Chapter Six.

Roald was waiting. He sat with his elbows resting on his wide-spread knees, his hands clasped, watching.

Lianne blinked her pretty blue eyes open and Roald smiled.

'Annie,' he said softly. 'Lianne.' She blinked and turned her head to look at him, grimacing slightly.

'Roald.'

'Hello there. How are you feeling?'

Lianne made an undistinguishable noise and pressed fingers to her temple. 'What happened? Where am I and what are you doing here?'

'Ssh, Annie.'

She wrinkled her nose. 'You don't ever call me that anymore. That's what Kally calls me. Is Kally here too?' She looked hopeful, and Roald shook his head, upset at how disorientated these healings made his sister. She looked crestfallen but said determinedly, 'I'm sixteen now; you don't have to call me such childish names any more.'

He smiled. 'Oh, but Annie, who else am I going to tease otherwise?'

'You, tease? That's Liam's job, not yours.'

Roald's smile faded and he resolutely returned to the matter at hand. 'You've had a healing, Lianne. I waited until you woke up to explain things to you.'

'Oh. So Kalasin's still in Carthak?' Roald nodded. In response, the Princess struggled to sit up and gasped as she put weight through her right arm. Roald leapt forward and supported her with his strong arms until she was comfortable.

'Careful there, little one.'

Lianne made a face at the endearment. 'What happened? You'd better tell me, Roald.'

'There was an argument between some of the serving men and a visiting merchant. A little scuffle unfortunately sent you and two of your friends down the stairs. You knocked your head and broke your collarbone.'

'And my friends?' Lianne set to pleating the crisp bed sheets.

Roald pulled a grim face. 'Somehow you managed to come the worst off, not that I'm wishing injuries on anyone. They suffered a few bumps and bruises, but nothing serious.'

'Good.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes, to the extent that Roald was contriving a plausible reason to leave. Finally Lianne cleared her throat and asked for a drink. As he poured her some cool water, she talked to him, her voice a little raspy.

'Sorry, Roald, I was thinking. It was coming back to me, you see.' He nodded his understanding, wondering how odd it must be for Lianne's short-term memory to temporarily fade after a healing.

'I think I remember now. What happened, I mean. I remembered Shinko rushed out- that's the last thing I remember after falling down the stairs. She was very kind, I think. She dropped to the floor- right there! In that dusty corridor in her pretty kimono!- and put my head on her lap.' She frowned. 'At least I think she did, I might have dreamt it. Was Shinko there, Roald?'

He blinked at her, like a rabbit frozen in place when the fox was near. His mind was utterly blank and he realised he hadn't spoken to Shinko since the accident yesterday afternoon. At his parents' request that someone be nearby when Lianne woke up and at Duke Baird's request that it be Roald that was called, Roald had spent the night on a cot in an adjoining room to Lianne's. He hadn't returned to the bed he normally spent with Shinko, and now he just hoped someone had let her know.

One thing he did know: he was going to be trouble. He glanced at the window. Well, it was still mid-morning, if he was lucky and saw Shinko now, she might forgive him- to a certain degree.

He cleared his throat. 'Yes, I believe Shinko was there, Lianne. It was Shinko that sent for me, at any rate.'

Lianne glared at him, reminding him of their older sister with a painful tightening in the chest.

'You've got your princely voice on again,' she chastised.

'What?'

Lianne picked dust off the bedcover. 'When you're not Roald, you're the Crown Prince. And when you're the Crown Prince you have this voice you put on, and you're doing it now. It's your "don't disagree with me" voice, when you don't want to deal with things.'

Roald watched his sister in surprise, too surprised to think of a suitable reply. She looked up, demanding abruptly, 'Are you talking to Shinko yet?'

'Talking to…? Lianne, she's my wife.'

'So? And don't put that voice on again, Roald.'

He frowned. 'I'm not "putting on" any voice, Lianne.'

'Well? Are you talking to her?'

'Of course I'm talking to her.'

The Princess rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest with a wince. 'As much as you talk to any of us, I bet. Roald-'

Roald stood up abruptly. 'Lianne, Shinko is my wife and I care about her- before you question that as well. I'll fetch Duke Baird: he wanted to speak to you once you woke up.'

'Roald, don't walk out! I'm trying to talk to you here, I'm trying to help-'

Roald stopped halfway to the door, and pivoted, clasping the end of her bed tightly. 'Lianne, you are sixteen. I appreciate your efforts and your interest, but you are sixteen and you are not married.'

