MeiLin Miranda's Blog - Posts Tagged "royal"
Chapter 13 book 3 is live
Targets:
That night, Harsin idly swirled the brandy in his snifter; Affton had sent a few bottles of the 914 Leuteplum to the Middlemont cellars, and he made a mental note to have Winmer send the butler some small token of thanks. He took a long sip of the brandy and studied Twenna. She was the picture of the womanly arts, sitting demurely at the spinet; she was quite a competent musician, he thought, and looked so charming in the lamplight. Her evening dress was cut just to above scandal, and the rose-colored silk of her dress temptingly framed her white bosom and shoulders. He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel and absently counted the minutes until he could decently close the night’s festivities and get that dress off her.
Scattered around the room were the members of tonight’s dinner party, four of Harsin’s close friends and their own mistresses. Elbig Shelstone was not among them; he was not invited. Harsin didn’t know where the oily little man was and didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t here; he had agents watching any move Shelstone made outside the house, and the Middlemont staff were vigilant on his behalf within it. Twenna looked up from her music and smiled at him adoringly; he raised his snifter and returned the smile. He needed this relaxing evening, in the warmth of a worshipful mistress and the company of good friends.
Meanwhile, Elbig fumed in his study. Snubbed in his own house! It was almost unbearable. The entire point of giving his wife to the king was to gain the king’s ear! Instead, he found himself completely cut off from the source of power he so desperately needed to access, for his sponsor was back and bringing pressure to bear on him.
That night, Harsin idly swirled the brandy in his snifter; Affton had sent a few bottles of the 914 Leuteplum to the Middlemont cellars, and he made a mental note to have Winmer send the butler some small token of thanks. He took a long sip of the brandy and studied Twenna. She was the picture of the womanly arts, sitting demurely at the spinet; she was quite a competent musician, he thought, and looked so charming in the lamplight. Her evening dress was cut just to above scandal, and the rose-colored silk of her dress temptingly framed her white bosom and shoulders. He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel and absently counted the minutes until he could decently close the night’s festivities and get that dress off her.
Scattered around the room were the members of tonight’s dinner party, four of Harsin’s close friends and their own mistresses. Elbig Shelstone was not among them; he was not invited. Harsin didn’t know where the oily little man was and didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t here; he had agents watching any move Shelstone made outside the house, and the Middlemont staff were vigilant on his behalf within it. Twenna looked up from her music and smiled at him adoringly; he raised his snifter and returned the smile. He needed this relaxing evening, in the warmth of a worshipful mistress and the company of good friends.
Meanwhile, Elbig fumed in his study. Snubbed in his own house! It was almost unbearable. The entire point of giving his wife to the king was to gain the king’s ear! Instead, he found himself completely cut off from the source of power he so desperately needed to access, for his sponsor was back and bringing pressure to bear on him.
Chapter 14 book 3 is live
Things Known and Unknown:
Late in the morning the next day, Twenna awoke. She didn’t remember where she was until she looked up and saw the dark red canopy; she was in Harsin’s bed in his private rooms at Middlemont. She wanted very badly to stretch, but Harsin’s body nearly covered her head to toe in a muscular, hairy blanket. She stretched as much as she could and raised her head to look at the clock above the mantel--but her view of it was blocked. “Harsin?” said Twenna timidly.
“Hmm?” he mumbled into her neck.
“Harsin? There’s a man standing at the foot of the bed.”
Late in the morning the next day, Twenna awoke. She didn’t remember where she was until she looked up and saw the dark red canopy; she was in Harsin’s bed in his private rooms at Middlemont. She wanted very badly to stretch, but Harsin’s body nearly covered her head to toe in a muscular, hairy blanket. She stretched as much as she could and raised her head to look at the clock above the mantel--but her view of it was blocked. “Harsin?” said Twenna timidly.
“Hmm?” he mumbled into her neck.
“Harsin? There’s a man standing at the foot of the bed.”
Chapter 15 book 3 is live
Discovery:
“I am tired,” admitted Sedra. “But I feel we’re close. Don’t you?” She put her hand on his arm. “Do you need to rest?”
