Author's Notes: Wow, this chapter was a long time coming! I'm dreadfully sorry about the wait - a whole lot has happened over the past year, what with me leaving my job and moving to the US to (finally) go to graduate school, and then having to adjust to grad school and life in a new country. I've been working on this story in fits and starts the whole time, but it's really difficult to find the time to sit down and actually write this pivotal chapter in the story! Thank you very much for your patience and continued interest. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also hope the rest will be easier to write, LOL! ~ Ara
Chapter SixteenOne would have thought that life would become quite humdrum after the end of the Elene summit, but soon after the last delegation departed for its home kingdom, it was announced that, after over two decades of saintly widowhood, the Dowager Viscountess Arda of Catalum had agreed to marry the Baron Gregor of Garacon. King Dregos' approval had been duly sought, and the Arcian monarch had already given his permission.
It was just what the court was looking for to relieve its tedium. Neither party needed to remarry; both were financially comfortable and he already had legitimate children to inherit his holdings. "He wouldn't be able to get any heirs on her if he didn't," a plump, sulky-faced countess said cattily. "She's quite a bit past her prime, you know."
"Perhaps his children need a stepmother," someone suggested.
"His children are married with children of their own," someone else pointed out. "They don't need a stepmother."
The fact that the baron was a neighbor added spice to the story. Quite a few were tempted to suggest that Gregor and Arda had been carrying on a long-standing affair, perhaps even while her husband was alive, but no one was stupid enough to actually say so and risk having such crude remarks reach the ears of the lady's betrothed — or worse, her son.
"They are marrying for love, that's all there is to it," a longtime friend of Gregor's declared. "He does not need heirs, property or status, and neither does she. There is no other reason why they would marry, and you should stop making up ridiculous explanations."
* * *
"I hope that will put an end to all the gossip," Menina remarked to Bevier when he told her about what the baron's friend had said.
They had correctly surmised that tongues would wag when the news of the betrothal first broke, and were now monitoring the talk that was going around court. The betrothed couple seemed blissfully unaware of what others were saying about them, but Bevier and Menina agreed that it would be best to keep the gossip from getting out of hand and ruining Arda's happiness.
"It had better," he agreed grimly, surveying the dance floor before him as if searching for an offending party.
"My Lord, you sound like you're about to call someone out," Menina murmured teasingly.
Her voice, pitched low so that no others would overhear, sent a very pleasant but equally unwelcome sensation down Bevier's spine. He stiffened and turned towards her, intending to tell her not to say such things, but the reprimand died on his lips when he realized that she was standing just a breath away from him.
Menina's green eyes widened as she realized the same thing and she stepped back quickly. "I'm sorry. It was a poor joke."
"No, no, it wasn't that," he assured her. "It was quite funny, actually." Bevier managed a shaky little laugh. "It's just that…nothing. Forget I said anything."
"I saw that," Aventor teased several moments later, after claiming Menina for a dance.
"Saw what, Your Highness?" she asked.
"That little exchange with Sir Bevier."
"We were talking about his mother."
"And that almost made him kiss you?" The prince arched an amused eyebrow. "He must like you very much."
Menina's face began to grow warm. "He didn't almost k-kiss me. We were just standing close to each other by accident, that's all. I moved away as soon as I realized it."
"What a pity," Aventor chuckled as they neared the small knot of courtiers assembling on the dance floor.
"With all due respect, Your Highness," she told him, a repressive note creeping into her voice, "please stop being ridiculous."
"Well, it is a pity, considering the way you feel about him. Next time, you should wait around for a moment. You'll never know what will happen next—ah!"
A gasp arose from the ballroom as the prince cried out in surprised pain and stumbled. He fell against Menina and she staggered. "Your Highness!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "What's wrong?"
"Cramp," Aventor told her, rubbing one leg with his free hand. "I suddenly got a cramp."
He was leaning on her quite heavily, and Menina struggled to support his weight and help him off the dance floor. Fortunately, it was not long before Bevier and Lepore arrived on the scene to offer their assistance.
