“Surely the queen has some alliance in mind for you, Fulk.”
Henry chuckled. Fulk slapped at him, but then the captain called up, “You’ll never throw a good blow, my lord, if it all comes from the arm.”
Henry looked away to hide his amusement—he had a particular way of squaring his shoulders when he was trying not to laugh! Chabi snorted. Fulk found refuge in babbling.
“Now there’s talk of marrying me off to some Alban princess in the western counties, the ones that are pushing into Eika territory. But that’s better than the plan they were talking of all summer, sending me to Ashioi country to marry the new Feather Cloak!”
Chabi considered this. Most likely she had ridden recently through those lands, and had a better idea of the troublesome situations there than he did. “Had you a choice, what would it be?”
You! You! You!
He smiled tightly. “I am an obedient son. I do as I’m told.”
“I’m sorry to hear that!”
Henry laughed.
She added, “You might become a phoenix, as I am.”
Spoken out loud, the words seemed harsh.
“A prince cannot fly,” he said bitterly. “Though I would if I could.”
“Any person with a willing heart and a stubborn mind can learn to weave sorcery and walk the crowns.”
“These are easy words from your mouth! You are a third child and thereby freer than the rest of us. Anyway, your mother was a powerful shaman, and your father—”
“Her pura, nothing better than a slave, and about whom the less is said the better,” she said in a tone that cut him.
“We’re there,” said Henry, lifting a hand to warn him. “And I fear me that your mother the queen is waiting for you, Fulk.”
They rode free of the forest to see the walls and sentry fires of Thersa, where Queen Blessing and her progress had rested these past four days. The palisade and palace were old, but the estate had grown and spread in recent years with the shift of population out of the south after the great earthquake. Now, of course, the guesthouse was full and the inner pasture covered with tents and wagons.
The lamps held over the gatehouse revealed a party loitering under the still-open gate: the queen and her Dragon guardsmen. She had not the generous affection that had made her father so beloved, but she was respected. And she was fiercely possessive of all that was hers.
As he was hers. Her only surviving son.
First she had married Benedict, son of Conrad and Tallia, and by him produced her heir, Constance, and two boys. More recently, she had married for a third time, allying herself to the royal family of Karrone because of the incursions out of Aosta.
Born fourth, Fulk had outlasted his two older brothers, and seen a younger half Karronish sister born when he was eight.
But it was because he was the only child of her shortlived second marriage to the man she had loved best—besides her father—that the queen loved him so well. Too well, some said in whispers when they thought he wasn’t listening. He should never have been fostered out to his grandfather and grandmother in Lavas, but he had been raised there, and well loved there, and there he had fallen helplessly in love with a young woman not five years older than him who yet seemed so far out of his reach that he might as well have hoped to fly. And it wasn’t just calf love, a youth’s callow infatuation!
As they rode up, Chabi bent close and murmured one last comment near his ear.
“Your grandmother would never have asked permission. She just would have done it.”
He burned. But he said nothing.
“Fulk,” said the queen as he dismounted to greet her. She kissed him on either cheek, and turned to the phoenix. “You are come, but I suppose you will wish for drink and food, and perhaps a bath to wash away the dust of your travels.”
“So I would, Your Majesty, and be grateful for it, for I’ve nothing urgent to bring to your attention. I only wondered—” She hesitated, and he saw for the first time that she had a full heart and could not speak.
At last she swallowed and forced out a few words. “I meant to go to Lavas, but now … I am not so certain. I’ve been gone a long time.”
The queen nodded. She was scarred, but resilient. “You’ll be welcome there, and needed, I am thinking. My younger sister is a strong count, a good steward for her lands, but I fear she does not have the temperament to advise such an unruly schola. They need a firmer hand to keep them in line. You were always my mother’s best student.”
She blanched. “I am accustomed to—a different life, Your Majesty. I am not accustomed to biding in one place.”