The lady Miril paced through one of the smaller palace gardens with unusual agitation. Her son was making a mistake. To be sure he was making it for all the right reasons: he cared deeply about the girl and didn't want to entangle her in the dangerous times that were coming. Wellakh's political situation had a history of upheaval when new kings ascended the throne and Roshaun was the youngest king to do so in centuries. As a mother, it both made her proud and broke her heart to listen to her son's plan when he returned from the moon.
He would lie to Dairine to keep her safe and free from those who would do anything to strike at him. For all intents and purposes he would be dead to her. "Are you sure you want to do this my son?" Miril asked. "Sometimes burdens are lighter when they are shared." He was sure, and it didn't help matters that his father looked at him with aloof, but obvious pride.
Miril had spent years trying to bridge the divide between her husband and son and now they were united in an act she vehemently opposed! What a pair of well meaning, narcissistic, idiots they made. They were so sure everything would go according to plan. Step one: feign death to protect a-little-more-than-a-friend's life. Step two: said friend hangs around Wellakh for a while (it would be suspicious to cut off all ties suddenly). Step three: after a fruitless search in far places proved useless, Dairine would eventually move on. Tragically ever after. Ridiculous.
How did the two possibly think they could pull it off? Miril had only briefly met Dairine, but she had sensed the deep intelligence, passion, and grace she possessed. She would be a stunning woman one day. Dairine would not be content to let others make such a decision for her even if she knew the reasons. No, her husband and son could not be allowed to get away with this ruse. But she had promised them in the speech that she would not reveal Roshaun's condition to Dairine or her family.
Miril sank onto a glittering bronze chaise near a bed of red ferns and reclined her head. Then she perked up again. What about that other girl? She hadn't met her, but Dairine and Roshaun had both talked about her at length; Roshaun with admiration and Dairine with amusement. Miril didn't quite recall her name, but there had been something about a curling iron…