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The Boyfriend III

"Sandrilene?"

"Yes, Uncle?" Sandry put down her embroidery, rose, and came to stand by the side of her guardian. He motioned her to a chair next to his own. Carefully, she arranged her skirts and sat.

"You are aware, my dear," the duke began, "that we are to receive an embassy from Namorn."

"From Namorn? Yes of course I know, Uncle." Actually, she had momentarily forgotten, but it at her uncle's mention, the information flooded back. The duke was mediating a week-long summit between Namorn and Irod. How could she have forgotten? But as her great-uncle's sometime chatelaine, it often seemed that she had to deal with a good deal more information than she could possibly process on a daily basis.

"Among the delegates whom we will host," Vedris continued, "Is one Count Eigir, the half-brother of the empress. He is of your years, Sandrilene, and gifted in magic. It would please me if you were to undertake to show to him the city."

Sandry scowled inwardly. She had been looking forward to spending more time at Winding Circle and on her own projects now that the heat of summer prevented too much business in Summersea. Her plans did not include shuttling a probably unwilling Namornese cousin around to all the sights of the city. She didn't even like her Namornese relatives. "Won't I be needed to translate?" She asked. The duke and his high-level advisors would be speaking directly to the more important diplomats from the two countries, but the minor delegates from both countries, as well as many of the lesser Emelanese nobles who would be assisting the process might not be familiar with the foreign languages.

She knew it was an odd request: usually she did everything possible to stay away from translating boring bits of conversation from one language to another. But it was certainly better than being shackled to some distant cousin for a week.

"I thought to spare you, my dear," There was a note of puzzlement in her uncle's voice. "I know you do not find enjoyment in it. There is," he said carefully, "the other matter of your Namornese. You have not kept it as well as you might have, Sandrilene." Sandry resisted the urge to glare at her uncle. This was only the third time he had mentioned it in the past week. It isn't that bad.' She thought to herself. I can still say and understand anything if I think about it.' And now she really seemed to be stuck.

"But won't Eigir be busy with the summit?"

"He will not." The duke's tone might have indicated that there were to be no more questions on the subject.

"Then," Sandry said, "Why did he come? That's the whole reason they're here, isn't it? The summit?"

"When you ask three questions in quick succession, Sandrilene," Vedris answered irately, "Your listener cannot possibly be expected to form an answer that is coherent to you."

"If," Sandry rephrased, rolling her eyes, "Eigir is not to be a part of the summit, then why did he come?"

Duke Vedris shifted slightly, a sign that he was, perhaps, discomforted by the question. In any case, he made no answer.

"Well?" Sandry demanded. "If I'm going to tow him around with me for a week, I should at least know why!"

"I," he paused. "I would like for the two of you to become acquainted, my dear."

" 'Acquainted'?" Sandry repeated.

"It shows a severe lack of wit to parrot another's words in reply to him, Sandrilene," the duke snapped.

"He's come all the way from Namorn so we can get acquainted'?"

"I do not comprehend the reason for your reluctance to accept this point, Sandrilene," her uncle chided sharply. "It is not a difficult concept in the least."

"And why do you want us to become acquainted'?"

"Will you kindly stop putting an undue emphasis on the word acquainted'!" He yelled, practically losing it. "I do not understand this obstinacy, Sandrilene," he continued, more calmly. "Why do you insist upon a reason for everything?"

But Sandry was ignoring him. "I understand," she said. "You're trying to set us up. You're trying to marry me off!" She practically shrieked the last sentence as she sprang from her chair.

"That is an entirely unfounded denunciation," she was answered firmly. "No such thing is intended."

"Maybe not trying to marry me off," Sandry admitted, "but you do want something to develop between me and thiscousin."

There was a long moment of silence. The duke's eyes moved back and forth; clearly, he was debating what to say next. "Your statement is not without accuracy," he finally allowed.

"I thought you didn't want me to have anything to do with boys," she charged.

"Northern blood is less hot," Duke Vedris explained stiffly. "I do not worry about your virtue with respects to his person."

"Andril was Namornese, too," she pointed out.

"Do not mention the name of That Young Man in my presence!" The duke ordered.

"But he was Namornese," she protested. "What's the difference?"

"Prying natures such as yours, Sandrilene, are quite distasteful to me," he observed. "When I was your age, my lord father had only to say to me: "I would that you did a thing," and I submitted myself to his will. Such obedience would be welcome in you, my dear."

"Times have changed, Uncle," Sandry said, exasperated. "And in more ways than that. You are not going to arrange a marriage for me."

"I am not doing so. Though if I were," he acknowledged, "I would expect compliance on your part. However, I only ask that you behave with courtesy and kindness to Eigir, and consider fully the possibility of nuptials with him."

"Absolutely not." Sandry was firm. "You can't possibly expect me to be able to even look at Eigir now that I know what you're intending!"

"You will do as you are bid!" Vedris's eyes lit with a dangerous fire.

"No! I'll elope with Andril first!" She proclaimed wildly, then ducked to avoid the paperweight that was hurled in her direction.

"How dare you speak his name when I have forbidden it only moments earlier?" The duke shouted at his niece, little flecks of saliva beginning to appear at the edges of his mouth. He was breathing heavily.

"See how I dare!" She screamed back. "Andril! Andril! Andril!" She danced around him, chanting the name.

"Sandrilene!" He roared. The duke stood up and strode to face his ward. He grabbed her forearms. She tried to twist out of his grip, but stopped fighting him as he began to speak. Then "Sandrilene." He said in a much calmer voice, but still in one in which anger and disappointment resided. "You have behaved in a way I did not think possible for one of your years. Instead of deporting yourself as an adult and a mage, you have acted as a rebellious child. Are you that child, Sandrilene?"

"No," she answered ashamed.

"You are cognizant of the standard to which your birth and breeding hold you, my dear," he pronounced upon her. "I trust that you will not disappoint it."

"I won't, Uncle," she promised.