Reign of the eagle, p.92
Reign of the Eagle, page 92
The earl rolled his eyes and walked out onto the lawn, muttering under his breath. Half a minute later, though, he came back, all excited. “Listen, how about this. What if Elwyn and Andras are married, but you’re his mistress, Donella?”
“I don’t think I care for that idea at all,” said Donella.
“Neither do I,” said Andras. Looking at Elwyn, he added, “No offense.”
“None taken.” Elwyn turned to her uncle. “Honestly, that’s a terrible idea. Are you trying to make everyone as miserable as you possibly can?”
“Spreading the misery around is more fair,” he said.
“Would anyone like to hear my idea?” said Pallavi. She was seated on a stone bench with her feet up on a potted gardenia.
“Go ahead,” said Elwyn. She pointed at her uncle. “It can’t be any worse than his.”
“Actually,” said the hillichmagnar, “it’s quite similar. You and Andras become formally betrothed. That’s enough to seal the alliance. Later on, once the Sigor and Byrne armies have taken the field together—and hopefully once they’re winning battles—you can call off the wedding, and then Andras can be with whomever he likes.”
“I suppose it makes a little more sense when you put it like that,” said Elwyn.
“I’m not sure I like it any better than the earl’s idea,” said Andras, shaking his head. “How long is this fake betrothal going to last? And what happens if people find out it’s not real?”
“How would anyone find out?” asked Elwyn.
“Oh, I don’t know,” snapped the earl, “I imagine Broderick and Muriel might hear about it from their daughter, who is standing right there!”
Everyone turned to look at Donella, and she let out a nervous little squeak. “Um, don’t mind me,” she said. “My lips are sealed. I want to be on whatever side Andras is on.”
“What a load of manure,” said the earl.
Elwyn walked behind Andras and took Donella’s arm. “Do you mind if I have a word with you? Alone?”
They went off together across the lawn, skirting the edge of the fountain and making a wide circuit around the lily pond.
“Would it help if I gave you my word, personally, that I’ll never marry Andras, no matter what happens?”
“I believe you,” said Donella. “But I don’t really trust your uncle.”
“With good reason. But I’m pretty sure I can get Edwin on my side. And between the two of us, we can make my uncle back down, if we have to.”
Donella bit her lip pensively. “Oh, I still don’t know.”
“Is it the alliance?” asked Elwyn. “You’ll have a lot of leverage, you know. My uncle will owe you a huge favor when peace is negotiated.”
“No, I was quite serious when I said I’ll take whatever side Andras is on. Although if you people could promise my brother will be safe, I’d be very grateful.”
“Done,” said Elwyn, with an emphatic nod of her head. “By the way, tell him I’m considering us even now.”
“Thank you, but even so...,” Donella said, not understanding Elwyn’s full meaning and struggling to put her own desires into words. “I sort-of hoped maybe Andras and I would be getting married."
“You can. Just not right away. And in the meantime, I certainly don’t care if you and he enjoy yourselves. I rather hope you do, as a matter of fact.”
“But is that...entirely proper? I mean, isn’t it terribly scandalous?”
Elwyn laughed—a full, throaty laugh with a touch of bitterness. “Donella, we’re royal princesses. We’re the only Myrcian women who can do whatever we want, however we want, with as many people as we want, and still be exactly as marriageable as before.” She winked. “I’m living proof of that, much to my sorrow.”
“Then...,” Donella took a deep breath. “Then I suppose maybe I’ll think about it.”
“Good for you.” Elwyn gave her a quick hug. They circled the lily pond one more time, and then started back toward the house. “You’re much better at this than I ever was, by the way. I wanted to let you know.”
“Better at what?”
“At being a princess, I mean.”
“That’s not true at all!” cried Donella. “Everyone back in Formacaster still talks about you.”
“Yes, and for all the wrong reasons, I’m guessing. I’ll probably be dead for a century before my scandals die away. You, on the other hand, are exactly the sort of girl my stepmother was always trying to make me into.”
“Oh, I’ve got some secrets of my own,” said Donella, with a rueful grimace.
“Speaking of which, I almost forgot.” Elwyn stopped, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a copper-colored ring with an amethyst crystal—the very same ring Vikker had given Donella. “My uncle took this from you. Apparently it’s magysk or something. I stole it from his desk, because I figured you should have it back.”
Donella hesitated for a good five or six seconds before taking it. “Thank you. I think.”
“Do you mind if I ask what sort of spells it has? My uncle said something about it changing your appearance. That will come in handy if you want to sneak out and see Andras, I suppose.”
With her face starting to burn, Donella said, “It’s...not exactly like that.”
“Oh? What does it do?”
Donella glanced nervously around. If there was anyone in the world she could confess this to, it was Elwyn. “It makes me into a man. In every possible way, if you see what I mean.”
One of Elwyn’s slim, dark eyebrows arched up, and then she let out a little snort of laughter. “Oh, Earstien. Well, at least the two of you will never get bored.” She took Donella’s arm, and they started walking back toward the house. They were nearly halfway across the lawn before Elwyn spoke again. In a low voice, she said, “You know, I bet you could get that ring on Andras’s little finger. If you were looking to try something different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t always have to be a man. Sometimes he could be a woman. It seems fairer that way, at least to me.” She leaned even closer. “And trust me, as someone who’s bedded a few girls, it’s worth trying. At least once or twice.”
