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Chapter 5:- Greetings
The next instant she realized, feeling an utter fool, that of course Murrow had not known any of that. He had not returned to Garland despite and in peril of her affection; he had never been aware of it. She, of course, had not breathed a word to him, had indeed not even realized what her new, confusing feelings had meant until months after his departure, and only months after that had approached her mother about the possibility of arranging a match. Since her father had already begun negotiations with the Roth of Elbany, no messenger had ever been sent to the High King of Bruster.
The next instant she realized, feeling an utter fool, that of course Murrow had not known any of that. He had not returned to Garland despite and in peril of her affection; he had never been aware of it. She, of course, had not breathed a word to him, had indeed not even realized what her new, confusing feelings had meant until months after his departure, and only months after that had approached her mother about the possibility of arranging a match. Since her father had already begun negotiations with the Roth of Elbany, no messenger had ever been sent to the High King of Bruster.
Relief washed her, cooling as fresh water. Murrow had not known. He did not know. He need not know. It would be far better, for her, for Douglas, for Murrow himself perhaps, that he never know. Elsbeth took a deep, slow breath, willing calm through her limbs. He would remain merely a girl’s fancy.
“Well, Murrow,” Elsbeth heard her father saying, greeting his foster son now that the formal presentation of the new Brusterian boy was over, “you’ve grown taller still.”
His dark head inclined in an exaggerated bow, the heavy braid spilling over his shoulder. “Yes, my lord. I do hope my lord will spare me the rock you used to threaten to put on my head to slow my growth if I did not learn to duck more quickly.”
Lord Garland swung a mock blow at his former fosterling, who dodged, again with exaggerated care. “If you’re going to provide the enemy such a tempting target, you’d best learn to protect it.” He paused, his hand coming up to stroke his beard as he recalled that some court duties yet remained. “How is your father?”
“Very well, my lord. Bruster is at peace.”
“For Bruster, that is no small matter,” Lord Garland smiled. “And your brothers?”
“Also well. Thank you, my lord.”
Her father did not ask about Murrow’s sister, Elsbeth noted. Even if he had wanted to, there was no way to inquire publicly without giving insult. Everyone knew of the scandal surrounding the High King’s only daughter, whom he had married to the King of Ferrant, an unbelievable match, but whom had just months before been sent home after five years of marriage. There were no children; the princess was barren. Elsbeth shivered in sympathy for this woman she had never met, a princess like herself, married at her father’s will, and so treated by the husband chosen for her. It was bad enough that Francis of Ferrant had divorced his queen rather than retiring her quietly, but he had done so as publicly as he might, repudiating Maudlin of Bruster before his whole court. Elsbeth had heard, too, that the Brusterian princess had been sent away with only two men to guard her the long journey back to Bruster, as if the life of a barren princess were scarce worth protecting — which was, to most people’s minds, largely true — but she did not know if the report was correct.
