Ehlana’s eyes softened. ‘So stern and unbending, my champion,’ she said.
‘Where Your Majesty’s safety is concerned, yes.’ He said it flatly. It was probably best to get that clearly understood right at the outset.
‘But why are we arguing, my knight?’ She smiled whimsically, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
‘Don’t do that, Ehlana,’ he told her, automatically assuming the tutorial manner he had used when she was a little girl. ‘You’re the queen, not some coy chambermaid trying to get her own way. Don’t ask or try to be charming. Command.’
‘Would you take off the sword if I commanded you to, Sparhawk?’
‘No, but the usual rules don’t apply to me.’
‘Who decided that?’
‘I did. We can send for the Earl of Lenda if you’d like. He’s well versed in the law, and he can give us his opinion on the matter.’
‘But if he decides against you, you’ll ignore him, won’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s not fair, Sparhawk.’
‘I’m not trying to be fair, My Queen.’
‘Sparhawk, when we’re alone like this, do you suppose we could dispense with the “Your Majestys” and “My Queens”? I do have a name, after all, and you weren’t afraid to use it when I was a child.’
‘As you wish,’ he shrugged.
‘Say it, Sparhawk. Say Ehlana. It’s not a hard name, and I’m sure you won’t choke on it.’
He smiled. ‘All right, Ehlana,’ he gave up. After her defeat on the issue of the sword, she needed a victory of some kind to restore her dignity.
‘You’re so much more handsome when you smile, my champion. You should try it more often.’ She leaned back on her pillows, her face thoughtful. Her pale blonde hair had been carefully combed that morning, and she wore a few modest but quite expensive pieces of jewellery. Her cheeks were prettily rosy, which was in quite some contrast to her very fair skin. ‘What did you do in Rendor after the idiot Aldreas sent you into exile?’
‘That’s hardly the proper way to speak of your father, Ehlana.’
‘He wasn’t much of a father, Sparhawk, and his intellect wasn’t exactly what you’d call towering. The efforts he expended entertaining his sister must have softened his brains.’
‘Ehlana!’
‘Don’t be such a prude, Sparhawk. The whole palace knew about it – the whole city, probably.’
Sparhawk decided that it was time to find a husband for his queen. ‘How did you find out so much about Princess Arissa?’ he asked her. ‘She was sent to that cloister near Demos before you were born.’
‘Gossip lingers, Sparhawk, and Arissa was hardly what you’d call discreet.’
Sparhawk cast about for a way to change the subject. Although Ehlana seemed to be aware of the basic implications of what she was saying, he could not bring himself to give credence to the notion that she could be so worldly. Some part of his mind stubbornly clung to the notion that beneath her evident maturity, she was still the same innocent child he had left ten years before. ‘Hold out your left hand,’ he told her. ‘I have something for you.’ The tone of their relationship was still indistinct. They both felt that keenly, and it made them uncomfortable. Sparhawk swung back and forth between a stiffly correct formality and an abrupt, almost military manner of command. Ehlana seemed to fluctuate, at one moment the coltish, knobblykneed girl he had trained and moulded, and in the next a full-fledged queen. At a somewhat deeper level, they were both extremely aware of the changes a short decade had brought to Ehlana. The process known as ‘filling out’ had done some very significant things to the Queen of Elenia. Since Sparhawk had not been present to grow gradually accustomed to them, they were thrust upon his awareness in full flower. He tried as best he could to avoid looking at her without giving offence. For her part, Ehlana seemed quite self-conscious about her recently-acquired attributes. She seemed to waver between a desire to show them off – even to flaunt them – and an embarrassed wish to conceal them behind anything that lay at hand. It was a difficult time for them both.
At this point something should be clarified in Sparhawk’s defence. Ehlana’s almost overpowering femininity, coupled with her queenly manner and disconcerting candour had distracted him, and the rings looked so much alike that he should be forgiven for taking his own off by mistake. He slipped it on her finger without giving any thought to the implications.
Despite the similarity of the two rings, there were a few minuscule differences, and women are notoriously adept at recognizing such tiny variations. Ehlana gave the ruby ring he had just placed on her finger what appeared to be no more than a cursory glance, then with a squeal of delight, she threw her arms about his neck, nearly pulling him off-balance in the process, and glued her lips to his.
It is unfortunate, perhaps, that Vanion and the Earl of Lenda chose that moment to enter the room. The old earl coughed politely, and Sparhawk, flushing to the roots of his hair, gently but firmly disengaged the queen’s arms from about his neck.
The Earl of Lenda was smiling knowingly, and one of Vanion’s eyebrows was curiously raised. ‘Sorry to interrupt, My Queen,’ Lenda said diplomatically, ‘but since your recovery appears to be progressing so well, Lord Vanion and I thought it might be a suitable time to bring you up to date on certain matters of state.’
‘Of course, Lenda,’ she replied, brushing aside the implied question of just exactly what she and Sparhawk had been doing when the pair had entered the room.
‘There are some friends outside, Your Majesty,’ Vanion said. ‘They will be able to brief you on some events in greater detail than the earl and I would be able to.’
‘Then show them in, by all means.’
Sparhawk stepped to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of water; his mouth was very dry for some reason.
Vanion went outside for a moment and returned with Sparhawk’s friends. ‘I believe you know Sephrenia, Kurik and Sir Kalten, Your Majesty,’ he said. He then introduced the others, judiciously omitting references to Talen’s professional activities.
‘I’m so pleased to meet you all,’ Ehlana said graciously. ‘Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make. Sir Sparhawk here has just proposed marriage to me. Wasn’t that nice of him?’
Sparhawk had the glass to his lips at that point, and he went into an extended fit of choking.