“We’ll see.”
The new political arrangement was born that night, even before Donella had agreed to it. There was a quiet, discreet announcement that the betrothal had been officially contracted. Nothing was said in public—not that it was necessary. The news would be all over the little Myrcian expatriate community in a few days. Andras dutifully wrote a coded letter reporting the engagement to his parents, and Elwyn sent one to her stepmother in Rawdon.
For a few hours, Donella started to have serious misgivings. But then darkness fell, and Elwyn came and took her by the arm.
“Let me show you to your room,” Elwyn said, and she walked Donella straight over to Andras’s guest bungalow. “I had all your things moved up here from that ghastly old shrine.” She slipped something into Donella’s pocket. It proved to be a bottle of oil, rather like the one Donella’s mother had tried to offer her. “Just a little something to make your stay more comfortable.” Elwyn winked. “Have fun, now.”
Andras was waiting for her in the bedroom, and it seemed he had found the Sahasran sex manual among her saddlebags. “I had no idea you were into all these things,” he said, amazed.
“Not yet,” she said, coming over to sit on his lap. “But I think I might enjoy trying them with you.” She showed him the oil, and the greedy look in his eyes told her that Elwyn had chosen her present wisely.
They tore each other’s clothes off—in some cases quite literally. Donella didn’t think her chest cloth would ever be quite the same after Andras took it in his teeth and ripped the laces out. But she didn’t care. The feel of his hands on her, all down her body was so glorious, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to wear clothes again.
Soon, she was reduced to a quivering, sweaty mess, shuddering in his bed and clawing at the blankets until they were strewn everywhere.
It was only afterward, when they were lying together, exhausted, that she even realized she had lost her maidenhood. It was far better than she had ever hoped it would be. And at the same time, considering all the other things she had done with him, it was curiously anticlimactic. But it was over, and now she could never again call herself a virgin, for whatever that might be worth. She found she didn’t actually care.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him, though. Grinning, she said, “You realize you absolutely have to marry me now.”
“Why not?” he said. “You can be both the bride and the best man.”
She hit him with a pillow for that, and they rolled over the bed, laughing and wrestling. She knew she loved him, and she knew they would be married. But there was no particular hurry.
Chapter 30
With the betrothal arranged, there was no longer any reason why Andras had to be in Briddobad. Especially as it was a betrothal in name only, and he didn’t need to woo and romance Elwyn. He had plenty of romancing to do with Donella, and she worried her family would be missing her.
They stayed long enough to see Lady Rada marry Sir Walter Davies. That was only four days after the fight with Vikker, though. Apparently Rada felt she and Walter had wasted enough time already, and he was more than happy to go along with her wishes. Donella and Elwyn were bridesmaids, and Rada confessed to them that she simply had to get married as quickly as possible. Her strict Raskolnik upbringing demanded she be married before she slept with Walter, and she wasn’t sure she could control herself much longer.
Luckily Donella didn’t seem to have any qualms of that sort. She and Andras were constantly running off to fuck, sometimes for hours at a time, in every possible way. Andras even tried wearing the ring so they could have sex as a pair of women, which was certainly novel. He wasn’t sure he liked it better than being a man, but it might be fun every once in a while for the sake of variety.
Now that he was with her, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t wanted her before. She was beautiful and funny and smart. And she was warmhearted and genuinely kind in a way that few of the noblemen or women at court ever were. Why hadn’t he ever noticed? Was it because she was younger than him and the friend of his little sister? Possibly. Perhaps it was because he’d never known she was so perverted. Which was fair enough, because, as she admitted, she hadn’t known it herself until just recently.
They set off for the west on a foggy, rainy morning, the day after the wedding, with a tent, packs full of food and wine, and a letter from Pallavi granting them safe passage if they should run into any bandits in the forest. They didn’t, though. The only incidents of note were their continued sexual experiments in camp at night, and on one memorable occasion, while still on horseback.
When they weren’t having sex, Donella revised one of her latest stories, in which he appeared as Lady Andrea Burnell, and she appeared as Sir Donald Graham. “I’ve always ended the chapter as soon as the gentleman is alone with his lady fair,” she said. “I thought I was being discreet, but it was actually because I didn’t know what to write.” She grinned and kissed him. “Now I do, and my stories are really going to benefit from the added detail.”
Two days out from Formacaster, they sent a coded message ahead, announcing to his family that they were coming. The next morning, a rider found them with a reply, written by Lauren.
Holy Earstien, Andras! Where in the Void have you been? Mother is under house arrest, and I don’t even know if I can get someone to carry this for me. We’re being watched all the time. Hurry home.
Love,
Your Sister
In minutes, they were packed up and riding fast for the city. When they got there, near nightfall, Lauren met them at the Hawk’s Nest, a tavern down the block from Andras’s house.
