Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

49

"I must confess I'm growing frustrated with your quarrel with Captain Alban," Matei snapped, wrestling his comb through his hair. He glanced at Uachi in the mirror. The ranger was standing near the door his arms folded as Matei finished preparing for a council meeting to take place a few minutes hence. With a grunt of frustration, he threw down his comb and smoothed his hair back to the nape of his neck.

"I was simply giving Your Loftiness the latest news," Uachi muttered. "He disagrees with my plan for using the sellswords you saw fit to continue paying. What's wrong with you, Matei? I thought having a wife was supposed to put a man at ease. You're just as high-strung as before. You're spending too much time conversing with ugly old men in council chambers and too little time alone with her."

Matei looked at Uachi for a moment, surprised. He had thought the ranger would have perceived by now that his marriage to Mhera was a play-act, and he wondered whether to reveal the truth of the matter to his closest friend. It had been months since the wedding, and he and Mhera had resumed their lives more or less as they'd lived them before; the only exception was that, careful to preserve the impression that they were married in every sense of the word, they would visit one another's chambers of an evening, sometimes staying long into the night. They had grown used to using the time to talk about matters of importance to the realm, sometimes mulling over questions that faced the council or reading correspondence together as they sat in their nightclothes in bed.

In the end, Matei decided to confess. If anyone would appreciate their attempts to subvert the goals of the Starborn nobility, it would be Uachi. "It's not like that," he said, fumbling with the ribbon he was using to tie back his hair. "And don't joke about Mhera in such a manner again."

Uachi shot him a curious look. "I wasn't joking, and I didn't intend to be crude," he said. "If you read another meaning into my comment, I'm sorry. What do you mean, it isn't like that?"

"Our marriage. It isn't like that." Matei reached for his clean shirt and pulled it on. As he tugged it into place, he threw a dark look at the green cravat draped over the back of his chair. He hated those detestable things. There was a lengthy silence as Matei wound the cravat around his neck and tucked it properly, all the while feeling the weight of Uachi's gaze upon the back of his head. He turned around. "What?"

"You're a damned fool," said Uachi.

"Am I?" Matei frowned at his friend, tugging his cravat with ill temper. He fumbled with the pin meant to hold it all in place. "What's it this time that causes you to remind me—the frills and trinkets I'm wearing?"

"That, too, but no: it's Mhera."

Surprised, Matei threw a glance at Uachi, then looked back down at the pin. He poked it through the delicate fabric of the scarf and then blindly sought the backing underneath his shirt. "You'll have to be clearer, because I don't know what you mean."

"If you are saying what I think you're saying, you've wed her in name only."

"That's correct. I'll thank you not to go spreading the knowledge around. It surprises me that you thought it could be otherwise, Uachi. We agreed to marry to make Mhera safe; you know as well as I do that the Starborn on the High Council were clamoring for her to settle down with a nobleman, and half of them were offering their hands, or the hands of their sons. By marrying, we saved her from a union she never wanted."

"That isn't what I mean, and you know it."

Having finally fastened the pin into place, Matei dropped his hands. He searched Uachi's face, knitting his brow in confusion. "No, I don't know it. Be straight with me."

"You married her, letting her think that you were saving her from being tied to some old high-born codger, and you never told her how you felt?"

"Of course I told her how I felt, Uachi. That I cared for her, that I wanted her to be safe—"