"Is everything all right, Your Highness?" Bevier asked as the prince moved to lean on his shoulder.
"I'm fine," Aventor replied. "I'm fine," he repeated in a louder voice for the benefit of the gawkers, who had remained a cautious distance away. "I just got a cramp in my leg. It took me by surprise, that's all.
"I'm sorry," he told Menina with an apologetic smile as conversation in the ballroom resumed. "I suppose I shall have to miss this dance."
"Think nothing of it, Your Highness," she assured him, following the small group off the dance floor. "What is important is that you sit down and have someone see to you."
"Yes, but this is terribly embarrassing. I have not been doing anything overly strenuous lately, and I was so looking forward to dancing…where do you think you are going?"
Menina looked at him blankly. "I'm going to sit down."
"You can't do that!" The prince nodded towards the cluster of dancers, who were still waiting to begin. "They'll be one pair short for the dance."
"They will still be one pair short if I don't sit down, Your Highness," she pointed out. "I don't have a partner."
"By God, you're right!" Aventor agreed, a bit too quickly, and realization began to dawn upon Menina. With mounting suspicion, she watched as a thoughtful expression crossed the prince's handsome face and he turned to one of the knights supporting him. "Sir Bevier, could you take my place and partner Mistress Menina in the dance?"
Bevier stiffened (Menina could not help feeling a bit offended at that) and he groped for words. "A-are you certain you do not need me, Your Highness?"
"Yes, I am quite certain," the prince told him, waving his hand dismissively. "It's just a cramp. It has even begun to go away a bit. I can get by with just Sir Lepore's help."
"Well—"
"I could switch places with Sir Bevier, Your Highness," Lepore volunteered. If Menina did not trust Aventor to keep her revelations in the maze garden a secret, she could have sworn he had planned this with the brown-haired knight. "It is an honor to serve you, Your Highness, but if Sir Bevier would rather see to your safety than dance with his lovely ward, I would be more than happy to make the exchange."
"That is very noble of you, Sir Lepore," Aventor commended him, "I'm afraid I would prefer that Sir Bevier partner his ward. You see, disturbing rumors have reached my ears that Lord Rafale is, ah, quite enamored of Mistress Menina…"
Both Bevier and Menina gasped. "What?" she spluttered. "But he's betrothed!" he protested.
"So I am sure," the prince continued earnestly, "since we all have Mistress Menina's best interests at heart, you would understand, my Lords, why I would prefer Sir Bevier to dance with her tonight. His status as her guardian should keep the wolves at bay."
"You do have a point, Your Highness," Lepore agreed reluctantly.
"So it's settled, then," Aventor said, relinquishing his hold on Bevier's shoulder and waving him in Menina's direction. "Duty calls, Sir Bevier."
"You do not have to do this," Menina mumbled to Bevier as the prince walked off the dance floor with only minimal help from Lepore. She was trying hard not to glare at Aventor's retreating back. There had been a definite gleam of mischief in his eye as he maneuvered Bevier into being her partner, even though she had been the only one to see it.
"It is not a problem," Bevier assured her.
"Another couple can dance in our place."
"The other dancers have waited long enough to start; let's not inconvenience them further."
"I'm sure you would rather just watch."
"No," he told her firmly, taking her hand. "I would very much like to dance with you."
* * *
Menina trusted Bevier not to spread the gossip about Rafale allegedly being in love with her, but she decided to visit Galema and warn her friend about the rumor anyway, in case it leaked out through other means.
"The prince was just trying to play a trick on me," she explained with a little laugh as she toyed with the tassel of a fat cushion in Elias and Galema's sitting room.
"How strange!" the duchess remarked, absently rubbing the gentle swell of her belly. It would not be long now before she would have to withdraw from public functions at court, which was a shame because she was radiant with her pregnancy. "Why on earth would he do that?"