“The queen heard a rumor about your betrothal to Elwyn,” she said, glancing around fearfully to make sure no one was listening. “I don’t think she has any proof yet, but the minute she does, we’re all done for!”
“Not to worry,” said Donella. “Andras and I will have a word with her.”
They sent Lauren home to reassure Duchess Flora, and then they rode together straight up to Wealdan Castle, where they found the queen lounging on an enormous gold silk divan with a new young man named Lord Barnaby. It was obvious by the look on her face that Andras was the very last person she had expected to see that evening, particularly in the company of Donella. She sent Barnaby off to go get some tea, and then demanded to know where Andras had been.
“He’s been with me!” Donella cried, squeezing his arm tight. “We’ve been having a bit of an adventure together, camping in the forest and traveling around. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that was where I was going.”
The queen was stunned, but she was also clearly impressed with her daughter. “Well done, my dear girl,” she said. “I confess I wasn’t sure you had it in you. Are you two married now, by any chance?”
For a brief, horrible moment it occurred to Andras that the queen could ruin everything—utterly destroy the alliance and the fake betrothal—by insisting he do “the decent thing.”
“Oh, Mother,” Donella said, pouting, “you’re not going to be tedious about this, are you?”
“Tedious? Me? I barely know the meaning of the word. No, you’re both wise to keep your options open. Don’t bother rushing into anything; it never ends well. Enjoy yourselves for now.” She stood up, gown hanging open to expose a broad slice of cleavage, and gave them each a hug and a quick, dry-lipped kiss. “Welcome back. Oh, and Andras, let your mother know I’m very sorry about our...recent misunderstanding. She is free to leave her house anytime she wishes.”
It was dark out, and they left their horses at the stable so they could walk, hand in hand, enjoying the stars and the moonlight. It took them a bit longer to make it to the Byrne house than it should have, because they kept stopping to kiss.
“We could turn around right now and go back up to my room,” said Donella, playing with the laces of his trousers. “My mother won’t care what we do.”
“Neither will my mother,” he pointed out, “and we really should see her.”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “But let’s make it quick, if we can.”
They couldn’t make it nearly as quick as they would have liked. Andras’s mother was astonished to see him arm-in-arm with Donella, and it was obvious they needed to do some explaining.
“When Lauren said you were with ‘the princess’ now, I assumed she meant the other one,” the duchess said, shaking her head.
“I realize I’m not the one you expected,” said Donella, curtsying. “But if it’s any consolation, I really do love your son. And I don’t care about politics at all.”
She and Andras explained the fake betrothal with Elwyn, and how Andras had now secured an alliance between the Sigors and the Byrnes.
Duchess Flora didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. “A real marriage would be better,” she said. “But I suppose we take what we can get.”
They had a late supper of spiced mutton and cheese soup, and then Donella went off with Lauren for a few minutes. They were giggling a great deal, and Andras had a feeling his sister was going to learn far more about him than she had ever wanted to know. As he watched them leave, his mother picked up her wineglass and moved around the table to sit next to him.
“She’s a very pretty girl, Andras. Very sweet, too. I’ve always liked her, and not just because she’s Lauren’s friend.”
He sensed an implied criticism there. She thought he had been too weak, too blinded by beauty, to do what he was told for the good of the family. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Whatever for? Because you want her instead of Elwyn? Look, I love Elwyn dearly, but I can certainly understand why a sensible man would choose Donella as his partner in life. Much less drama.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, she’s a Gramiren, and it’s always a good idea to have a back-up plan, in case things go badly with our new alliance.”
“She wasn’t kidding. She really doesn’t care about politics.”
His mother patted his arm. “It’s sweet that she thinks so. And it’s sweet of you to believe her. Make sure you two stay on the queen’s good side. The time may come when we’re all glad to have that connection.”
Later, when everyone else had gone to bed, and he was alone in his room with Donella, he told her what his mother had said. “It’s very odd. It’s all plots and schemes with her.”
“No worse than my mother, who wants us to ‘keep our options open.’”
“I don’t know if they can even tell the difference between politics and romance, or where one ends and the other begins.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Donella started to slip out of her dress. “As long as you know the difference, that’s all I care about.”
They spent hours together, in every wild position and combination they could try. Afterward, exhausted and sweaty, they curled up on top of the tangled covers, watching as the rising moon cast long shadows across his old wardrobes and bookshelves.
This had been his room for almost as long as he could remember. The shield he’d carried in battle in Pinshire rested next to a football signed by his Atherton team. His old toy soldiers sat on a shelf with a bottle of real Thessalian olive oil that Geert had given him. There was the painting of “Lake Newlin by Moonlight,” which had been a present from his brother, Pedr, and a little walnut writing desk he’d inherited when his oldest sister, Morwen, had gone into a convent.
On the desk was the first draft of an exciting new courtly romance he was going to read aloud with the author starting tomorrow, assuming they could keep their hands off each other for a while.
“It’s a lovely room,” Donella said, after they had finally caught their breath.
“Thank you.” He kissed her shoulder.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she giggled, “but Lauren and I used to come in here when you weren’t around.”
“That’s outrageous!” He swatted her playfully.