Brinnid laughed. “Your concern touches me, my lady, but I’ve been on many a march. This is merely a dusty stroll.”
Sedra turned back to the wall and the nooks filled with bones. “Marches? And here I thought you were a sailor.”
“I am a king, ma’am,” he answered, turning his lantern towards her; its light turned her hair to dark silk and warmed the soft, curving profile of her smudged cheek. Ah, she’s a fine woman, even covered in dust and a shapeless robe. “We are men of many talents and abilities, we kings. Some time soon I hope to acquaint you with a few of them.”
“Is that so,” she murmured absently, gently moving aside a femur to inspect the back of a niche. Brinnid sighed; he turned back to the wall and peered into a deep crevice. They returned to working in silence. “And what talents and abilities would those be, sir?” she said suddenly.
Brinnid swung around, taken off guard. Sedra’s lantern sat in a niche; she herself leaned against the wall, arms crossed, observing him. He grinned. “Well, it would entirely depend on the situation, ma’am--whether we were outdoors or indoors, in daylight or lamplight...in company or alone. There are many variables, so there are.” He stepped closer to her, but she gave him a slight, quirking smile, retrieved her lantern and resumed her inspection of the niches. Brinnid lowered his lantern and put his other hand on his hip. “Your Highness, I do believe that you have been studying your sister’s ways.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Your Majesty,” said Sedra crisply, keeping her back turned. “And why would you have been paying attention to my sister’s ‘ways,’ I wonder?”
“Because I have been waiting for you to pay attention to mine, Sedra,” he let slip. Her back stiffened. Too far, too soon, he despaired to himself; I had her for a moment, and now I’ve spoiled it. Well, in for a copper, in for a gold. “You said I could court you,” he continued, “and yet I find that instead of long walks in the gardens and charming conversations over cards, I have spent my courtship breathing in bone dust and brushing filth from my hair.”
“I am tired,” admitted Sedra. “But I feel we’re close. Don’t you?” She put her hand on his arm. “Do you need to rest?”
Brinnid laughed. “Your concern touches me, my lady, but I’ve been on many a march. This is merely a dusty stroll.”
Sedra turned back to the wall and the nooks filled with bones. “Marches? And here I thought you were a sailor.”
“I am a king, ma’am,” he answered, turning his lantern towards her; its light turned her hair to dark silk and warmed the soft, curving profile of her smudged cheek. Ah, she’s a fine woman, even covered in dust and a shapeless robe. “We are men of many talents and abilities, we kings. Some time soon I hope to acquaint you with a few of them.”
“Is that so,” she murmured absently, gently moving aside a femur to inspect the back of a niche. Brinnid sighed; he turned back to the wall and peered into a deep crevice. They returned to working in silence. “And what talents and abilities would those be, sir?” she said suddenly.
Brinnid swung around, taken off guard. Sedra’s lantern sat in a niche; she herself leaned against the wall, arms crossed, observing him. He grinned. “Well, it would entirely depend on the situation, ma’am--whether we were outdoors or indoors, in daylight or lamplight...in company or alone. There are many variables, so there are.” He stepped closer to her, but she gave him a slight, quirking smile, retrieved her lantern and resumed her inspection of the niches. Brinnid lowered his lantern and put his other hand on his hip. “Your Highness, I do believe that you have been studying your sister’s ways.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Your Majesty,” said Sedra crisply, keeping her back turned. “And why would you have been paying attention to my sister’s ‘ways,’ I wonder?”
“Because I have been waiting for you to pay attention to mine, Sedra,” he let slip. Her back stiffened. Too far, too soon, he despaired to himself; I had her for a moment, and now I’ve spoiled it. Well, in for a copper, in for a gold. “You said I could court you,” he continued, “and yet I find that instead of long walks in the gardens and charming conversations over cards, I have spent my courtship breathing in bone dust and brushing filth from my hair.”
Chapter 17 book 3 is live
...and twice as long as usual!
The Beloved Beholding Her Beauty in a Mirror:
Temmin burst into his study Eddinday morning, full of good humor and a large breakfast, to find Teacher gazing out the window onto the lawn. His tutor flicked a glance over one shoulder, then turned back to face the window. “You look very cheerful today,” said Teacher.
