The Lay of the Land

To her father's great irritation, Sedra resumed her walk after lunch, changing back into her shorter skirts and boots and leaving without so much as a backwards glance. "Please forgive my daughter," said Ansella gently. "She is high-spirited, but will calm down given a little time to get to know you."

"It is her high spirits that make her so compelling, your majesty," smiled Brinnid. "In the meantime, Princess Ellika has asked me to accompany her into town, and so I shall drive her there myself. I always like to see a place from an open carriage or from horseback."

"Most unusual," murmured the queen, "for a king to play chauffeur for a princess."

Brinnid laughed. "I am sure that Pagg Himself would jump at the chance to drive Ellika's coach, ma'am."

"Perhaps we all might go on a ride some time soon. Ellika doesn't care for it, but the rest of us are quite fond of riding."

"I should like that of all things," said Brinnid. "I hear the King's Woods are particularly beautiful this time of year."

So they were; in fact, Sedra was having similar thoughts as she walked slowly through the trees, letting her bonnet dangle down her back by its strings as she did as a girl. She tried to stay away from the old campsite of the Travelers. But try as she might her feet betrayed her, and she found herself in the clearing--where Connin was once again waiting.

"Taunting me, your highness? Not terribly polite."

"Neither is spying on me," she retorted.

"No, I suppose not. But you drive me to it, Sedra. Missing you makes me...impolite."

"And your enthusiasm makes me impolite. Go back to your mother." Sedra turned to go.

"I brought the book," he called to her.

She turned back. "To taunt me, or to teach me?"

"Will you learn from me?"

Sedra considered. Her need to learn outweighed her distrust of Connin in the end, and she nodded.

"Come, then," said Connin, smiling encouragingly. He sat down on a log and put a thick pillow at his feet for her to sit on.

"You came prepared."

"When you've lived as long as I have, you are prepared for everything--almost everything," he replied with a twisted smile.

"When will you tell me your story?" she asked, settling herself against his knees.

"Not for a very long time, indeed. You must be content with that. Are you ready? Very well, then." He took her into the book. As he told the story, he watched her face relax and her eyes turn inward. Many times he resisted the urge to stroke her hair or her cheek, and many times he cursed himself for letting one woman out of the thousands in his long life touch his heart as she did.

Connin moved through the story rapidly, watching her closely as he recounted the wedding night. A rosy blush stole across her neck and face, and he imagined he could see her nipples stiffen aganst her corset as her breath quickened. But he knew it was just his imagining, and her breasts remained as hidden as the heart beneath. It was getting late in the day judging by the sun, he reckoned, but still she sat, her head pillowed against his knee as she lived the story.

When Sedra came to herself, Connin was stroking her hair gently, and her legs were cramping. She stood up quickly to stretch out the kinks, and Connin slid the book back into its sack. "It's getting dark! They will be missing me if they haven't already," she said. "I must start walking back."

"No tender gesture at all for me? Not even a word of thanks?"

Sedra winced. "Of course, of course I'm thankful--even grateful." She reached up and kissed his cheek, but he circled her with his arms and held her tight. "Do not push your advantage, Connin."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, but kissed her all the same. She reluctantly opened her mouth to him at first but sighed into the kiss in the end. "You really will not come with me? You intend to marry this dolt of a Sairishman?"

"He's not a dolt."

"He gets you and he's not me, therefore he's a dolt."

Sedra laughed, but quickly sobered. "Connin, I will wither and die and you will go on. There is no future with you for me. You know this."

"There might be a future with me."

She cocked her head and studied his face. "No, I don't think so."

"But if there were--if things were different--if we could grow old together--would you come with me then?"

Sedra was quiet, her fingers running patterns on his chest. "I don't know. Things aren't different, so I don't know. Maybe." She looked up and kissed him quickly. "I really have to go now, Connin. If I'm out much longer, they'll come looking for me, and we can't be found together."

"Oh, it's much too late for that," came an icy voice. The Teacher stepped into the clearing, and Sedra quickly pushed away from Connin, smoothing out her rumpled dress. "What do you think you're playing at, Connin?" Connin gave no answer but an angry glare. "Does your mother know you're toying with princesses again?"

"It's not a game to me this time, and my mother is none of your concern!"

"Your mother is all of my concern!" shouted the Teacher. "You risk much, boy--everything!"

"Not any more, 'sir,'" Connin grated. He turned to the princess. "Sedra. Go marry Brinnid. I want you to. You have to."

"I know I have to," said Sedra in confusion. "What--"

"Just do what you have to do. Do what you must. It has to be, but I can't be here to watch it." Connin walked to the tree with its hidden mirror, swirled into the knothole and disappeared.

"I would break that mirror, but I have need of it myself from time to time," muttered the Teacher, grabbing Sedra by the arm. "You. March." They set off for the Keep double-time, the Teacher almost dragging Sedra along through the woods in silence. "This is not the kind of thing I would expect from you, Sedra, this is the kind of thing your sister would do!" the Teacher finally said. "How long has this been going on?"

"None of your business!" retorted Sedra, nearly stumbling in her haste to keep up with the Teacher's longer stride.

"It is completely my business! How far did he get?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know very well what I'm asking--how far did he get!" By now they were stopped beside the Inchari folly. "Will you be able to pass your examination at the Sister's Temple! For I assure you, while the Sairish are more forward-thinking than the Tremontines, they're not that forward-thinking when it comes to royal marriages!"

"How dare you!" she answered, pulling her arm away roughly. "You're jealous!"

"Sedra, I have told you time and again you don't know what you're talking about, and that is very much the case now. How foolish have you been?"

Sedra stared until her cheeks reddened and she had to drop her eyes. "Not that foolish," she mumbled, her eyes tearing up.

"Oh, Sedra," sighed the Teacher, taking her hand. "I have known Connin much, much longer than you--longer than anyone but his mother. He is a rogue of the first order. Don't let him break your heart."

"You misapprehend the nature of things as usual," she sniffed, and began walking towards the Keep by herself.

"How far did you get into the book?" the Teacher called after her.

Sedra stopped short and turned back. "The book?"

"You're extremely bad at feigning ignorance. How far?"

Sedra considered. "Through the first year of Macca and Ilhovin's marriage."

The Teacher nodded. "I will find a way to tell you the rest, but you must, must stay away from Connin."

"I wasn't trying to be near him at all, he won't leave me alone!" she huffed, and took off toward the castle in a near-run.

The Teacher sighed, walking up to the reflecting pool. There was no breeze and its surface was placid. "Show me my library." The room appeared, and soon the Teacher vanished into its image.

In Temmin's window, Brinnid snapped the little brass spyglass shut. Though he'd learned to read lips in his time at sea--nothing like a good storm to befuddle one's hearing--he was at too far of a distance to clearly see what was being said. But clearly something was going on, perhaps more than he had at first suspected.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Brinnid!" said Temmin, breezing into the room from his bedchamber dressed in his dinner clothes. "Let's head downstairs, I'm told Affton has a very nice Barle-style ale on tap."

"No trouble at all, at all," said Brinnid. "I spent my time observing your lovely grounds courtesy your spyglass. Learned a great deal about the lay of the land."