A Husband for Deva

A Small Domestic Matter

Gathered together in Hal and Ashlen's sitting room, the Islanders talked in rolling waves of banter, interrupting, finishing each other's thoughts, contradicting, laughing and joking. At times they'd forget Hal and Deva's presence and lapse into their own language, and then remember and apologize and translate.

There was hardly a moment's break in the conversation or any way to get attention without interrupting, so Deva stood, straightening her skirts. "If you'll all excuse me for a bit, I just need to go talk to my mother."

Brialach looked up at her. "Do you wish for me to escort you?" he asked, rising.

"Or I could accompany you," Ashlen offered, a crease of concern furrowing her brow. Her torcha gleamed around her neck, and Deva noticed that her sister-by-marriage wore an Islander tunic rather than a bodice and blouse this morning.

"Oh, there's no need. It's only a small domestic matter. But thank you." Deva waved for Brialach to seat himself again. "Stay and enjoy the conversation here." Connlach and Branlach would be returning home all too soon, and she didn't want to deprive Brialach or Ashlen of any time with them.

"Come back when you can, Little Owl," said Hal. "It's nice having your company again."

"Little Owl?" Brialach laughed, and looked up at her with good humor and affection.

"A good name for a wise lady," Connlach said.

"I won't be long." Deva curtseyed and glided toward the door.

As she left the room, she heard Branlach asking, "Why were you missing your sister's company? Has she been away?"

Would they explain to him that she'd been a prisoner in her rooms? Or would they give him some polite fiction about her having been unwell? Deva shook her head. As a group they overwhelmed her, all those big Islanders with their fiery hair and gold ornaments, bright colours in their clothing and loud voices that filled the air.

I've been alone too much. After weeks of grey and quiet, anyone would seem bright and loud.

And the familiar public corridors of the Fortress felt strange, crowded and intimidating.

Deva fixed her eyes on the toes of her slippers as she walked. Strange to be free. She'd felt so good that morning, waking beside Brialach with hope and confidence. How could all that have evaporated so quickly?

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"Come in, Princess Deva," said the lady-in-waiting at the door of the Queen's private audience chamber. "Congratulations on your wedding." She patted the top of Deva's belly. "And how's the little heir doing in there?"

Of course. If the baby were a boy, he'd secure the line of succession until Hal and Ashlen presented Ilujavik with a boy child. So we're going to ignore the timing and pretend I've been blessed in the usual way. "What if it's a girl?" Deva said. "I had a dream about a girl baby." She'd dreamt no such thing, but the speculation about an heir bothered her.

"Then we'll have an adorable little princess for the Fortress, won't we? But I think it's a boy. You look like you're carrying a boy, all low and forward." With another belly pat, the lady-in-waiting swept her forward into the chamber, where the Queen sat at a great desk with several more ladies in attendance.

The Queen looked up and smiled. "Just a moment, my dear; we've nearly finished with the day's correspondence. Have a seat. I'm pleased to see how prompt you are."

"Thank you, mother." Deva sat, crossing her legs demurely at the ankles and keeping her knees together as a princess should. A glance down at her smock and skirts assured her that no stains had manifested themselves to embarrass her. One hand rose to touch her head, checking that her kerchief and cap were still in perfect order. Nothing to criticize.

Moments later, the Queen laid down her pen and turned her eyes, and all her considerable attention, on Deva. "Now, what is it you asked to see me about? You're not unhappy with your new rooms?"

"No, they're lovely. Brialach and I are quite comfortable. It's..." Have I made a mistake, thinking I have the right to dismiss a personal attendant myself? What if she doesn't like me criticizing Jenia? A sinking feeling overtook Deva. "It's about my... my companion. She..." Deva drew a breath, and her courage failed her. "Now that I'm married, I feel that Brialach and I should have a wedded couple in our service. When Jenia came into our chamber this morning, I - she's a maiden - it didn't seem right..." Not a lie, exactly, but not the full truth or reason. Father Angad would call it prevarication. He'd say I was straying from the Path of Light in my intent, even though the words themselves are truthful.

"That's my thoughtful girl! You're absolutely correct, and I should have realized it myself. I have a perfect position for Jenia, and I'll find a nice couple to see to your needs."

Deva's heart sank. What if she were stuck with the belly-patting certain-it's-a-boy lady, who looked eager to volunteer for the job? "Mayn't I choose for myself among the suitable candidates?"

"Do you not trust me to select good attendants for you?" There was a hint of affront in the Queen's voice.

"Of course I do, mother! I only thought... I should learn how to interview and appoint them." An outright lie, this time.

That drew a smile from her mother. "Very well. You may sit with me as I interview them. Come back just before the seventh hour."

Deva rose and curtseyed, suppressing a sigh of relief.

Before she'd even withdrawn from the room, the Queen's attention had moved on to the next task at hand.

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♥ After all that confidence in facing down Jenia, Deva isn't quite ready to fully stand up to her mother, but is lying to get her way a good sign? And is the fact that she's worrying about Father Angad's opinion a bad sign?

♥ Click that vote star if you want to find out what will happen next!