“Do I?” said Temmin. “I suppose I am! I spent all day yesterday with Allis, it’s a beautiful day today, my oldest sister’s marrying a man I like and respect, and my future secretary is marrying a beautiful girl he’s loved since childhood. Matrimony’s rampant! Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me you’re getting married. What are you looking at?” said Temmin, squinting against the bright sunlight over Teacher’s shoulder. He just saw Brinnid and Sedra disappearing into the woods, but spent little time wondering why that might be of interest to anyone.
“Nothing,” said Teacher, turning away from the window. “Fen Wallek’s getting married, then.”
“Yes!” said Temmin, throwing himself down onto the green velvet couch in a happy heap. “He’s marrying Arta Dannikson, one of the downstairs maids--you know, the pretty little one with the corkscrew curls. They’re to be given Spring Cottage, wherever that is--somewhere on the grounds, but Fen talks about it as if it were Amma’s Lap.”
“Spring Cottage?” said Teacher with a frown. “A secretary in training, given one of the cottages, you say.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No,” said Teacher slowly; one long, white finger tapped on the library table. “Not a problem. Just unusual. How pretty is Miss Dannikson?”
The Beloved Beholding Her Beauty in a Mirror:
Temmin burst into his study Eddinday morning, full of good humor and a large breakfast, to find Teacher gazing out the window onto the lawn. His tutor flicked a glance over one shoulder, then turned back to face the window. “You look very cheerful today,” said Teacher.
“Do I?” said Temmin. “I suppose I am! I spent all day yesterday with Allis, it’s a beautiful day today, my oldest sister’s marrying a man I like and respect, and my future secretary is marrying a beautiful girl he’s loved since childhood. Matrimony’s rampant! Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me you’re getting married. What are you looking at?” said Temmin, squinting against the bright sunlight over Teacher’s shoulder. He just saw Brinnid and Sedra disappearing into the woods, but spent little time wondering why that might be of interest to anyone.
“Nothing,” said Teacher, turning away from the window. “Fen Wallek’s getting married, then.”
“Yes!” said Temmin, throwing himself down onto the green velvet couch in a happy heap. “He’s marrying Arta Dannikson, one of the downstairs maids--you know, the pretty little one with the corkscrew curls. They’re to be given Spring Cottage, wherever that is--somewhere on the grounds, but Fen talks about it as if it were Amma’s Lap.”
“Spring Cottage?” said Teacher with a frown. “A secretary in training, given one of the cottages, you say.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No,” said Teacher slowly; one long, white finger tapped on the library table. “Not a problem. Just unusual. How pretty is Miss Dannikson?”
Chapter 18 book 3 is live
...and has been for a few days! I forgot to post it here.
Arrivals at Court:
“Speaking of your household,” said Harsin peremptorily to Sedra, “Lady Callant will be arriving tomorrow to begin her service as lady-in-waiting.”
“Papa, no one has told me exactly who Lady Callant is. I didn’t even know there was a Lord Callant, let alone his wife--Callant has been a crown holding for the last 200 or more years.”
“Lord Callant is newly created,” answered her father shortly.
Ansella looked up. “And who have you bestowed the holding on, Harsin?”
He gave her a brief, almost furious look, then looked down at his wine glass. “Elbig Shelstone.” He tossed back the contents of the glass and motioned for Affton to refill it.
What little color was in Ansella’s face drained away. “Shelstone? Elbig Shelstone. You created Elbig Shelstone, Lord Callant.” She put her napkin on her plate and rose from the table. “Please excuse me,” she said quietly. “I have lost my appetite.”
“Mama?” said Temmin, rising to his feet, but before he could get round the table, Ansella had already fled the room.
“Sit down,” said Harsin irritably.
“Who’s Elbig Shelstone?” said Temmin in confusion.
“The husband of our father’s mistress,” spat Sedra.
Arrivals at Court:
“Speaking of your household,” said Harsin peremptorily to Sedra, “Lady Callant will be arriving tomorrow to begin her service as lady-in-waiting.”