She shrugged, avoiding her friend's eyes and looking instead at the view of the maze garden afforded by the sitting room window. "I suppose he just likes to tease me sometimes."
"About Lord Rafale?" Galema looked disapproving. "He may be pleasant enough to look upon, Menina, but he definitely does not have the brains to match. And he's betrothed, besides. He's completely inappropriate for you."
"The prince was not teasing me about him!" Menina protested. "I know he's inappropriate. Aventor was teasing me about...nothing in particular."
Unfortunately, the duchess was no fool. "Nothing in particular?" she repeated skeptically.
"No, nothing in particular," she affirmed in a more confident voice.
"Was he teasing you about someone in particular, then?"
"I just told you that he wasn't teasing me about Rafale," Menina said.
"Someone else, then." Galema laughed. "Maybe he was maneuvering you into dancing with Sir Bevier."
Despite her best efforts, Menina felt her face grow warm. She should say something, she thought, but what? It was true, and Galema was her friend. Menina could confide in her — at least, she could not lie to her — but she was not sure whether she was ready to share something so personal, so sensitive, even with a friend.
It turned out that she did not need to say a thing. "He was!" Galema squealed. "The prince is helping you and Bevier come together, isn't he?"
"I keep telling Aventor it's improper," Menina mumbled. "Bevier is my guardian."
"Yes, he is, but it's different in your case. You're not a young girl fresh out of the schoolroom. And you know," her friend added, "you and Bevier do look very fine together." She giggled. "Oh, Elias is going to love this."
"No! Please don't tell him!" she begged, her grip tightening on the cushion she still held.
"Why not? He is Bevier's friend. He could—"
"I can't have everyone know. I've never been in this kind of situation before," Menina mumbled. "I-I need time to come to terms with it all."
"I understand." Galema gave her a sympathetic smile and pat on the hand. "I promise you, your secret is safe with me, and if you ever need someone to talk to, know that you can always come to me. I don't mean to boast, but I happen to know a thing or two about true love."
"I'm certain that you do. Thank you, Galema." Menina managed a smile of her own. "I feel a bit better now that someone else knows — although I still don't want to have the entire world know," she added hastily.
"It does help to share these burdens with a friend. We can be quite useful in moving things along." The duchess grinned impishly. "For instance, I could hold a salon sometime next week, and invite both you and Bevier, and somehow maneuver you into sitting beside each other..."
* * *
Bevier trusted Lepore not to spread gossip, but he didn't trust him that much, and so he sought out his brother knight at the Cyrinic chapterhouse in Ucera to warn him that there would be dire consequences if he decided to amuse himself by spreading the rumor about Menina and Rafale.
"I know Aventor was only joking, old man," Lepore assured him as he lounged in the governor's chair in his office. "I barely took notice of it."
"I'm glad to hear it," Bevier said, similarly leaning back in the visitor's chair situated across the desk. "I just feared that you would take him seriously. He is, after all, heir to the throne."
"He may be that, but he is also hardly more than a boy and still given to playing tricks. Don't put him on a pedestal just because he's a prince, Bevier. Menina doesn't."
"I shall try to remember that."
Suddenly, Lepore straightened in his chair and leaned forward, eyeing his friend keenly. "I cannot help but wonder, though, just whom he was making fun of last night. Was he teasing Menina...or you?"
Bevier shrugged, avoiding his friend's eyes. "Who can say, really?"
"I think he knows something we don't."
"Well, since we don't know it, I cannot possibly tell you what that might be."
A grin began to spread across Lepore's face as an idea began to dawn on him. "I think Aventor was matchmaking — not between Menina and that dolt Rafale," he clarified, "but between her and you."
Bevier stiffened in his seat. Part of him was glad to realize that the prince did not want Menina for himself, but... "That is completely inappropriate," he said, scowling repressively at his brother knight. How many times did he have to say the words before they sank in? "Menina is my ward, as you very well know."
