Page 231 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

The ceremony was no less impressive for its brevity. First, Margret was formally named a Lady of the Bedchamber, while the Knights of the Body were commended for their ceaseless loyalty to the crown. Others who had joined them were given lands and jewels, and then:

“Mistress Ead Duryan.”

Ead stepped from the crowd. Whispers and looks dogged her footsteps.

“By the grace of the Six Virtues,” the steward read, “it has pleased Her Majesty to name you Dame Eadaz uq-Nara, Viscountess Nurtha. A member of the Virtues Council.”

The Presence Chamber rang with murmurs.Viscountesswas an honorary title in Inys, used to raise a woman who was not of noble or holy blood. Never had it been bestowed upon one who was not an Inysh subject.

Sabran took the ceremonial sword from Loth. Ead held still as the flat of the blade touched each of her shoulders. This second title would only serve to deepen her treachery in the eyes of her sisters—but she could wear it if it shielded her for long enough to find Ascalon.

“Rise,” Sabran said. “My lady.”

Ead stood and looked her in the eye.

“Thank you.” Her curtsy was brief. “Your Majesty.”

She took her letters patent from the steward. People whisperedmy ladyas she returned to Margret.

She was Mistress Duryan no more.

There was one last honor to be given. For his courage, Sir Tharian Lintley, who was as much a commoner by blood as Ead, also received a new title. He was made Viscount Morwe.

“Now, Lord Morwe,” Sabran said in an arch tone, once Lintley had received his accolade, “we believe you are of appropriate rank to marry a daughter of the Earls Provincial. Pray, do you . . . have anyone in mind?”

An outbreak of much-needed laughter followed.

Lintley swallowed. He looked like a man who had just been granted all the wishes of his life.

“Yes.” He looked across the room. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do. But I would prefer first to speak to the lady in private. To be certain of her heart.”

Margret, who had been watching with pursed lips, raised an eyebrow.

“You have spoken for long enough, Sir Tharian,” she called. “Now is the time for action.”

More laughter. Lintley chuckled, as did she. Candlelight danced in her eyes. She crossed the room and took his outstretched hand.

“Your Majesty,” Lintley said, “I ask your permission, and that of the Knight of Fellowship, to take this woman as my companion in the coming days.” The way he gazed at her, she might have been a sunrise after years of night. “So that I might love her as she has always deserved.”

Margret looked to the throne. Her throat bobbed, but Sabran had already inclined her head.

“You have our permission,” she said. “We give it gladly.”

Cheers filled the Presence Chamber. Loth, Ead was pleased to see, clapped as hard as anyone else.

“Now,” Sabran said, “we think a dance is in order.” She motioned to the consort. “Come, play the Pavane of the Merrow King.”

This time, the applause was thunderous. Lintley murmured something to Margret, who smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek. As the dancers took their places, Loth stepped down from his seat and bowed to Ead.

“Viscountess,” he said, mock somber. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“I shall, my lord.” Ead placed a hand over his, and he led her to the middle of the room. “How do you like the match?” she asked him, seeing him glance toward Margret.

“Very well. Lintley is a good man.”

The Pavane of the Merrow King was sedate at first. It began like the ocean on a tranquil day, becoming tumultuous as the music swelled. It was an intricate affair, but Ead and Loth were old hands at it.

“My parents will have heard the news by the time you reach Goldenbirch,” Loth said as they skipped with the other couples. “Mama will be even more vexed that I am not betrothed myself.”

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