His father's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't sleep with her, did you?"
This was beyond a joke. "Of course not, I'm not stupid," he snapped.
"How old is she?"
No apology, but then, he hadn't expected one. "Early twenties, maybe? Young anyway." He hesitated, but as annoyed as he was with his father, he needed to know. "Her power level is high."
"How high?"
"Very high. Above mine-significantly." It was hard to admit that. Lyall had always been one of the more powerful mages on the island in terms of raw birth power.
The King's eyebrows would have disappeared into his hairline, if it hadn't already receded. He stared at Lyall in disbelief, then his expression turned thoughtful. Lyall waited, hopeful, as his father stared off into the distance for a minute, one finger tapping his lips. Then he turned to him and asked, "Do you think you could bring her back here?"
Lyall nodded eagerly. "I think so. If I tell her about her magic, and … "
"No, don't tell her," his father interrupted. "Not until I have had a chance to see her."
Lyall swallowed the immediate refusal. "But if I don't tell her about her magic, how am I to explain why I want her to come here?"
"You don't need to tell her you're taking her to the island. Tell her … " his father searched around for a suitable reason, then grinned. "Tell her you're bringing her to meet your family."
"That might not go down well," Lyall warned. "She has insisted several times that she's not interested in a romantic involvement."
"So you asked her?"
He hadn't meant that to slip out. To his embarrassment, he felt his face burn. "No, I did not. But I guess she thought I might."
"Then I guess you can figure out a way to get her here."
Lyall sighed. "Yes, sir. But, sir?"
"What is it, Lyall?"
Lyall struggled to find the words. "Sir, I … I like her. Really like her. I don't want to bring her here to be … I don't know … I feel like I'm betraying her trust."
"If she is what you say she is, then she belongs here with us. If she isn't, then she is not worthy of your trust."
Lyall bit back a sigh and bowed his head in acquiescence. "Yes, sir."
He hoped Brianna saw it the same way when she arrived.
"Good. Now go and wash up, then go see your mother. She has been worried about you."
That was one order Lyall could comply with with pleasure. The bath was a welcome necessity. He dressed in clean clothes and found the package he had brought with him from the city.
He found his mother in her rose garden, a book of poetry on her lap, but she looked up and smiled when she saw him. "Lyallen, you have come home at last." She held out her hands to him.
Lyall took her hands and kissed them. "Of course I have come home, Maman. What else is there possibly in this whole world that could keep me away from you?"
His mother's eyes twinkled. "A girl, perhaps?"
Lyall grinned wryly. "Father has already spoken to you, I see."
"He was as worried about you as I was, Lyallen," his mother scolded lovingly.
"He has a funny way of showing it."
"Lyallen!"
"I'm sorry, Maman, but he ordered me to bring her here." He ignored the fact that it was what he had been hoping for. Somehow, it all seemed wrong now.
"I thought that would be what you want, if you care about her?"
"Of course it is. But he doesn't want me to tell her. She is going to think I betrayed her. And she will be right."
"If it is meant to be, she will understand," his mother soothed.
"I wish I had your confidence."
She patted his arm. "How could I not have confidence in you? You are my child. A mother always believes in her child."
"I think you may be a little biased."
Despite that, Lyall couldn't help but be cheered by her words. He thought of Brianna, and their last day on the boat. Maybe she would understand?
He bent and kissed his mother's cheek, then reached into his pocket and withdrew the small brown paper wrapped package and laid it in her lap.
"What is this, Lyallen?" she asked.
"Open it and see," he urged.
She smiled, and pulled the paper from the package as ordered, revealing a colourful book. "Lyallen! It's ‘The Burnt Buttercup'! Wherever did you find it?"
"I have my sources," Lyall said mysteriously, delighted to have brought a smile to her face.
She laughed and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his cheek.
"Read to me," she requested, putting the book in his hands.
Lyall smiled, happy to while away a few hours reading her much loved poetry to her.
All too soon, the bell rang signifying dinner time. Lyall finished off the last few verses of the romantic ballad and closed the book. His mother sighed in satisfaction, then reached for the small hand bell that was always at her side.
Lyall put his hand over hers before she could ring it. "Let me, Maman."
She fussed, as usual. "You don't need to do that, Lyallen, I have a perfectly good man to do it for me."
"And your son is perfectly capable as well," Lyall said firmly, and picked her up gently in his arms.
In truth, she weighed little more than a featherweight. He wished he could convince her to eat more, but little ever tempted her tastebuds. She always claimed that she did not get enough exercise to work up an appetite, but Lyall suspected it had more to do with distraction on her part. She was far more likely to spend her day with her head in a book than eating.
He supposed there was little else she could do, crippled as she was. Most of the normal occupations of women, sewing, mending and cooking, that she could have done from her chair, were denied her by her position as queen. He'd tried many times to tell his father she needed something to occupy her mind and her hands, but her father thought showering her in every comfort and luxury was the solution.
He carried her easily into the house and sat her in her chair next to his father. The king frowned at Lyall, but didn't comment. Lyall took his assigned seat on the opposite side of the table as the waiters served the meal.
King Balen led the dinner table conversation, talking about a new, early testing policy being implemented at the schools and a new spell that was being developed for moving large quantities of grain around. Lyall commented only when necessary, and tried to keep his usual sarcasm at bay. He was not in the mood for a lecture on proper princely behaviour tonight.
He thought he was going to escape further conversation about Brianna completely but as they were finishing desert, his father asked, "So, when will you leave for the mainland?"
"As soon as it pleases you, sir," Lyall said dutifully.
"Tomorrow morning then," his father decided.
His mother's face fell. "But he only just got home!"
"He will not be gone more than a few days, will you, Lyall?"
"No, sir, a few days should suffice."
His mother still looked upset but she didn't protest further.
After dinner, he sat with her in the parlour, alternatively reading to her and playing games of chess. She didn't raise the topic of Lyall's journey tomorrow, though she did stare at him sideways a few times. He didn't know how to talk to her about Brianna, he'd never been interested enough in a girl to have the need before. It would be easier once she had met her, then she would see why he liked her so much.
Providing he could convince Brianna to come with him.
It was only two days since Lyall had left and Brianna already missed him more than she would have imagined. She'd been almost ready to give up and go home the day she'd met him. She'd been so lonely, and the city hadn't met her expectations of excitement at all. Only stubbornness, and a fear of what the villagers would say, held her back.
Then he'd shown her places she hadn't even realised were there.
But they weren't as fun without him. She wandered the streets, picking up a meat pie at a street stall and looking disinterestedly at the bolts of fabric and rolls of lace at another. She was trying to get out of the inn on her breaks, to prove that she was fine without Lyall, but she had no idea where to go or what she wanted to do.
Somehow, her footsteps lead her back to the bookstore Lyall had taken her on that first day. She finished off the last of her pie and licked her fingers, but still she hesitated on the doorstep. The number of books inside both excited her and made her nervous. But she had money, wages from her work at the inn, and nothing else had tempted her to spend it. Maybe she could find something here?
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The bell rang as she stepped inside, and a few moments later, Petar appeared in the back doorway. "Yes, can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a book," Brianna blurted out.