“Papa, no one has told me exactly who Lady Callant is. I didn’t even know there was a Lord Callant, let alone his wife--Callant has been a crown holding for the last 200 or more years.”
“Lord Callant is newly created,” answered her father shortly.
Ansella looked up. “And who have you bestowed the holding on, Harsin?”
He gave her a brief, almost furious look, then looked down at his wine glass. “Elbig Shelstone.” He tossed back the contents of the glass and motioned for Affton to refill it.
What little color was in Ansella’s face drained away. “Shelstone? Elbig Shelstone. You created Elbig Shelstone, Lord Callant.” She put her napkin on her plate and rose from the table. “Please excuse me,” she said quietly. “I have lost my appetite.”
“Mama?” said Temmin, rising to his feet, but before he could get round the table, Ansella had already fled the room.
“Sit down,” said Harsin irritably.
“Who’s Elbig Shelstone?” said Temmin in confusion.
“The husband of our father’s mistress,” spat Sedra.
Chapter 19 book 3 is live!
...and I'm sorta back on schedule! yay me!
Biddings:
Twenna Shelstone looked around her new rooms in despair, her trunks still where they’d been left on Nerrday. Living at the Keep was something she’d dreamed about since girlhood; she would look up at its towers, spires and turrets, and fantasize about handsome princes and grand balls. And here she was, she thought, really living at the Keep, but hardly as she’d dreamed. Her drafty rooms were in the farthest corner of the Old Residence wing, looking out not on the pleasant vistas of the pleasure gardens and the Woods beyond, nor even onto the city, but instead onto the poultry yard. No opening the windows with that beneath them, she thought. The floors were creaky, and the chimney smoked more than a bit. The furnishings were solid enough, but just a little on the shabby side, the upholstery faded, the hangings discreetly patched, and they’d still been covered in great dusty shrouds when she’d arrived. She hadn’t ever thought of a castle having an attic, but this was what one must be like.
There was no bathroom in her suite; she had to go down the hall to the old baths instead. Or she would have, if they had been working. It had been so long since anyone had lived in the Old Residence wing that the water had been turned off, and the workmen had not been round yet to open the taps back up. And so poor Twenna was forced to rely on hot water brought up to her rooms for her morning washing, and to use the chamberpot.
But often the water arrived tepid, and rarely was the pot emptied. The staff openly reviled her. Oh, they were all polite to a hair, but her needs and requests were often met with deaf ears and slow feet. No one came to help her with her morning toilet, though that dreadful, haughty little man Winmer had made her leave her maid behind: “We will have someone assigned from the staff to take care of you, My Lady,” he said in that--that superannuated way he had. Well, no, they had not, she fumed to herself as she struggled with her corset laces. Bad enough they were all spying on her, just like the staff at Middlemont, but now she had to suffer the--the exigencies of these people all by herself!
What had she done, after all? Only what everyone had bid her to do. First she’d obeyed her parents and married Shelstone--and there was a relief at least, she thought, having Elbig packed off part and parcel to Callant, wherever that was. Oh, how he’d squawked!--And then she had obeyed Elbig and charmed her way into Harsin’s bed. That at least hadn’t been--been opprobrious. And now she’d done what Harsin had commanded and moved into the Keep with as little noise as possible. And what had it gotten her? A smoky, drafty old room in the oldest part of the castle, despised by everyone, that’s what, she huffed to herself, on top of an unwanted baby. And here she’d done nothing to deserve any of it, especially the baby!
Biddings:
Twenna Shelstone looked around her new rooms in despair, her trunks still where they’d been left on Nerrday. Living at the Keep was something she’d dreamed about since girlhood; she would look up at its towers, spires and turrets, and fantasize about handsome princes and grand balls. And here she was, she thought, really living at the Keep, but hardly as she’d dreamed. Her drafty rooms were in the farthest corner of the Old Residence wing, looking out not on the pleasant vistas of the pleasure gardens and the Woods beyond, nor even onto the city, but instead onto the poultry yard. No opening the windows with that beneath them, she thought. The floors were creaky, and the chimney smoked more than a bit. The furnishings were solid enough, but just a little on the shabby side, the upholstery faded, the hangings discreetly patched, and they’d still been covered in great dusty shrouds when she’d arrived. She hadn’t ever thought of a castle having an attic, but this was what one must be like.
