His heart lifted with pleasure.
With a beaming smile, Tristan pushed back his chair and extended his hand to help Mirrie up the steps of the dais. Her hand in his felt cold, despite the warmth of the evening. And her own smile was tight.But she is here.
“Sit,” he urged, realising as he sank back into his chair that his slightly blurred vision was most likely due to rich wine on an almost empty stomach. Small cakes and sticky pastries wouldnot suffice. He was dimly aware of Juliana leaning towards Mirrie, and of Mirrie’s answering nod. But a wave of tension wove up around them both.
Holy hell, he needed food.Proper food.
And as if summoned by his thoughts, the double doors of the hall swung open and a line of liveried servants entered holding steaming platters of meat and vegetables. Tristan’s stomach growled audibly and Juliana’s twitching lips showed that she had heard. It took all his reserves of patience and good manners not to urge the maids to hurry.
The hall had filled up. Not to its usual level, but men-at-arms occupied the trestle table near the fireplace and the hum of their conversation together with the tempting aromas of roast venison helped him to feel that life was getting back to normal once again. When he had torn off a hunk of freshly baked bread and scooped up some of the tender meat in its rich sauce, his temper was almost entirely restored.
He glanced to his right, where Mirrie sat toying with her trencher, and was seized by the desire to see her smile.Properlysmile.
“Have you passed a pleasant day?” he enquired, spearing another hunk of meat.
Mirrie did not look his way, but she answered readily enough. “Seeing your father awaken was a blessing.”
He could not resist replying, “And all thanks to Juliana’s intervention.”
She nodded, though her lips were pressed into a thin line. “We owe you a debt of gratitude, Juliana.” She drew the name out over four syllables.
Juliana herself smiled widely. “My people will rejoice to know of his recovery.”
“And that he will reign for many years yet,” Tristan said, sanguine with his wine and good meal.
Mirrie fixed him with her hazel eyes. “We cannot claim to know the future, Tris.”
“Not always, at least,” Juliana interjected.
Tristan looked from one to the other, equally surprised by both statements.
“You still doubt my father’s recovery?” he demanded of Mirrie.
“Nay,” she frowned. “Not explicitly, but it is sensible to accept we cannot know what is ahead of us.”
Juliana tossed back her hair. She was a striking figure on the dais, with her waterfall of dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Several men-at-arms dining below them could not help but stare in her direction.
Tristan placed a hand on her elbow. “What say you to that?”
Her laughter rang out like a peal of bells. “I would not be so bold as to issue a contradiction.”
“But you can see the future?” His curiosity was piqued. “What does it hold for me?” He held out his palm for her inspection.
“You think me a wise woman at a country fair?” Juliana raised her eyebrows as Mirrie looked pointedly away from them both.
“I think you a woman of many talents.” He inclined his head. “Am I wrong?”
Tutting, Juliana took hold of his hand and pulled it closer. He could feel the warmth of her breath as she leaned over to trace the faint lines with her slender fingers.
“I see that you will live a long and happy life,” she said, blandly.
“I think you can do better than that.” He bit down on his lip, thinking hard before asking the question that had been foremost on his mind these last days. “What of marriage?”
“Oh yes.” Juliana nodded sagely. “There is marriage and children in your future. And soon, I would wager.”
His breath came short. “Soon?”
It was not necessarily what he wanted to hear.
