The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [156]
Words—bard or no, he could think of not one. He should babble long apologies that he had presumed so far above him, he knew, but something deep in his soul refused to grovel and apologize. To belittle his feeling for her would be to kill part of his manhood. With that thought he found his tongue at last.
“Is it a wrong thing to love a woman like you? The true wondering would be at a man who didn’t.”
“Like my husband, do you mean?”
“Him as well.” Maddyn turned, glancing around them, glancing up. No windows overlooked this sheltered space, but in a crowded dun like this one, privacy was more precious than gold, and who knew if they might be overheard or not? “Shall I find you another guard?”
For a long moment she stayed silent.
“Please don’t,” she said at last. “Or am I being horribly unfair to you?”
“I don’t care.” He turned back. “I don’t care if you are or not. It would be worse, never seeing you.”
“Very well, then. We’ll leave things as they are.”
“Are you angry with me? You’re as far above me as any woman could be.”
“Not in the least. If anything I’m—” She hesitated briefly. “I’m grateful to you.”
If the prince had appeared at that moment, Maddyn would have slapped him across the face, royalty or no. He took a deep breath and calmed himself.
“My lady,” he said, “you’ll never hear a wrong word from me again. I promise you that.”
“That would be best, wouldn’t it?” She looked as if she might cry. “Ah ye gods, there are times when I wish I were a farmwife! I could please myself without worrying about the wretched kingdom.”
The implication made him smile no matter how hard he tried to stifle it. She smiled in return, but at the same time it seemed she might weep. Maddyn risked—he risked everything, he felt, his life and happiness both with the simple gesture—risked raising a hand and touching her cheek with his fingertips, just once before he drew his hand away. Her smile steadied itself.
“I’m glad you still want to be my guard,” she said. “But here come the pages back again.” All at once she laughed, her normal laugh, wicked with delight in life itself. “I mostly sent them away to have a private word with you, but you know, Maddo, I truly do want to read that inscription.”
The pages had had the sense to bring a barrel short enough for the princess to climb upon it with some dignity. Maddyn twined his fingers together as if he were helping her mount a horse and gave her a boost up while the lads steadied the barrel. She read the inscription aloud, and he leaned back against the barn wall and listened to his heart, pounding as if he’d been running. He had never been so happy, he had never been so frightened. He could make no sense of his feelings and, finally, gave up trying.
With her inscription read and memorized, the princess jumped down on her own before he could stop her.
“I need to return to the women’s hall,” she said, “to write this down before I forget it.”
Side by side they walked together through the random maze of Dun Deverry while the pages followed at a respectful distance. Bellyra said nothing, and Maddyn refused to break the comfortable silence between them. He had been given more, he felt, than he could ever have hoped for. He would have to be content with it, too—he told himself that sharply, several times. They were walking uphill toward the main ward when they heard shouting and the jingling chime of bridle rings.
“Sounds like a lot of men, my lady,” Maddyn said. “What—oh here, I’ll wager it’s your husband’s brother and his escort.”
Maddyn was proved right when they reached the main ward. An orderly mass of dismounted men and horses filled every inch of it, it seemed, whilst over them tossed the ship banners of Cerrmor, the Red Wyvern of Dun Deverry, and the rearing stallion of Pyrdon.
“I can’t see anything over this mob, my lady,” Maddyn said. “But from the banners I’d say it must be Riddmar.”
“He comes at an ill-omened time,” Bellyra said. “Tonight’s Samaen.”
“Ye gods! So it is. But here! He’s arrived now only by chance.