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Authors: Elizabeth Moon
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means us no harm.” He paused, but no one spoke. “That is good news, but I have better: King’s Squire Arian has consented to become my queen, and the ancestors and the taig and the Lady of the Ladys forest have all agreed.”
Stunned silence, then a burst of applause that ended when Kieri held up his hand. “Because of the perils just past and the uncertainties of the future, I believe it wise to marry sooner rather than later, and Arian agrees. We will celebrate the engagement formally on the day of Midwinter Feast, and the wedding will be on the half-Evener.”
He had thought that would make them happy, but disappointed looks went back and forth.
“You could wait until the Evener,” Sier Hammarin said. “Half-Evener—it could be storming; snow won’t have melted. It’s a royal wedding; there’ll be guests to invite who must travel a distance. Evener, or even Midsummer, if you wanted, would be better. Now that you’ve found someone …”
“We don’t want to wait,” Kieri said. “And oaths given on Midwinter are unbreakable, as you know.”
Hammarin chuckled. “Young folks are always in a hurry, but you surely know, sir king, the custom—no need to wait the way
you
mean.”
It took Kieri a moment to understand that; he felt his face heating up. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he said. No one laughed. “But you may be right—” Hammarin
was
right, he realized. Next to the coronation, his wedding was the most important state occasion, requiring time for planning and consideration of the guest list. “Arian?” he said, turning to her. “What do you think?”
“Spring Evener’s better,” she said. “Especially after the war, you must invite the other kings as well as our own people.”
“And just enough planning time now,” Sier Belvarin said.
I suppose,” Garris said after the meeting, “you’re going to appoint another King’s Squire to replace her? We’ve lost enough that you might well hold another examination anyway, especially as she’ll need her own Squires once you marry.”
“Arian will stay with the Squires until we marry, as she wishes,” Kieri said. “But no dangerous assignments, Garris. She can serve in the palace.” He pushed away the memory of the two Squires who had died in the palace … no more Pargunese assassins, at least. He yawned.
“When did you last sleep?” Garris said.
“Um … I’m not sure. Not last night; I wanted to get back here and reassure … people.”
“Arian.” Garris smirked.
“And the Siers.” Kieri grinned. “But of course Arian most of all.”
“I’m glad for you,” Garris said. “But go on to bed and let me send out my messages. If you yawn in front of me anymore, I’ll fall asleep myself.”
Kieri fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down, only to wake in the dark of night. He stretched, then wondered why he’d wakened. No sound disturbed him; coals still glowed in the fireplace. He felt no menace. So … what? Arian? No, of course not. The Council? No, they were as content as they could be, knowing he would wed. Squires, Royal Archers, forest rangers … nothing came to mind that would wake him up.
Where were the elves?
He blinked, trying to clear his mind. They had been there, at the end of the scathefire track, that first day after the attack. The Lady had sworn her aid to heal the land. He had ridden back to Chaya, leaving the elves behind, thinking they would defend … but when he returned, the Pargunese had come, hindered only by that mixed force of humans and a few part-elf rangers.
Where
were
the elves? He had seen no healing of the scathefire track, no new growth. Had they but awaited his departure and then gone back to the Ladysforest? Surely not, for the taig had calmed … He reached out for it and tried to trace its fabric all the way to the river. Here … and here … were the rents the scathefire had made. And there, on the other scathefire track, he felt … not the
Stunned silence, then a burst of applause that ended when Kieri held up his hand. “Because of the perils just past and the uncertainties of the future, I believe it wise to marry sooner rather than later, and Arian agrees. We will celebrate the engagement formally on the day of Midwinter Feast, and the wedding will be on the half-Evener.”
He had thought that would make them happy, but disappointed looks went back and forth.
“You could wait until the Evener,” Sier Hammarin said. “Half-Evener—it could be storming; snow won’t have melted. It’s a royal wedding; there’ll be guests to invite who must travel a distance. Evener, or even Midsummer, if you wanted, would be better. Now that you’ve found someone …”
“We don’t want to wait,” Kieri said. “And oaths given on Midwinter are unbreakable, as you know.”
Hammarin chuckled. “Young folks are always in a hurry, but you surely know, sir king, the custom—no need to wait the way
you
mean.”
It took Kieri a moment to understand that; he felt his face heating up. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he said. No one laughed. “But you may be right—” Hammarin
was
right, he realized. Next to the coronation, his wedding was the most important state occasion, requiring time for planning and consideration of the guest list. “Arian?” he said, turning to her. “What do you think?”
“Spring Evener’s better,” she said. “Especially after the war, you must invite the other kings as well as our own people.”
“And just enough planning time now,” Sier Belvarin said.
I suppose,” Garris said after the meeting, “you’re going to appoint another King’s Squire to replace her? We’ve lost enough that you might well hold another examination anyway, especially as she’ll need her own Squires once you marry.”
“Arian will stay with the Squires until we marry, as she wishes,” Kieri said. “But no dangerous assignments, Garris. She can serve in the palace.” He pushed away the memory of the two Squires who had died in the palace … no more Pargunese assassins, at least. He yawned.
“When did you last sleep?” Garris said.
“Um … I’m not sure. Not last night; I wanted to get back here and reassure … people.”
“Arian.” Garris smirked.
“And the Siers.” Kieri grinned. “But of course Arian most of all.”
“I’m glad for you,” Garris said. “But go on to bed and let me send out my messages. If you yawn in front of me anymore, I’ll fall asleep myself.”
Kieri fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down, only to wake in the dark of night. He stretched, then wondered why he’d wakened. No sound disturbed him; coals still glowed in the fireplace. He felt no menace. So … what? Arian? No, of course not. The Council? No, they were as content as they could be, knowing he would wed. Squires, Royal Archers, forest rangers … nothing came to mind that would wake him up.
Where were the elves?
He blinked, trying to clear his mind. They had been there, at the end of the scathefire track, that first day after the attack. The Lady had sworn her aid to heal the land. He had ridden back to Chaya, leaving the elves behind, thinking they would defend … but when he returned, the Pargunese had come, hindered only by that mixed force of humans and a few part-elf rangers.
Where
were
the elves? He had seen no healing of the scathefire track, no new growth. Had they but awaited his departure and then gone back to the Ladysforest? Surely not, for the taig had calmed … He reached out for it and tried to trace its fabric all the way to the river. Here … and here … were the rents the scathefire had made. And there, on the other scathefire track, he felt … not the
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