Three days passed in relative comfort for Prince Adare and his squire, despite the knowledge that the Usurper and her daughter still remained in the citadel. Adare pleaded weakness lingering from his beating and injury on the training ground with gleeful delight, saving himself and Rory from having anything to do with Velasca or Valeyna for a good couple of days, during which the boys read and played, and generally just grew more comfortable in one another's company. But they couldn't avoid bidding the Usurper farewell and safe journey on the steps to the citadel on the day she left, however much they might have wanted to. So there they stood, beneath the baking hot summer sun, waiting as patiently as they could while Valeyna fussed and generally tested the patience of even her own mother before declaring herself ready to leave.
The Usurper and her daughter couldn't leave Phalion soon enough for Rory. He had tried to focus his attention on Adare, but as the day for Velasca's expected departure drew nearer, Rory found himself growing even more excited and impatient for the rebels' arrival at Phalion.
Phalion's guard were out in force, lining the square to keep back the people of the city itself, who looked on in quiet disapproval and hatred of the Usurper and her pets. Velasca herself was already seated on her horse, having taken her leave of Adare what seemed hours before. Now it was Valeyna's turn, and even she knew not to make a scene in a place where the loyal people outnumbered her mother's guards quite significantly.
She mounted the steps to stand before Adare, her eyes seething with fury still for the cut that had been laid upon her by the squire who stood at his side. "Farewell, Prince Adare," she managed, just barely managing to be civil. "I look forward to your coming to Loscar, and our marriage."
Adare smiled, somehow managing to make the expression seem totally genuine as he bowed to his hated betrothed. "It has been Phalion's honor to receive you, princess," he said, his voice carrying across the quiet square. "Allow me to present you with a small gift - a sign of my esteem for you. A memento, to remember me by until we meet again."
He glanced to Rory, who was holding the beautiful bouquet he had asked Mila to create that morning. As his eyes met those of his squire, absolute impish mischief sparkled there for a moment. The prince was up to something.
Rory gave Valeyna a half bow as he presented the bouquet in his gloved hands. As cordially polite as he was required to be in public, there was no smile on his face, no warmth of affection in his eyes for the queen's daughter. There was no secret the pair despised each other and as far as Rory was concerned, the sooner she left, the better. He inwardly scoffed at the pleasantries that were exchanged between Adare and Valeyna, secretly vowing to never let the marriage come to pass, if it killed him. "Safe journey to you, princess," Rory somehow managed, though he didn't mean it.
Valeyna, true to form, completely ignored Rory's pleasant farewell, choosing instead to make some vague attempt at building a bridge with Adare. Evidently someone had pointed out to her that she was going to have to stop trying to hurt the boy, or he'd never give her a daughter. She took the bouquet in her hands, offering a wide smile to Adare, and for a moment, her beauty was such that it could have taken his breath away. She seemed genuinely touched by such a feminine gift. "Thank you, my prince," she told him, in a voice very unlike the usual sullen aggression she normally employed, raising the bouquet to her face to inhale the scent.
Adare inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak as his lips tightened, trying not to laugh at the enthusiasm with which Valeyna had just inserted her face into a bouquet of poison ivy. "I expect to see you soon, princess," he managed finally, watching her walk down to her horse and mount up, the bouquet still in her hands. Even from here, he could see the redness beginning to make itself known on her nose and cheeks. "May the Nine guide you safely home."
It was taking all of Rory's self control not to utter an insult, gritting his teeth to keep his own mouth shut. Not even the rash that was already blooming on the princess' cheeks could make him smile. It was small retribution for everything Valeyna had put Adare through. He noticed how the princess ignored him, knowing her niceties were nothing more than an act for the sake of those watching. Adare would never marry her, would never give her a daughter - even if he wanted to, it was impossible, and if nothing else, that gave Rory a feeling of inner triumph.
"May They watch over you and your people." They were just ritual words, but from Velasca's mouth, they sounded even more false than usual. She gave the signal for her people to move off, every eye in Phalion fixed on them as soldiers, courtiers, and servants began the trek back to Loscar - a journey of at least a month with so many. Adare's last glimpse of Valeyna made him grin widely - the usurper princess was scratching feverishly at her face and hands, and still holding onto the "gift" he had given her.
When, at last, the city gates closed behind the company and the people were released to go about their business, he burst out laughing, sitting down on the steps of the citadel as tears of laughter leaked from his eyes. "A token of my esteem!" he howled, delighted with the prank. "And she fell for that!"
"You're lucky she won't realize what happened until she's too far away to do anything about it," Rory remarked, seeing the humor in it, but worried it might still come back to bite Adare in the ass somehow. He carefully pulled the gloves from his hands and handed them to a servant who had instructions to burn them. Despite his worries, he couldn't help but smile at Adare's infectious laughter, bowing to Adare in a mocking imitation of Valeyna and taking the other boy's hand. "I look forward to our marriage, my prince," he mimicked, raising the pitch of his voice to imitate Velasca.
