Chapter 23 #3
“Ye haven’t ruined anythin’. Ye stood yer ground. Even in Beinn Ork, we respect those who defend what’s theirs.” Khaeric’s hand squeezed her knee.
Aeryn sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “I lost my temper.”
His deep laugh vibrated against her cheek.
“Aye, that ye did. Perhaps we prepared the wrong warrior for this battle.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked down at her.
“All those hours spent teachin’ me elven courtesies, when we should’ve been teachin’ ye to hold that fierce tongue of yers. ”
Aeryn laughed. “Perhaps you’re right. I should have practiced my courtly restraint rather than lecturing you on proper bowing techniques.
” She leaned more fully against him, drawing comfort from his solid presence.
The weight of what she’d done settled over her.
Her mother would have been horrified. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret her words.
“They were never going to welcome you,” she said, tracing the embroidery on his sleeve with her fingertip. “No matter how perfectly you followed their protocols or how eloquently you spoke. They had already decided.”
Khaeric nodded. “I ken that before we arrived. Their contempt disnae surprise me.” He looked around the room, taking in the delicate furniture designed for bodies much smaller than his own. “But ye,” he said, turning his attention back to her, “ye surprised me.”
Aeryn tilted her head back. “How did I surprise you?”
Khaeric’s fingers traced the line of her jaw. “By threatenin’ to remove yerself from ye mother’s lineage.” His hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I expected many things today, but not that ye would declare yerself willin’ to be cut from yer own ancestral records.”
“I meant it,” she said. “If they won’t acknowledge you and our child, then I want no part of their records either.”
“I ken. That’s why it surprised me. Ye’d forfeit that heritage for us?” Khaeric’s voice held a note of wonder.
Aeryn stared at the patterns of colored light on the floor, considering his words.
Her mother’s lineage, the Silver Bough, had always been a complicated inheritance.
A source of pride, yes, but also a burden.
“I am your mate. I am this child’s mother.
” Her hand drifted to her rounded belly.
“Those truths matter more to me than whether my name appears in some dusty elven record.”
A knock interrupted them. The door opened to reveal a young elven servant carrying a silver tray of refreshments. The servant paused, clearly surprised to find them sitting on the floor. “Refreshments, your Highness,” he said.
“Thank you.” Aeryn gestured toward a small table by the window. “You may set it there.”
The servant placed the tray on the table. The silver tray held an assortment of delicate pastries, a crystal decanter of pale golden wine, and two impossibly thin glass goblets that looked as if they might shatter in Khaeric’s hands.
The hours crawled by. Aeryn found herself pacing again, wearing a path in the ornate carpet. Khaeric remained by the window, watching the play of light shift across the floor as the sun moved.
The shadows lengthened, the colored light from the windows fading from brilliant gold to muted amber. Aeryn’s feet ached from pacing, and her throat had gone dry despite the refreshments the servant had brought. She’d nibbled at one of the pastries earlier.
Her mind would not settle. Each time Aeryn tried to focus on something—the pattern of light through the windows, the taste of mint tea gone cold, the intricate carvings on the furniture—her thoughts scattered like startled birds.
Remove my name from the records.
The words circled back again and again. Had she truly said that? In front of the entire Council? In front of her aunt?
Khaeric shifted by the window, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness that must have settled there. He’d been sitting in the same position for hours, patient in a way that made Aeryn’s restlessness feel even more pronounced.
Another knock came at the door.
Aeryn’s heart leaped. Finally. She turned toward the entrance, smoothing her gown with trembling fingers.
The same young servant from before entered, his expression carefully neutral. “My lady,” he began, and something in his tone made Aeryn’s stomach sink.
“The Council has requested that I inform you they will continue their deliberations into the morrow. You are dismissed for the evening and may return to your accommodations.”
Aeryn stared at the servant, certain she’d misheard. “Tomorrow?” The word came out sharper than she’d intended. “They’ve had hours to review a straightforward legal question.”
The servant’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I convey only what I was instructed to say, my lady. The Council asks that you make yourself available should they require your presence again.”
Hours of waiting in this room, her nerves stretched taut, her mind circling endlessly through what she’d said and what she might have done differently—all of it for nothing. They weren’t even close to a decision.