The Rule of Princes by Justine Elyot

The Rule of Princes by Justine Elyot

Author:Justine Elyot
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783752591
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2014-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Nine

‘No, I did not attend the Maidenhall. I have no Threnish blood.’

Taran and Tresa were on their third goblet of wine each, and Tresa was now fully apprised of Taran’s adventures in the service of the Valish Liberation fighters.

‘Sula was at the Maidenhall.’

‘Sula? Oh, her … Blondie …’ Tresa rolled her eyes.

‘She told such tales of what the girls learned there … But you did not go there.’

‘I’ve told you, haven’t I?’ Tresa poked two fingers into Taran’s chest, just below his pectoral muscles.

‘Oi, watch yourself, missy. You nearly spilled my wine.’

‘Missy? I am Tresa, Princess of Sandalin. I don’t think you should call me missy.’

‘But we’re friends, aren’t we? Or do I have to bow and say “Your Grace” every time I speak? ’Cos I will. If you insist. Your Grace.’

He bowed, or at least half of his body did, for he did not rise from the chaise on which they both reclined, Tresa’s silken-clad shoulders touching Taran’s bare, braceleted biceps.

‘Is that satisfactory? Your Grace?’ He bowed again. ‘Blood of my fathers, I’ve really spilled it now. Sorry. The chaise will be stained.’

‘Oh, no matter. And you can stop with the bowing and the “Your Grace”-ing. Tresa will be quite satisfactory, thank you.’

‘Quite satisfactory, thank you.’ He mimicked her clipped tones, then gave her his brightest and most ravishing smile. ‘You know, for a princess, you’re quite normal, aren’t you?’

Tresa laughed her throaty laugh.

‘Normal? I suppose you mean I’m not beautiful.’

‘Nooo,’ protested Taran, turning his face to a caricature of sadness.

‘It’s all right. I know it. I’m not under any illusions. Princesses are meant to be beautiful and I’m not. But it doesn’t matter, because Sandalin is rich enough and powerful enough for it not to.’

‘But you don’t think you’re ugly, do you? Because you shouldn’t. You mustn’t. You aren’t.’

‘You’re a gallant. You ought to train for knighthood.’

‘I mean it.’

‘Oh Taran, how can you mean it? Look at this mousy hair. Look at the way my features are all wrong for each other. Look at all these freckles!’

‘I like freckles. I think they add character to a face.’

‘And yet neither Leonore nor Sula are freckled,’ she said archly.

‘What of that?’

‘Those are the women you find truly attractive.’

‘But not the only women,’ he insisted. ‘Otherwise I should have to resign myself to the company of my right hand for ever more.’

‘Oh! Taran! You are shocking.’ But she was smiling at him, enchanted by his down to earth honesty.

‘What? You Sandalins aren’t prudish, I’ve heard. Do you not have a lady love who will miss you when you remove to Thren?’

Tresa’s smile dimmed and she turned away.

‘No,’ she said quietly.

‘Why not? I thought you all did.’

‘Not me.’

She met Taran’s eyes quickly before looking away again. He put down his goblet, instinctively reaching for her hands and holding them.

‘Tell me,’ he said with gentle persuasiveness.

‘I knew,’ said Tresa, ‘from the time it became usual to take a lady love, that any girl who came to me would be doing it from … a sense of duty.



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