The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [113]
“My apologies, Your Highness.” Degwa calmed, slightly. “I fear me I forgot myself. It was the surprise. We’ve been looking for you, and then I heard the music, and I thought I’d see if the harper had seen you, and never did I expect—”
“I know.” Bellyra cut her off. “But if I were going to besmirch my honor with a silver dagger, I wouldn’t do it in broad daylight out in the middle of a garden.”
“Er.” Degwa’s round little face had gone red. “Ah. Um. Of course not. Ah.”
“Let’s go in.” Bellyra smiled at Maddyn. “My thanks for the music.”
“You’re most welcome, Your Highness.”
Bellyra slipped her arm through Degwa’s and marched her back into the broch. Maddyn slacked the strings on his harp, then slid it back into the leather bag. I have known her since she was a child, he thought to himself. He could remember her as a skinny girl who had just taken her hair out of braids, married off to a boy she’d met but a fortnight before. It made him smile, remembering them as a pair of beautiful children thrust into a situation that would have drowned many a grown man. But they had survived, prince and princess both, and brought the kingdom with them safely into harbor.
She was a child no longer. Most certainly not a child.
Maddyn felt his heart turn over. He grabbed his harp and fled the garden for the safety of the great hall, where the rest of the silver daggers were already seated and eating. Maddyn laid his harp carefully on the floor next to his chair and sat down. Carrying his bowl of porridge, Branoic left another table to sit on the bench at his right.
“Practicing?” Branoic nodded at the harp.
“I was, truly. Here, Branno, I just had a thought. When you get that house and land, you’ll be needing a bard.”
“So I will.” Branoic grinned at him. “You don’t need to hint around, you know. You’ll always be welcome at my table.”
“My thanks. We’ll let Owaen have the prince’s guard to himself. It will do us both good to get away from court.”
“My dear princess,” Degwa said. “I hate to rebuke someone so far above my station in life, but the queen’s honor is the very soul of the kingdom.”
“Why do you think I don’t know that?” Bellyra said.
Degwa stopped, her mouth open, and blinked rapidly several times. Finally she pursed her lips.
“My apologies, Your Highness.” Degwa curtsied, then glanced at Elyssa, as if for support.
Standing amidst baled tapestries, Elyssa said nothing. With a deep dramatic sigh, Degwa walked to the other side of the women’s hall, where a heap of straw and several wood barrels stood ready to receive the princess’s collection of silver oddments. Bellyra flopped into her favorite chair and stared out the window at the blue sky.
“Were I but a little bird, I’d fly unto my love,” she sang, then merely spoke. “But instead of flying we’ll be absolutely crawling upriver on a barge.”
“Better than remaining here,” Elyssa said. “Or so I hope.”
“Better for me, anyway,” Bellyra said. “I do worry about you and Decci. If the dun’s as ghastly as everyone says, it won’t be very pleasant, living at court. Maybe you should stay here in Cerrmor till the new gwerbret’s named.”
“You took us into your service when we had naught.” Elyssa looked up sharply. “I’ll not be deserting you now.”
“Nor I,” Degwa put in. “Especially not now when it seems you need us more than ever.”
“Oh, Decci! You’re still worrying about Maddo, aren’t you?” Bellyra shook her head and grinned. “Don’t you ever let anything drop?”
With her hands full of straw, Degwa stopped wrapping to consider this seriously.
“Perhaps I don’t,” Degwa said at last. “But if I were you, Your Highness, I’d not be using his nickname so freely.”
Bellyra laid her head on the back of the chair and groaned.
“Don’t be a silly goose, Decci,” Elyssa put in, amiably. “Your Highness, I think we’ve got all the valuables packed, or we will when Decci finishes the silver. The servants can deal with the bedding and the rest.”
“Splendid!” Bellyra sat up straight