Having anticipated this argument, I rose from my chair. “Perhaps now would be a good time to speak privately and refresh ourselves.”
The servants brought in fresh drinks and offered mugs of soup and warm bread. I circled the room, talking to each councilor for a moment, smiling at each one, and made sure that I ended up at the side of the Archbishop. Deacon Brow-dus stood at his side. “Devoted One.” I sat next to him. “May I speak with you privately?”
“Of course, Daughter of Xy.” The Archbishop lowered himself in the chair next to me, adjusting his robes. Deacon Browdus took up his usual position, just behind the Archbishop, a stern frown on his face.
“Devoted One, before we go much further with our council, I feel that I must draw your attention to the sleeping arrangements while I was in the Warlord’s camp.”
“Sleeping arrangements?” Drizen’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Where did you sleep?”
I waited until he was mid-sip with his tea. “In the Warlord’s bed, Devoted One.”
He choked on the tea, splattering his vestments. Wide-eyed, he waved off the Deacon’s assistance, and mopped at his robes with a cloth. “Child, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that while in the camp of the Warlord, I slept in the Warlord’s bed, Devoted One.”
“Oh, my poor child.” His face flushed.
“Devoted One, I have wished to discuss this matter with you, for it troubles me greatly.”
“Child, I—” Archbishop Drizen shifted in his chair as his face grew redder. “There’s no need to share the details—”
“My thanks for your willingness to spare me, Devoted One, but I feel that you must know the truth.”
“T-truth?” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead as he set down his tea, and let his eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape.
“I am no longer a virgin, Devoted One.” I took a sip of tea to give him time to absorb the information.
“Really?” he squeaked. Deacon Browdus’s face was pinched up and his eyes were bugged out.
“Yes, Devoted One.” I looked him straight in the eye. “A foreign prince might have a problem accepting that.”
The poor man blushed deeper. “T’m certain that allowances would be made, Daughter of Xy.”
“Alas, Devoted One, not everyone is as forgiving as you.” Since during the last sermon I attended he had discussed that very point in great detail, I was sure he’d see it as a difficulty.
“It could pose a problem, my child.” He sucked in air, and let it out slowly. “I’m encouraged that the Warlord seems to respect our traditions.”
I inclined my head. “During my short time with his people, it seemed that they were tolerant of our beliefs. ” I rose from my chair. “My thanks, Devoted One. Your words have brought me comfort.”
He looked relieved and confused at the same time. “You are always welcome to confide in me, Xylara.”
I moved toward the window, anxious to check that Keir was still here. Simus had assured me that he wouldn’t move any earlier than stated, but my heart feared otherwise. A quick glance out the window told me that they were making preparations, but they were still there.
Othur moved up next to me, mug in hand. We stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence. “Othur—”
“Lara—”
We both chuckled, but Othur shook his head when I tried to speak. “No. Me first.” He lifted a hand to tug on one of my curls. “You are like a daughter to Anna and me, Lara. Don’t fault us for wanting to protect you.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.
Othur turned to look out the window. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, Lara. Have to admit that I prayed about it was well. Tried to imagine what your father would say. When you removed that brooch from Simus’s cloak, you were trying to save a life. A worthy goal. But kings and queens must look beyond the individual and work for the benefit of the people and the land as a whole.” He turned back to me. “You’d learn to be a great queen, Lara, but you would be miserable and lose a part of your soul in the process. The day would come when you’d make the right decision, but the weight of it would haunt you forever, haunted by the lives you sacrificed rather than rejoicing in the lives you saved. You are of the Blood, but I can’t wish that fate on you. Even more, it’s hard to admit that our chick has grown wings.” He considered my face with a wry smile. “Your arguments make good sense, Lara.” He sighed, and looked out the window. “This is what you want?” He gave me a sideways glance. “Or rather, who you want?”
I nodded, then put my hand up to make sure the crown stayed straight.
“And who will rule in your stead, Daughter of Xy?” There was no condemnation in his eyes, just honest concern. “Have you thought that far ahead?”
I smiled at him, my heart feeling a bit lighter. “Are you familiar with The Epic of Xyson?”
He grunted. “Yes, but I was hoping you wouldn’t remember.” His tired eyes sparkled with a touch of his old humor. “Very well. You have my support, Warprize.” He nodded toward the group behind us. “And you’ll have their support once they settle down. Make an excuse to leave the room for a bit, and let Warren and I talk to them.”
Simus came up to us at that point, limping slightly, mug in one hand, a plate of Anna’s tarts in the other. “ Try one of these.”
Othur and I each took one. One bite, and I knew where the bitterest opponent of my plan lay. I looked up into Simus’s dark eyes ruefully. “Apparently I have angered the cook.”
Simus nodded.
“Word must have gotten down to the kitchens.” Othur dropped his tart back onto the plate. “You’d better go talk to her.”
“She’s your wife.”
Othur arched an eyebrow. “You’re the Daughter of Xy, and Warprize. This is one duty that you cannot abrogate.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
As usual, the castle kitchen was hot, overcrowded, and cluttered. The staff seemed particularly frantic, and I’d heard Anna berating a maid for breaking a dish before I’d even entered the room. She was scolding everyone, standing in the center of the kitchen, wielding her wooden spoon, her apron covered in food stains. I eased in the door, and stood for a moment, just watching her. She was upset, and taking it out on everyone in sight.
One of the servants noticed me and said something to Anna. She stiffened and jerked her head around, setting her chins to jiggling. I withstood the scorching by lifting my chin. She scowled. “Food not to your liking, eh, missy?”
“Anna—”
“Here now, keep turning that spit!” Anna cursed at the young boy who was turning the meat. She turned back to me, her face hard. “Rumor has it that you’re wanting to follow after that barbarian.”
“Anna—”
Her face changed in an instant, crumpling before my eyes.
“Why? Tell me that? He let you go, gave you back to us. Why would you want to go?” She collapsed onto one of the stools, which creaked in protest. The room went silent, as everyone stared.
I gestured for the servants to leave, and they filed out, after taking the various meats and stews off the fires. Once the room was empty, I went to Anna, who still sobbed, and put my arms around her. I lay my head atop hers, and let her cry.
Othur came in. He knelt before her and rubbed her knees with his large hands. “Anna.”
She sniffed, her face red and tear-streaked. Othur reached into a pocket and handed her a large white handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose. “We just got her back, safe and well, why can’t she stay?” Anna sobbed, her chins wobbling. “There’s no reason for her to leave.”
I lifted my head and took a breath, but Othur took one of Anna’s hands in his own. With the other, he pulled me down to kneel next to him. “Anna, my love, look at her.”