Chapter 41 | The Queen Who Ruled by Herself

Just What's Called For

Ammaday, the 7th day of Spring's End

A new routine was beginning to form for his days, thought Temmin as he worked out on the punching bag beside Fen: Up at five, ride till six, a hasty cup of coffee and toast in the training salon with Fen, then nearly two hours of abuse from Brother Imbert, breakfast with his family at eight, and lessons with the Teacher at nine.

Training with Imbert meant he had to leave more of Jebby's after-ride care to the grooms, but no one seemed to think twice about it. In fact, when he'd arrived at the stables that morning, Jebby had already been saddled and ready to go. If he had expected that sort of thing from the grooms at Whithorse, he'd have had his ears pinned back, prince or no. If he hadn't taken care of Jebby, no one would have, and because he loved his horse and believed in taking the best care of horses in general, he had spent many hours a day taking care of Jebby. Now, though--he knew he was a prince and an adult now, and had more things to take care of than just his horse, but it felt both strange and right that more and more he was leaving such matters to others. Perhaps the strangest thing was just how right it felt.

“Stop woolgathering, royal idiot!” yelled Imbert, whacking him on the back with his stick. “Punch that bag like it's going for your alleged balls!” Temmin redoubled his efforts and made the bag regret it ever considered going for his balls.

After breakfast, Temmin entered his study ready to work--only to find Brinnid standing there instead of the Teacher. “Hullo, Brinnid, what's afoot?” said Temmin.

“I'm not entirely sure,” confessed the Sairishman. “The Teacher requested my presence here.”

“I did,” said the Teacher, coming into the study and closing the door again. “I believe you may be the answer to a problem I'm having, and I may have the answer to a problem of yours as well.”

“Anything I can do to help you, I will,” said Brinnid. “But what problem am I having that you can help me with, pray?”

“To be blunt, Princess Sedra. You're going about this courtship fairly well--you have her intrigued--but she is not the jealous type and won't be impressed by your dalliance with her sister, in fact, quite the opposite. She's used to that sort of thing when it comes to Ellika and pays it no mind whatsoever.”

“Ellika?” said Brinnid, raising an eyebrow. “I assure you I am not 'dallying' with her. My intentions toward her are nothing but brotherly.”

“A flirtatious brother indeed, then, your majesty,” said the Teacher.

Temmin blushed, but recovered enough to say, “Hang on, then, Brinnid, have you been courting Elly on the sly? That's going a bit far, coming here to court one sister and taking up with the other as well!”

“I have not 'taken up' with anyone!” said Brinnid irritably. “I'm filling time! The Princess Royal spends as little time with me as possible, but Princess Ellika seems to enjoy my company, so why not?”

“Elly enjoys being admired and petted by anyone in the mood to do so, including the servants,” said Temmin. “Don't take it personally.”

“I am at your service, counselor,” said Brinnid, ignoring Temmin. “What can I do for you?”

From beneath the black robes, the Teacher removed a familiar old red book and put it on the table. “What book is that?” said Temmin. “It looks exactly like my book, but my book is here--“ he walked to a shelf, pulled his book out of its place of honor and laid it gently on the table next to the one Teacher had just set down. “They look exactly the same!”

“They are exactly the same,” said Teacher. “There are two copies.”

“Where'd you get this one?” said Temmin, looking through the new copy's equally blank pages.

“Connin would say I stole it. I would say I rescued it from being left in a clearing,” the Teacher said smugly.

“Connin?--this is the book Sedra was learning from! Connin was teaching her? I assumed it was his mother,” said Temmin.

“They both were.”

“Who is this Connin?” interrupted Brinnid.

“The prince of the Travelers, if you can call him that,” said Temmin. “His mother is their queen, their leader. Sedra's been visiting them to learn the stories, apparently, since Papa forbid her from learning them from Teacher--oh, I shouldn't have said, probably,” he finished, peering at Teacher guiltily.

“No, he already knew I'd tried to tutor her,” said the Teacher.

Brinnid cocked his head. “Do I need to be concerned about this...tutelage of the Travelers, counselor?

