Book 4, Chapter 11: A Fond Farewell
My back was itching and I couldn’t scratch it.
The thirteen-year-old boy who’d thought to marry me was openly gaping at the slightly tight spider-silk dress and if I reached back, it’d pull the front of my dress tighter, not a show I was willing to give the little jerk.
Standing beside his father, little body similarly short of stature and portly, eyes too obviously not on my face, said, “My lady, we are honored you came to see us off.”
I swear, the words ‘Eyes up here!’ nearly came out of my mouth, but I crossed my arms, angrily, instead. Then, the itching got worse. I stared ahead. Admired his father’s large beard. Wondered how he got food around it. Ignoring and ignoring the baby spiders hatching. Brin!
“. . . while I feel your outburst was unwarranted, I will yet send letters on the state of our land and military.”
“Right, of course.” I scrunched up my back, trying not to be obvious, wondering why I agreed to wear such a dangerous dress. It was a bit chilly out, and despite the dress’s thinness, it was warm. Hopefully not warm enough to hatch.
The little boy’s eyes widened and his father, with a side gaze at his son’s obvious bad manners, placed a hand on his shoulder, directing the boy to his mount. After he got on, the older man gave the horse a little tap on its flank, sending it walking a bit away. Still standing next to me, holding his own horse’s reins, saying, “Thank you for hosting us, ma’am. It was most gracious of you.”
“Certainly.”
“If you find yourself with a position where . . . a boy may become a man,” he looked away momentarily, “I would be grateful.”
I tilted my head, wishing they’d just go away. Was he asking me to find his son a girlfriend? Or stick him in the army? Probably the latter. “I’m sure we could provide him with, uh, officer training.”
“Excellent! Well then, it looks like my boy will be staying.”
My jaw dropped. “What?” No, no, I thought we were just performing politeness here. I turned to Brin, whispering, “What did I just do?”
“You gave him a position in our army.”
“Oh, fudge.” I took her by the hand, “Look, I think there might be something wrong with the dress.”
She flashed an evil smile while taking a step forward. “I’ve got to find the young lord accommodation, get him in with the troops.” Walking with the father toward his boy, Brin looked back and mouthed at me, “Spiders,” with too much glee, and then entered into a discussion with them.
They were probably seeking warmth against my skin. I shuddered, thinking to extricate myself from this awkwardness.
The boy was sullen and pouty. As they moved off, I was pretty sure that no one was looking in my direction, so I turned around, scratched, and relieved my itchiness – finally! Then slapped the area down hard just in case. God damnit, Brin.
“Princess Cayce,” from behind, his elderly voice raising the hair on the back of my neck. “We did not expect you to see us off.”
Standing up straight, pushing the dress down, I turned and found the archbishop of the Seclazrin church and his entourage, also leaving. Brin was supposed to be with me when they came, keep me calm so I didn’t give them new body-holes, but she just went and busied herself with that little punk. I deflated a little.
Yes, here they were, leaving as if having enjoyed a normal visit. Having little to say to the man, I said, “Safe journeys,” and begun to walk off.
“We thank you for your hospitality, such as it was.”
Why did Brin have to leave just now? At least I still had my guards. I turned around, saying, “That’s wonderful,” but internally thinking, ‘Grey rock, have to be the grey rock of nothing, no emotional response, don’t get angry,’ lest I lose control.
“I hope, I sincerely hope you’ll consider our request for marriage.”
“Our? Not his?”
“I believe it’s your last chance to save the kingdom.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“And yourself from the heavy punishment of clericide.”
“Alright then, have an excellent trip and don’t let anything eat you on the way back home. That would be fortunate.” Whoops! I squished up my face, trying to maintain the passive grey rock. Damnit! No emotions! “I mean, unfortunate.”
He narrowed his eyes further, “Your own earls here plot against you. Jest may be humorous to the young, but you’ll ultimately find it quite hollow.”
“Always the earls. Any particular earl you’d like to warn me about?”
“The north was never a place of unification. The east has ever been the backbone of Nevarrelund.”
