Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but a couple of my reviewers (thank you very much to all of you, by the way) have indicated that they think it should be continued. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up for—I had originally thought that pretty soon after Mel made her peace with Shevraeth, she'd realize she loved him. Then I thought, no, this is Mel. It won't be that easy.
Anyway, enjoy. I hope.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I beg your pardon?" he said, eyes narrowing in surprise.
I shook my head. "Never mind. It was a stupid question."
"Not at all," said the Marquis. "I thought it would be more convenient if I simply found you, instead of us exchanging a series of letters arranging a time and a place for a meeting. And…" he hesitated.
"I was honest enough," I reminded him.
He quirked a smile. "Very well. I was afraid you'd change your mind if you had time to consider."
"True enough," I admitted. "Wait—you knew what I wanted to talk to you about?"
"No," he said. "But given our relationship, I wasn't at all sure your decision to speak with me had been made with your whole heart."
I laughed, still surprised that I was able to do so in front of this man. "That's an understatement," I said. The bells rang, and I was surprised to find that it was green-change; the time had gone quickly.
"Will you come to Petitioners' Court?" said Shevraeth. "We would welcome your insights."
Before, I would have taken that as mockery; now, I realized, just how wrongly I had misinterpreted most of the things he had said to me, and I felt my face grow warm. "Um," I said. "I better not. I have—things to do." I thought of all the letters piled up on my desk, not least of which was the unanswered one from the Unknown. "Another time, perhaps." I'd made my peace with Shevraeth, but not with my past. I still thought of that room as a place resounding with mocking laughter, lined with enemies…
I shook my head. They were not enemies, I thought. They were pretending. Shevraeth had been there, and Savona, and the others. Had I but known it, their silent support might have lent me strength that day.
I jerked back to the present. Shevraeth was eyeing me curiously, but said nothing about my memories, for which I was grateful. I was not yet ready to face them. "Another time," he agreed.
I curtsied, and turned to go, but he stopped me. "Wait." I turned back. He paused, searching for the right words. "Do you wish the… change in our relationship to be known to others?"
"Well, why not?" I said. "They might as well know, I guess. I know Bran has been after me to talk to you…" I frowned, thinking. Thinking of the Merindars, in particular. "Unless… you think someone plans to exploit the rift between us?"
"The possibility had occurred to me," he said. I remembered the Marquise's letter, and wanted to know if he really had had spies intercept it. Time enough for that later, I told myself. Don't push things.
"Then maybe I should pretend we're still… not friends," I said, "and see what happens." I frowned. "It seems childish, somehow. Like pretending to be someone's friend to get what you want, only different." Like Tamara, I thought, but did not say it.
If he knew what I was thinking, he didn't let on. "Perhaps," he said. "The decision is yours."
I sighed. "Well, I suppose I'd better pretend to still be mad at you," I said. "But you know I'm just pretending, right?"
He smiled. "Of course, Meliara," he said. "And you, in turn, know that I have nothing but the highest respect for you?"
I blushed. "I suppose," I muttered. "Doesn't seem like I should deserve it, but—"
Shevraeth held up a gloved hand to stop me, his eyes narrowed in amusement. "Good," he said. "Then we are in accord."
I looked carefully out the window, checking the sky and the grounds. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me with interest. "I'm checking for it to rain frogs, or something equally unlikely," I explained.
He laughed, and I grinned, glad he hadn't taken it the wrong way. "It's time for me to attend Petitioners' Court," he said, and bowed. "Please excuse me." I curtsied, and he left me alone with my thoughts—thoughts that were, for the first time in a day and a half, somewhat cheerful.
I decided, after some consideration, to tell Nee what had happened. I wished I could tell Bran, but my brother had quite possibly the biggest mouth in two kingdoms. I remembered the wide-eyed look on Nee's face on that day back in Tlanth when I told her I was more comfortable with a country between Shevraeth and me, and her polite lack of inquiry as to why. So, at the next breakfast when Elenet was not present, I gave her an abbreviated version of events.
"How wonderful," she said, her eyes warm. "I'd hoped the two of you would come to see eye-to-eye sooner or later."
