“Very little remains…”
Lerial turns to Kyedra and asks dryly, “What pleasantries shall we discuss, being precluded from mentioning all that we would otherwise wish to share? Perhaps whether your grandfather has a summer villa?”
“Or whether your father has one?”
“Alas, few in Cigoerne have such, for we are a poor land compared to the riches possessed by the merchanters of the north.”
“Poor in golds, perhaps, but not in bravery and accomplishment,” she says in a voice low enough that the conversation of others keeps all but Lerial from hearing her words.
The diners eat and talk in pleasantries, and Lerial looks at Kyedra and talks with her, again in more pleasantries, with a few low asides, as much as he dares, and before long the servers remove the main course and serve each person dessert, almond-filled pastry crescents. Perhaps a third of a glass after the pastry crescents have vanished from most diners’ plates, but not Kyedra’s, Lerial notes, Haesychya throws a piercing glance at her father, one so direct that Aenslem stops what he is saying to Emerya in midsentence for a moment.
After finishing whatever it might have been, Aenslem clears his throat, then says, “Your Grace … this dinner has been a great honor, but the day has been long…”
“I understand, Aenslem.” Rhamuel turns to Haesychya. “My thanks for your coming. I would not keep you long. I will need just a few moments with your sire, but only a few.”
“We can manage,” replies Haesychya. “We will take our time going to the coach.”
Lerial almost smiles at her words and tone, which convey the sense that if whatever the two are going to discuss takes much longer, she will not be pleased. Lerial wouldn’t put it past her to just direct the coach back to the villa if Aenslem takes too much time with the duke. He turns to Kyedra and takes her hand, under the table, squeezing it gently. “Thank you … for everything.”
Her voice is firm, but low, as she replies, “I am the one who should offer thanks, for what you have done. I will not offer thanks for your departure.” She squeezes his hand in return, then slips her fingers from his.
“Nor I.”
“Kyedra,” offers Haesychya, “we do need to go.” She looks at Lerial, almost sadly, and nods. “Good evening, Lerial … and thank you, again, for my father’s life.”
Lerial stands with everyone else, and watches as Emerya departs with the other two women. Why is she going? But he really cannot ask. So, after several moments, he walks over to the duke, but before he can say anything, Rhamuel speaks.
“We’ll talk in the morning about your departure. I’d thought we might tonight, but it’s been a long day, and I need a few moments with Aenslem.” Rhamuel shakes his head ruefully. “There’s one thing that can’t wait, but I’m not getting into merchanter affairs tonight.”
“There are a few other things I’d also like to suggest.”
Rhamuel looks away, then motions to someone.
Lerial realizes that someone is Emerya, who obviously only spent a few moments with Haesychya and Kyedra before she returned. She moves to Rhamuel’s shoulder. The way she touches the duke’s shoulder tells Lerial that there is something else he has missed.
“Yes,” murmurs Emerya, “but you’re the first to know. Official word must wait for mourning to end.”
“I could not let her go, or leave her, not again,” murmurs Rhamuel, before smiling widely. “She will have the position she long deserved. And now, I need to talk to Aenslem. I’ll see you in the morning. Not too early. Say … eighth glass.”
That is an obvious dismissal, and Lerial inclines his head. “Eighth glass.”
As he walks from the chamber, then to the stables, and even as he rides back to Afritan Guard headquarters, he is still pondering how he missed what had occurred between his aunt and Rhamuel, but he is pleased for them, especially for Emerya.
All that doesn’t help him, especially since it doesn’t seem that there is anything he can do as far as Kyedra is concerned. You can’t ask for her hand, not as the younger brother of the heir, without your father’s consent, and she can’t consent without Rhamuel’s approval and Aenslem’s, and Aenslem won’t consent unless both Haesychya and Rhamuel agree … and Lephi would have a fit. Except Lerial really doesn’t care what Lephi thinks, nor does that matter unless their father agrees with Lephi. And then there is the other small problem that he has three companies of Mirror Lancers, or what is left of them, to look after as well.
He laughs softly. And all because she smiled … and that smile made you look at her more closely.
He shakes his head and keeps riding, not really hearing the echoes of the gelding’s hoofs on the paving stones.
LIX