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With the betrothal arranged, there was no longer any reason why Andras had to be in Briddobad. Especially as it was a betrothal in name only, and he didn’t need to woo and romance Elwyn. He had plenty of romancing to do with Donella, and she worried her family would be missing her.
They stayed long enough to see Lady Rada marry Sir Walter Davies. That was only four days after the fight with Vikker, though. Apparently Rada felt she and Walter had wasted enough time already, and he was more than happy to go along with her wishes. Donella and Elwyn were bridesmaids, and Rada confessed to them that she simply had to get married as quickly as possible. Her strict Raskolnik upbringing demanded she be married before she slept with Walter, and she wasn’t sure she could control herself much longer.
Luckily Donella didn’t seem to have any qualms of that sort. She and Andras were constantly running off to fuck, sometimes for hours at a time, in every possible way. Andras even tried wearing the ring so they could have sex as a pair of women, which was certainly novel. He wasn’t sure he liked it better than being a man, but it might be fun every once in a while for the sake of variety.
Now that he was with her, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t wanted her before. She was beautiful and funny and smart. And she was warmhearted and genuinely kind in a way that few of the noblemen or women at court ever were. Why hadn’t he ever noticed? Was it because she was younger than him and the friend of his little sister? Possibly. Perhaps it was because he’d never known she was so perverted. Which was fair enough, because, as she admitted, she hadn’t known it herself until just recently.
They set off for the west on a foggy, rainy morning, the day after the wedding, with a tent, packs full of food and wine, and a letter from Pallavi granting them safe passage if they should run into any bandits in the forest. They didn’t, though. The only incidents of note were their continued sexual experiments in camp at night, and on one memorable occasion, while still on horseback.
When they weren’t having sex, Donella revised one of her latest stories, in which he appeared as Lady Andrea Burnell, and she appeared as Sir Donald Graham. “I’ve always ended the chapter as soon as the gentleman is alone with his lady fair,” she said. “I thought I was being discreet, but it was actually because I didn’t know what to write.” She grinned and kissed him. “Now I do, and my stories are really going to benefit from the added detail.”
Two days out from Formacaster, they sent a coded message ahead, announcing to his family that they were coming. The next morning, a rider found them with a reply, written by Lauren.
Holy Earstien, Andras! Where in the Void have you been? Mother is under house arrest, and I don’t even know if I can get someone to carry this for me. We’re being watched all the time. Hurry home.
Love,
Your Sister
In minutes, they were packed up and riding fast for the city. When they got there, near nightfall, Lauren met them at the Hawk’s Nest, a tavern down the block from Andras’s house.
“The queen heard a rumor about your betrothal to Elwyn,” she said, glancing around fearfully to make sure no one was listening. “I don’t think she has any proof yet, but the minute she does, we’re all done for!”
“Not to worry,” said Donella. “Andras and I will have a word with her.”
They sent Lauren home to reassure Duchess Flora, and then they rode together straight up to Wealdan Castle, where they found the queen lounging on an enormous gold silk divan with a new young man named Lord Barnaby. It was obvious by the look on her face that Andras was the very last person she had expected to see that evening, particularly in the company of Donella. She sent Barnaby off to go get some tea, and then demanded to know where Andras had been.
“He’s been with me!” Donella cried, squeezing his arm tight. “We’ve been having a bit of an adventure together, camping in the forest and traveling around. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that was where I was going.”
The queen was stunned, but she was also clearly impressed with her daughter. “Well done, my dear girl,” she said. “I confess I wasn’t sure you had it in you. Are you two married now, by any chance?”
For a brief, horrible moment it occurred to Andras that the queen could ruin everything—utterly destroy the alliance and the fake betrothal—by insisting he do “the decent thing.”
“Oh, Mother,” Donella said, pouting, “you’re not going to be tedious about this, are you?”
“Tedious? Me? I barely know the meaning of the word. No, you’re both wise to keep your options open. Don’t bother rushing into anything; it never ends well. Enjoy yourselves for now.” She stood up, gown hanging open to expose a broad slice of cleavage, and gave them each a hug and a quick, dry-lipped kiss. “Welcome back. Oh, and Andras, let your mother know I’m very sorry about our...recent misunderstanding. She is free to leave her house anytime she wishes.”
It was dark out, and they left their horses at the stable so they could walk, hand in hand, enjoying the stars and the moonlight. It took them a bit longer to make it to the Byrne house than it should have, because they kept stopping to kiss.
“We could turn around right now and go back up to my room,” said Donella, playing with the laces of his trousers. “My mother won’t care what we do.”