The sight of their prince laughing like a drain now the oppression had been lifted seemed to be spreading smiles through the to and fro bustle of the city settling back into accustomed routine. Adare groaned, spluttering with yet more laughter as Rory mimicked his betrothed. "Oh gods, can you imagine what she looks like under that armor?" he declared, aghast by the very thought. Girls had never interested him much, if at all, but the prospect of having to be that interested in Valeyna was horrifying. "Like a bear mated with a fish, probably."
The Usurper and her daughter couldn't leave Phalion soon enough for Rory. He had tried to focus his attention on Adare, but as the day for Velasca's expected departure drew nearer, Rory found himself growing even more excited and impatient for the rebels' arrival at Phalion.
Phalion's guard were out in force, lining the square to keep back the people of the city itself, who looked on in quiet disapproval and hatred of the Usurper and her pets. Velasca herself was already seated on her horse, having taken her leave of Adare what seemed hours before. Now it was Valeyna's turn, and even she knew not to make a scene in a place where the loyal people outnumbered her mother's guards quite significantly.
She mounted the steps to stand before Adare, her eyes seething with fury still for the cut that had been laid upon her by the squire who stood at his side. "Farewell, Prince Adare," she managed, just barely managing to be civil. "I look forward to your coming to Loscar, and our marriage."
Adare smiled, somehow managing to make the expression seem totally genuine as he bowed to his hated betrothed. "It has been Phalion's honor to receive you, princess," he said, his voice carrying across the quiet square. "Allow me to present you with a small gift - a sign of my esteem for you. A memento, to remember me by until we meet again."
He glanced to Rory, who was holding the beautiful bouquet he had asked Mila to create that morning. As his eyes met those of his squire, absolute impish mischief sparkled there for a moment. The prince was up to something.
Rory gave Valeyna a half bow as he presented the bouquet in his gloved hands. As cordially polite as he was required to be in public, there was no smile on his face, no warmth of affection in his eyes for the queen's daughter. There was no secret the pair despised each other and as far as Rory was concerned, the sooner she left, the better. He inwardly scoffed at the pleasantries that were exchanged between Adare and Valeyna, secretly vowing to never let the marriage come to pass, if it killed him. "Safe journey to you, princess," Rory somehow managed, though he didn't mean it.
Valeyna, true to form, completely ignored Rory's pleasant farewell, choosing instead to make some vague attempt at building a bridge with Adare. Evidently someone had pointed out to her that she was going to have to stop trying to hurt the boy, or he'd never give her a daughter. She took the bouquet in her hands, offering a wide smile to Adare, and for a moment, her beauty was such that it could have taken his breath away. She seemed genuinely touched by such a feminine gift. "Thank you, my prince," she told him, in a voice very unlike the usual sullen aggression she normally employed, raising the bouquet to her face to inhale the scent.
Adare inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak as his lips tightened, trying not to laugh at the enthusiasm with which Valeyna had just inserted her face into a bouquet of poison ivy. "I expect to see you soon, princess," he managed finally, watching her walk down to her horse and mount up, the bouquet still in her hands. Even from here, he could see the redness beginning to make itself known on her nose and cheeks. "May the Nine guide you safely home."
It was taking all of Rory's self control not to utter an insult, gritting his teeth to keep his own mouth shut. Not even the rash that was already blooming on the princess' cheeks could make him smile. It was small retribution for everything Valeyna had put Adare through. He noticed how the princess ignored him, knowing her niceties were nothing more than an act for the sake of those watching. Adare would never marry her, would never give her a daughter - even if he wanted to, it was impossible, and if nothing else, that gave Rory a feeling of inner triumph.
"May They watch over you and your people." They were just ritual words, but from Velasca's mouth, they sounded even more false than usual. She gave the signal for her people to move off, every eye in Phalion fixed on them as soldiers, courtiers, and servants began the trek back to Loscar - a journey of at least a month with so many. Adare's last glimpse of Valeyna made him grin widely - the usurper princess was scratching feverishly at her face and hands, and still holding onto the "gift" he had given her.
When, at last, the city gates closed behind the company and the people were released to go about their business, he burst out laughing, sitting down on the steps of the citadel as tears of laughter leaked from his eyes. "A token of my esteem!" he howled, delighted with the prank. "And she fell for that!"
"You're lucky she won't realize what happened until she's too far away to do anything about it," Rory remarked, seeing the humor in it, but worried it might still come back to bite Adare in the ass somehow. He carefully pulled the gloves from his hands and handed them to a servant who had instructions to burn them. Despite his worries, he couldn't help but smile at Adare's infectious laughter, bowing to Adare in a mocking imitation of Valeyna and taking the other boy's hand. "I look forward to our marriage, my prince," he mimicked, raising the pitch of his voice to imitate Velasca.
The sight of their prince laughing like a drain now the oppression had been lifted seemed to be spreading smiles through the to and fro bustle of the city settling back into accustomed routine. Adare groaned, spluttering with yet more laughter as Rory mimicked his betrothed. "Oh gods, can you imagine what she looks like under that armor?" he declared, aghast by the very thought. Girls had never interested him much, if at all, but the prospect of having to be that interested in Valeyna was horrifying. "Like a bear mated with a fish, probably."