There was no bathroom in her suite; she had to go down the hall to the old baths instead. Or she would have, if they had been working. It had been so long since anyone had lived in the Old Residence wing that the water had been turned off, and the workmen had not been round yet to open the taps back up. And so poor Twenna was forced to rely on hot water brought up to her rooms for her morning washing, and to use the chamberpot.
But often the water arrived tepid, and rarely was the pot emptied. The staff openly reviled her. Oh, they were all polite to a hair, but her needs and requests were often met with deaf ears and slow feet. No one came to help her with her morning toilet, though that dreadful, haughty little man Winmer had made her leave her maid behind: “We will have someone assigned from the staff to take care of you, My Lady,” he said in that--that superannuated way he had. Well, no, they had not, she fumed to herself as she struggled with her corset laces. Bad enough they were all spying on her, just like the staff at Middlemont, but now she had to suffer the--the exigencies of these people all by herself!
What had she done, after all? Only what everyone had bid her to do. First she’d obeyed her parents and married Shelstone--and there was a relief at least, she thought, having Elbig packed off part and parcel to Callant, wherever that was. Oh, how he’d squawked!--And then she had obeyed Elbig and charmed her way into Harsin’s bed. That at least hadn’t been--been opprobrious. And now she’d done what Harsin had commanded and moved into the Keep with as little noise as possible. And what had it gotten her? A smoky, drafty old room in the oldest part of the castle, despised by everyone, that’s what, she huffed to herself, on top of an unwanted baby. And here she’d done nothing to deserve any of it, especially the baby!
Chapter 20 book 3 is live
...and I forgot to post here over the weekend!
Love and Groveling:
Per watched in a near-rage as Rose prepared to leave Middlemont for the Keep.
“Th’art leaving me,” he said flatly. “Thou--art leaving me.”
“Your Highness--darling,” said Rose as she adjusted her jewels in the mirror yet again, “dost think it wise to say ‘no’ to the king when he calls? And besides, who can be sure what he intends?”
“I can!”
“Well, I am not so sure,” Rose lied. “It’s best for me to go and see what it is he wants, no? If only to be certain that the two of you remain on good terms. If I slight him, it is only too possible that he’ll place the blame on thee,” she finished, tapping him on the shoulder with her fan.
Per was forced to admit she had a point. He walked Rose out to her carriage; Bear sat up with the coachman as usual, in his ridiculous, but becoming, fake Inchari splendor. Per gripped her hand tightly. “If he makes thee an offer, Rose, and thou takest it, we are at odds, thou and I. There will be no coming back.” Rose made reassuring noises and kissed him, he handed her up, and she set off for the Keep, untroubled. If a King made her an offer, what could a Prince do to her, after all?
Love and Groveling:
Per watched in a near-rage as Rose prepared to leave Middlemont for the Keep.
“Th’art leaving me,” he said flatly. “Thou--art leaving me.”
“Your Highness--darling,” said Rose as she adjusted her jewels in the mirror yet again, “dost think it wise to say ‘no’ to the king when he calls? And besides, who can be sure what he intends?”
“I can!”
“Well, I am not so sure,” Rose lied. “It’s best for me to go and see what it is he wants, no? If only to be certain that the two of you remain on good terms. If I slight him, it is only too possible that he’ll place the blame on thee,” she finished, tapping him on the shoulder with her fan.
Per was forced to admit she had a point. He walked Rose out to her carriage; Bear sat up with the coachman as usual, in his ridiculous, but becoming, fake Inchari splendor. Per gripped her hand tightly. “If he makes thee an offer, Rose, and thou takest it, we are at odds, thou and I. There will be no coming back.” Rose made reassuring noises and kissed him, he handed her up, and she set off for the Keep, untroubled. If a King made her an offer, what could a Prince do to her, after all?
