'Father?'

“Father?”

Eadwyn had been trying to speak to his father alone for the past two days, but his father was almost always with the Baron. When he was not, it was usually because he had attached himself to the Duke or to Lord Brinstan.

“Eadwyn! You’re still here? Does that mean the Duke is here still?” His father’s handsome nose already seemed to be twitching in the Duke’s direction.

“His Grace is t-​t-​talking with young Sigefrith. Might I speak with you for a m-​m-​moment?”

'Have a seat.'

“If it’s a short moment,” his father sighed. “Have a seat.” He indicated a pair of chairs tucked away in a corner of the King’s empty hall.

“Father,” Eadwyn said, deciding to begin with a little flattery, “since you are the Baron’s c-​c-​closest c-​c-​confidant, I thought p-​p-​perhaps you knew what were his plans for his n-​n-​niece.”

“Ana?” His father laughed delightedly. “I suppose I do, since I helped him make them!”

“What are they?”

'What are they?'

“Why! She’s to marry Windhlith’s brother. In the summer, most likely.”

“But h-​h-​has she already been p-​p-​promised?”

“Not formally, my boy. Theobald’s a little too clever for that. Mind you, he needs the alliance, but the favor is all on our side. If something better comes along…”

“But,” Eadwyn gasped. “‘B-​b-​better’…”

“Have someone in mind?” his father asked dryly. “I wish the Prince were a little older. I’ve been telling Theobald he needs to look to the south for his alliances, but the future queen? That would be worth the risk. Mind you, I think the boy would marry her despite the difference in their ages, since he’s currently at just about the best height to appreciate her ‘charms.’ But I think his papa has something else in mind for him. Danish princesses or whatnot, since that seems to be God’s chosen vessel of divine right in the opinion of that family.” He laughed again, mockingly.

'That seems to be God's chosen vessel of divine right in the opinion of that family.'

Eadwyn felt, as always, overwhelmed by his voluble father. After that speech, he did not know how he could say what he had planned to say. But if he did not, he might spend the rest of his life regretting it.

“But, F-​f-​father, w-​w-​w… w-​w-​what…”

“What what, boy? Spit it out.”

“D-​d-​do you s-​s-​suppose h-​h-​he would change his mind? The B-​b-​baron?”

“As I said, if something better comes along! Why? Have you heard anything?”

“But… w-​w-​hat if Ana h-​h-​herself wants t-​t-​to marry s-​s-​someone else?”

'But... what if Ana herself wants to marry someone else?'

“It depends!” his father snapped, running out of patience with his stuttering. “Who? Mind you, I wish I’d known the Duke was prepared to marry again—and a woman so young! Ana would have been quite the thing for him. Of course, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have given up so quickly with your sister, either!”

Eadwyn had only a few syllables left in him, but he could not his father’s mercenary remark pass.

“He m-​m-​married H-​h-​her Grace because he loves her.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But marrying some German orphan doesn’t do anyone any good, does it? Unless it’s her crafty sister.”

Eadwyn sighed. “Father, I w-​w-​wished to s-​s-​speak to you about Ana, n-​n-​not about all of these other p-​p-​people.”

“Yes, yes, and what is it, boy? I’m still waiting.”

“I w-​w-​want to ask you: d-​d-​do you s-​s-​suppose that if Ana w-​w-​wanted to m-​m-​m… m-​m-​marry… me…

“You?” His father laughed. “When she does, you tell me, for I should like to see what color the sky is in this impossible world of yours, and whether the rain falls up or down. A beauty like that!” He laughed.

'I should like to see what color the sky is in this impossible world of yours.'

Eadwyn saw that the conversation was hopeless, but he continued on as he always did. Against his sarcastic father, against his bullying older brother, against his own disobliging tongue—against all of the stronger forces that fate had arrayed against him—Eadwyn had always fought to the last of his insufficient strength. He had learned to live with the cruelty of fate by telling himself that there was virtue in persistence, and no shame in losing so long as one fought to the end.

