Shut him out? How?
“Push me away, only not with your hands. Do it with your thoughts.”
I wasn’t sure it would work, but I tried to comply, closing my eyes in concentration. Then abruptly, his presence in my head was gone. I hadn’t identified the feeling of his existence there until suddenly it left an empty space. I cautiously opened my eyes to find him still standing a few feet away. He was studying my features with a thoughtful brown gaze.
“So?” I asked.
He offered a half smile. “You definitely taste like mint.” I must have looked slightly surprised for his amusement deepened. “Hoping for something more exotic?”
“No; just wouldn’t have guessed mint.”
“Be thankful you aren’t like some.”
“Why?”
“I have met people who taste like flat bread and rancid butter.”
I silently counted it a blessing I tasted of mint.
“Come, enough of work.” He led me back to the path. “I have yet to show you my favorite part of the gardens.” I trailed him along the paths that wound among the shimmery cool pools of the water garden.
When we reached the other side where the man-made streams emptied into the riverbed, he instructed me to close my eyes. Willingly, I did. He took my hand and with gentle coaching led me a ways downstream. The breeze coming off the water rustled something around us, and occasionally a feather-light wisp would brush my hair.
“Stand right here,” he instructed.
“Can I open my eyes?”
“Not yet. Wait until I tell you.” I waited, sensing that he stepped back and away. Just as I began to wonder if he was playing a trick on me, I felt him brush my mind. “Now.”
I opened my eyes and gasped. I stood in the midst of a canopy of draping fronds. Green and feathered, they danced gracefully in the breeze, skimming the water at my feet and whispering. Flickering through the curtain, sunlight flecked the ground and water in lazy patterns. Sinking to sit on the bank, I leaned my head back so that I could see the branches, gnarled and twisted high above.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.
I glanced around, but he was nowhere in sight. “Where are you?” I asked aloud.
“On my way to the palazzo. I just received a summons. Master Silas needs me. Enjoy the willows.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You are welcome,” he replied and then suddenly he withdrew. I sat in the freckled sunshine and savored the rich taste of his sending on my tongue. Someday, I would put a name to that taste.
Hadrian
ERROL, IN HIS USUAL fashion, did not wait for my arrival to jump into the fray. When I entered the palazzo and followed the servant’s directions to King Ilar’s quarters, I began picking up raised voices before I reached the correct door.
“Ah, there you are.” Errol commented as I raised my hand to knock. “Come on in, Ostin is angry enough to not notice, and I am too busy to open the door for you.”
I eased the handle open and slipped inside.
“By what right do you demand that I have my daughter trained?” Ostin shouted, angrily striding toward Errol. “Isn’t it bad enough that she isn’t a son? Isn’t it degrading enough to not produce that seventh son that we hoped and prayed for? Now you want to bring further ire from the goddess down upon us by training her. No, I tell you, no.” Towering over Errol by a foot, Ostin Ilar’s red face and livid gaze made me hesitate. This couldn’t be good for Ilar at his age. I glanced at Errol.
“Are you sure this is the right way to go about it?”
“Definitely”
“Just consider this a moment. What does the goddess demand of young women?”
“Marriage by nineteen and children.”
“What if I can insure that she shall fulfill those requirements?”
“Oh, no.” Ilar turned away. “You cannot promise me that. Training her will change her. I have met some of those women talents you have just listed. They exchanged their womanhood, their feminine ways, for the ability to use their talents. They swagger about as men, acting as though they are equals in all ways. No, my daughter shall not be one of them. They are not fit for marriage. And even if they were, what man would be willing to take such a woman to wife?” He whirled about and glared at Errol.
Impassively, Errol disagreed. “I shall train her. She shall not lose her femininity.”
Ostin waved it away. “Still what man would want a wife who can read his thoughts and converse as a man? She will be preoccupied with things that are above her station and neglect her husband’s household and their children.”
“Your wife has reared her well. Master Aleron here can testify to your daughter’s manner and actions. She is a polite, well bred young woman and I shall do nothing to change that. You found her such, didn’t you Hadrian?”
I frowned at Errol. I couldn’t see what he was up to yet, but I had a distinct feeling I was not going to like it. “Yes, your highness, Donellea Ilar is a pleasant and mannerly young woman.”
King Ilar’s dark gaze raked over me. “So, a seventh son of a Proctor finds her mannerly. What would he know? His life and status is within the talents, where titles and income mean nothing. I wish better for my daughter.”
“How much better can she attain than the Sept Son?” Errol pointed out.
“Errol,” I protested. Suddenly his plan was clear. “You are not arranging her marriage to me. Besides, I am not Sept Son yet.”
He ignored me. “If I can get the next Sept Son to agree to marry your daughter, will you allow me to train her?”
“I will not marry her.” I sent the thought with a hint of anger, but Errol’s green eyes remained on the king before him.
Ilar’s gaze, however, was for me. He was watching my features as though I were a new purchase. “What if
