“I also hope their trade agreements prove successful.” Nera gave a wistful sigh. “I do miss a good Herixian wine. Or silk thread from Glendor.”
Yarif smiled, recalling the plans Draylon discussed when they weren’t making love. “I’m thinking May, our head cook, would love to get her hands on some of this cheese.”
“If we establish trade, I’ll send a herd of the goats we milk to make that cheese.” Aunt Nera gave a sly smile. “On a completely different topic, I’ve noticed the two of you stay in the same room. I can give you a larger room as a married couple.”
Flames licked up Yarif’s face once more. “No. No, that’s all right. This room is fine. We won’t be staying much longer.”More’s the pity.
“If you’re sure.” Nera sighed. “It’s been so good having you here, regardless of the circumstances. I’ve missed your mother dearly, her letters, the occasions we saw each other. Just knowing she was there, you know?”
“Yes, I do.” Sometimes, even now, Yarif imagined Mother in the rose garden or sitting in a sunny spot by a window, the sun lighting her face, bringing out the freckles on her nose.
Freckles Aunt Nera shared. She asked, “What will you do now?”
The question pulled Yarif from his musings. “What do you mean?”
“You were forced into marriage, but it seems that’s working well for you.” Nera’s eyes twinkled. “Will you stay with your husband?”
“I’ve not thought about the future beyond getting home and ensuring my brother and sister are cared for.” Nor had Yarif asked Draylon’s opinion on the matter. If Yarif had his say, though, he’d spend his days making Draylon happy.
“I can’t blame you there. But if you want an old woman’s advice, you shouldn’t discount your relationship, regardless of how you got there. I’ve been watching the two of you. There’s a spark. I believe it can grow to be a flame. No, you’re not wildly and passionately in love. If that happens before a couple knows each other, it never lasts. However, the two of you watch out for each other and enjoy each other’s company. Successful marriages have started with less.”
“What about you and Uncle Reed?”
Nera gave a girlish laugh. “Although Delletina isn’t a part of the empire, travel between the two was quite common in years past. Reed was a prince then, though into his forties, and widowed without an heir. I’d just turned twenty. While I thought of him merely as another guest to our home, Father meant us to meet. Because I thought Father had someone else in mind for me, I was open, enjoying Reed’s company.” She giggled. “In fact, I didn’t know he was royalty. Which meant we could fall in love with the person without the background noise of position or obligations. By the time he left, he had taken my heart with him. We married the next spring. While I miss my homeland's rolling plains and rivers, I fell in love with the mountains as much as with my husband. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him. But even with his loss, my life was enriched for even knowing him. I hope you can find that kind of wonder with Draylon.”
Could Yarif have such a thing? Should he dare dream? All he had as examples were his father and Father’s wives, whom he married to serve a purpose, but never to love. Poor Mother. Starved of affection. Especially seeing her sisters happy.
Mother had tried hard with Father, even if she failed in her one-sided effort. Draylon was a far better man than Father. Perhaps Yarif and Draylon would have a different outcome. “I’d like to try.”
The door flew open, and a man dressed in richly embroidered clothing stepped in—even his gloves and riding cloak had been painstakingly decorated. His eyes flashed with obvious delight that he wasn’t too successful in hiding. “Ah, I’m very sorry, my dear Nera. I must’ve taken a wrong turn.”
Yarif bristled at the familiarity when Nera stiffened. If she’d possessed hackles, they would have risen.
“And a wrong flight of stairs.” Her voice lowered to nearly a growl as she rose to her feet. “Lord Whreyn, I’m sure my son is looking for you, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Lord Whreyn?
“I do apologize, Your Majesty.” Though the words sounded sincere, the man showed no signs of leaving, instead raking a calculating gaze over Yarif.
Nera shifted between Lord Whreyn and Yarif, blocking the view. “I won’t keep you,” she said with too much sweetness.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion? Where are your manners?”
“Keeping yours company, I expect, somewhere far from here.”
Unperturbed by Aunt Nera’s rebuke, Lord Whreyn persisted, “I see a resemblance. One of your nephews, perhaps?”
“If you really must know, this young man was injured and brought to me for healing. Now, be gone with you, or I’ll call the guards.”
“Interesting. I haven’t seen many guards on this floor of the keep. Why is that?”
A new voice added in a low, threatening rumble, “Their king has them busy elsewhere, where you’re supposed to meet with him. Rest assured, they’re close enough to summon if needed.” Niam stepped into the room behind Lord Whreyn.
Whreyn paled. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I simply lost my way.”
“Indeed you have. Now, would you like to finish our negotiations, or would you rather continue invading the privacy of my home?”
Whreyn plastered on a smile as realistic as his overly dyed black hair. “Good day, Your Majesty.” He peeked around Nera. “And you too, good sir.” His smile turned gloating.
