MeiLin Miranda's Blog - Posts Tagged "lovers-and-beloveds"

To Temmin's dismay, his mother's religious advisor joined the royal party at dinner. At Whithorse, Sister Ibbit lived at the Temple of Venna in Reggiston and never dined with them, but tonight Ansella seated the priestess to her left and Temmin to her right. Looking up from the soup, he caught Ibbit staring at him in contempt, and wondered if he'd have to endure her half-hearted religious instruction at the Keep. He'd managed to out-and-out skip most of it, with Ibbit's approval; her open hostility led him to avoid her as much from personal dislike as boredom, and she seemed to share his feeling.

After dinner, he and his mother were to play cards in the salon car, but before he could follow her there, Ibbit blocked his way. "A word with you," she said. "We will not be taking up our lessons in the City, Your Highness. I am sure you will have too many other demands on your time."

"Oh," said Temmin, trying to contain his glee. "I shall be very...sorry...to miss our times together."

She examined him down the length of her forbidding nose, and cocked her head. "Our understanding cannot be continued at the Keep. You will be watched too closely for that comfortable relationship to continue."

Temmin thought to himself there had never been anything comfortable about their relationship, but said nothing.

When Temmin returned, he got no further than the Keep's mud room when Jenks pounced. He traded his mucky boots for carpet slippers, and once upstairs, his dusty riding clothes for more elegant attire. "Do you need a shave this morning, young sir? You rushed out before I could get a good look at you," called Jenks from the wardrobe.

Temmin examined his chin in the mirror; still not enough beard to grow out, though his plentiful sideburns and moustache left little to be desired. "No. Why can't I just change my boots?" he said, scrubbing his face with a wet flannel.

"This is court, Your Highness, you cannot go to breakfast smelling like a horse."