perhaps, for books lined shelves on the walls, and the two men in the room were sitting at a long table strewn with books and scrolls. Terralt was pointing to a passage in one of the books; the tall, slender man beside him with the amazing red-brown hair must be Lord Randon, her betrothed.
Both men rose and came forward.
“Well, here she is, brother,” Terralt said, grinning. “Delivered safe and sound, just as I promised you.”
Lord Randon gave his half-brother a scowl before he turned to bow deeply to Kayli.
“I’m honored to meet you, lady,” he said in halting Bregondish. “I’m Randon.”
“Lord Randon,” Kayli murmured, flushing at the awkward situation. Terralt’s presence made it worse. Hesitantly she extended her hand; Lord Randon took it gingerly, as if he did not know what to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pausing slightly before each word. “I’ve had little time to learn your customs or your language.”
“Then we will speak in your language instead,” Kayli said, hoping her Agrondish was less clumsy and accented than Randon’s Bregondish. “As I am to live in your land, it is fitting that I learn your language and your ways, and not you mine.”
Terralt burst out laughing.
“What did I tell you, little brother?” he said. “Speaks it like one of us. And you should see her ride.” He chuckled, making his comment an innuendo. “But doubtless you will.”
“Terralt!” Lord Randon scowled. “Enough of that. Go and find the priests, please, and see if they’re finished conferring. This is difficult enough for all of us.”
Terralt gave an exaggerated sigh, bowed extravagantly to Kayli, and stepped out without another word. Randon turned back to Kayli with an apologetic grin. Kayli noted for the first time that Randon had the same magnetic, sparkling eyes as Terralt, but his were brilliantly green without any of the brown in Terralt’s eyes. Kayli was relieved that Randon was more sun-browned than Terralt, probably because of his riding and hunting; it might be normal for Agronds to be so fair, but Kayli could not entirely shake off the impression that these pale folk looked sickly. At least he had a proper mustache, and no hair on his chin.
“Please pardon Terralt,” Randon said quietly. “The weeks since my father declared me Heir have been difficult for him. He feels he’s been cheated, and I’m inclined to agree. He served Father well for years, and I’m ill-prepared for ruler-ship—and no one knows that better than Terralt.” He stopped, signing and shaking his head. “Forgive me. I’m babbling like a fool. Please, sit down.” He saw Kayli’s hesitation and added, “Unless you need to send for one of your maids?”
In Bregond it would have been highly improper for Kayli to be alone in a closed room with a man, but that seemed silly when she’d traveled so far to marry him. She smiled and sat down in one of the chairs near the fireplace. Randon hesitated, then sat down in a chair facing hers.
“My instincts nag me to offer you something to drink,” Randon said ruefully. “But I’m told you’re fasting, much to Stevann’s—my healer, that is—disgust. May I ask how long you’re expected to-continue your fast?”
Kayli flushed. She had not expected to be asked about it.
“Until our wedding night,” she told him.
Randon raised an eyebrow, a gesture strikingly similar to Terralt’s.
“Do all Bregondish brides starve themselves, or only the noble ones?”
“Neither,” Kayli said. She had to smile. “It is a—a custom of my Order.”
“Then I trust you won’t object to a hasty wedding.” Randon cleared his throat. “In fact, it would be best if we were married immediately, if you don’t mind. The wedding, my succession, are unpopular with most of the nobility of Agrond, and Terralt has made a formal complaint. We have permission from the advisory council to be married immediately.”
Kayli was surprised.
“They have found me
Both men rose and came forward.
“Well, here she is, brother,” Terralt said, grinning. “Delivered safe and sound, just as I promised you.”
Lord Randon gave his half-brother a scowl before he turned to bow deeply to Kayli.
“I’m honored to meet you, lady,” he said in halting Bregondish. “I’m Randon.”
“Lord Randon,” Kayli murmured, flushing at the awkward situation. Terralt’s presence made it worse. Hesitantly she extended her hand; Lord Randon took it gingerly, as if he did not know what to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pausing slightly before each word. “I’ve had little time to learn your customs or your language.”
“Then we will speak in your language instead,” Kayli said, hoping her Agrondish was less clumsy and accented than Randon’s Bregondish. “As I am to live in your land, it is fitting that I learn your language and your ways, and not you mine.”
Terralt burst out laughing.
“What did I tell you, little brother?” he said. “Speaks it like one of us. And you should see her ride.” He chuckled, making his comment an innuendo. “But doubtless you will.”
“Terralt!” Lord Randon scowled. “Enough of that. Go and find the priests, please, and see if they’re finished conferring. This is difficult enough for all of us.”
Terralt gave an exaggerated sigh, bowed extravagantly to Kayli, and stepped out without another word. Randon turned back to Kayli with an apologetic grin. Kayli noted for the first time that Randon had the same magnetic, sparkling eyes as Terralt, but his were brilliantly green without any of the brown in Terralt’s eyes. Kayli was relieved that Randon was more sun-browned than Terralt, probably because of his riding and hunting; it might be normal for Agronds to be so fair, but Kayli could not entirely shake off the impression that these pale folk looked sickly. At least he had a proper mustache, and no hair on his chin.
“Please pardon Terralt,” Randon said quietly. “The weeks since my father declared me Heir have been difficult for him. He feels he’s been cheated, and I’m inclined to agree. He served Father well for years, and I’m ill-prepared for ruler-ship—and no one knows that better than Terralt.” He stopped, signing and shaking his head. “Forgive me. I’m babbling like a fool. Please, sit down.” He saw Kayli’s hesitation and added, “Unless you need to send for one of your maids?”
In Bregond it would have been highly improper for Kayli to be alone in a closed room with a man, but that seemed silly when she’d traveled so far to marry him. She smiled and sat down in one of the chairs near the fireplace. Randon hesitated, then sat down in a chair facing hers.
“My instincts nag me to offer you something to drink,” Randon said ruefully. “But I’m told you’re fasting, much to Stevann’s—my healer, that is—disgust. May I ask how long you’re expected to-continue your fast?”
Kayli flushed. She had not expected to be asked about it.
“Until our wedding night,” she told him.
Randon raised an eyebrow, a gesture strikingly similar to Terralt’s.
“Do all Bregondish brides starve themselves, or only the noble ones?”
“Neither,” Kayli said. She had to smile. “It is a—a custom of my Order.”
“Then I trust you won’t object to a hasty wedding.” Randon cleared his throat. “In fact, it would be best if we were married immediately, if you don’t mind. The wedding, my succession, are unpopular with most of the nobility of Agrond, and Terralt has made a formal complaint. We have permission from the advisory council to be married immediately.”
Kayli was surprised.
“They have found me
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