She had already gone in, and he stood for a moment where she had, as if he thought he might catch the echoes of her being.
Madness, all of it, a painful kind of madness that hurt his heart.
He would keep himself busy this day, he resolved as he went inside. Occupy his mind, make the time pass. Keep too busy to think of her—aye, that was the only thing to do. First he would stop to see his mother, then off to supervise training.
He opened Mam’s door softly and stopped as if he’d run into a stone wall.
Princess Darlei was there ahead of him.
She sat beside Mam’s bed, leaning forward gracefully with her hand on the coverlet, the two women smiling at one another. Mam’s smile spread to Deathan as she acknowledged him.
“Deathan, son, come awa’ in.”
“I—” He looked at Darlei. “’Tis no’ a good time.”
Mam ignored that and told Darlei confidingly, “Deathan always stops to see me before he begins his day. He is the very best o’ sons.”
“I do not doubt it,” Darlei said. Her gaze fastened to Deathan’s, and aye, the feelings all came rushing as they had out on the wall. The ache, the madness.
The desire.
“I can come back,” he said stupidly.
“Nay, if you wish time alone with your mother, I will leave.” Darlei got to her feet. “I would not spoil your visit.”
Mam laughed, a thing so rare these days it made Deathan blink. A weak laugh, to be sure, but still hers of old, sweet and tripping.
“Is there a reason the both o’ ye may no’ be here wi’ me?”
This time the glance Deathan and Darlei exchanged was fleeting. She looked away first.
“Come, Deathan.” Mam held out her hand.
He went in and sat on the edge of Mam’s bed, which took him very close indeed to Princess Darlei.
She sat back down and folded her hands.
“How d’ye feel today, Mam?”
“A little better. I had a good night and took some sleep.”
“That is well.” Far too often, pain kept her awake.
“I am excited to learn more o’ my new daughter.” She smiled at Darlei. “Pray, tell me o’ life in yer father’s kingdom. Was it much different to here?”
“Yes, yes it was.” Darlei’s gaze stole back to Deathan. “But I would not take up Master Deathan’s time—”
“I am content to listen.”
More than content to hear her voice, with its accent like music. To watch the light come and go in her face as she mentioned events from her childhood. To catch flickers of a smile meant for Mam, which nevertheless spilled over onto him.
To have an excuse to run his gaze down the length of her hair, touch upon the lift of her bosom. Follow her hands.
He had held that hand—the left one—in his. He longed to touch it again, to drop a kiss into the palm.
This was not like him. He never fell victim to this sort of attraction, that left him feeling like he’d been run over by a team of ponies. He did not know what to do with the feelings. So hesat. Watched her. Listened. Fell deeper into these waters that had opened beneath them.
She spoke to his mother, aye, but she included him, glanced often at him. Her childhood sounded fascinating, and her love for her home rang like a bell. When she finished, Mam said what Deathan was thinking.
