She rose, and they all, perforce, rose with her. “And high time, Majesty,” the Seneschal said lightly. “Watching the Hurlee game was nearly as exhausting as playing it, and just as stimulating to the appetite. These refreshments were welcome, but I swear, if you put butter on a brick, I would eat it at this point!”
“Pray, don’t say that,” she chided with a laugh. “Our guests will be afraid to try the pastries!”
She led the way down out of the viewing stands and into the gardens, with the rest of the Court trailing after. She wondered if she should ask the Prince about that Shin’a’in Swordmistress—perhaps there was some problem there that she should know about.
Well, perhaps not. Probably he was piqued that his older brother had the privilege of training under so famous a teacher, and he had not. She could understand that. As difficult as Alberich was, there was absolutely no doubt that he was the best Weaponsmaster that Valdemar and the Collegium had seen in a very long time. If she had a sibling who’d been able to train under Alberich, while she was not allowed to for whatever reason, she would be horribly jealous, too.
The meal was laid out along tables in the shade, protected from insects by tents of fly-gauze. Nothing was intended to be served hot. A guest had but to tell a page what he wanted, and go to find a good seat on the lawn, near the pavilion where the musicians were tuning up, and the page would bring him a laden plate and a cup of wine. It was all finger food of the sort that could be eaten with nothing but a little recourse to a napkin, and most of it was light and cool, meant to tease the palates of the diners with its subtlety. It wasn’t the sort of heavy feast they’d shared at the Court Feast of the Ice Festival. Selenay made her selections, and went to take her seat. She wished that she could sprawl on a carpet or cloth, as she had on these occasions when she was only the Heir, but she was Queen now, and such an undignified pose would not be proper for her. Instead, she followed her page to a rustic seating arrangement of a garden bench softened with cushions inside a bower facing the pavilion, with a semicircle of chairs placed around it for her particular guests.
She was pleased to see that Talamir was already there, waiting for her. He hadn’t attended the Hurlee game, pleading a need to see to something or other, but she had been a little concerned that the real reason was that he was feeling ill again. As the anniversary of her father’s death—and that of his first Companion, Taver—approached, he had been looking distinctly frail.
But he seemed well enough now, and very much in the moment. He conducted her to her seat with all the gallantry of which he was capable (which was a very great deal) and to Karath’s evident annoyance, took his traditional place at her left hand, leaving Karath to take the remaining chair at her right.
“I trust your business is taken care of?” she asked, as he made sure that she had all she needed before sending the page off for his own supper. She tried something sweet and spicy wrapped in a lettuce leaf; bits of spiced meat with crunchy little bits of vegetable in a light sauce, and decided that she would have that often this spring and summer. The cooks seemed to have outdone themselves; she hadn’t recognized most of the dishes on the tables.
“More so than I expected, Majesty,” he replied, with a definite twinkle in his eye. “I would hesitate to say anything, except that you will hear about it from any one of a dozen gossips before the end of the day. Apparently our Weaponsmaster is not as invulnerable to the darts of emotion as he thought. But he is skilled enough in deception that even I thought that his meetings with the Chronicler were all business until today.”
Selenay wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement, trying to make out what Talamir was getting at. “Alberich? And—Myste—” and all at once it dawned on her. “Alberich? And Myste? Oh, my word!” She began to laugh delightedly, as the Prince and the two Ambassadors looked puzzled. “Oh, but how lovely! Talamir, you must pledge me on your word that you will not tease him about it! Above all things, I do not want the poor man frightened off, just when he’s taken the first steps into this venture.”
“Not I, nor any other Herald, Majesty,” Talamir promised. “We’re too pleased, to tell you the truth. And we would rather that the Trainees didn’t find out about it either—or at least, not until the relationship is so long established that they’ll be as terrified of saying anything about it as they are of offending him in any other way.”
Selenay turned to her guests, still smiling at the thought that somber Alberich, who seemed as destined to remain chaste as any sworn priest, should finally have found a lady who clearly found him fascinating. She and Myste were uncommonly well-acquainted, despite the differences in their age and backgrounds, and Myste had dropped more than one little remark after they had all returned from the Wars that had told Selenay that the Herald-Chronicler had definite leanings in the Weaponsmaster’s direction. He treated her as she wanted to be treated, with respect for her learning and as an equal in intelligence. If they occasionally exasperated one another, that was only to be expected with two such strong personalities. But she had thought Alberich impervious to anything but friendship.
Apparently not. “You are puzzled, gentlemen; it is only a little romance among our Heralds, but a rather unlikely one, or so I would have thought until now. The season seems to have affected our Weaponsmaster, whom we all thought to be a man of iron. And the great irony is that the lady in question is the only Herald he was never successful in teaching the martial arts to—the Chronicler, Herald Myste.”
The Prince smiled vacantly, clearly finding the subject of no particular interest, but the Hardornan Ambassador chuckled right along with Herald Talamir. “Well! So the spring has managed to melt the heart of stone after all! Good for Herald Alberich! And twice as many kudos to your Herald Myste; my guess would be that she was the one to do the stalking. These old warriors are as shy as partridge in hunting season when it comes to the matters of the heart.”
Talamir laughed. “That, sir, would be telling Heraldic secrets. I will leave it to your imagination.”
“And on that note, I beg that we listen to the music and enjoy our repast,” Selenay said firmly. “Or else we will start to sound like a gaggle of village gossips.”
The sun was just setting, making the gardens a wondrous place indeed. The day-blooming flowers wafted the last of their perfumes over the guests as they closed their blossoms for the night; the night bloomers were just beginning to open. As twilight closed over the garden, a soft breeze sprang up; the musicians kept to soft, lyrical melodies, and servants made their way about, lighting the torches unobtrusively. Selenay set her empty plate and cup aside, and suddenly felt a hand brushing hers, as if by accident.
Then it happened again; she glanced aside at the Prince, who caught her gaze for just a moment, touched the tips of her fingers with hers, and gave her a quick, conspiratorial wink.
She felt her heart give a leap, and an answering smile crossed her lips before she turned her attention back to the musicians.
But she sighed, and watched him covertly out of the corner of her eye. His apparent attention was on the musicians, too, but she had the feeling that she was being watched behind the screen of his long lashes and half-closed lids.