Lianne rolled her eyes and turned away as best she could, watching from the corner of her vision as he left. Under her breath, she mumbled, 'You bore. Just because I'm sixteen doesn't mean I'm witless.'

Roald briskly left the healers wing, stopping only to alert Baird of Lianne's consciousness. Now what had made her start talking to him of his marriage? He grimaced as he remembered the way he had addressed her and then left the room; it was considerably like his Father when he was enraged.

Roald paused and peered out a window to see the sun. It was still relatively early; he might catch Shinko breaking her fast and be relieved of some of her inevitable wrath for leaving her alone all night.

Then again, he wasn't exactly in the mood for dealing with an irate Yamani just now. A night sleeping on a make-shift cot had done little to ease the general exhaustion that was beginning to seep into his body and mind and the conversation with "delicate little Annie" had not been what he was expecting, to say the least. Sometimes he forgot how his younger siblings had grown up while he was off earning his shield.

Regarding his wife, she would no doubt keep her true feelings inside, and treat him with an especially cold shoulder. He would rather she yelled at him as a Tortallan woman would be wont to do; it was so much easier to deal with. With the Yamani way of keeping everything hidden, he could never be utterly sure she felt how he thought she would feel.

No, he thought, I will visit Shinko for lunch. With that decision made, he quickly left the sun-bathed corridor for the offices. Work didn't finish itself, whatever else happened.

He had eaten in the healer's rooms that morning and was surprised to see the young, petite maid in his office as he entered. She jumped in surprise as he came in, beginning to unload the tray she had just finished loading.

'Forgive me, your Highness, please,' she said, keeping her eyes demurely down. 'I am sorry, I thought you had finished with your breakfast.'

Inside, he sighed. He couldn't understand why this young woman was always so skittish around him and he hated to think it was because of his status as royalty. He was too tired to deal with furious Princesses, but he was not too far gone to passon a little kindness.

He strode purposefully forward and placed delicate fingertips against her wrist. She nearly dropped the honey pot in her shock. Her eyes darted in fear up to his- they locked momentarily- and then she was gazing down at his hand, then blushing and looking to the floor.

'Please, don't be so scared,' Roald said softly.

'My l-lord, y-your Highness,' she stuttered, the tips of her ears flushing deliciously pink.

Roald took his hand away. 'I'm afraid I ate breakfast elsewhere today. I'm sorry, I should have sent a message to you, but it didn't cross my mind.' He walked around her, bodies very close, and seated himself at his desk. From there he smiled up at her. 'Please try not to be so afraid of me, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you at all and you won't lose your position by talking to me.'

The girl gulped and looked even more scared, her undistinguished grey-blue eyes bright and bulging. Roald stifled another sigh and tried again.

'What is your name?'

She gulped, swallowed, and- looking down again- replied softly, 'Nelle, your Highness.'

'Well, then, Nelle,' he continued amiably, 'thank you for bringing my breakfast anyway; I'm sorry that it's gone to waste.'

After a little hesitation, she quietly commented, 'It will not be wasted, your Highness.'

He smiled broadly and felt his tiredness kick in again. 'Good.' With a nod and a weary wave of his hand, he dismissed her, but as she was just leaving he remembered something.

'Oh, Nelle?'

'Yes, your Highness?'

'Could you have a message sent to my wife, please? I'd like to meet her for lunch today.'

Nelle nodded. 'Of course, your Highness.' The door clicked shut behind her and Roald was left alone, free from prying sisters, irate wives, and skittish maids. He settled down to his paperwork with the air of someone who knew where their place was.

---

Roald stared blankly at the note in his hand. He hadn't expected this, not at all. In fact, it had never crossed his mind that Shinko might not agree to meet him for lunch.

She had- apparently- "previous arrangements". He wondered if these arrangements had been in place for a long time, or if they were part of her cold shoulder performance after last night.

Well then, he would have to try something else. He didn't want her thinking that after six years he didn't care. Optimistic as always, he thought a simple explanation of why he had not returned last night would solve everything.

He scribbled a quick note and had it delivered to his parents. If they were not eating in state tonight, then he could easily arrange to have dinner privately with Shinko without the gossip tongues wagging too much.

The reply came back in the affirmative- Roald could have his private supper- and he set about with his own arrangements. It would be simple, but he hoped Shinko would appreciate the time together that she obviously wanted.

