Page 40 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘While we stand around looking beautiful until you marry one of us off?’
‘Bedona, I told you. You will marry who you please on my watch.’
‘Oh, good.’ She lounged on the edge of his desk. ‘I always thought the stable lad was handsome.’
‘Within reason.’ Aubrecht attempted a stern look. ‘Begone, both of you, please. I am working.’
‘Stop working and get ready for your wedding.’
‘I agree.’ Betriese sat on the arm of his chair and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. ‘The Donmata hasn’t seen you foryears, Brecht. You’ll need to work terribly hard to impress her.’
‘Youareboring,’ Bedona remarked.
‘Bedona.’ Aubrecht could not help but smile again. ‘You shame the Knight of Courtesy.’
‘Leave Aubrecht be,’ a welcome voice said. ‘Bedona, your dancing master is looking for you.’
‘Oh, hang the dancing master.’ Bedona sighed. ‘Why in Halgalant do I need to dance?’
‘To save you from idleness,’ Ermuna said crisply. ‘Go, before I call your manners tutor to assist him.’
In perfect unison, the twins flanked Aubrecht and kissed his cheeks. He embraced them both. His mother had died to give them both life, but he could not have done without them. They left the room, arm in arm, whispering in the language they had invented as children.
‘Thank you,’ Aubrecht said to Ermuna.
His eldest sister gave him a nod. Unlike the twins, Ermuna was dressed like a Mentish courtier, in contrasting ebony and ivory, with a blackwork partlet. It made her long red curls stand out. She looked so much like Kathel Lievelyn, she might have been her living ghost.
‘Bettedoesmake a sound point,’ she told him. ‘You ought to write to the Donmata.’
‘How do you know I have not?’
‘Because I have seen the number of other letters you have to answer.’ She eyed the pile. ‘Does she write often?’
‘Every few weeks.’ Aubrecht stood. ‘Leovart claims Sigoso wants her back as soon as she is with child.’
‘That will not happen.’
‘It was agreed that our first heir would be for Yscalin.’
‘Yes, and the second for Mentendon. We need both before the Donmata leaves.’
‘We may not be able to conceive at all.’
‘Ever the pessimist.’ Ermuna studied his face. ‘What else is troubling you, Brecht?’ When he passed her the letter from Skuldir Vatten, she opened it and read, gaze darting across the page. ‘They are shaking their fists. Let them wear themselves out, like children in a strop.’
‘It has been over a century since the Mentish Defiance. Are they not already tired?’
‘A century is not long to the Hróthi. They are proud,’ Ermuna said. ‘But King Raunus is a virtuous man. He and Queen Sabran will keep the Vatten on their leash.’ She put the letter down. ‘Without Mentendon, they are not the great power they were, even on the sea.’
‘That makes us more of a temptation. Mentendon is richer than it ever was under their rule.’
‘The Hróthi intermarried with too many Ments during the last decades of the stewardship. Half of our nobility has Vatten blood,’ she reminded him. ‘They still respect the old way of peaceweaving. Unless they have no other choice, they will not attack kin.’
‘Butourhouse has no Vatten blood. Granduncle refuses to see this.’
‘As ever.’ Ermuna turned to face him. ‘To soothe your fears, when you are crowned, you ought to betroth me to one of their rivals. Clan Ókyrr, perhaps. Clothild would be pleased.’
Aubrecht regarded her. ‘You would be willing, Erma?’