"I doubt that Aventor cares. Perhaps he just believes that you would make a fine pair." Lepore sighed melodramatically. "As much as it pains me to admit it, old man, I think the prince is on to something there."
He shrugged again. "I do not mean to belittle the prince's ideas, but they are of no consequence. Nothing will come of his machinations because there are no feelings of that sort between Menina and myself."
"Isn't there?" Lepore chuckled and paused for effect. "I also think that the prince was matchmaking because Menina is in love with you."
Bevier shot him a startled look. "She is?"
"It's possible," he heard Lepore say over the pounding of his heart. "Aventor wouldn't try to throw you together if she wasn't. She's his friend, and for all his faults, His Highness does not seem the type to take friendship, or matters of the heart, so lightly.
"How do you like that, old man?" the brown-haired knight continued, chuckling. "Menina could have had her pick of suitors — I was certainly interested, and made no secret of it — but of all the men in Arcium, she had to go and fall in love with you."
"She cannot possibly be in love with me," Bevier said shakily, slumping in his chair and staring at his feet. "I am her guardian." The words came instinctively, a good thing considering the maelstrom of emotions that was raging inside him.
"I doubt that she cares. The question now is...what are you going to do about it?"
"I...I don't know."
Lepore raised his eyebrows. "I thought the answer would be clear: you're going to tell her that this situation cannot go on. A guardian and his ward are not supposed to fall in love."
Suddenly, Bevier was gripped by a stillness as everything fell into place, and it all felt so right, as inevitable as the incoming tide. And a wise man, someone who had been through it himself, had told him that the wisest thing to do in this situation was to just accept it and enjoy the ride.
"Yes, they are not supposed to fall in love," he agreed, straightening and looking up once again to meet his friend's eyes. "But the fact remains that they can."
* * *
"We had considered getting married at home," Arda was saying, "but decided it would be much more fun to have the wedding at court. His Majesty has graciously offered to host the celebration. My first marriage to Bevier's father, God rest his soul, had been in Catalum, and my entire family and all our friends are already here..."
Bevier smiled politely at the ladies who were hanging on to his mother's every word and glanced around the anteroom. Afternoon services had just ended and those who had attended were waiting to enter the banquet-hall for a light meal. Though they were no doubt updated on every detail of the upcoming wedding, Arda's friends wanted to hear all about them again, just in case anything had changed since the last time they discussed the wedding plans. The bride-to-be, of course, was more than happy to describe everything over and over.
"White is out of the question, of course. I thought of having my wedding gown made in rose, my favorite color, but Menina will naturally stand up with me at the ceremony and our gowns must match to some extent, so I must choose a color that goes with her hair..."
A movement at the corner of his eye caught Bevier's attention and he glimpsed Menina ducking her head slightly. She looked to be stifling a yawn, but he wasn't quite sure about that because not only was she not looking in his direction, her prayer veil obscured what he could see of her face.
Although they had once been heavy pieces of cloth that served to protect Arcian women's modesty and remind the wearer of the sacrifices that a true believer must make to become one with God, modern prayer veils were frivolous little things. Menina's veil, a gift from Bevier's mother, was an airy lacework of birds and flowers worked in black silk thread.
He thought it looked quite nice against the brilliance of her hair.
Indeed, instead of dampening it, the sober hues appropriate for worship only served to highlight Menina's vivid coloring. She was like a flame that could not be extinguished.
Bevier caught himself and looked away quickly, managing to nod and smile at an acquaintance who just happened to be passing by. He was a Knight of the Church, he reminded himself, not the villain in a badly written melodrama. As a responsible guardian, he should be having a serious talk with his ward about her misdirected feelings and looking around for a suitable husband for her instead of mooning about and feeding an unwholesome attraction to a woman he was honor-bound to protect.
If only the right path — especially the idea of marrying her off to someone, anyone — didn't turn his stomach so.
"Gregor gave the family wedding ring to his oldest son when the boy got married, which is only proper, so I won't be wearing that. We're having new rings made..."
