plain old Gen will be fine, if you don’t mind.”
“You weren’t impressed with ‘Lord of the Realm’?” Mirelle pressed. Gen thought for a moment. That particular title had escaped his notice among all the others.
“What in the Realm, exactly, am I Lord of?”
“Oh not much,” Mirelle said coyly. “Just a little elevation in rank, a tiny plot of land. . .”
“A tiny plot!” Fenna exclaimed. “More like an entire. . .”
“Hush, Fenna! Gen’s barely out of bed and we don’t wish to overwhelm him with insignificant matters. He can find out about what being Lord of Blackshire means later. But this we want you to know,” the First Mother’s tone grew serious and she pointed her finger at his chest. “If you haven’t been able to tell, you are dear to the three of us and to many more besides, so don’t go throwing your life away at every chance you get. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Very well. We shall talk more with you later. Fenna, be sure to bring your mother and father to meet him.”
Fenna kissed him on the cheek, and the First Mother hugged him again before they turned to go.
“Chalaine?” Gen said.
“Yes?”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Certainly, Gen. In fact, if you could contrive some excuse to force me to leave, I would be in your debt.”
“How much of my life did you see?” The Chalaine was silent, turning her head away for several moments before answering.
“Perhaps we should speak of this later, Gen,” she said, voice unsteady. “I didn’t see much, but what I did see fills me with great sorrow, and right now I cannot falter.”
Gen glanced over her shoulder, finding Chertanne’s eyes boring into him, and for the first time since he awakened the reality of her betrothal hit him.
“I understand, Chalaine. When you are ready. I also wanted to thank you for coming after me, so to speak. I know the risk was great, and I will ever be indebted you. I will not forget what you have done.”
“Gen,” she replied, “I. . .”
“Your Holiness,” it was Dason, breathless and distressed. Gen stepped behind the Chalaine as she turned toward her former protector.
“Dason?” she said, concerned. “What is troubling you?”
“If I could have a private word with you, Holiness. It will not take long. I believe the library is unoccupied.”
“I, I suppose. If it is short. I cannot be gone long,” the Chalaine agreed, voice unsure.
They left together for the short walk to the library, Dason apologizing profusely.
“Can you permit me a moment alone with her, Gen?” Dason begged. “I give you my word of honor as a Tolnorian that I will let no harm come upon her.”
“No,” Gen replied firmly and flatly. “What you have to say you will say with me by her or not at all.”
Dason seemed torn for a moment, but he opened the library door and entered. No lamps were lit, and the moonlight provided the only illumination. The Chalaine sat on “Gen’s couch” as Dason came and knelt in front of her, taking her by the hand, blue eyes pained. Gen stood just behind the couch.
“Your Holiness,” he said, voice subdued. “I had to speak with you. Please, Gen, permit me to speak with her alone. If you would just move away a little space. . .”
“No.”
“Please! You are my Tolnorian brother! You know. . .”
“Enough, Dason!” Gen interrupted. “Three weeks ago, a demon attacked the Chalaine. If after that you have some hope that I will leave her side even for a moment, then it is an extraordinary one. I give you my word that I will not repeat what I hear, but I will not move.”
“Please go on,” the Chalaine encouraged. “Gen is noble and trustworthy. We must hurry.”
“Very well, though I protest, Gen, your not extending the trust to me which is due. Chalaine, I kneel before you as I did that day when I received the branding and beg you to forgive me. I failed the night I did not support Gen in defense of your honor. I
“You weren’t impressed with ‘Lord of the Realm’?” Mirelle pressed. Gen thought for a moment. That particular title had escaped his notice among all the others.
“What in the Realm, exactly, am I Lord of?”
“Oh not much,” Mirelle said coyly. “Just a little elevation in rank, a tiny plot of land. . .”
“A tiny plot!” Fenna exclaimed. “More like an entire. . .”
“Hush, Fenna! Gen’s barely out of bed and we don’t wish to overwhelm him with insignificant matters. He can find out about what being Lord of Blackshire means later. But this we want you to know,” the First Mother’s tone grew serious and she pointed her finger at his chest. “If you haven’t been able to tell, you are dear to the three of us and to many more besides, so don’t go throwing your life away at every chance you get. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Very well. We shall talk more with you later. Fenna, be sure to bring your mother and father to meet him.”
Fenna kissed him on the cheek, and the First Mother hugged him again before they turned to go.
“Chalaine?” Gen said.
“Yes?”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Certainly, Gen. In fact, if you could contrive some excuse to force me to leave, I would be in your debt.”
“How much of my life did you see?” The Chalaine was silent, turning her head away for several moments before answering.
“Perhaps we should speak of this later, Gen,” she said, voice unsteady. “I didn’t see much, but what I did see fills me with great sorrow, and right now I cannot falter.”
Gen glanced over her shoulder, finding Chertanne’s eyes boring into him, and for the first time since he awakened the reality of her betrothal hit him.
“I understand, Chalaine. When you are ready. I also wanted to thank you for coming after me, so to speak. I know the risk was great, and I will ever be indebted you. I will not forget what you have done.”
“Gen,” she replied, “I. . .”
“Your Holiness,” it was Dason, breathless and distressed. Gen stepped behind the Chalaine as she turned toward her former protector.
“Dason?” she said, concerned. “What is troubling you?”
“If I could have a private word with you, Holiness. It will not take long. I believe the library is unoccupied.”
“I, I suppose. If it is short. I cannot be gone long,” the Chalaine agreed, voice unsure.
They left together for the short walk to the library, Dason apologizing profusely.
“Can you permit me a moment alone with her, Gen?” Dason begged. “I give you my word of honor as a Tolnorian that I will let no harm come upon her.”
“No,” Gen replied firmly and flatly. “What you have to say you will say with me by her or not at all.”
Dason seemed torn for a moment, but he opened the library door and entered. No lamps were lit, and the moonlight provided the only illumination. The Chalaine sat on “Gen’s couch” as Dason came and knelt in front of her, taking her by the hand, blue eyes pained. Gen stood just behind the couch.
“Your Holiness,” he said, voice subdued. “I had to speak with you. Please, Gen, permit me to speak with her alone. If you would just move away a little space. . .”
“No.”
“Please! You are my Tolnorian brother! You know. . .”
“Enough, Dason!” Gen interrupted. “Three weeks ago, a demon attacked the Chalaine. If after that you have some hope that I will leave her side even for a moment, then it is an extraordinary one. I give you my word that I will not repeat what I hear, but I will not move.”
“Please go on,” the Chalaine encouraged. “Gen is noble and trustworthy. We must hurry.”
“Very well, though I protest, Gen, your not extending the trust to me which is due. Chalaine, I kneel before you as I did that day when I received the branding and beg you to forgive me. I failed the night I did not support Gen in defense of your honor. I
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