"Not probable," I replied. "He's, what, two heads taller than I am?" Nee laughed. "This isn't common knowledge, though," I cautioned her. "No one is going to know."
She sipped her tea. "Why not?" she frowned.
"I've no desire to get into Lady Tamara's bad graces again," I said. I felt bad lying to Nee, but neither she nor Bran knew of the suspicions regarding the Merindars. It would be too complicated to explain, and the less she knew, the better.
"I really don't think she'd do anything, Mel," Nee said. "Not after that party."
"She wants to be queen," I replied. "She already thinks I took Savona from her. I don't want her to think I'm going after Shevraeth, too." I blushed. "That's the other reason for not telling anyone," I admitted. "I don't want them to think I'm mercenary."
"No one would think you're mercenary," Nee said. "Your honesty and forthrightness is too well known for that."
"My bluntness, you mean," I said, drinking my chocolate.
"Do you think she'll succeed?" Nee said. I knew she referred to Tamara, and I was startled. Weren't Shevraeth and Nee better friends than that?
I thought of Elenet. "No, of course not," I said. To cover my real reason for thinking so, I said, "I think Shevraeth is too honorable of a man to court the woman his best friend is reputed to love. And, I think he sees right through her." I thought Nee looked relieved.
I still had things I needed to say to Shevraeth, political as well as personal. The political I brought up the next time I met him in the archives room, telling him what Azmus had told me of the Merindars. I thought he probably knew most of it already, and I was right; his own spies had told him that the Marquise was planning something, though neither of us could figure out what. I told him what I knew anyway, though, because I wanted to be sure I had his trust, and I figured sharing information was a good way to start.
The personal issues I waited on, because our newly sprouted relationship was still delicate. I was beginning to genuinely enjoy his company, but always remembered that I had broken the silence between us for the good of Remalna. It wouldn't do to jeopardize that for personal reasons.
Finally, though, I remembered that waiting and not speaking had brought us to that uncomfortable situation in the first place. I couldn't let that happen again, either, so I planned out what I had to say as I read a memoir of one of my Calahanras ancestors. When I was finished with it, I would have an excuse to go back to the archive room.
I took the book back when I knew Shevraeth was most likely to be there, and as I pushed aside the tapestry, I saw him kneeling at the table. He looked up and smiled. I put the book back on the shelf, then hesitated, and said, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
He put aside his pile of papers and pen, watching me calmly. I swallowed and knelt at the table. "Did you know about the Marquise's letter to me? Were you watching my mail?"
"Yes, and no," Shevraeth said. "My spies were watching the Marquise's mail, which is how I knew about it."
"What did—what did you think of it?"
"It worried me," he admitted. "I knew you were not as satisfied with the war's outcome as your brother. But then I went to Tlanth, and knew I had no reason for concern."
"Because I promised you I wasn't getting involved in politics again."
"Partly," he said slowly. "But partly because I saw how hard you had worked to educate yourself."
I frowned. "What did that have to do with anything?"
"Am I correct in assuming that you undertook your education at least partly to put yourself in a better position to judge what was best for Remalna?"
"Yes, that was part of it," I said. "Though I was plain tired of being ignorant, too."
"I knew, then, that if you spent so much time trying to learn in order to serve the kingdom, you would use the same care if you did become involved in politics. I realized you would not be easily manipulated," he said. "That if you took up an army against me, it would only be because you had found a better candidate for the throne." He smiled slightly.
"I wouldn't do that," I protested. "I told you."
"And I believe you," he said calmly. "That wasn't all you had to ask me, was it?"
I shook my head. "Did you come to Tlanth because of it? You arrived on the same day as it did, you know."
"I came because your brother invited me, and my mother—strongly encouraged me to go," he said, and it was my turn to hide my amusement, remembering the imperious Princess Elestra, and Nee's words to me in Tlanth. So, there was at least one person who could overmaster the Marquis. "The timing was completely coincidental, I assure you, as it was Branaric who chose the day of our departure, not I."
"And you also came to Tlanth to prevent the public appearance of a rift between you and the Astiars—well, half of them, anyway," I said, smiling wryly.
"Yes."
