Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

ITturned out the royal receiving room was not just formal and uncomfortable. It was set up specifically to allow a courting couple the appearance of privacy without leaving them alone for a second. The central portion of the room consisted of a half dozen stiff-backed and heavily upholstered green chairs surrounded by thick-legged tables in some dark, forbidding wood. The walls were covered with decorative paper in a distinctive green-and-gold pattern-but the walls were fake, barely more than reinforced parchment. Behind them, around three sides of the room, ran a narrow corridor just wide enough to accommodate the body of a man. Here the various spies and guardians of the household would be set up to audit any visitor’s conversation.

Cammon, Valri, Wen, and Tayse were all in place a good half hour before Amalie’s suitor came calling. Tayse, of course, had prowled through every corner of the main room, checking for potential danger, before concealing himself behind the false wall. They had debated where each of them could best be deployed, and they had ultimately decided that Valri and one Rider would stand together on one side, Cammon and the second Rider on the other.

Cammon and Tayse were leaning against the true wall, waiting, when Cammon sensed Milo leading a procession up the hallway. He straightened and jerked his head, and Tayse came smoothly to an upright position. Cammon didn’t even have to look to know Tayse’s hand would be on his sword hilt. If it was humanly possible to protect Amalie from physical danger, Tayse would be the one to keep her safe.

The door opened and five people entered. Cammon closed his eyes and envisioned the scene on the other side of the barrier. Milo led the way, Amalie and the young lord followed, servants came behind them bearing trays of refreshments. No one seemed bent on malice. From the young Helven lord, Cammon picked up only nervousness and hope. There were the sounds of chairs being moved, trays being laid on tables, drinks being poured.

“If you have any need of me, Majesty, I will be within call,” Milo said, his voice heavy with significance. And so will four others, waiting to leap to your aid .

“Thank you, Milo. I will let you know.”

Footsteps, rustling, the sound of a door closing, then Amalie’s light laugh. As always, Cammon found it annoyingly impossible to tell what she might be thinking. Was she, too, nervous at meeting a prospective husband? Was she intrigued? Indifferent? Contrary? He didn’t know.

“So tell me a little about yourself,” Amalie invited in a voice that was much softer than the hard chairs and grim furnishings. “I met you last summer, I think, but only briefly.”

“Yes-I was in Nocklyn and Rappengrass,” Delt Helven said in an eager voice. “You favored me with two dances.”

“No one can talk in a ballroom!” she said gaily. “So you must start at the beginning, as if we were strangers. You are marlord Martin’s nephew, are you not?”

“My mother is his sister. I spend a great deal of time at Helvenhall and my uncle trusts me absolutely.”

“I’ve never been to Helvenhall. Is it pretty?”

“It is the richest of the middle Houses, and everywhere you look you see fields of grain. My uncle has an interest in many of the brewing houses. Have you ever had a glass of Helven beer?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You will have to journey to Helven sometime soon and try all the varieties that are made there.”

He continued on in this way for quite some time, listing Helven’s advantages as if he were trying to make a sale of the House to a somewhat reluctant buyer. A couple of times, Amalie tried to turn the conversation back to more personal topics, but it was clear Delt Helven had been well coached about what information to convey, and he was not easy to divert from his script. After a while, Amalie stopped trying, although she remained gracious. “That is most interesting,” she said a number of times. Or, “Really? I had no idea.”

The tedious conversation dragged on for at least an hour before the tone of Amalie’s voice changed. “Goodness! It’s almost time to dress for dinner! How long will we have the honor of your company?”

“I will be here another day, perhaps two. I was hoping to take you riding tomorrow? Or escort you through the city? I would love to buy you a gift from one of the fine merchants of Ghosenhall. Anything you pick out. Anything at all.”

“What a most generous offer. I’m afraid I don’t get many chances to shop in the local markets, but we might certainly ride for a while tomorrow. There are a few trails on the palace grounds that are very lovely, though you cannot canter, of course.”

“Majesty, I would do no more than hold your horse’s bridle for you if that would please you.”

“Oh, no, think how dull. We shall ride. Or even walk. It will be most delightful.”

In fact, it would probably be even more awkward than this little encounter, since obviously Amalie’s retinue would have to be visible for such an outing. Unless-Cammon smiled-the Riders could perhaps hide behind various trees and follies along the route that Amalie planned to take, ready to leap out at any moment and rescue her from danger. But he saw no way he and Valri would be excused from such an expedition, and he imagined the queen standing on the other side of the room and mildly cursing.

Delt Helven said, “I live for the hour.”

THATevening’s entirely uneventful meal was followed, the next morning, by a chilly parade through the palace grounds. It was sunny but cold, and Amalie had elected to stroll instead of ride. She was prettily bundled up with a fur hat and a long wool coat, and Delt Helven actually looked a little more impressive wearing several layers of clothing to bulk up his body. Riders walked before and behind them; Cammon and Queen Valri were a few steps behind the trailing soldiers.

“They’re too far ahead of us. I can’t hear what they’re saying,” Valri said.

“I can’t, either. We could get closer.”

“No! It’s a relief not to have to sit through that dreadful chatter. Poor Amalie, I don’t know how she’ll bear it. There must be twenty-five young lords who want to come calling. Scheduling them so they don’t overlap has become Milo’s primary responsibility.”

“I hope they won’t all want to go hiking around outside when it’s twenty degrees out,” Cammon grumbled.

Valri gave him a smile as cold as the sunlight. “Really? I like winter.”

Without thinking about it, he held his bare hand out and she laid her own briefly on top of his. Her fingers were like ice. She dropped her hand and tucked it back into her pocket. “You like freezing half to death?” he said.

“I like-” She turned it over in her mind. “Everything shut down. Held in place. Still and quiet. There is so much less going on in winter that it is easier to keep track of it all. Keep track of it and control it.”

He made no effort to disguise his reaction. “That’s a very peculiar thing to say.”

She smiled again. “I suppose so.”

“What are you trying to control, besides Amalie’s safety?”

“At the moment, that’s all. That’s enough, don’t you think?”

They were passing by some ornamental bushes, stripped and shivering. Cammon snapped off a thin, brittle branch and began switching it methodically against his thigh. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “You say you must stay near Amalie to protect her. But yesterday you wouldn’t even leave her alone with me. Do you really think I will harm her in some fashion? Do you really think I can’t be trusted?”

She focused her intense green eyes on him for a long moment, not watching where she placed her booted feet. “I don’t know,” she said. “Can you be trusted?”