But if he didn't appear soon, his parents would send someone for him. So he fortified his resolve and descended. Halfway down he came around the curve of the staircase; stopping there, he looked out over the Hearth Room. His parents and an unfamiliar woman were standing at the far end, near the hearth, unaware of him, sipping from ruby goblets. A girl with gold curls had just served them, judging by her empty silver tray. As she walked down the hall, she glanced up. Seeing Vyrl, she started, her mouth opening. Then she averted her gaze and hurried on her way, leaving the room.
Vyrl's face burned. He had known her for years. She and Lily were always giggling together, often at him, though he had never understood why they found him so amusing.
Now she wouldn't even acknowledge him. After the news about his betrothal had spread in the village, his friends no longer seemed comfortable with him. Did they look away because he had become different, his title made real, the son of a mysterious queen who came from above the sky?
No one else had realized yet he was on the stairs, so he remained still, watching. His mother looked every bit her Ruby Dynasty heredity. Tall and statuesque, in a soft blue jumpsuit, she stood by the fireplace with a posture of quiet confidence. Gold hair curled around her face, cascaded over her shoulders and arms, and poured down her back. His father stood next to her, one elbow on the mantel as he spoke to their guest.
Devon Majda.
Vyrl couldn't stop staring at the general. She wore a trim uniform, green with gold on the cuffs, and polished knee-boots that made her taller than his parents. Her black hair hung glossy and straight to her shoulders, framing a face of austere, aristocratic perfection, from her aquiline nose to her dark, upward-tilted eyes. With her long limbs and athletic build, she projected a sense of energy. An aura of power surrounded her, as if she took her rank and heredity for granted. Indeed, she should; only one other family had more status or wealth than Majda — the Ruby Dynasty.
Vyrl didn't care about ancient empires, modern politics, or wealth. He just wanted his own family and a farm. Unfortunately, that probably had a lot to do with why Devon had chosen him to sire her heirs. Thinking of what went into that siring, he flushed, certain his face was turning bright red. Given the differences in their ages, he hadn't expected to find her so attractive. But she still seemed old to him. He couldn't imagine her as his wife.
Glancing toward the stairs, his mother caught sight of him. With a smile, she raised her hand, beckoning. Devon idly glanced his way, then did a double take, her gaze widening. A surge of appreciation overflowed her mind; she apparently liked what she saw. Acutely aware of them watching, he came down the stairs. He grew even more self-conscious as he crossed the long room to the hearth.
When he reached them, Devon bowed deeply from the waist. As she straightened, Vyrl nodded with the formality his title required. Raising his head, he found himself looking straight into her eyes. It startled him. He was used to the girls in Dalvador, who came only to his shoulder, if that much. He took after his mother's people, with their greater height.
Devon spoke in Iotic, the language of the nobility. "My honor at your presence, Your Highness."
Although here in Dalvador he rarely needed to follow the protocol of the Imperial Court, Vyrl had learned its ways. He answered in flawless Iotic. "And mine at yours, General Majda." He wondered if he sounded as awkward as he felt.
She smiled, her expression formal but not unfriendly. "Devon, please."
"Devon." He tried to smile back, though the expression felt stiff on his face. "Please call me Vyrl."
She repeated his name in her Iotic accent, making it sound like Vahrialle, which was, he supposed, the proper pronunciation. All his friends drawled Verle in the rural Dalvador dialect.
They talked for a bit, a stilted conversation. He could think of almost nothing to say. Standing with his parents while he met the woman that half the galaxy expected him to impregnate was about the most mortifying experience he could imagine.
His father was watching them closely. To Devon, he said, "Perhaps you would like to take a walk? Vyrl can show you the countryside."
"I would like that," Devon said.
Vyrl's shoulders relaxed. The idea of being alone with her didn't ease his agitation, but at least his parents wouldn't be watching. Although his mother smiled at him, he felt the sadness she tried to hide. Her heart had ached that same way when Eldrin had left home and when Althor had received his acceptance to the off-world military academy.
I never wanted you to look at me that way, Vyrl thought to her. I've always wanted to stay on Lyshriol. But he couldn't say it out loud, not in front of General Majda.
Walking with Devon across the plains made Vyrl twitch inside. Just two days ago he had run free here and held Lily in his arms. It tore at him to return to this place with a stranger, but he did his best to hide his sense of loss. He could almost hear his brother Del-Kurj deriding him: Enough of your melodramatic adolescent angst! As if what Vyrl felt for Lily couldn't be serious, or as if Del-Kurj was so much more incredibly mature. Vyrl could tell his parents also believed he was too young to fall in love. None of that mattered. He knew what he felt for Lily was genuine.
Devon walked at his side, her dark hair ruffled by the wind. She spoke politely. "This is beautiful countryside."
"I've always thought so." Vyrl glanced around at the nodding grasses that brushed their hips and the lavender sky with its blue puffs of cloud. He wanted to add, I love it with every part of my being. I can't leave. But he remained silent.
"Two suns." She peered at the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand. "It's an unstable configuration, you know."
"The suns?" He had thought the problem was with the planet. Contradicting her would hardly be tactful though.
She lowered her hand. "I meant this world, Lyshriol. Its orbit is unstable. The binary star system perturbs it."
"Oh. Yes." Vyrl pushed back the curls blowing across his face. "My tutor says astronomical engineers from the Ruby Empire moved Lyshriol here and terraformed it for human colonists. They had technologies we've yet to recover."
"Yes. They did a good job." She smiled, her aristocratic face warmed by the sunlight. "It's very pretty."
Vyrl had never thought of the land that sustained his people and his dreams as "pretty." At a loss for an appropriate response, he remained silent.
They strolled toward a distant herd of lyrine grazing on bubble stalks. He stopped about a hundred meters away, reluctant to disturb them. "Those are my father's livestock."
Devon studied the herd. "They're genetically engineered from horses, aren't they?"
"That's what we think." Biology was one of the few subjects he actually liked. "But if that's true, they've become very different animals."
She laughed softly. "I must admit, I've never seen pastel blue horses before. And those horns of theirs are charming. They act like prisms, yes?"
"Well, yes, I guess so." He had always liked the way sunlight refracted in rainbow flashes through the translucent horns of the lyrine. Their hooves produced the same effect, making it look as if they struck sparks of color from the ground when they ran in sunlight. It had never seemed unusual to him, but perhaps it was more so than he realized. Or maybe she was simply trying to make conversation.
He motioned at several boulders that crested the grass, which spread around them like an ocean of reeds. "Would you like to sit?"
"Yes, thank you."
They settled side by side on the largest boulder, which was shaped like a huge table. Devon continued to gaze over the plains. The wind whipped back her hair, accenting the classic bone structure of her face. To Vyrl, she seemed out of place here, a technocrat with an impeccable pedigree transplanted to a rustic setting that offered her no challenge. He had a hard time reading her mood. When he tried, he ran into the mental wall she used to shield her mind. Nor could he relax his defenses around her. With Lily, his barriers had dissolved without his even realizing it, but now his mind felt as closed as a fortress.