Grateful for the concealment offered by her veil, Menina stole a glance at Bevier. Her heart gave a silly little skip when he smiled in greeting at a passerby. From the first time they met, she had always thought him handsome. Did that mean she had been in love with him for that long? And when he had kissed her...
Stop that! Menina caught herself and looked away. He was her guardian and a Knight of the Church. She, as a dutiful ward, should resist temptation and the risk of causing a scandal. That kiss was a mistake, was it not? They had mutually agreed to put it behind them for good. Leading a virtuous life and upholding the family's honor were the most important things.
If only they brought her as much joy as the sight of Bevier's smile.
Nevertheless, a tiny voice part of her couldn't help but ask, Would it be so bad...
...if we actually came together? Bevier wondered.
"We do not wish to impose on His Majesty's generosity, so we will only have a simple feast after the ceremony, mostly sweets. Gregor is fond of candied fruit, so we will have all sorts and sugared flowers, too. I think it's quite romantic, a symbol of the sweet life we will be starting together..."
* * *
"Do something!" Galema hissed as she glided past.
Menina gestured helplessly at her friend. Just what was she supposed to do? She knew she was supposed to do something; she had done nothing but by Bevier's side, stiff and silent as a board, for the past several minutes. But she had no idea what to say to him, what she was supposed to be doing. To make matters worse, Aventor was sending Menina looks that alternated between teasing and exasperated from across the room.
This was not going at all well, she thought miserably. What must he think of her?
"You had better pay her some attention, old man," Lepore murmured to Bevier from the adjoining settee. "She's starting to get restless. What must she think of you?"
"What am I supposed to say?" Bevier replied, keeping his voice similarly low. "You may recall that I have absolutely no experience in this field."
"For heaven's sake, Bevier, just make small talk. Tell her she looks beautiful today. Ask her what book she's reading. You're the smart one between the two of us — you've always known how to string a couple of words together, even around women."
"Those times were different. They weren't...important to me."
"Well, just remember that you're important to her, too. Anything you say to her will be fine."
Bevier steeled himself and turned towards Menina, intending to initiate a conversation about Church history, but found her getting to her feet. "If you will excuse me, my lords," she said, "I am feeling a bit parched. I believe I shall go seek some refreshment."
"No, divinity," Lepore offered quickly. "Pray remain seated. You need not bother yourself when your stalwart guardian and I are around. I shall fetch you a drink while Bevier, here, keeps you amused."
Menina couldn't even look at Bevier. "I appreciate the offer," she babbled, "but really, I can do it myself. The table is barely an arm's length from us. Also, I-I see an acquaintance nearby. I simply must go and say hello."
Lepore shot Bevier a disgruntled look as she hastened away. "You may wish to spend this time preparing to engage her in a scintillating conversation when she comes back — rather, if she comes back."
Menina took a deep, steadying breath, acutely conscious of the knights' eyes on her as she walked towards the refreshment table and her fictitious acquaintance. She needed to get away from Bevier for a while to gather her wits and think of something interesting to say to him. Some food or drink might also help bolster her courage.
"The wine is, of course, excellent," drawled a voice at her elbow, "although the ladies seem to be particularly fond of that new orange-and-lemon concoction the royal cooks have created."
Stifling a groan, she turned to Count Ogelor and mustered a smile. "Can I not have both?"
Ogelor laughed, a practiced, throaty chuckle that was probably supposed to sound seductive but was actually more annoying than anything else. "A very clever response, Mistress Menina, and if I may be so bold to add, so characteristic of your vibrant nature. You are such a welcome addition to the court — indeed, if I were like Master Bayhard and gifted in the literary arts, I would call you a breath of fresh air."
"Thank you, my lord. It is very kind of you to say so." Menina inclined her head towards him and turned back to the refreshments, hoping that he would realize that she was infinitely more interested in the spread than in him. Quickly, she chose a goblet of something from the array on the table and made to leave. "If you will excuse me..."