Chapter 21 book 3 is live
The Wielding of Power:
The murmuring voices did not wish to be interrupted indeed, as they belonged to Miss Aneen and Mister Jenks. They sat companionably by her hearth, she in her wing chair, he on the floor leaning against her thigh. Her early fire had died to a few coals; the dawn had been chill, but the morning was turning into a warm spring day.
“A fine time to open your door to me, ma’am, in the middle of the day,” he said, relaxing against her.
“A fine time to knock, thou saucy thing,” she replied. “Where’s thy master?”
“Closeted with his tutor, as usual on Vennadays. I’m a bit at loose ends. His wardrobe is in impeccable condition even by my standards. I’m due at the training salon after I serve luncheon, but until then, I’ve nothing to do.”
“Nor do I, for a little while at least,” she said, passing her hand affectionately over his neat head. “And sitting here with thee is a fair sight better than fending off that Pennik Palks, the creature. I’ll have to have stronger words with him at this rate.”
“Shall I have a word with him?” said Jenks.
Britt laughed. “I sailed with His Majesty alone for nigh-on ten years, Standfast, and another five before! Think thee on that! I can take care of myself. All I need is my tongue, and if that ain’t enough, I have a fine wooden spoon and a finer right arm.”
The murmuring voices did not wish to be interrupted indeed, as they belonged to Miss Aneen and Mister Jenks. They sat companionably by her hearth, she in her wing chair, he on the floor leaning against her thigh. Her early fire had died to a few coals; the dawn had been chill, but the morning was turning into a warm spring day.
“A fine time to open your door to me, ma’am, in the middle of the day,” he said, relaxing against her.
“A fine time to knock, thou saucy thing,” she replied. “Where’s thy master?”
“Closeted with his tutor, as usual on Vennadays. I’m a bit at loose ends. His wardrobe is in impeccable condition even by my standards. I’m due at the training salon after I serve luncheon, but until then, I’ve nothing to do.”
“Nor do I, for a little while at least,” she said, passing her hand affectionately over his neat head. “And sitting here with thee is a fair sight better than fending off that Pennik Palks, the creature. I’ll have to have stronger words with him at this rate.”
“Shall I have a word with him?” said Jenks.
Britt laughed. “I sailed with His Majesty alone for nigh-on ten years, Standfast, and another five before! Think thee on that! I can take care of myself. All I need is my tongue, and if that ain’t enough, I have a fine wooden spoon and a finer right arm.”
Chapter 22 book 3 is live
Demands:
“I’ve been curious about that portrait in your study, Papa.”
“What portrait?” frowned his father.
“Well--not portrait, exactly. The Porfino. Of Neya.”
“Oh?” said Harsin in surprise. “What about it?”
“I was wondering perhaps if I could...borrow it for a little while, hang it in my study? Not permanently,” he hastened. “I know you like it. Just for a bit.”
“I should think there were enough naked women pretending to be Neya in your life already,” his father said sourly.
About as many as in your life, thought Temmin. But aloud, he said, “As it happens, Teacher’s been telling me the story behind that painting. Rose Herrada and all that. I just thought it’d be interesting to have the painting of her in my study while we’re, ehm, studying it.”
“You’re learning about Rose Herrada? Whatever for?”
“Teacher seems to think that if I learn her story I mightn’t get into as much trouble as my predecessor--some of my predecessors.” As soon as the slip was out of his mouth, Temmin cringed inside. If he were a small boy, he’d have hid under the table. But he was a man, and he faced his father’s darkening face with as much manly fortitude as he could muster.
“Trouble,” said his father crisply. “And what would you know about your predecessors and their troubles?”
“I know they had them,” said Temmin. “And I’m hoping I can avoid them.”
“So you’re passing judgment on your grandsires, are you? And me, too, I’d wager. You know nothing of ruling,” snapped Harsin. “You can’t even grow a proper beard yet, and you spend most of your week indolently lying around getting petted at the Lovers’ Temple.”
“I’ve been curious about that portrait in your study, Papa.”
“What portrait?” frowned his father.
“Well--not portrait, exactly. The Porfino. Of Neya.”