I nodded. If Shevraeth thought my desire to learn was a reassuring sign of my devotion to Remalna, I'd come to think the same about his trip to Tlanth, in an odd sort of way. It had been a pleasure trip, but he'd gone out of his way to seek out a woman who was rude to him, all in order to prevent a civil war that he would have won anyway. My company, I knew, had been no pleasure.
"Why did you come to Athaneral?" His voice broke into my thoughts.
"What?"
"You asked why I went to Tlanth. Why did you change your mind and come to Athaneral?" He gave me that assessing glance.
"Well, Nee asked me to," I said, thinking. "I wanted to—no, I had a duty to—attend her and Bran's wedding."
"I see," he said thoughtfully. "And was that your only reason for coming?"
I grimaced. "No." Honesty, I reminded myself. Besides, the issue had already been dealt with. "The Marquise's letter made me realize there was a lot more going on than I knew about, and I was involved in some way, but I didn't know how, or what to do. I came to Athaneral to see for myself what was going on. And—" I hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Well, to see if you'd be a better ruler than the Marquise."
"I see," he repeated. "How are you enjoying your stay?"
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. "Well—" I thought of the political intrigue, and the polite warfare among people who never showed what they were feeling, and the intricate and unforgiving rules of etiquette. Then I thought of the library, and Nee's kindness. And the Unknown. "It's interesting," I said finally.
"In what ways?"
I hid another grimace. This wasn't something I wanted to elaborate on. "Everyone's polite and kind—well, mostly everyone," I said, thinking of Tamara, "but they all wear masks, all the time. Even you," I pointed out. "And I came here to find out
what was really going on, but sometimes I feel I've learned as much as I would had I stayed in Tlanth."
"Many of the lords and ladies have been forced to play a part since childhood if they wished to escape Galdran's suspicions and, ultimately, wrath," replied Shevraeth. "Surely Lady Nimiar told you something of this?"
"A little," I said, thinking back to the breakfasts. "And Elenet—Lady Elenet—did, too. So what you're saying is they're not used to acting like themselves yet?"
"Perhaps."
I shook my head. "I just wished I knew what they really thought."
"If it helps you any," he said, "many of them secretly rejoiced when your letter made its way to court last year. I believe the common sentiment was, among those who found a discreet way to express it, that Galdran deserved to lose."
"Why?" I said.
"Many of them lost one or both parents to the late king's fears of conspiracy."
I shuddered. "That's horrible." Knowing this, I felt, for the first time, some kinship with the polite courtiers. Had they felt as angry, and horrified, at their parents' deaths as I had at that of my mother, but been unable to show it? Had their remaining parents, if they had them, been forced to hide their rage behind polite smiles, instead of venting it by burning a library?
"Oh," I said, remembering. "There was one other thing." I hesitated, realized I didn't want to bring up Flauvic. "No, never mind. Well—yes, actually." I knew Shevraeth would be too polite to bring up any gossip he might have heard, and I wanted to know. "Why did you and Savona show up at Merindar House, that day I was talking to Flauvic? I thought you said in Tlanth, you stopped worrying that I was plotting against you."
"I realized, in Tlanth, that whatever course of action you chose would be carefully chosen and evaluated," he said. Oh. So he had still thought I was plotting against him. "And I thought that such a careful examination would have led you away from the Merindars' plans. But it was not yet apparent that the Merindars realized this. My presence, along with that of Savona, was a mute warning to them, to let them make up your own mind."
"A warning to them?" I said. "Did you mean to warn me, as well?"
"Only that I didn't believe Flauvic Merindar could be trusted," he replied.
"Well, no. Not as far as I could throw this palace," I said. Shevraeth's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Well, I think that was it," I said, turning to go. "Thank you." At the threshold, I stopped and turned back. "Oh—just so you know."
Shevraeth looked up again. "Yes?"
"I decided that you'd make a much better monarch than the Marquise. You care about Remalna, and she—she doesn't."
He blinked. "Thank you."
I nodded, and slipped through the tapestry. My insight was perfectly apparent, of course, to anyone with one eye and half of a brain, but remembering how quickly Shevraeth had changed the subject after I'd told him my true reason for coming to Athaneral, I thought he needed to know that I saw it, too.
