perfectly clear letters formed graceful words—perhaps she had captured the interest of one of the heralds? Finally, she hid it under her pillow, then dressed and began her day. Down in the great hall she got chunks of bread and some apples, wrapped them in a napkin, then dashed through the rain to the half-broch that housed Nevyn’s chamber.
Just inside the door Maryn stood waiting for her. With her hands full of breakfast she couldn’t even drop a proper curtsy. He smiled at her, then looked her over with a hungry appreciation.
“Tell me, Lady Lillorigga,