“Yes, sire.”
“If Lady Jocasta has no objections, that is?” Girion turned his gaze back to her while she was (most indelicately) struggling to get her leg over the horse’s broad back.
“Lady? A lady would—oof—have more grace getting off such a beast,” she grunted.
She found herself lifted by the waist, set on the ground, and then she staggered, clutching the nearest sturdy thing for support.
Girion. Girion the Great. He was sturdy indeed, a wall of a man.
“Lady Jocasta needs hot food, mulled wine, and warm clothing. She’s not possessed of a shifter’s tolerance for the cold. Cole—send for the— oh, what is he called?”
“Who, sire?”
Girion pulled her off her feet, even as she tried to stomp circulation back into her numb toes and legs, and then swung her legs up over the crook of his arm. “He’s not the tailor! He has all of those keys, and he always wants me to have satin this and silk that, and I always tell him no?”
“The Master of the Wardrobe, sire.”
“Send for him.”
Chapter Five
She was shivering. She was supposed to be his responsibility, and her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, even though she sailed the icy seas, and her shack-like shop was wood, not stone.
Too many hours in the cold, face uncovered, sitting still, wind blowing over her. “I am sorry. I should have had a carriage bring you.”
“I’m f-fine. Couldn’t you put me down?”
“This will keep you warmer.”
“People are going to see me if you s-send all those servants scurrying for food and whatever it is a Master of the Wardrobe brings.”
“Loyal people. Cole will know who to send, and the Master of the Wardrobe was a great personal friend of my mother’s—not my stepmother. He will be thrilled you are here, Lady Jocasta.”
“I’m only Jocasta, you know. Jocasta Waterman.”
“You are going to be Lady Jocasta of Tundra Springs, a title given by the King for aid rendered. That is how you will be announced at the ball.”
“But—”
“It will make things easier if you have a title in your own right.”
“But I don’t! You are giving it to me, like a gift.”
“Then you can have another title, one you earn if you prefer it. The Master of Holdings and Titles can go through a list of titles bestowed all the way back to Caledon’s creation. “
“That I have to earn?” Jocasta looked ill, worse than she had already. “This wasn’t part of your bargain, sire.”
He carried her up the back passageways until a flight of wide-flagged stairs opened into a hall that looked like something more regal. Harsh, but regal. White and blue hangings. Shields. Tapestries. Plush carpets.
Jocasta gasped.
“When we are alone, please just call me Girion. An alliance is one thing, but a wife... Well, that should be the highest sort of alliance. I was only hoping that if you had a title, even one I bestow, it would make things easier. A titled guest is an expectation of a king.”
“And a common girl from a fishing village, not so much?”
He looked at her when he put her on her feet, steadying her lest she fall again. “A woman. Most uncommon.”
By everything cold, I wish my voice hadn’t done that. Gotten so soft and... wistful. I’m not soft! She must not think that I’m so easily controlled, so easily won. This only works if we are equally at an advantage—or disadvantage.
