“Amberglas?” Crystalorn said hesitantly.
“It’s certainly possible,” Amberglas said vaguely. “Though I’d really recommend you settle it yourselves, and of course the sooner it’s taken care of the easier it’s likely to be for you to stop fretting about it. So I believe I shall leave anyway.” She turned and departed; the door closed softly behind her.
“Please, sit down,” Eltiron said. Now that he had the opportunity he’d been waiting for, he did not know how to begin. How did one tell a person one wanted to marry her? Particularly if one was already betrothed to her? His head hurt, his ribs ached, and he was beginning to think this had not been as good an idea as it had seemed.
Crystalorn sat down and looked at him for a moment. “You want to talk to me about the wedding, don’t you?”
“I—yes, I do. Since so much has happened.”
“Well?”
“I thought we could have the wedding and the coronation at the same time. That is, if—if you wanted to. Marry me, I mean.” This wasn’t coming out at all the way Eltiron had thought it would. He groped for the right words, then suddenly abandoned the effort and blurted, “I do want to marry you; I don’t care what the Sevairn nobles say. But if you don’t want to marry me, we’ll think of something so it won’t matter.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Crystalorn said, studying him. “But I think we’d better wait a month or so, until you look a little more like a king and a little less like something the dogs chewed over.”
Eltiron looked blankly at her for a moment before her words penetrated. “You really want to marry me? After the way you’ve been avoiding me, I was afraid . . .”
“So was I. I kept hearing people talk about how King Marreth ordered you to get married and picked the bride and everything, and I thought you’d want to get out of it once he was dead.”
“Not after I’d met you.”
“How could I know that? You never said anything.”
“There never seemed to be time.”
Crystalorn looked at him. “I think I’m going to have to teach you a couple of things about being a king. You don’t have to wait until there’s time for things if you don’t want to.”
Eltiron laughed; the resulting pain in his ribs made him wince. Crystalorn saw it and frowned. “Vandaris was right; you do look tired,” she said. “Maybe I’d better go.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, but I suppose Darinhal will make a fuss if you stay.”
Crystalorn grinned suddenly. “He’s not the only one. This court has more gossips than all of Navren and Gramwood put together! I can hardly wait to see what they do when they find out I’m going to be Queen of Sevairn after all. But I’d better leave anyway.”
She looked at him, then leaned forward suddenly and kissed him, warm and gentle. He caught her hand in his good one as she straightened up to leave. “You’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Of course.
If
you’re well enough.” She smiled, slipped her hand out of his, and left.
He looked after her, feeling happier than he could remember being in a long time. Briefly, he wondered whether he should have told her that Carachel was her father. If anyone had the right to know, she did. But it didn’t really matter; he would have time to think about it later. They had the rest of their lives.
Now that he thought of it, there were a few other things he ought to deal with as the King of Sevairn—the armies Carachel had gathered in Gramwood, for one. Perhaps if Sevairn offered to help Elsane regain her title as Queen of Tar-Alem, she would disband them. He would have to talk to Jermain about that. And there was Vandaris. . . . How long could he persuade her to stay this time? He might need her support if he decided to make any changes among the nobility of Sevairn. And Amberglas . . . He was still planning when he fell asleep.