Another string pulled by his mother.
‘We merchants do love our trouble,’ she said lightly.
‘I am well aware of the fact,’ he said without humour. ‘If this union does indeed go ahead, let us pray our sons take after me and are born sound of mind.’
Lyndal had no idea whether to laugh or throw mud at him. The things that spilled from his mouth should have remained private thoughts.
She fell into a curtsy, wanting the conversation to be over. ‘Until tomorrow, Your Majesty.’
‘If this is truly a courtship, there is no need for such formalities. You may address me as “Your Grace”.’
Lyndal bit her top lip to stop the laughter rising up her throat. ‘Until tomorrow, Your Grace.’
‘That went well,’ Lyndal said to Astin as they made their way back to the castle.
He took in her rounded shoulders as they climbed the steps. ‘What were you expecting? Sonnets?’
‘I was expecting manners. The man has a mother.’
They entered the castle and made their way along the shadowy corridor. When they reached her quarters, Lyndal turned to him.
‘Can I show you something?’
He nodded and followed her into the solar, leaving the door open behind him. Lyndal went to the table by the window and picked up a stack of parchment, handing it to him. He ran his eyes over the first page. It was a list of projects with potential dates next to each one.
‘What’s all this?’ he asked.
‘These are all the things I’ll do if I become queen.’
He flicked through the pages until he reached a detailed sketch of an almshouse.
‘Queen Fayre has already agreed to fund that,’ she said.
‘So long as you marry her son and play by the rules.’ He continued sifting through, page after page of ideas, ideas that would be inevitably shot down by the king. He stopped when he arrived at a sketch of a lavender bush. ‘Lavender?’
‘To attract bees.’
He looked at her. ‘When was the last time you saw a bee in Chadora?’
‘They’ll come if there’s lavender. I’ll plant it everywhere.’
‘And where will you get this lavender from?’
She tipped her face up to him. ‘Queen Fayre has a pot of it on the terrace.’
‘That bush never flowers.’
She took the parchment from his hands and placed them back on the table. ‘Must you defenders always be such wet blankets?’
He watched her. ‘So that’s what you did in here for three days? Planned out all your post-wedding activities?’
‘I was trying to figure out if the sacrifice would be worth it.’
‘And you think it will? That you’ll miraculously be happy with him?’
She breathed out. ‘One can find happiness outside their marriage.’
‘Give me one example,’ he shot back.
