If the threat was from the borders, it seemed unlikely that I'd find Renselaeus warriors roaming around the royal palace Athanarel. So, was there a threat at home?
Like a rival for the kingship? My thoughts went immediately to the Marquise of Merindar--and to the conversation with Shevraeth at the inn. The Marquise had made no attempt to communicate with me, and I had not even seen her subsequent to that dinner the night of my arrival. In the days since, I'd managed to lose sight of my purpose in coming.
When I'd surprised Shevraeth in the archive, it had seemed he was actually willing to discuss royal business--at least that portion that pertained to cleaning up after Galdran--for why else would he offer me a look at the old king's papers? But I'd managed to turn the discussion into a quarrel, and so lost the chance.
I groaned aloud. What was with me? As I hurried up the steps to our wing, I promised myself that next time Shevraeth tried to talk to me, I'd listen, and even if he insulted me, my family, and my land, I'd keep my tongue between my teeth.
"My own conscience demands that I make the attempt." Would there even be another try?
I sighed as I opened my door, then Nessaren and Shevraeth and the rain went out of my mind when I saw that my letter table was not empty.
Two items awaited me. The first was a letter--and when I saw the device on the heavy seal, my heart sped: the Marquise of Merindar.
I ripped it open, to find only an invitation to a gathering three weeks hence. No hint of any personal message.
Laying it aside, I turned my gaze to the other object.
Sitting in the middle of the table was a fine little vase cut from luminous starstone, and in it, bordered by the most delicate ferns, was a single rose, just barely blooming.
One white rose. I knew what that meant, thanks to Nee:
Like a rival for the kingship? My thoughts went immediately to the Marquise of Merindar--and to the conversation with Shevraeth at the inn. The Marquise had made no attempt to communicate with me, and I had not even seen her subsequent to that dinner the night of my arrival. In the days since, I'd managed to lose sight of my purpose in coming.
When I'd surprised Shevraeth in the archive, it had seemed he was actually willing to discuss royal business--at least that portion that pertained to cleaning up after Galdran--for why else would he offer me a look at the old king's papers? But I'd managed to turn the discussion into a quarrel, and so lost the chance.
I groaned aloud. What was with me? As I hurried up the steps to our wing, I promised myself that next time Shevraeth tried to talk to me, I'd listen, and even if he insulted me, my family, and my land, I'd keep my tongue between my teeth.
"My own conscience demands that I make the attempt." Would there even be another try?
I sighed as I opened my door, then Nessaren and Shevraeth and the rain went out of my mind when I saw that my letter table was not empty.
Two items awaited me. The first was a letter--and when I saw the device on the heavy seal, my heart sped: the Marquise of Merindar.
I ripped it open, to find only an invitation to a gathering three weeks hence. No hint of any personal message.
Laying it aside, I turned my gaze to the other object.
Sitting in the middle of the table was a fine little vase cut from luminous starstone, and in it, bordered by the most delicate ferns, was a single rose, just barely blooming.
One white rose. I knew what that meant, thanks to Nee:
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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