A Husband for Deva

Wasting Parchment

"Dev? Are you awake yet?"

Not Jenia's voice. Male. Brialach, through the mirror again? A flush of warm happiness rushed over Deva, even as her heart told her that hadn't been his voice she'd recognized.

"Devy, I don't want to come in if you're not dressed." Only a brother could deliver that combination of impatience and reluctance.

Deva untangled herself from her nest of bedding and sat up. "I'll just be a moment," she called out. Her skirts and smock from yesterday were there on the dressing stand; what had Jenia done with the clean blouses and linen? There, folded in the linen press.

"You ready?"

"Don't you dare come in till I call, Halred Ilujaven." At least the new grey things were easy to put on, with drawstrings and ties instead of buttons and lacing. "Okay."

Hal stuck his head around the doorway from the sitting room. "Funny, I was still expecting to see your old dolls' house and schoolbooks."

"Oh. Well, you haven't been up here in a while."

"I know." Not since he'd reached his maturity, really - grown men weren't encouraged to visit those parts of the Fortress where unmarried females slept.

"So, why are you up here now?"

A hint of deeper color tinted the tawny warmth of Hal's cheeks, and he hitched up his belt. "Mother sent me to, ah, take away your mirror - don't be mad, Devy!"

"I'm not mad. I... Does she believe me, then? What did she say?"

Hal's grimace warned Deva that she wouldn't like the answer. "That if you imagine you can excuse bad behavior by staring into a mirror and having fantasies about it, then you shouldn't be entitled to a mirror." He crossed the room and lifted the mirror down from its place on the wall.

"No!" Deva hadn't meant to protest, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified at the cry that had slipped out.

"Don't fuss, now. Ash will take care of the mirror for you. She convinced Mother she should have it, since it came from their land."

But I wanted him to visit me again. I wanted him to tell me that he's coming, that he loves me. Deva snuffled wetly, compressing her lips against tears.

"Blow your nose, Dev. It'll be all right. Somehow." Hal sighed. "I'd better take this downstairs now; it's heavier than a block of ice. Oh, and Mother sent you up a letter." Resting the base of the mirror briefly on top of the linen press, he fished a folded square of parchment out of his tunic and tossed it onto Deva's bed. "Ash said to tell you she'll be up to see you later. Chin up, Little Owl."

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Some time passed before Deva could bring herself to read it - a sealed letter could mean nothing good. Why would the Queen waste parchment and wax, instead of coming up to Deva's rooms herself?

At last she steeled herself and broke the seal, unfolding the smooth cream square to see the pretty loops and swirls of her mother's elegant penmanship.

Deva,

You are most likely acquainted with a minor courtier by the name of Felrend Ummiteven. Your father has spoken candidly with him, and Felrend is willing to have you, but the infant, if you carry to term and it lives, will have to be fostered elsewhere as he wants an heir of his own blood.