Page 3 of Romancing the Throne
CHAPTER 2
ELOWIN
Birdoswyn Abrecan Cranhawc-Hazelthorn.
The name was taller than he was.
He was nothing like I’d been expecting. I supposed I didn’t know exactly what I’d been expecting when Aldian had sent me to fetch him, but it wasn’t this. He was short and delicate looking, with brown eyes, freckles, and ludicrously long hair. He was wearing some sort of complicated doublet with far too many laces and leggings that looked gossamer thin. His soft shoes wouldn’t survive the first puddle on the walk to Everend Market.
His mother evidently thought the same.
“Is there…” she asked in a lyrically ascending note, peering around me at the children who’d escorted me to the house. “Is there acarriage?”
“No,” I said. “There is no carriage.”
The three of them stared at me.
“My apologies,” I said. “I wasn’t told one was expected. Uh, I’m Elowin, the prince’s envoy.”
“And how long is the walk to Everend Market?”
“Two days.” I looked again at the young man I’d been sentto fetch, taking into account his small stature. It would probably take two of his strides to match one of mine. “Perhaps three,” I amended.
“That’s quite a trek. Are yousurethere isn’t a carriage?” She peered past me again, as if hoping one might magically appear by virtue of her wishing hard enough, and her lips pressed together in a thin line when the rutted dirt path remained carriage-free.
“I’m quite sure,” I said. I got the impression that Birdoswyn’s mother had been expecting a lot more fanfare for the collection of the Fyreham Lathian, but the truth was, the tradition was centuries out of date. I’d been sent at the last minute after a letter had arrived for Aldian advising him that the Lathian would be attending the marriage markets and requesting that an escort be sent to collect him. I’d barely had time to pack a rucksack, let alone lay hands on a carriage. The trip here had been pleasant enough, but then I was someone who enjoyed my own company, and it was no hardship spending time outdoors. Now I wondered if the return journey might be too much for the prince’s potential future husband, who looked like a stiff breeze might carry him away. I still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.
“I don’t mind if we walk,” Birdoswyn said, stepping forward and causing his impressively long hair to fan out behind him. “It sounds like fun.”
Lucky, since it wasn’t like he had a choice. Still, I appreciated his positive outlook—although his outlook wouldn’t carry him along a forest path any more than those flimsy slippers would. “Might I enquire as to whether you own any other shoes?” I asked. “Something more…”
Sturdy. Practical. From this century.
I settled on, “Suitable for the road.”
Birdoswyn—goddess, that really was a woeful name—glanced down at himself and gave a rueful smile. “Of course. Let me go and change.”
He turned and disappeared back up the narrow staircase, and after a moment his mother remembered her manners. “Would you like to come inside while we wait?”
I accepted her offer gratefully, and she led me through the house to a small parlor. The decor was painfully old-fashioned, with woven wall hangings in muted shades of navy blue, ornate candlesticks on the mantel, and carved oak chairs. The room looked like it might have been decorated by my grandparents. Or perhaps eventheirgrandparents.
I took a seat, which creaked ominously. I pretended not to hear it and instead accepted the offer of a glass of elderflower cordial and some food while we waited. Several loud thumps and bangs floated down from upstairs, along with what sounded like a single muffled curse word, and I pretended not to hear that either.
Birdoswyn’s mother held out a plate containing crackers with what was possibly cheese balanced on them. I took a bite of one and instantly regretted it. The cheese tasted like betrayal and sadness. I managed to get it down and refused the offer of a second one.
In an effort to chase the taste away, I took a cautious sip of the cordial—and then immediately took another larger sip when the flavors burst across my tongue, surprisingly tart and refreshing and with a hint of bubbles.
“This is delicious,” I said.
Birdoswyn’s mother gave a pleased smile. “There’s a touch of Birdoswyn’s magic in that.”
“It’s lovely,” I said. I drained the rest of the glass, which was probably bad manners but I couldn’t bring myself to care, not when it felt like I was tasting the bright splashes of color that might be found in a springtime garden. I licked my lips and asked, “So your son is gifted in earth magic?”
“Yes,” his mother said, a little too firmly to be convincing. “He’sverytalented. Which I’m sure Prince Aldian already knows from the letters I’ve sent. I’m sure they’ll be an excellent match.”
She looked so hopeful that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only thing Aldian knew about her son was that he existed, so I just nodded.
The clattering stopped, and then there was the sound of footsteps treading lightly down the stairs. “That will be Birdoswyn,” his mother said, leaping to her feet.
