The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [91]
“Enough . . .” sighs Korweil. “Enough. Ryessa would like nothing better than for me to name you regent. Then when we’re both out of the way, she can claim Montgren. Wouldn’t that give the wizards fits?”
“Sister dear is smarter than that. She really hopes that, since my best-betrothed and I have nowhere to go, we might just ensure such a succession immediately. She has no interest in risking her troops this far from Sarronnyn.” The corners of her mouth twitch halfway through her statement.
Creslin recognizes the gesture and wonders where Megaera is not telling the full truth.
Korweil looks back toward the entrance to the dining room, toward the pair of guards standing more than a dozen cubits away.
“Cousin,” continues Megaera, “if we had any intention of doing away with you, you would already be dead.”
“I still say ’No.’ Your . . . friend’s suggestion would create another land for the Legend-holders.”
“That barren waste?” The words drop like cold hailstones on ice. “Who would want it?”
“My sire went to great lengths—”
“Korweil,” interrupts Creslin, “if you want us out of Montgren, you have to come up with a place for us to go. Otherwise . . .”
The Duke wipes his forehead again. “So what can you do? Really do?”
Creslin grasps the breezes circling the courtyard outside and funnels them through the drawing room. A heavy parchment sheet starts to lift off the desk in the corner.
Creslin drops the winds.
“Good for cooling things off, I suppose,” the Duke mutters.
“Cousin, don’t be a fool. He has already killed a good score of the White Wizards’ guards. And he did it when half out of his mind and with a split skull. He also, if you recall, disarmed the best duelist in Sarronnyn with three strokes.”
“Megaera, your cousin clearly does not want you named as his regent. Nor does he offer any alternative. So I suggest that we return to our rooms and get a good night’s sleep. Tonight, and every other night until the wizards come after us. Our being here gives them every excuse. And, of course, should anything happen to us, I’m certain that both the Marshall and the Tyrant would be more than a little displeased.” He stands up.
Megaera looks at the Duke, then nods. Fires flare at her fingertips, then extinguish themselves.
The Duke’s face appears even paler in the lamplight. Then suddenly he smiles. “All right. I’ll name your child regent of Recluce.”
This time Megaera pales. “You presume too much.” The fires reappear.
The Duke swallows, looks from Megaera—standing with fire in her eyes and upon her hands—to Creslin. Finally he croaks out his response: “I don’t trust you, Megaera. If I could, I’d make Creslin regent first, even if his mother is the iron bitch of all Candar.”
Megaera lets the fires in her hands die, but not those in her eyes.
“The best I dare is to make you co-regents, contingent upon your marriage.” The Duke tightens his lips and stands, looking straight at Megaera as if to dare her to do her worst.
This time Megaera looks away. Finally she speaks. “A formal marriage only, in your Temple, with only your household as witnesses.”
Creslin opens his mouth, then shuts it. Marriage? That had never entered his mind. And to the one woman he fled the Roof of the World to avoid? Even, he is forced to add to himself, if he didn’t realize who she was.
“Join the discomfort, young Creslin,” rumbles the Duke. “The darkness help you both.”
“Very humorous, cousin.”
Creslin says nothing.
“When?” asks the Duke.
“Tonight is as good a time as any.” The redhead’s words are measured and drop like lead coins. “We’ll leave tomorrow, or the day after, with the declaration of coregency. We’ll take your sloop, the one at Tyrhavven. We’ll return it immediately after we land safely at Land’s End, of course.”
The Duke sighs, nodding slowly. “The documents will take a short while.”
“Then I will change into something suitable for a formal wedding.” Her eyes flicker to Creslin. “If you could find something suitable for Creslin?”
“No,” Creslin protests.
“You will not marry my cousin?” asks the Duke lazily.
“I’ll marry her