He allowed he did, and she awarded him one of her smiles. It vanished when she said, “You certainly know how to embarrass a girl!”
His confusion was plain, so she explained. “Last night you were carried into the palace, bleeding profusely. All you could say was ‘Valaran, Valaran,’ over and over. Draymon, commander of the Imperial Guard, sent for me. Father demanded a full explanation!”
He apologized, but she shrugged impishly. “It made for a lively evening. After I told mother and father how I knew you, they heard about the murderer you killed. The story is all over the Inner City.”
Tol said sharply, “Crake’s dead?”
“Yes. The guards were agog over your fatal thrust.”
Tol closed his eyes. He had killed Crake, one of his first friends, the free-spirited flute player whose skill with a bow had saved Tol’s life in the Great Green. The pain that flared in his heart was nearly overwhelming. Although he and Narren were friends, Tol had always been closer to Crake. Shilder were given few days away from training, but during his early days in Juramona, Tol had spent much of his free time with Crake’s family. They had lived in Juramona for four generations. How could he bring them such black news-that their son was not only dead, but had died an assassin, and by Tol’s own hand.
“I’ll let you sleep,” Valaran said, her voice penetrating his misery. She was rolling up a scroll on Silvanesti geography.
“No!” The word came out more harshly than he intended, but above all, he wanted her to stay. She ceased making preparations to leave.
The import of her earlier words suddenly sank in, and he realized an entire day had passed. “I missed the banquet! Prince Amaltar and Lord Enkian will be furious!”
“Well, it was quite an affair,” Val said, “thanks to you. Everyone was talking about you, Tol, even the emperor. The featherheads in the Consorts’ Circle were livid!”
He blinked several times, having trouble keeping up with her rapid changes of subject. “Why?”
“Because a dashing warrior from Juramona swooned on the palace steps, calling my name.”
Although her tone was mocking, she was blushing. Tol gazed at her face, his own misery eased by the light he saw in her eyes.
“I missed you after our excursion into the city,” he finally said. “You didn’t come to the fountain. I thought you were angry with me.”
“Why should I be angry?”
“Because I kissed you.”
“Oh.” She toed the silk slippers from her feet, letting the dainty footwear drop to the floor. She drew her bare feet up beneath herself, a very childlike posture. “I didn’t object, did I?”
He agreed she hadn’t.
“I couldn’t get out of the palace for two days. Father had everyone practicing day and night for the banquet.”
Careful of his injured left thigh, Tol turned on his right side, the better to see her. “Practice for what?”
“Our introduction to the crown prince. My two unmarried sisters and I were formally presented to him at the banquet.”
“But surely you’ve met him before? Seen him around the palace and such?”
Valaran looped fine hair behind one ear. “Of course, but my father has been trying to arrange marriages for us for some time. The crown prince, being crown prince, gets first choice of all eligible ladies.”
“Which one of your sisters did he pick?”
“Me,” she said, smiling. “All the nobles and ladies were talking about your fight, and how you called out for me. I suppose that influenced him. He’s never taken much notice of me before.”
Tol felt as though his wound had been re-opened with a red hot iron. “It can’t be,” he whispered.
“It’s true. I am to marry Crown Prince Amaltar at the next fortuitous conjunction of Solin and the constellation of Mishas.”
Tol sat up abruptly, almost losing his sheet. Pain lanced through his leg. “You can’t! I love you, Val!”
Her breezy manner evaporated. She hugged the geography scroll to herself and looked away. “I can, and I will,” she said. “It’s my duty, to my family and the empire. The crown prince has publicly chosen me. I can’t decline. To do so would ruin my entire family.”
“Don’t you love me?”
Her green eyes returned to his face. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Then we’ll leave Daltigoth-leave Ergoth altogether!”
She stood quickly. “No! Aren’t you listening? Can’t your dim provincial mind understand? If I humiliated the crown prince, my father would lose his head, and the rest of my family-mother, brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews-all would be sold into servitude! Everything we own-land, servants, goods-would be forfeit to the crown. Everything!”
His eyes stung with tears. Closing them, he said, “Isn’t true love worth it?”
For an instant anger flared across her face, but compassion won out. “I’m sorry, Tol. I’m not some country lass who can leave the family farm for your sake.”
Tol wondered how he’d ever thought her too young for him. Just now, she seemed immeasurably older and worldly-wise.
She started to leave, but he caught her wrist and held on. “So you’ll marry the prince. Will you then be empress one day?”
“Oh, no. When Amaltar succeeds to the crown, one of his wives will be designated empress, but I’m not from the first rank of nobility. That’s why my father was so pleased I was chosen. The union will greatly improve our family’s standing at court.”
Tol released her. He could not take it in, could not understand the logic of it. Not only was the girl he loved being taken away, but she was wedding a man with many wives already.
Her cool hand rested on his forehead. “Don’t despair,” she said calmly. “We might still see each other. Amaltar does not love me, nor I him.”
He shivered, whether from anticipation, or fear, he wasn’t certain. “How can we be lovers if you’re married to the heir to the throne of Ergoth?”
Misunderstanding, she hastened to reassure him. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. Ardent Amaltar is not. He’s a cold cipher of a man, who’d rather hatch a scheme than woo a lady. Once we’re married, I doubt I will see him much more than I do now. Oh, I’ll be expected to have his children, but not for a while. We can be together if we’re discreet.”
He didn’t know whether to weep or laugh. Born and raised in the Imperial Palace, Val had lived her entire life surrounded by intrigue, marriages of state, and affairs of convenience. He wondered if she truly loved him, or loved only what he represented-the adventure of being with an outsider, someone rough, notorious, and perhaps dangerous.
Seeing him frown, Valaran put out a hand and touched his cheek. As she looked down at him, green eyes bright and a half-smile on her face, his doubts fled.
If Valaran would have him, he would be there. No other course was possible. She was a wound from which he would never recover.
Tol was up and walking in a few days. At first the only patient in the Hall of Healing, he had company from his second day on. A guard injured in a fall, a cook with burned hands, and the ten-year-old dyspeptic son of a courtier soon occupied other beds. They were kept well away from Tol, and they all received visitors. He did not. He was surprised Kiya and Miya did not come to see him, and stricken when Valaran did not return. Not till he was able to walk again did he discover why he’d been left so alone.
He hobbled past the long line of beds to the double doors and managed to swing one open. Barring the way were four of the Inner City Guard, bearing halberds. Politely, Tol was ordered back from the door. When he asked why he couldn’t go out, the corporal said only, “Orders.”
“Am I under arrest?” Tol asked, leaning his weight against the edge of the door and feeling extremely grubby next to the sleek, alert guards.