What a way to think of it! She was amused and a little ashamed. It is business — the crown’s business, and overdue. But she couldn’t completely convince even herself.
Rose and Moina were in a frenzy of disapproval of her behavior today, both her immodest, masculine garb and her choice of meetings. Although they were neither of them forward enough to say much, it quickly became clear that the young noblewomen had been intriguing between themselves and would not be sent away without a fuss. After Briony’s heated words were met with fierce resistance—but couched in the terms of purest obedience to their mistress’ commands, of course—she gave up and allowed them to accompany her. It is just as well, she told herself. It is perfectly innocent, after all, and now there will be no whispering gossip. But she couldn’t help being just the smallest bit resentful Mistress of all the northern lands—well, alongside her brother—and she could not have a meeting without being surrounded by watchful eyes, as though she were a child in danger of hurting herself.
He was waiting in the spice garden. Because of the argument with her two ladies, he had waited longer than she would have liked. She couldn’t help wondering whether chill weather like this felt more cruel to someone brought up in hot southern lands, but if Dawet dan-Faar was suffering, he was too subtle to show it.
“I had planned we would walk here,” she said, “but it is so fearfully cold Let us go across the way into Queen Lily’s Cabinet instead.”
The envoy smiled and bowed. Perhaps he was indeed glad to go somewhere warmer. “But you seem to have dressed for the weather,” he commented, looking her up and down.
Briony was disgusted to find herself blushing.
The cabinet room was modest in size, just a place where Anglin’s granddaughter had liked to sit and sew and enjoy the smells of the spice garden. At first all of Briony’s guards seemed determined to join her in the cozy little paneled room, but this was too much, she sent all but two out again. This pair took up positions near the door where they could watch Rose and Moina doing needlework, then all four of them settled down to keep a close if covert eye on their mistress.
“I trust I find you well, Lord Dawet?” she asked when they had both been served with mulled wine.
“As well as can be expected, Highness.” He sipped. “I confess that days like this, when the wind bites, I miss Hierosol.”
“As well you might. It is very unwanted, this cold weather, but the season finally seems to have changed. We had been having unusually warm days for Dekamene, after all.”
He seemed about to say something, then pursed his mouth. “And is it truly the weather that causes you to be dressed this way, Highness?” He indicated the thick hose and the long tunic—one of Barrick’s that he never wore—that she had so carefully altered to fit her own slimmer waist and wider hips.
“I sense you do not approve, Lord Dawet.”
“With respect, Highness, I do not. It seems to be a sin against nature to dress a woman, especially one as young and fair as yourself, in this coarse manner.”
“Coarse? This is a prince’s tunic, a prince’s doublet—here, see the gold fretwork! Surely it is not coarse.”
He frowned. It was a much greater pleasure than she would have guessed to see him discomfited—like watching a supercilious cat take a clumsy fall. “They are men’s clothes, Princess Briony, however rich the fabric and workmanship. They make coarse what is naturally fine.”
“So the mere fact of what I wear can make me less than fine, less than noble? I fear that leaves me very little room in which to maneuver, Lord Dawet, if I am already so close to coarseness that a mere doublet can carry me to it.”
He smiled, but it was a surprisingly angry expression. “You seek to make sport of me, Highness. And you may. But you seemed to ask whether I approved, and I would be honest with you I do not.”
“If I were your sister, then, would you forbid me to dress this way?"
“If you were my sister or any other woman whose honor was given into my keeping, yes, I would certainly forbid you.” His dark gaze suddenly touched hers, angry and somehow demanding. It was startling, as though she had been playing with what she thought was a harmless pet that had suddenly shown it could bite.
“Well, in point of fact, Lord Dawet, that is why I asked you to attend me.” “So it is not ‘we’ and ‘us,’ Highness?”
She felt her cheeks warming again. “We. ‘Us.’ You overreach yourself, Lord Dawet.”
He bowed his head, but she glimpsed the tiniest hint of a smile—the old one, the self-satisfied one. “I have been unclear, Highness. I apologize. I simply meant that you did not say ‘we,’ so I wondered if this was not then an audience with you and your royal brother, as I had been given to understand. I take it that instead you wish to speak more … informally?”
“No.” Damn the man! “No, that is not what I meant, although of course I act today as co-regent and with my brother’s approval. You make me regret speaking to you in a friendly way, Lord Dawet.”
“May the Three Highest bring rum on my house if I intended any such thing, Princess—if I intended anything other than respect and affection. I simply wished to know what sort of meeting we are having.”
She sipped at her wine, taking a moment to recover her confidence. “As I said, your remark about me being a woman in your care was to the point. Only a few weeks gone, I might have been just such a forlorn creature, sent with you to marry your lord, like… like a bit of tribute. Do not forget, Lord Dawet, you come here as the ambassador of our enemy.”
“You have greater enemies than my master Ludis, Highness. And I fear you also have friends who are even less trustworthy than me. But forgive me—I have interrupted you. Again, I am unforgivably rude.”
He had flustered her again, but the anger gave her something to grip, a certain leverage. “It is finally time for the crown of Southmarch and the March Kingdoms to return an answer to your master, the Protector of Hierosol, and his offer of marriage. While my older brother was regent, there might have been a different answer, but now, as you may guess, the answer is no. We will ransom my father with money, not my maidenhood. If Ludis wishes to beggar the northern kingdoms, then he will find that when the Autarch comes to his front door, Hierosol will get no assistance from the north. Rather, though we hate the Autarch and would not ordinarily wish to see him gain even a handful of Eion’s soil, we will rejoice at the defeat of Ludis Drakava.” She paused, slowing her breath, making her voice firm. “But if he sees another way—if King Olin might be released for something less than this exorbitant amount of gold, for instance—then Ludis might discover he has allies here that will stand him well in days ahead.” Dawet raised an eyebrow. “Is that the message you wish me to give him, Princess Briony?” “It is.”
He nodded his head slowly. “And do I take this to mean that I am no longer a prisoner? That my escort and I are free to go back to Hierosol?”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“No, Highness. But sometimes things happen beyond the echo of a prince’s voice.” “Avin Brone, the lord constable, knows my wishes… our wishes. He will return your men’s arms. Your ship is prepared already, I think.”
“Your castellan was kind enough to arrange that no harm should come to it, and that I could keep on it a small crew to see that things stayed in order.” Dawet grinned. “I confess that although I will in many ways regret leaving, it is good to know I will have my freedom again, even though you will be one guest the less.”
“Guest, indeed. Whatever you believe, Lord Dawet, I do not think you can say we treated you much like a prisoner.”