Page 63 of The Duke and the Disciple

“She’s grown up.” He laughed.

“She hates me, and for no reason.”

“She’s jealous,” Pieter said, standing with her. “She sees how he looks at you and wonders why no man has ever looked at her like that.”

Aesylt crossed her arms. “And how’s that, when Nyssa can clearly turn the head of any man in a room?”

“Turn his head, yes,” Pieter said. He quaffed down the rest of his mother’s port and Imryll’s wine as he moved around the table toward Aesylt. “But his mind? Hmm. Nyssa will never fail to arouse desire in a man, but how many would look deeper? And should they decide to, what even would they find worth exploring?”

She was appalled. “You speak of your own sister with such scorn.”

“Ah, no. You’re a woman of science, Aesylt, and I do not have to remind you that explaining something as it is, and not as it should be, is the only way.”

She scoffed. “You never said where you’ve been all these years.”

He sidled up beside her, balking at her involuntary cringe. “We’ve only just reunited, and already I’ve put you off.”

“You and your sister have both changed.” She lifted her head. “But so have I.”

Pieter lowered his head. “I never meant to upset you. Forgive me.” He bowed. “I hope you’ll enjoy the books I’ve left for you and the scholar in the tower. Most are about the village or the grounds, which could be of interest to a couple of curious scholars. May they enhance your stay here.”

Aesylt found Imryll in the nursery. She was rocking Aleksy and Hadden both in her arms, the boys fast asleep on each shoulder.

I can come back, she mouthed, but Imryll waved her in.

“The governess will be along soon,” she said softly. “How are you settling in?”

Aesylt breathed deep and plopped onto a bench across from Imryll. “They put us in one of the bell towers.”

“Draz told me. I worried it might be an awkward arrangement for the two of you, but they don’t want you wandering about at night, so there we have it.”

“He said he wanted me to see the stars.”

“Can you?”

“Not with these clouds,” Aesylt replied, shrugging. Badly, she wanted to reveal the truth—to offer Imryll reassurance of her and Rahn having the research well in hand, that the Reliquary’s bullying wouldn’t work because the cohort had two fearless scholars willing to do whatever the science demanded. But Imryll would immediately want to protect her. “But we’ll do everything we can. You can be sure of it.”

Imryll brushed her lips across the heads of both babes with a tired smile. “Whatever you can accomplish will be enough. It has to be.” She sighed. “I know you want answers, and I wish I had some. But I’ll tell you what I do know.”

Aesylt nodded, lowering her eyes in respect. “Thank you.”

“Val is apparently speaking now. What he has said, no one will tell us. They’re still pushing, harder than ever, for a betrothal, and now there are rumors they’ve secreted Marek out of the Cross. Your brother isn’t opposed to war, but he needs Barynov to draw the first sword, and there’s no indication of how soon it will happen.” Imryll ceased rocking. “Draz has forbidden messenger ravens between the Cross and Wulfsgate, and we’re to pass communications through his scouts, who can only travel as fast as the weather and roads allow. We could be here days. Weeks. I don’t know.”

None of it was good, but now she knew. “How far along are you?”

“Oh...” Imryll glanced downward. “A season, at most. It was Draz who noticed the changes in me before I did.”

Aesylt smiled. “He’s a different man with you. He worships you. Of course he noticed.”

Imryll resumed rocking with a wistful smile. “One will come along who sees you. All of you. Whether you want that... Ah, that’s another thing besides. But you should settle for nothing less. You deserve happiness.”

It was Imryll’s way of telling her Val wasn’t the right man, though it was Rahn’s face making appearances in Aesylt’s mind during the brief speech. “Happiness to me is having the freedom to make the same choices a man would. Drazhan would love to see me studying for the rest of my life, if it keeps me from frolicking with the menfolk.”

“It’s not up to him, in the end.”

Aesylt knew that; it never had been. But she allowed Drazhan’s thin authority on the matter to warm the distance still thawing over the lost years. If she ever actually found someone worth fighting for, Drazhan’s obstinance would mean little.

Imryll broke the silence. “Speak to him as an equal and tell him what you want. Never ask, because then you’re subject to the man’s unpredictable whims.”

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