“What exactly do you get out of me marrying the Barclay boy?”
“A unified kingdom is surely worthwhile for everyone.”
“Right. Well, as soon as the wonderful and brave young duke reaffirms his loyalty to the throne,” I held up my finger and winked, struggling to sound cheerful, which meant I’d already lost the grey rock technique, “and returns the gold the dowager stole, we can begin having a nice chat about the future.”
“I realize that you feel powerful here, with your army, but we and the Barclay forces number considerably more, perhaps twice what we’ve seen during our visit.”
I paused at that. Restrained myself, my wayward tongue, to not give him information about our weapons. But one thing bothered me. Inwardly sighing, I forced the honorific out of my mouth, “Your Excellency, we already have the magical advantage. We took the Barclay mages when we parted ways, when the dowager took my gold. What choice does the duke have but to surrender?”
He smiled, like I was a doting student requesting one last lesson, “My child, has no one told you of the faith of our church? I believe you’ve been mistreated by your advisors. Marry the duke and he will drive out the invaders, easily, and we will give you a proper education.”
“What are you talking about?”
Their carriage, plain and brown in contrast with Serce’s, finally pulled up and a servant opened the door, placing a tiny wooden ladder in front of it, but the old priest did not acknowledge any of this. Instead, he took a step forward, putting his hand under my chin, lifting up my face until his gaze held mine, and I was too stunned by this shift of dynamics to respond, “Your mages are nothing against us.”
Then I did, grabbing his wrist and tearing it off me, “Back off!” I pointed my finger at him, “Have the duke confirm his oaths to me if you want to avoid war.” The power grew in me, agitated, angry. He touched me! Laid hands on me! I should blast through him, his entourage and carriage, a message for the new duke!
I opened my palms, ready to let loose but then heard Brin’s voice a little way off, talking to the child, horses neighing, a lone raven cawing, and somehow the rage calmed down and I could contain the energy, push it back, and I opened my eyes to watch as a few of the ravens landed on their carriage.
“. . . could take even Laemacia, for we’ve been amassing forces and preparing well. You will see when you visit. I hope the winter will give you plenty of time to mature and come to a wise decision. We can forgive through penance . . .”
Two of his group were whispering to each other, looking at me, as the archbishop continued his lecturing. They’d probably never seen a young girl blatantly ignore the elderly man before. Or they wondered why I stood there with my eyes closed for so long. Or they were talking about the spiders hatching, crawling all over me.
I didn’t say anything, not really knowing if he was suggesting we team up to invade Laemacia or sign treaties with them and continued ignoring him, calming down by focusing on the ravens. What were they doing up there? My mouth dropped open when the first of them shit on the roof.
“What . . .?”
Then the rest of them did and I slapped my hands to my mouth to contain the laughter.
“Also, young princess, it’s come to my attention that you’re having issues, difficulties perhaps, with establishing a new state religion. You should think on this, heavily, consider your options carefully, about which dukedom is unified, which church the largest and most ready to serve.”
I couldn’t focus on him, at least the ravens had distracted me from the agitated energy, so I curtsied and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like, “Your Excellency,” but with far too much mirth in my voice, they probably thought me a mentally deficient, giggling girl. Slowly backing off, I turned and walked away, heedless of what he was saying.
“Young lady, if you find this fu. . .” trailed off behind me, the drumbeat of my guards marching and sudden, loud cawing of the birds drowned out whatever the archbishop was going on about.
It was the day for goodbyes. The very good-looking teenager, in this world a man, was talking with Tread down the lane, but didn’t look in my direction. I suppose it’d be proper to make my way over there, but the only reason I could think of to do so would be to bug Morry about inviting the cute boy to stay longer, and I wasn’t in the mood.
It occurred to me then that everyone I knew was busy. Busy! I could sneak off, get some time to myself. Drink! I mean, think. Think and consider. Hide away, get some private time.
“Sir Sheffield, let’s head back and sneak a late lunch. Dinner, I mean dinner.”
“It’s past midday, ma’am.”
Looking up at the light blue sky, the sun not so high anymore, I wondered where the time went.
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