know what, Melynna? The king’s here. His name’s Maryn.’
She actually looked up, licking her whiskers briefly, before she went back to work on the milk.
‘Soon I’ll be married, I suppose. And then one day I’ll look like you do now. I’ll only have one kit at a time, though. I’ll bet men would like it if women could have litters like you do. They’d know straightaway how many heirs they’d have.’
All at once she realized that she was crying. Even as she sobbed, she wondered at herself, that she would weep. Maryn was handsome, young, awe-inspiring, far more wonderful than she had any right to expect – she had never allowed herself to hope for so much, even to dream of so much in her husband. He’ll never love someone like me, she thought, that’s why I’m crying.
‘Your highness!’ It was Nevyn’s voice, soft and sympathetic, from the doorway. ‘What’s so wrong?’
‘He’ll never love me, but he’ll have to marry me anyway.’
Although the room was all swimmy from her tears she could see the honest pity on the old man’s face as he walked over, hesitated, then sat down next to her on the floor. Melynna looked up and went tense; normally she ran from everyone but Bellyra, but when Nevyn held out his hand she sniffed his fingers, considered for a moment, then went back to slurping up the milk. Nevyn pulled an old rag out of his brigga pocket and handed it to Bellyra as solemnly as a courtier would hand over a square of fine linen. She blew her nose, wiped her face, and still felt completely miserable.
‘Your highness, Maryn is never going to love any woman, but he’ll grow fond of you. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart, but that’s the way it will be. His one true love will always be the land and people of Deverry. I raised him, you see, so I know.’
‘You raised him?’
‘I was his tutor from the time he was a child.’
‘Are you a sorcerer? Don’t you put me off this time!’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, I am.’
‘That’s somewhat to the good, at least. I did so hope you were.’
‘I’ll ask you, though, to keep the secret to yourself.’
Much to her relief, Nevyn restrained himself from lecturing further. Unlike every other adult she’d ever known, he didn’t wag his finger and tell her she should be grateful that the Goddess had chosen her for such a splendid Wyrd, or point out that most women would be glad to have any husband at all, much less a handsome one. He merely got up and stood looking round the nursery with a slight frown.
‘Why don’t you live down in the women’s hall? You’re certainly old enough.’
‘My poor mother is very ill. Or, well, to tell you the truth, she drinks Bardek wine all day, and then she weeps and throws herself from side to side and keens for my father, and then she starts in mourning my elder brother, and everyone says it’s worse for her to have me there, because it bothers her that I lived when he didn’t.’
‘Maybe I can cure her, once things settle down a bit. But I’ve brought jewels from Pyrdon to use as your dower-gift, and I think we’d best turn some into cold coin and outfit you a set of chambers of your own, splendid ones befitting your rank. Lyrra – may I call you Lyrra?’
‘I’d be honoured, Nevyn.’ She got up and curtsied, pleased when he bowed in return.
‘Lyrra, your life will offer compensations, as I say, and there’s no reason in the world that you shouldn’t have them. For the first one, we’ll get you out of this dismal nursery. Now, do you have any fancy clothes?’
‘Lots, actually, but they’re all on the shabby side.’
‘No doubt. Well, I know naught about such matters myself, but doubtless you’ll know what you want once you’ve got the coin for fine cloth and all. Oh, and don’t forget, now that you’re going to be queen, you’ll get to pick serving women of your own.’
‘Can I ask anyone I want?’
‘Just that, and I’ll wager they’re all going to jump at the chance to live at court.’
‘Then Elyssa could come! That’s Elyc’s daughter from his first wife, you see, and she’s my best and only friend. When it looked for a while as if I’d have to marry him, the only good thing was she’d get to be my step-daughter, which would have been truly odd, because she’s fifteen. But anyway, after she’s here, she can help me with clothes and furniture.’
‘It gladdens my heart that at least you won’t be marrying Elyc, good man though he is in his way. Now, put on your best dress, and comb your hair down like a lady’s. You can’t wear it in a braid any more. I’ve come to fetch you back to the great hall. Since the priests are here, Nicedd wants to solemnize your betrothal this very night.’
‘Are we to marry soon? I’ll wager they all want me to get started on producing the beastly heirs.’
‘Considering your age, they may have to wait a bit, which will serve them right. But Maryn’s going to have to go on campaign this summer. We’ve got to get you two married and him solemnized as king before Beltane.’
While Bellyra changed into her purple dress and arranged her kirtle to hide the gravy stains from its previous incarnation as a banqueting cloth, Nevyn wandered off and found a serving lass to press into service as a lady’s maid to do her hair. Since she had no mirror, Bellyra had to accept their word for it that she looked both lovely and years older with her hair combed down and clasped at the nape of her neck.
‘Why don’t you have a proper mirror, anyway?’ Nevyn said.
‘I’m not supposed to look into them. Since I was born on Samaen everyone’s afraid that if I look into a mirror, I won’t have any reflection at all, or maybe even I’ll see a fiend looking back at me or some such thing.’
‘O ye gods! What utter nonsense!’ He turned to the servant. ‘Here, lass, you run down to the dowager’s hall and get a mirror. Now don’t you argue with me! No doubt the dowager’s fallen into a drunken sleep and she’ll never even know.’
Even though she crossed her fingers to ward off witchcraft first the lass did follow his orders, returning in a few minutes with a hand-mirror of polished bronze glazed in Bardek silver. It took Bellyra a few minutes more, though, to overcome her fear and look. Although she knew she wasn’t a fiend, she truly was afraid that she’d see nothing at all. Instead she found a remarkably pretty lass with wavy blonde hair and big green eyes staring back with her delicate lips half-parted in surprise.
‘Is that truly me?’
‘It is.’ Nevyn got behind her and looked over her shoulder. ‘The reflection I see looks just like the princess I see.’
Only then could she believe him.
As they came down the stairs she could hear a happy uproar, loud talk and louder laughter, from the great hall. At the little door she froze. If Nevyn hadn’t been right behind her, she would have turned and bolted again.
‘Come now, child, you know you’ve got the strength for this. When the priest asks you if you’ll take him as your betrothed,