The evening gathered quicker than Roald liked and, gloriously attired in white and black, he knocked on Shinko's dressing room door. He hadn't told her about their private dinner, thinking she would then be given less chance to think of an excuse to back out of it and less time to contemplate tricksome ways to behave during the meal. Her maid opened the door and Roald smiled warmly.

'Is Shinko ready?'

Shinko looked up from her dressing table in surprise. 'Roald?'

'I've come to escort you to dinner, my dear.'

She blinked at him, her surprise- to Roald's pleasure- evident. 'Very well.' She was wearing a simple Tortallan style gown of amber satin, and she gathered the skirts in one hand as she moved around the room and located her fan with the other.

Reaching Roald, she ignored the arm he held out to her and said, 'Lead on.'

'This way,' he replied, pressing his hand to the small of her back to direct her in the opposite direction. Her eyebrows shot up, correctly guessing that they were not going to the main dining hall. He took her to the small room he'd had set up for the purpose. Like he'd requested, it was simple: a few candles, no musicians, no elaborate silverware or delicate lace tablecloth.

Shinko stopped when they entered the room and although the inevitable fan flicked up, Roald could see her eyes darting about, taking in the large wooden table, the high-backed chairs, and the two serving men standing by the only other door, ready and waiting. Roald walked past her and pulled her chair out, indicating for her to sit down. She did so, placing her fan on the table too. Roald took this as a good sign and took the seat at the head of the table, Shinko on his right hand side.

At a twitch of the Prince's fingers, the serving men brought forward the meal. Thick, warm soup was served with a pile of crusty bread and their glasses were filled with a deep red wine.

An easy sense of companionship settled; Roald didn't want to talk until the serving men had brought the main meal and left them. The soup was finished, the bowls whisked away and the lemon and thyme chicken placed before them. Roald's wine was topped up and bowls of vegetables placed between them. The Prince indicated that they would serve themselves, and the serving men left, placing the bottle of wine on the sideboard.

Shinko helped herself to the mint-and-butter potatoes, and Roald started on the carrots. He was trying to think of the best way to strike up a conversation (why was it he could deal with merchants and servants and diplomatic visitors perfectly fine but his wife always put him on edge?) when Shinko surprised him by getting there first.

'How is Lianne today?'

'Lianne-?' Roald frowned. 'Oh, she's well, I believe.'

'Why are you so surprised, Roald? You spent last night by her side; I knew you were worried for her.' Shinko placed a last spoonful of runner beans on her plate and relaxed in the chair. Roald watched as she began to eat, that serene face in place.

'And you're not cross?'

Shinko stopped and a little crease formed between her eyebrows. 'Cross?' she repeated. 'That you looked after your young sister? –No, of course I'm not. Well, it might have been nice for you to send me a message but I'm not going to create a huge fuss about something so small. Why, did you seriously think I was angry?'

Her eyes suddenly darted about the room again- this time taking on a veil of realisation. 'Oh.' Carefully she placed her knife and fork down, and folded her hands in her lap. 'You did this just because you thought I was cross?'

He cleared his throat. 'Shinko, you see-'

'Answer the question, Roald.'

He jumped at the firmness of her tone- so solid and cold- as he'd never heard it before, not in the six years he'd known her. Secretly he thought she'd picked it up off his mother.

'Yes.'

Silence fell. There was no point, Roald knew, trying to glaze over the truth and make it look pretty. So, he waited.

Finally Shinko picked up her fan. She pushed back her chair and stood, careful not to look at her husband. She began to walk towards the door.

'Shinko-'

She stopped, and turned, and filled him with another ice-filled gaze. 'Goodnight, Roald.'

'Shinko, don't you want to-'

She opened the door. 'I thought you had done this as a friendly gesture, not a way to win back my favour.'

The door shut behind her and Roald clenched his teeth tightly together. His eyes fell on the candles, the velvet curtains, the half-eaten food, the part-drunken wine.

He snatched up his wine glass and swallowed what liquor was left. The food was spoilt now and he pushed the plate away. He wasn't a man that normally indulged in a lot of alcohol but the knowledge that the decanter- nearly full- was on the sideboard just behind him was like an itch he couldn't scratch.

He shoved his chair back roughly and it scraped across the floor. His wine glass was immediately full again and, returning to the table, he placed the decanter by his right hand. Easily he settled back into his chair and sipped his drink, long legs stretched out in front of him.

Looking back now, Roald realised he had never stopped to wonder what Shinkokami really felt about his night away. He had just assumed, and that was a bad habit for a man that would one day be King.

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