Palinn turned to face Tris. "It would be advisable to secure the secession before we leave for Curane's lands."
"Preferable, but we have no way to know whether the… timing… will be fortuitous," replied Tarq, attempting to be delicate.
"I understand that handling such things is part of the responsibility of those who arrange the dates," responded Rallan.
The comments hit Tris like- a dousing of cold water. A first flush of embarrassment gave way to anger. Secure the secession! They're discussing Kiara and me as if we were a pair of horses to be put out for stud, he thought
indignantly. And in a way we are. Isn't that part of it? Noble bloodlines, champion heritage-
"That's enough," Tris broke in.
"I realize this is a sensitive topic, Sire," Senne said smoothly, with a glare to silence Tarq and Rallan. "We mean no disrespect, to you or the princess. But the safety of Margolan is our concern, and a smooth succession bodes well for the kingdom. As matters stand, if you were to fall in battle-may the Lady protect you always-Jared's bastard would be the legitimate heir. Until you produce an heir of your own, we live with that peril. Capable as she may be, the future Queen cannot rule Margolan save as regent for a child."
Tris forced back his anger. Senne was right. The coming of winter provided for a short honeymoon-perhaps at most a month- before the army would have to march south or wait until spring. He had heard that healers could tamper with nature's cycles to improve the odds of conception, just as a skilled healer or hedge witch could prevent pregnancy. Such things were the most common matters for which both healers and hedge witches were consulted.
Damn! Tris thought. If there was one thing I wanted to be free of Margolan intrigue, it was a private space for Kiara and me. He knew better. A royal wedding was by definition betrothed by arrangement to Jared made the buzz of court gossip that much higher. Spending a year on the road with her beforehand and proposing without even a 'by your leave' to the Council raised even more eyebrows. Add to that talk that it was a marriage of necessity given Isencroft's poor fortunes of late and a hint of scandal about a bride-to-be who was an apt swordswoman; Tris knew he had already given the Margolan court more to talk about than in many a year. "My Liege, you're pale," Soterius said. I'm not quite ready to swoon, but it would be a good excuse to.get out of this damnable conversation, Tris thought ill-temperedly. "I would prefer to leave the details for another time," he replied.