Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

44

"I do wish you had given me a hint of your mind," said Eovin, without looking at Matei. They were standing in the emperor's bedchamber. The lorekeeper was sorting through the contents of a wooden box, helping Matei to choose a pin to wear in his cravat for the wedding.

Finishing with the buttons on his shirt, Matei looked at Eovin. "Why? Was it of great interest to you which woman I'd marry?"

Eovin gave Matei a serious look. "Do you think it was not?" he asked. He held a jeweled brooch up to the light.

Tugging his cravat into place, Matei studied his reflection. He could not get a handle on these frivolous things. As a boy, he'd worn them only on the most important of occasions, otherwise favoring the high-collared jackets more appropriate to children. Now, he wished he could set all this finery aside in favor of plain tunics and trousers—the casual things only worn in private in the palace. He felt like a pretender in these sumptuous clothes.

He glanced again at Eovin's profile, reflected in the looking glass. The lorekeeper had carefully schooled his expression to calm, but Matei was getting the sense that the man was angry. "If you objected to my wedding to Mhera, why did you not raise a protest when the news was announced?"

"What protest could I give?" Eovin muttered. He had a brooch in either hand now, comparing them. "You had already declared your intentions to the world to marry within a turning of the moon. There was no likely chance that you'd renege."

"Why do you object to her, Eovin? I can tell you're angry." Matei turned from the mirror, fixing the lorekeeper with a curious look. "I thought you loved Mhera. You've always treated her as kindly as a daughter, and you supported her ascent to the throne."

"Whether I care for her or not is not the question, Matei." Eovin held out the brooch in his left hand. "This one, I think; simple enough, and if she's wearing her coronation gown as you said she would, it will echo the shade of blue."

With an amused twist of his lips, Matei accepted the pin and began to work it through the neck scarf. "A clever hand with clothes. I envy you."

"And I envy your ability to jest." Eovin folded his arms.

He really did look severe. As the smile slid off his face, Matei searched his father's expression. "Will you be straight with me? I haven't the time nor the energy to play guessing games."

"She's a Starborn woman, Matei."

Matei smoothed his cravat, glancing at his reflection in the mirror to ensure he had placed the brooch properly. "If you had thought to shock me with the revelation, I'm afraid I must confess I was already aware. I grew up with her, if you'll recall."

"A Starborn woman. And you are the last in the line unbroken, descended from the Blessed Sovereigns themselves."

Dropping his hand, Matei turned back to Eovin. "What?" he asked, stunned.

Eovin would not meet his gaze. "It's not the match I would have chosen for you."

"Then I'm glad you weren't tasked with the choosing. Please tell me I am misunderstanding your meaning."

"You have a sacred duty to preserve the power in your blood. That is all I meant. For generations, our forefathers have taken pilgrimages far afield and—and hidden the truth of their purpose from their very wives to ensure the continuation of our line, and—"

"And you hid the truth from my mother, that's for certain," said Matei.

Eovin fell silent.

"You would have had me wed an Arcborn woman so as not to dilute my holy blood, is that it? The gift of the Blessed Sovereigns?"