The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [118]
Oggyn nodded. Sweat trickled down his face and began to soak his beard. His eyes flicked this way and that around the chamber, as if he were searching for more ways out than the door.
“Now, then,” Nevyn said, “I suggest that you allow this affair to run its natural course. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly.” Oggyn’s voice shook. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and began wiping his face.
“You know, you sweat much too easily. In a man of your age it’s a bad sign. I’d attend to my health if I were you.”
Nevyn stalked out of the chamber without looking back. All that afternoon he waited in the great hall for Maryn to show himself, but it was close to the evening meal before the prince finally came down the staircase with his usual bounding walk. He looked better rested than he had in weeks, smiling and somehow sleek, like a cat who’s just been fed. With him were Oggyn and the usual pages, but Nevyn was willing to wager that the councillor had told the prince nothing about their earlier conversation.
Nevyn waited until Maryn was seated, then gathered up his medicinals and went to Lilli’s chamber. At the closed door he paused, reminding himself that being harsh with her would do no good for anyone, then knocked. No one answered, and he knocked again, more loudly. Still no answer, and he tested the door. It opened just enough for him to look in and see Lilli, sound asleep, wrapped in a tangled blanket on top of her bed. Her green dresses lay crumpled on the floor, doubtless where they’d been thrown. He started to close the door, but she woke, sitting up with a little cry.
“Lilli?” Nevyn said.
“Oh, it’s you, my lord.” She clutched the blanket around her. “Thank every god! I was dreaming about my mother.”
“Shall I come in?”
“Please!”
While Lilli dressed, Nevyn busied himself at the hearth, lighting a fire and hanging a pot of water from the iron hook.
“You must know,” Lilli said suddenly.
“About the prince’s visit? It’s a bit obvious.”
“Do you hate me?”
“What?” Nevyn glanced over his shoulder and saw her honestly frightened. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Well, I did what you told me was a wrong thing to do.”
“Not in any absolute sense. Dangerous is perhaps the better word.” He got up, wiping his sooty hands on his brigga. “Come sit down, and we’ll talk while your medicine is heating.”
Lilli came over, comb in hand, and sat down in a chair while he perched on the windowsill. Outside the last of the sunset brightened the dark towers of the dun, but the wards lay in shadow. The wind flowed, cool against his face.
“It’s getting dark noticeably earlier every night,” Nevyn remarked. “Winter will be here soon with the snows, and you know what that means. Going elsewhere, to your brother’s dun, for instance, will be difficult.”
“I do know.” Lilli was concentrating on combing her hair. “I’ll need to be very careful. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? With the princess here and all.”
“Not just the princess. What about Branoic?”
Lilli looked up on the verge of tears.
“I should have just sent Maryn away,” she said. “I knew I should have. I wouldn’t hurt Branno for the world.” All at once she was crying. “I’ve been such a dolt!” She dropped the comb into her lap and hid her face behind her hands.
“Here, here,” Nevyn said. “Don’t—or truly, why not cry? You’ll feel better for it. Lilli, my apologies. I forget how young you are. And this is the day that changes a woman forever, or so they always say.”
Nevyn got up, glanced around, then fetched her a damp rag from the washbasin in the corner of the room. When he handed it to her, she wiped her face. He was pleased to notice that the tears hadn’t brought on her cough.
“I truly don’t blame you for anything,” Nevyn said. “Maryn is another matter.”
Lilli crumpled the rag and tossed it onto the table.
“Please don’t berate him,” she said miserably.
“I’ll try not to for your sake. Not his.”
Lilli stared at the comb in