“No,” said Teacher. “I swear you have nothing to fear on that account.”

“Very well, then, how am I to teach her stories...from a blank book?” he mused, flipping through the pages. “Stories I don't know myself?”

“I'm not sure if you can,” confessed the Teacher, “but as a magically attuned person, you just might be able to channel the stories even though your magic is in Sairland.”

“'Magically attuned?'” exclaimed Temmin. “You tried to pretend you didn't know what I was talking about!”

Brinnid grinned. “What's the fun of acquiring a new little brother if I can't tease you?”

“You haven't acquired me yet, old man,” said Temmin.

Brinnid turned back to the Teacher. “I can at least try. How can I test it?”

The Teacher gestured at Temmin. “Sit down, your highness.” Temmin sat down obediently, folded his hands in front of him, and looked up expectantly at Brinnid. Brinnid gave the Teacher a doubtful look, then opened the book.

Words blossomed on the page, followed by pictures, and then Temmin was pulled in.

Temmin fell out of the story as Brinnid stopped abruptly. “Mother Amma, what is this!” said Brinnid.

“Rather overwhelming, isn't it?” said Temmin, rubbing his nose. “Well done, you! I didn't think you could do it!”

Brinnid sat down hard in the chair opposite Temmin. “This is the story of the Princess Macca.”

“You know it?” said Temmin.

“Not this intimately--gods, it felt as if I were there--but yes, of course. Every Sairish schoolchild knows her story. There's a statue of her looking out over the harbor at Apecto toward Tremont.” Brinnid ran his fingers over the aged leather of the book's spine. “It was supposed to be a gift to Tremont, but it sat in a crate for nearly a hundred years until our ambassador just gave up and sent it back to us. We honor her. You have forgotten her.”

“Not all of us,” said the Teacher. “I have never forgotten her, nor will I ever forget her.”

“Nor I,” added Temmin.

“Hers is the story I must tell Sedra? I will gladly do this,” said Brinnid fervently. He picked up the Travelers' copy almost hesitantly, until the Teacher nodded; then he crossed to the door without another word, made his way to Sedra's rooms and knocked.

“Your majesty,” said Camma as she opened the door with a curtsy. “Miss Sedra isn't receiving visitors at this hour.”

“I think she will change her mind, Sinsett,” said Brinnid. “Give her this--“ he handed Camma the book-- “and tell her I can read it to her. I'll wait here.” He hadn't stood there more than a minute when the door flew open and Sedra herself stood there, dressed in a gray walking skirt and sprigged muslin shirtwaist, her jacket over her arm and the book in her hand.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded.

“D'you really think we should be talking in the hall, ma'am?” said Brinnid mildly.

Sedra looked at him in annoyance. “Come in.” She leaned against her work table, brown eyes snapping. “Well?”

Brinnid settled himself in Sedra's favorite chair. “Your brother's tutor, I think you've called him? He gave it to me.”

“Teacher?” she said, confused. “Why would he give it to you? Have you even opened it? You don't seriously believe you can read it.”

Brinnid leaned forward, eyes serious and a darker blue than Sedra had ever seen them. “I have done it, ma'am, and I wish to share the story with you. I know it well already--not as well as this, perhaps, but well. Macca is a woman much to be admired and wrongly ignored by your people. Will you let me tell you the rest of her story?”

Sedra stared at him. “You--do you have magic, like Teacher?”

“Not in Tremont,” he said, shaking his head. “But in my own country, yes, I have that gift. So would my sons,” he added significantly. “Apparently wielding any land's magic is enough for this book, for I find I can read it even though I'm not in Sairland.”

Sedra blinked rapidly and looked away for a moment. When she turned her face to his again, he saw her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. “Camma,” she called. The little round maid hurried in from where she'd been pretending not to listen in the bedchamber. “Please hang my jacket up and tend to things elsewhere for a while. I think I have some errands that need running--that list of books, for instance? Why don't you run into town for the day? I'm sure you have shopping of your own to do!”

“Miss Sedra, I can't leave you here by yourself with him!” said Camma, scandalized. “Begging your pardon, your majesty!” she added hastily.

