Noble Beginnings (26 page)

She tilted her head slightly to one side,
curious. "And what is that, my son?"

"I ask your leave to marry," he said with as
much confidence as he could muster. "Not right away, nor would I
expect some sort of leave of absence...but because I am your son,
and because the woman I wish to court is under your care, I thought
it might be appropriate to ask first."

Thea raised a brow. "And does this woman have
a mother or father you can ask about this?"

"Only you, Your Majesty," he said.

She smiled gently, knowingly, before her
regal demeanor fell away. She gestured to a chair that was waiting,
empty, behind him. "Well," she said, "have you asked this fine lady
for her own opinion?"

"Not yet," Dorran said sheepishly, perching
obediently on the edge of the chair. "I'm finding it difficult to
come up with a way to ask."

"Using words and asking clear and simple
questions is generally believed to be helpful," Thea said with an
amused grin.

Dorran shook his head, grasping his forearms
nervously. "Do you really think I'm that bad?"

"Not at all, dear," Thea said kindly. "I'm
simply remembering your father's difficulties in courtship."

Dorran didn't know whether that was a better
or worse alternative. He warmed automatically to the thought of
being compared to his father, but then again, he didn't envy his
father the challenge of courting a future Duchess, let alone one
with Thea's intimidating personality. Though it wasn't as if the
individual he had in mind was any less intimidating, the thought;
she was just impressive in an entirely different way, with power
that was anything but up front and straightforward.

"I definitely intend to ask her opinion," he
said, letting his nerves leak into his voice. "I just thought I'd
check with you first...for your approval."

Thea's face softened. "Dorran...I know I've
said it before, but I'm proud of you. I think you've done very well
by me and by Farlan, and I believe you'll do well by yourself if
you finally ask Myriel permission to court her."

"And you won't mind that she's a 'valuable
asset'? Or that I'm technically a prince?" Dorran asked, just to be
certain.

"Not at all," Thea said, waving her hand.
"Oh! However..." She leaned forward slightly. "I hope you'll
forgive an old woman's sentimental curiosity what exactly are you
planning to tell her?"

Dorran swallowed. "Honestly, Mother? I wish I
knew exactly what myself."

Dorran found Myriel in her quarters an hour
or so later, apparently enjoying a rare moment of peace in the
winter afternoon. From the open door, he could see her profile as
she sat on a bench beside a high window with shutters open and
craned her neck slightly to see down to the streets down the hill,
a beaten up tin cup of tea steaming in one hand. He spent a moment
to admire the image, seemingly suspended in time, then took a deep
breath and tapped on the door frame.

She turned around quickly but calmly, and her
expressionless face turned into a smile at the sight of him.
"Dorran," she said warmly. It had taken a bit of doing to convince
her to call him by his first name, but it had been worth it. These
past months, he had watched her come to terms with the idea that he
ranked little higher than she, and her demeanor towards him had
changed accordingly. He felt the same sort of warmth from her now
that he occasionally did from Edith and the other soldiers...except
that overlaid on it was a different sort of feeling altogether.

"Myriel," he said with equal affection in his
voice. "I trust you've been well the past few days?"

"Yes," she said politely. She looked a little
puzzled at the way he lingered at the doorway instead of coming
inside, but said nothing about it. Instead, she added, "It's a
relief to know that the last of the King's men are on their way
back or settled here. I suspect many of the Guard will sleep more
easily."

"We will," he affirmed. "Ah, although Edith's
lighting a fire under me, do you think you might be able to advise
me on selecting a second training hall for the recruits in the
barracks? She says we're running out of space."

"Certainly," Myriel said. She took a
thoughtful sip of her tea, and Dorran took the moment to
frantically consider how to broach the subject. He saw, all in one
panicked flash, himself fail to ask her now, and then fail over and
over, until he was humiliated beyond recovery or lost his chance
whichever came first. As he remembered his mother's advice, the
words came out in a quick tumble.

"Myriel," he said quickly, "would you
possibly consider giving me leave to court you?"

He saw her stiffen in surprise, the hand
around her teacup twitching, but that was the only outside
indication she gave of her shock at the sudden question. Then she
raised an eyebrow at him, and he saw every criticism she could have
given him, as well as many that his sisters, mother, and even Edith
probably would when they heard about this later.

Instead of voicing any of them, though, she
just graced him with an arch, diplomatic look. "I don't see why
not," she said. "You know, if you should like to live closer by,
there's space available in the servants quarters." Her expression
was so straight that for a moment he thought she was toying with
him. "I know you're living in the barracks at the moment, but if
you wanted...?"

He considered it for only a second. "Farlan
isn't in any immediate danger at present," he conceded. "I don't
need to spend all my time around the barracks to keep her safe and
besides," he added, smirking, "being with you means I'm likely to
know about any threats to her almost before they arise."

"You give me too much credit, my lord,"
Myriel said, but she was grinning, and he felt himself grinning
back at her as the joy in his chest threatened to burst through his
ribs.

"Myriel..." He began happily, and then he was
hurrying across the room on light feet as she carefully set down
her tea and allowed herself to be gathered up into his arms.

As she placed a small, tentative kiss, he
reflected that he never would have expected an outcome such as
this. There was a hard road ahead for Farlan and for Dorran's
family. A road of political intrigue, possible famine, the
afterbirth pangs of a new nation, and a wider world still ravaged
by generations of warfare but he had been given a chance at a life
he valued more highly than that of duke, prince, or king: a life of
peace, prosperity, honor, and hard work well loved and well
done.