"And to think, I've been spurning advances like that for years." Macaria clearly enjoyed Carroway's discomfort. "Then again, you had no way of knowing you'd end up court bard. Some of those widowed noblewomen could have provided quite a comfortable home," she teased, placing exaggerated emphasis on the word "comfortable." '.
"Enough," Carroway said. He did have a reputation. Older women appreciated the presence of a handsome young man, and without family or fortune to rely upon, he had played to the vanity of prospective wealthy patronesses. He'd meant to keep it as harmless flirtation. But he had underestimated one of them. It was an old scandal. Macaria and Helki were too new to court to know the whole story, and Carroway was not inclined to bring it up.
"More to the point," Carroway said, "we've got to keep an eye out for trouble. Tris and Harrtuck have enough to worry about-we might just hear something important."
"Maybe it is just jealousy." Macaria said. "We've seen Kiara. She's beautiful, she's foreign, and she handles a sword better than most men." She spread her palms up to the sky. "What's not to hate?"
"You forgot-she has a small amount of magic in her own right," Carroway said.
"Which means that the next heir to the throne is certain to be a mage as well," Helki finished.
Carroway shrugged. "Kiara doesn't have the kind of power Tris does-it's mostly scrying and such. Her magic is very specific, and it was directly related to protecting the crown of Isencroft."
"Does it transfer to the crown of Margolan?"
"Who knows?"
"So anyone who is uncomfortable with a mage-king has a long time to wait." Helki leaned back in his chair.
"Unless they decide to do something about it," Macaria said.
Carroway met their eyes. "We need to get the Troupe together. Find Bandele, Paiva, and Tad-hge. We need their ears. Tris has his hands full with Curane and cleaning up the rest of the mess Jared left."
"How about the Goddess purists?" Helki asked. "The ones who are afraid that the Oracles and the Sisterhood are going to swoop down and take over?" Carroway grimaced. "Yet another reason to worry."
The door to the kitchen opened. Bian, the head of the kitchen staff, entered bearing a tray with a pot of hot tea, a generous length of sausage, a hearty wedge of cheese, and a bowl of fruit.
"Thank you." Macaria slapped back Helki's hand playfully as he reached for an apple. "That's very kind of you."
Bian's hands were gnarled from work and marked with the burns of stray cinders. Her face bore witness to the trials she had survived- marks from the pox, a not-quite-straight nose from a drunken husband, the lines of age and worry. But her back was straight, her eyes sparkled, and she grinned.