“Yes,” whispered Alain, promising it, determined to make it true. He did not want to fail Lavastine, now or ever. How keenly he felt, suddenly, that need to have Tallia beside him. It was more than liking, more than advantage. It was simpler than that. Perhaps it was not altogether pure. “Tallia,” he said, trying her name out on his tongue. Wondering how he would speak to her once they were married, once they were alone in the intimacy of the bridal chamber. He flushed and looked up in time to see Lavastine smile, so quick he might not have glimpsed it.
“And sooner,” said Lavastine casually, “rather than later.” Alain’s face burned. Was the sin of lust emblazoned on his face? “It is vital you secure the succession as soon as possible.” The count turned to the servants and signed to them to open the door. Sorrow barked. Bliss whined, tail whipping against tapestried wall, as the door was opened and the servants braced themselves well back from the path that would be taken by the hounds.
Alain let the servants help him with his boots, and then he unhooked the hounds and led them down the curving staircase to the outside where they could run—under his supervision, of course.
He sat on a bench. The snow of last week had melted, though it was still cold. The cloudy sky had the look of porridge. He chafed his hands to warm them. A servant, seeing him, ran into the hall and emerged soon after with gloves. Soft rabbit fur caressed his hands as he slipped them on.
He had, in these moments when the hounds ran, a brief time to himself. Everyone kept well away and Lavastine was already about his business, business Alain would join as soon as he put the hounds into the kennel. He closed his eyes and drew a picture of Tallia in his mind’s eye, all wheat, like the harvest, frail, bending under the weight of the wind, of her mother’s ambition and her father’s ancestry, and yet always whipping back. She seemed so … unreachable. So clean. So pure and holy, she who scarcely ate a crust of dry bread when riches sat on her plate.
That night when he lay down on the bed beside his father, he closed his eyes and thought of her again. She had never been far from his thoughts all day. The idea that he might actually marry her was so incredible that he might as well dream of being a fatherless bastard child raised by commoners suddenly elevated to the rank of heir to a powerful count.
God bringeth low and lifteth up.
With this comforting thought and the vision of Tallia as close as his own cloudy breath in the chill air, he slept.