Of course, Ogelor did not. "Pray do not leave yet. It is so rare that I have the pleasure of your company, and I wish to bask in it a little while longer." He smiled. "Perhaps you would care to take a turn about the gardens with me? We could take some of this food for a picnic lunch."
Looking back, perhaps she would have been able to phrase her response more diplomatically, but Menina's nervousness about Bevier, coupled with her irritation at Ogelor's persistence, made it difficult to be polite. Instead of thanking him for the invitation and demurring graciously, she shook her head firmly. "No, my lord. What you are proposing would be most unseemly. I am unmarried, and you are wed to another woman. If we are seen together, it would cause a great deal of talk."
"Let them talk," the count answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You do not care what the rest of the world thinks, do you?"
"I do not value myself based on the opinion of the rest of the world, that is true, but such talk could affect my family. I do not want to dishonor them." She glanced unseeingly over her shoulder, at Bevier. "You must not ask such things of me, my lord, especially not when my guardian is within earshot."
Ogelor's eyes narrowed. "It would be dishonorable to be seen in my company?"
"It was not my intention to cast slurs on your character, my lord," Menina hastened to explain. "The difficulty lies in your status as a married man. You know how people like to gossip. I fear that going with you, even for just an innocent walk in the gardens, would cause talk that will hurt my family — and yours as well, of course."
By now, the urbane expression was gone from the count's face, replaced by a mocking sneer. "You may think you're too good for me, Mistress Menina, but everyone knows just what you are."
The ugly inflections in Ogelor's speech propelled Bevier to his feet. "Apologize or name your seconds, Ogelor!" he declared. An excited murmur started up throughout the chamber as he strode over to the pair.
"My Lord, this is hardly worth a challenge," the count replied smoothly. "I barely said anything to your...lovely ward."
"No, but everyone knew what you meant." Prince Aventor appeared at Bevier's side. "I hope you will consider me as one of your seconds, Sir Bevier. Mistress Menina is my friend, and I would be a poor one if I allowed her honor to be sullied."
"Especially when such allegations are completely untrue," Lepore added. "I shall be your other second, Bevier."
"I'll be a third if you need it!" Elias announced.
Ogelor sized up his challengers ― the Champion of the Cyrinic Order, backed by one of his brother knights, the Crown Prince of Arcium, and one of the best swordsmen at court ― and summoned a conciliatory smile. "Your Highness, my Lords, there really is no need to go to such lengths over a tiny misunderstanding," he said in his maddeningly oily voice. "Please accept my apologies."
Bevier had to admit that he felt a crushing disappointment at that. He had been looking forward to taking Ogelor apart, but the apology was enough to satisfy the demands of honor. There would be no duel.
"Excuse me, my Lords," Menina said as she forced her way back into the small circle. "The count may have made his apologies to you, but he has not yet apologized to me. I still demand satisfaction." Before anyone could stop her, she had drawn back a fist and driven it into the count's face.
Cries of surprise and dismay erupted as Ogelor stumbled backwards, swearing sulfurously. "By dose!" he howled, clapping a hand to his face.
"This is going to get ugly," Elias remarked as blood began to well up between the count's fingers.
"Take her away from here, Bevier," Lepore said, pushing Menina towards him. "We'll clean up."
"But―"
"She may have hurt her hand. See to it."
One glance at Menina cradling one hand with the other was enough to have Bevier hustle her away towards the family suite.
His mother was reading in the sitting room when they burst in through the door. "What on earth...?!"
"Menina hurt her hand, Mother," Bevier said, leading his ward towards the settee and sinking down on it beside her.
"She what?! Are you all right, my dear? What happened?"
"Well," Menina answered before he could say anything, "I punched Count Ogelor, and―"
"You what?!" Arda squawked. "How could you do such a thing?! This is terrible! A scandal! Gently-bred women of good families do not go around hitting people! I thought you knew better!" She flung her arms out, looking supremely distressed. "To think that I was so pleased at your progress and your high standing at court...oh, what will my friends say when they hear about this?"