Brinnid grinned. “I swear on my crown I will not lay an untoward finger on her highness, Sinsett!”

Camma blushed. “I'm very sorry, sir. I know--I mean--yes, miss, I'd be happy to go into town on your behalf. I'll arrange for luncheon in here for you, then?” she said.

“And tea, too,” answered Brinnid. “Tell Stewn to arrange it with Cookie Britt, please, and he's to wait on us. Thank you, Sinsett, enjoy your day in town!” he said, walking her to the door and shutting it firmly behind her.

“You're not my husband yet, your majesty,” said Sedra stiffly. “I'll thank you not to give instructions in my rooms, please.”

“Plainly spoken, Sedra!” said Brinnid, sitting back down. “I like that. Please, when we're alone, call me Brinnid, for I shall call you Sedra whether you do or not.” And he smiled so charmingly that Sedra had no choice but to smile back. “Now. Shall we try?”

Sedra sat down warily on the sofa opposite Brinnid's chair and settled herself as best she could. “All right.”

Brinnid began, “One year turned into two, and then three. No child came...” and Sedra slipped into the book. When Harla appeared to Macca on the beach at Kellen, Brinnid watched the goosebumps appear on Sedra's forearms even as he felt his own nape prickling.

Stewn knocked quietly on the door at lunchtime, and Brinnid brought Sedra out of the book to eat. They sat at her table before the window, watching a small spring storm sweep through the mountains and saying little. Sedra avoided meeting his gaze, but when she did her eyes were wide and a little frightened, thought Brinnid. “Shall we continue?” he said when they finished.

“Do you know the next part of the story?” she asked.

“I know what happened to Macca, but I don't know this version of the story,” he answered, gesturing to the sofa. When she was ready, he opened the book again.

Brinnid watched the blush build on Sedra's cheeks and neck as the story continued on into the lovemaking in the woods that would finally give Macca and Ilhovin their child. Her breath quickened and tears built in her eyes as their passion swept through her; Brinnid felt it as well, and found it hard to sit so close to Sedra without reaching for her. They both knew that in the end she would be his whether she wanted to be or not. But at that moment he felt the love of the couple in the story so acutely that he ached for her to love him, not just agree to marry him, and he looked at her with a yearning he had never felt before, for anyone.

They stopped for tea at Stewn's knock. This time, Sedra didn't avoid meeting Brinnid's eyes, but regarded him with a speculative look that made it hard for him to meet hers.

Finally, she said, “I wonder, sir, if it's wise for us to be reading this story together.”

“I should think,” he answered, “that no story could be better for two in such a situation as we are.” Brinnid looked up and met her gaze fully. “Sedra, I know you will come with me back to Sairland if I insist, whether you will or no. I don't want that, though at this moment I can think of nothing I could want more than you as my queen. I want you to come with me of your own desiring. Do you think that will ever be possible, or should I just go home now?”

Sedra's cheeks fairly burned but she didn't look away, though she desperately wanted to. “I--why would you think such a thing would not be possible, sir?”

“Brinnid, my name is Brinnid,” he said gently. “I have not pressed my suit these last few days and you haven't seemed to care.”

“I am used to men being more interested in my sister than they are in me,” said Sedra quietly.

“Nothing,” he said, taking her hand across the table, “nothing could be further from the truth!” At this, Sedra did look down; he could feel her heart beating in her wrist, wild and strong, and he could tell she worked to keep her breathing regular. “Sedra,” he said again, “will you let me court you, or shall I go home alone?”

She took in a breath, as if to speak, then stopped to think, biting her lower lip. “Yes,” she finally said, looking back up at him. “Yes, you may court me, Brinnid. I cannot honestly say whether you will go home alone or no, but I can also honestly say I don't want you to go home just--just yet.”

Brinnid pressed his lips to her fingers, and the sudden contact made them both jump a little. “Shall we continue the book, then, until dinner? I'm sorry to say I believe a battle is next.”

“Actually,” said Sedra faintly, removing her hand from his, “I believe a battle might be just what's called for.”