“The sky is b-​b-​blue, and the r-​r-​rain falls d-​d-​down,” he said softly. “I have n-​n-​not asked her, but I think she m-​m-​might have b-​b-​begun to c-​c-​care for me.”

His father gaped at him for a moment, and then laughed cruelly. “Poor boy! You’ve scarcely seen her in the last five years. You don’t even know her. I held your brother under her nose all this time and she never looked twice at him. What makes you think she would look at you?

His father sat back and looked him up and down as if trying to determine what a girl could possibly see in him.

His father looked him up and down as if trying to determine what a girl could possibly see in him.

Eadwyn had already asked himself the question a hundred times. Compared to his handsome brother, he was only swarthy and hairy and plain, bulky rather than well-​built, and the best one could say of his wit was that he no longer stuttered so much when he spoke—at least when he wasn’t speaking to his father.

Yet she did look at him, if only to look. How many times in the past weeks had he turned to her and found her already looking at him? Even when she was talking to Stein?

How many times in the past weeks had he turned to her and found her already looking at him?

“I c-​could not tell you why,” he said, “but I b-​b-​believe she does.”

“But, Eadwyn! It’s absurd! And even if she did—it is absurd for her to marry you when she could have your brother. What do you have? A sword, a few horses, and a room in the Duke’s castle?”

“I sh-​sh-​shall be a knight in the s-​s-​summer.”

“Yes, yes, a knight who doesn’t even have a house.”

'Yes, yes, a knight who doesn't even have a house.'

“It is b-​b-​being built, F-​f-​father.”

“Yes, yes, but be serious for a moment, Eadwyn. I think you know how much land she will bring to her marriage. A woman does not marry a man poorer than she. And some of her land runs against ours. If she marries anyone, it should be your brother. What a piece of land that would make! And God knows I tried!”

“I’m not t-​t-​talking about my brother. I w-​w-​want to marry her myself.”

'I want to marry her myself.'

It was the first time Eadwyn had said it aloud, even to himself, and even without his father’s accompanying scorn, the seeming audacity of it was breathtaking. It was not only audacious, it was absurd, as his father had said. A beautiful, charming, wealthy, noble girl such as Ana!

It was understandable that his father could not believe she could care for him. Eadwyn was beginning to doubt it himself. No girl had ever loved him before to provide him with a reference in such matters. Surely, he thought, he had mistaken her polite attention for attraction.

And yet he was certain that not once in the past few weeks had she willingly left his side. Always, always she had to be called away by another more insistent than he.

His father laughed.

His father laughed. “I’m pleased to see you showing a little ambition, Eadwyn, but I think you’ve gone too far with it this time. I’m certain we shall find one of your cousins for you to marry, but not that one. Theobald will never allow it, especially not after what her sister did. And I think if you were to ask the girl, you would find yourself quickly disillusioned. If I didn’t think it would cause her to feel annoyed at our entire family, I would recommend it as the quickest manner to get your mind on other matters.”

“And s-​s-​suppose she admits she d-​d-​does c-​c-​care for me?” Eadwyn asked angrily.

'And suppose she admits she does care for me?'

“Then,” his father chortled, “again, please take a look at the sky and the direction of the rain before you come and announce the good news to me!”

“P-​p-​please be serious!”

I am the one who is being serious here, Eadwyn. You are the fanciful one. Even if she’s wildly in love with you, Theobald won’t allow it. And frankly, I think I would not either. Such a wife should not go to you when your brother will not otherwise do so well. She will be going home in a few days, and the best thing for you to do is to forget her. Now, this conversation is beginning to get repetitive, and I have better things to do than talk in circles with you. Is that all?”

'Is that all?'

“That is all,” Eadwyn muttered.

“Thank you,” his father said, and he leapt eagerly from his chair as if he had been impatient for the conversation to end for some time. “Now where did you say the Duke was?”

'Now where did you say the Duke was?'