"He insulted her, Mother!" Bevier interrupted the litany. "He asked to escort Menina to banquet tonight and when she refused, he made the ugliest insinuations about her."
That was enough to make his mother change her tune. "He did? Just because she said no, which she was right in doing because he is married? How childish! Noblemen should know better than to go around saying things about ladies just because they don't get what they want!" She drew Menina to her. "You poor dear! He had no right to do that to you! Oh, if I had only been there, I would have...I hope you gave that odious man what he deserved!"
"Well, I think Menina broke his nose."
"Good! That will teach him to take on one of ours; and if it does not, we'll teach him again and again until he learns." Arda patted the younger woman's shoulder briskly and released her. "I'll be back in a trice to see to your hand, my dear. Just stay seated and remain calm."
"Are you all right?" Bevier asked Menina as his mother flew into the women's bedchamber to rummage for bandages and medicines.
She looked stricken. "Did I really cause a scandal?" she asked in a small voice.
He smiled at her reassuringly. "No, you just punched the count in the face. Many, myself included, would believe that he had it coming."
"But your mother said..."
"Mother was just upset over seeing that you were hurt. She forgot all about it when she learned the whole story, did she not?"
Menina shook her head, refusing to calm down. "I didn't mean to do it. He just made me so angry that I couldn't think straight. I'm so sorry, Bevier." Her voice cracked. "The last thing I want to do is cause trouble for the family―"
"Do not worry," Bevier told her firmly, hoping to keep Menina from becoming hysterical or worse, crying. Fortunately, it seemed to work. "Many people heard and saw what happened. You were only defending yourself."
"But I didn't have to do it, not when you had already tried to defend me," she said, blinking back tears.
That was true, he almost blurted out, but fortunately he remembered that he was trying to make her feel better, not worse. "What you did was perfectly natural," he said instead. "Anyone would want to fight for himself if put in your situation. How does your hand feel?"
She grimaced and looked down at it, still clenched in a fist. "I think I broke it."
Bevier eased the fist open and flexed the fingers experimentally, gently probing the bones in her hand. "Everything seems to be in working order," he concluded. "Perhaps it is just sore ― Ogelor has a very hard head, after all." He chuckled, and before he knew what he was doing, he lifted the injured hand and kissed it.
When he looked back up into her face, he saw that she no longer looked stricken, but curious. Bevier's heart lifted when Menina's lips curved in a tiny, hopeful smile, and began to race when he moved closer and she didn't draw away.
You should wait around for a moment. You'll never know what will happen next...
Prince Aventor's words echoed in Menina's head, mingled with the pounding of her heart. Dutifully, she stayed still, as if the slightest puff of air would cause Bevier to shrink from her and disappear. She wanted him to kiss her. If he kissed her now, then surely it meant that he was in love with her, the way she was in love with him. He would not be sitting beside her, holding her hand and staring so deeply into her eyes if he wasn't, would he? When was she going to be certain?
To hell with waiting.
Bevier's heart stopped when Menina threw her arms around him, closing the gap between them, and their lips met.
For a moment, they both froze, and then they both laughed and relaxed when they finally became certain of the other's feelings.
This kiss was different from the first one at Queen Linde's birthday, and the others that had followed in Bevier's dreams. Those kisses had been angry, secretive, confused. Today, he simply felt free. Free to explore the tastes and textures of Menina's mouth with his own. Free to wind an arm around her waist and haul her close. Free to revel in the feel of her body pressing against him, her fingers weaving through his hair and pulling them even closer together.
Neither of them heard the door to the women's bedchamber open or saw Arda enter the sitting room and gape at the scene before her. If they had, perhaps they would have been embarrassed by the delighted smile that spread over the older woman's face and her hasty, discreet exit to give them more privacy.
Then again, perhaps not.
Author's Notes 2:I hope this chapter was worth the wait! ;-) Belated Happy Valentine's Day!