“Neither will my mother,” he pointed out, “and we really should see her.”
“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “But let’s make it quick, if we can.”
They couldn’t make it nearly as quick as they would have liked. Andras’s mother was astonished to see him arm-in-arm with Donella, and it was obvious they needed to do some explaining.
“When Lauren said you were with ‘the princess’ now, I assumed she meant the other one,” the duchess said, shaking her head.
“I realize I’m not the one you expected,” said Donella, curtsying. “But if it’s any consolation, I really do love your son. And I don’t care about politics at all.”
She and Andras explained the fake betrothal with Elwyn, and how Andras had now secured an alliance between the Sigors and the Byrnes.
Duchess Flora didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. “A real marriage would be better,” she said. “But I suppose we take what we can get.”
They had a late supper of spiced mutton and cheese soup, and then Donella went off with Lauren for a few minutes. They were giggling a great deal, and Andras had a feeling his sister was going to learn far more about him than she had ever wanted to know. As he watched them leave, his mother picked up her wineglass and moved around the table to sit next to him.
“She’s a very pretty girl, Andras. Very sweet, too. I’ve always liked her, and not just because she’s Lauren’s friend.”
He sensed an implied criticism there. She thought he had been too weak, too blinded by beauty, to do what he was told for the good of the family. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Whatever for? Because you want her instead of Elwyn? Look, I love Elwyn dearly, but I can certainly understand why a sensible man would choose Donella as his partner in life. Much less drama.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, she’s a Gramiren, and it’s always a good idea to have a back-up plan, in case things go badly with our new alliance.”
“She wasn’t kidding. She really doesn’t care about politics.”
His mother patted his arm. “It’s sweet that she thinks so. And it’s sweet of you to believe her. Make sure you two stay on the queen’s good side. The time may come when we’re all glad to have that connection.”
Later, when everyone else had gone to bed, and he was alone in his room with Donella, he told her what his mother had said. “It’s very odd. It’s all plots and schemes with her.”
“No worse than my mother, who wants us to ‘keep our options open.’”
“I don’t know if they can even tell the difference between politics and romance, or where one ends and the other begins.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Donella started to slip out of her dress. “As long as you know the difference, that’s all I care about.”
They spent hours together, in every wild position and combination they could try. Afterward, exhausted and sweaty, they curled up on top of the tangled covers, watching as the rising moon cast long shadows across his old wardrobes and bookshelves.
This had been his room for almost as long as he could remember. The shield he’d carried in battle in Pinshire rested next to a football signed by his Atherton team. His old toy soldiers sat on a shelf with a bottle of real Thessalian olive oil that Geert had given him. There was the painting of “Lake Newlin by Moonlight,” which had been a present from his brother, Pedr, and a little walnut writing desk he’d inherited when his oldest sister, Morwen, had gone into a convent.
On the desk was the first draft of an exciting new courtly romance he was going to read aloud with the author starting tomorrow, assuming they could keep their hands off each other for a while.
“It’s a lovely room,” Donella said, after they had finally caught their breath.
“Thank you.” He kissed her shoulder.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she giggled, “but Lauren and I used to come in here when you weren’t around.”
“That’s outrageous!” He swatted her playfully.
“H’m...,” she shifted her hips, rubbing against him. “Keep that in mind for later. I think I like it.”
“Then it’s not really a punishment,” he chuckled. “You shouldn’t go through other people’s things. You were a much naughtier girl than I ever knew.”
She winked. “Don’t worry. I never found anything embarrassing. You don’t write a journal. I remember being terribly disappointed that you didn’t.”
“You would have read it, I bet.”
“Oh, of course I would have. I was looking for new material for the little fantasies I used to have about you.”
“What were these fantasies like?”
“Far less exciting than you’d think. I was a very proper young lady, you know.”
He bit her shoulder—not very hard, but hard enough to make her gasp and giggle. “How would you feel about being a proper young gentleman for a while?”
She thought it was an excellent idea.
In the morning, they woke to the distant sound of his mother giving directions to the servants as they cleaned the armor in one of the upper parlors.
“I swear it won’t always be like this,” he said. “Living in our old bedrooms, I mean. We won’t always have to be sneaking off when we’ve got a spare moment. Someday we’ll have a house, and we’ll be married.”
“That’s nice,” she said, stifling a yawn. “It’s something to look forward to.”
“So you’re not disappointed?”
She kissed him. “Right now I have everything a girl could ask for. Or a boy, either, for that matter.”
The End