Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

She ducked her head, blushing, and said nothing. They had; they were stronger than ever.

“I know you try to hide it, but the mere fact that you keep him so close is enough for the gossips— That and the fact that he’s not highborn.”

“You know I don’t care about that!”

“No, but you’re at court now, and things are as they are; too many people with too much time to wonder.” He ate a grape, chewing slowly. “But there’s more to it than that. You’ve got him acting like a lady-in-waiting. That’s no position for a warrior.”

“I do not!” But Tharin’s words stung in a way that told her he was right. “He’s my squire. If I was still a boy, they wouldn’t be talking like that, would they?”

“People were talking before. But that’s neither here nor there. You are a young queen, and he’s a squire from a family no one knows of except as rough characters. When you were just a prince and still a child, it didn’t matter as much. Things have changed, and they’re never going back to what they were.”

“What would you have me do? I don’t want Ki suffering on my account, but I can’t just send him away.” When Tharin said nothing, she bridled angrily. “No, I won’t do that, not for anyone!”

“I’m not saying discharge him, but have a care for his feelings, too. Ki’s a fine warrior and a smart young man. If he’d risen under some other lord—Jorvai say, like his sister—then he’d be praised for his ability. As it stands now, no matter what he does, some will see it as your favor rather than him rising on his own merits.”

“And Ki’s said nothing about all this to you?”

“No. As long as you want him at your side, he’ll be there, no matter what’s made of it. But is this what you want for him?”

“Of course it isn’t! I wish— Oh, Tharin, why does it have to be so damn difficult? Ki’s changed, too, and I’ve changed and—”

Tharin regarded her knowingly. “You want him for your consort, don’t you?”

Tamír reddened miserably. “Illardi and Nik both say I must have one soon, and that I have to think about proving that I can provide an heir.” Her stomach tightened in fear at the thought of what that meant. “It’s bad enough, thinking of—that, but I can’t imagine being with anyone but him! I love him, Tharin! I always have. But he doesn’t love me. Not that way.”

“Has he said so?”

“He doesn’t have to. He still treats me like a boy most of the time.”

“Sometimes when we’re so close to someone all the time, we can’t really see them anymore. Perhaps what you both need is a bit of distance.”

“Then you are saying I should send him away?”

“No, I’m thinking of what Nyanis was saying. Ki needs to prove himself. He’s trained to fight and lead, just as you are. Have him take a force of his own against some of those lords.”

“But won’t people still say that he got his commission because of me?”

“When a princess becomes a queen, her Companions almost always become her commanders and councilors, like your father and Erius. Once Ki leads and wins on his own, that will be to his credit.”

Tamír nibbled a grape as she considered this. It snapped between her teeth, flooding her mouth with sweet juice. “He won’t like it.”

“Doesn’t matter if he does or not. He’s your liegeman, and honor-bound to obey your orders. Your father would be telling you the same if he were here now.”

Tamír popped another grape into her mouth. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “If I make him a commander, then he can’t be just my squire anymore. He’s been fighting me on that, but he’ll have to accept a title. He’s more stubborn than you on that account. Oh, but wait. Does this mean I have to take another squire in his place?”

“No. You don’t need one around here, and when you do go into battle he’ll ride with you, as I did with your father.”

Tamír grinned. “That’s all right, then! Let’s go tell him.”

Ki was in her chamber, helping Baldus oversee the filling of the silver-lined tub. Tamír sighed inwardly at the sight. Tharin was right; she had reduced him to duties far below his worth.

“That’s enough,” she told the girls with the buckets though the tub was scarcely a quarter full. “You can leave us. You too, Baldus. Go play with your friends. I don’t need you until after supper.”

The boy bowed and dashed off. Ki moved to follow, assuming she was going to bathe.

“No, wait. We have something to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Ki cast a curious look at Tharin.

“Well, I think—And Tharin agrees …” It was much harder than she’d expected, with him giving her that suspicious look. “I’ve decided to give you a commission.”

Ki folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. “What sort of commission, exactly?”

“You’ll go after these local lords for me. You could take a company from the garrison and support Jorvai for starters, and then—”

Ki bridled at once. “You’re sending me away?”

“No, of course not! You shouldn’t be gone more than a few weeks, barring sieges. Listen, Ki, I trust you. And since I can’t go out on these raids, I need someone I trust to do it for me. Besides, I need a few commanders who aren’t old enough to be my grandfather.”

Ki said nothing, but she saw interest warring with that stubborn gleam in his eye.

“You can take Lynx with you, and the men from Alestun. They know you and they’ll set an example for the others.”

“I see.” He shot another look at Tharin and shrugged. “Thank you. I’m honored.” Then, just as she’d expected, his eyes narrowed again. “Will you be replacing me with another squire?”

“Never, Ki. When I go to battle, you’ll be at my side, I promise. Tharin will stay with me while you’re gone. Hell, he’s worse than a burr on a wool sock.”

Tharin chuckled. “I am that. Don’t worry, Ki. You know I’ll look after her for you. It’s time you showed your mettle.”

Tamír punched Ki lightly on the shoulder. “You’ll have all the fun, while I have to stay here—in a dress!”

For Ki, the next three days passed too quickly, and he found himself torn between the excitement of his first command and guilt over leaving Tamír. He spent the days seeing to the equipage of his company and laying plans with Jorvai for the first confrontation, in which he would assist. In the evenings, though, he kept close to Tamír, and looked for some regret in her eyes, but she seemed glad for him and anxious to have him prove himself.

The night before he was to leave, he lingered behind in her chamber after the others had withdrawn. As they sat by the open window, sipping the night’s last wine and listening to the sounds of the crickets, he found himself caught by the sight of her. She was gazing pensively out at the stars, one slender finger slowly tracing the raised pattern on her silver mazer. She wore a gown of dark red embroidered with golden vines tonight and the color suited her. The candlelight softened her features and caught the sheen of her hair as it lay loose over her shoulders and breast.

In that moment Ki lost sight of Tobin, as he never had before. Her lips looked as soft as any he’d ever kissed, her cheeks smooth as a maiden’s, not a beardless boy’s. In this light she looked almost fragile. It was as if he were seeing her for the very first time.

Then she turned and raised an eyebrow at him in a way he’d seen a thousand times before, and there was Tobin again, gazing at him with the same eyes as ever.

“What’s wrong, didn’t your dinner agree with you?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I was just thinking—” He paused, heart racing. “I wish you were coming with me tomorrow.”