“Oh?” said Harsin in surprise. “What about it?”
“I was wondering perhaps if I could...borrow it for a little while, hang it in my study? Not permanently,” he hastened. “I know you like it. Just for a bit.”
“I should think there were enough naked women pretending to be Neya in your life already,” his father said sourly.
About as many as in your life, thought Temmin. But aloud, he said, “As it happens, Teacher’s been telling me the story behind that painting. Rose Herrada and all that. I just thought it’d be interesting to have the painting of her in my study while we’re, ehm, studying it.”
“You’re learning about Rose Herrada? Whatever for?”
“Teacher seems to think that if I learn her story I mightn’t get into as much trouble as my predecessor--some of my predecessors.” As soon as the slip was out of his mouth, Temmin cringed inside. If he were a small boy, he’d have hid under the table. But he was a man, and he faced his father’s darkening face with as much manly fortitude as he could muster.
“Trouble,” said his father crisply. “And what would you know about your predecessors and their troubles?”
“I know they had them,” said Temmin. “And I’m hoping I can avoid them.”
“So you’re passing judgment on your grandsires, are you? And me, too, I’d wager. You know nothing of ruling,” snapped Harsin. “You can’t even grow a proper beard yet, and you spend most of your week indolently lying around getting petted at the Lovers’ Temple.”
Chapter 23 book 3 is live
Elevations:
“There, now, we’re all done!” said Ellika. She put Bern’s leg back down on the bed, pillows elevating it above his heart. “Not too much more of this! The Sisters say you’ll be able to try walking in less than a spoke.”
Bern’s forehead shone with perspiration; though his arms and legs were moved for him, he had to put at least a little effort into it himself--and Ellika could tell that it still hurt. “It’s going to be spokes before I can truly walk again, Elly. At least I can use my arms a little,” he said, leaning back on the pillows and closing his eyes. “Though I must say,” he added, opening one eye, “It’s much more pleasant now that the Sisters have trained you to help me with these exercises. You’re much prettier.” He smiled at her and closed his eyes again.
Ellika laughed. “I should spend some time with the other petitioners--I’ve been with you most of the day! I’ll leave you to rest now.”
She turned to go, but Bern put out a cautious hand. “You can’t stay just a little longer, Your Very High Highness?”
“I’ve told you not to call me that!” she said, sitting down in the chair next to his bed.
“Don’t give yourself airs. When you’re flat on your back, everyone’s very high.”
Ellika took his hand and patted it. “You won’t be flat on your back soon.”
Bern fell so quiet that Ellika thought he’d gone to sleep; she rose to go, but he murmured, “I’m awake. Just talk to me, Ell. Read me the paper. Tell me about what’s happened to you since Vennaday. Just talk to me.”
More ->
“There, now, we’re all done!” said Ellika. She put Bern’s leg back down on the bed, pillows elevating it above his heart. “Not too much more of this! The Sisters say you’ll be able to try walking in less than a spoke.”
Bern’s forehead shone with perspiration; though his arms and legs were moved for him, he had to put at least a little effort into it himself--and Ellika could tell that it still hurt. “It’s going to be spokes before I can truly walk again, Elly. At least I can use my arms a little,” he said, leaning back on the pillows and closing his eyes. “Though I must say,” he added, opening one eye, “It’s much more pleasant now that the Sisters have trained you to help me with these exercises. You’re much prettier.” He smiled at her and closed his eyes again.
Ellika laughed. “I should spend some time with the other petitioners--I’ve been with you most of the day! I’ll leave you to rest now.”
She turned to go, but Bern put out a cautious hand. “You can’t stay just a little longer, Your Very High Highness?”
“I’ve told you not to call me that!” she said, sitting down in the chair next to his bed.
“Don’t give yourself airs. When you’re flat on your back, everyone’s very high.”
Ellika took his hand and patted it. “You won’t be flat on your back soon.”
Bern fell so quiet that Ellika thought he’d gone to sleep; she rose to go, but he murmured, “I’m awake. Just talk to me, Ell. Read me the paper. Tell me about what’s happened to you since Vennaday. Just talk to me.”
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