5

“Such expectations,” Maendon gave a disdainful laugh. “I would sooner choose a woman fashioned in the likeness of those painted queens.”

Shanje, Sytara, and Valere exchanged but a single glance before each gave a quiet shake of the head and continued onward, leaving him to his fancies. Maendon remained as the gods had wrought him, an incurable devotee of beauty, forever clothing the humblest sight in poetry worthy of kings and legends alike.

The outriders fell into formation as Valere approached. The three entered the carriage, save for Shanje, a guardsman drew the door shut behind them and the procession began its long ascent from the Aethoria District, following the ancient road hewn into the slopes of Savale.

Slowly Aldaene diminished beneath them. Its crowded streets and countless rooftops receded into a vast tapestry of stone and light until the great city was little more than a scattering beneath the mountains while the palace unveiled itself little by little, as though the mountain had itself willed its towering heights into the likeness of a royal seat.

“You know you cannot answer so if a woman asks what you seek in a wife,” Sytara said.

“Then why pose a question that grants me no honest answer?” Valere returned.

“You understand nothing of a woman’s heart,” Sytara countered.

“I have no longing to fathom hearts that speak in riddles,” Valere dismissed the matter with a languid wave of his hand. "Give me the woman whose words bear the very truth they utter, whose heart is spoken by her own tongue, and who leaves no soul to divine what she truly means.”

“They ask such questions when they have taken an interest in you,” Sytara explained.

“That is no burden of mine," Valere said. "I told her plainly that I have never loved her, nor shall I ever.”

Maendon and Sytara exchanged startled glances.

“Why would you tell her such a thing?” Maendon asked. “I mean... what manner of conversation led the two of you to that?”

“It was upon my seventeenth turning," Valere answered. "She asked whether I would begin courting now that I had come of age. I told her, I have no desire for one who cannot stand beside me without being overwhelmed by my title.”

“But that explains nothing of how the conversation came to that,” Sytara said.

“She told me I ought to court one of my friends then," he shrugged. "She said my friends would not see me that way.”

“But your only women friends are Sytara and Shanje,” Maendon said with a laugh.

“Enough,” Sytara fixed him with a glare. “I would never court Valere, even if I were doomed to remain unwed all my days.”

“Forgive me?” Valere spread his hands in bewilderment. “What fault is there in me? I mean, that was precisely my meaning, I said I would never love any of my friends, neither her nor you but what is so wrong with loving me?”

“Nothing is,” Sytara replied. “But practically speaking, would we not be called milk brother and sister? My mother nursed you at her breast and raised you as her own.”

“Nanna!” His face softened. “I am certain she is somewhere preparing my midday meal. Will you two join me?”

“I shall take my last meal with Mother and Father,” Maendon said, “assuming your court has seen fit to release my father.”

“And I do not think Vehase Jye would be pleased to have Mamma about,” Sytara shrugged. “So, I shall eat at home with her instead.”

Valere said nothing further and waited for the Middle Grounds to appear. When they finally did, the carriage rolled to a halt. Sytara climbed down with Maendon, waved Valere farewell, and the carriage carried on alone, ascending towards the High Grounds, where Valere's home stood within the palace and the moment the carriage entered the palace courtyard and came to a halt, the household was already in motion.

One servant opened the carriage door, another relieved him of his coat the instant his boots touched the stone, a third stepped forward with a cool cloth for his face, and Valere walked through them without ever breaking stride.

“My Prince, the bath has been drawn...”

“Where is Nanna?” Valere asked before the servant could finish.

“She awaits you in the dining hall.”

Valere turned at once and found Nanna exactly where he had expected her to be, a woman well into her fiftieth year, circling the dining table with tireless devotion, checking every dish and then checking them all over again as though a meal could still be made better if only it were loved fiercely enough. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and a smile found her face before he had even reached her.

“Valere!” she exclaimed. “I made every dish you love," she caught him by the wrist, guided him into the chair herself, and settled beside him as though he were still a boy too distracted to feed himself. "Cloister food will never taste like home," she served one dish after another, her hands never rested and her eyes shimmering with a tenderness. "You will eat your last luncheon here properly.”

“I am only going one district away,” Valere let out a helpless laugh, watching his plate disappear beneath yet another serving.

“For three years,” Nanna's voice softened. “Do you know how long three years truly are? Long enough for this table to wait for you more times than I care to count.”

Valere looked at the feast she had prepared, then at the woman who had prepared it with all the devotion of a mother who measured love in meals rather than words. “Very well,” he surrendered with a smile. “I shall eat everything you have made.”

“I shall fill your trunks with waybreads,” Nanna lifted a morsel to his lips. “Share them with your fellows, gather friends whose loyalty is worth keeping, and, Gods be gracious, find yourself a woman before the palace fills its silence with whispers that the prince has chosen to grow into manhood alone.”

“I will never share food,” Valere shook his head before taking the morsel from her hand. “Friends I will make, but I will not go seeking a woman."

“Valere, my child.” Nanna's hand came to rest upon his head. “What blessing is there in carrying a wall so faithfully that even happiness cannot cross it?” She closed her fingers around his hand. "The day you love someone; you will become a greater man than any crown could ever make you, trust me and leave one door of your heart unbarred."

“You raised me.” Valere stared at his plate. “How would you ever see a fault in me?”

“Precisely because I raised you,” she patted his head again. “Who would know your heart better than I do?”

“But...”

The rest of his words never came as footsteps echoed beyond the hall, followed by the sharp strike of spears against stone and Nanna rose at once the moment she saw who had entered. “My Prince,” she inclined her head.

“I wish to have luncheon with my brother,” Crown Prince Vehase spared her only the briefest glance.

Nanna bowed once more and departed without a word, and Valere watched her go until she disappeared beyond the hall before turning towards Vehase. “Jye, you left court for luncheon?”

Vehase settled into the seat beside him. “I thought the least I could do was grant a man his brother’s company before he departed,” he took a bite from his plate, then held the morsel out toward Valere.

Valere smiled and accepted it then midway through the bite, still chewing, he looked up at him. “Why do you not like Nanna?”

“I do not dislike her,” Vehase said. “I owe her a debt that shall endure my lifetime for raising you.”

“Then why do you not accept her?”

“Where is this conversation leading?” Vehase held another bite. "Let us eat."

“You never answer me,” Valere complained accepting it. “I do not wish to go to the cloisters still wondering why you cannot accept her.”

“Do you truly believe anything could ever make me accept the woman who took Mamma’s place?”

“But...”

“Let it be, Valere,” Vehase cut in. “I had my mother, and you have yours.”

Valere stared at him, the years had taught him that Vehase would never warm to Nanna; only now did he understand why, and why every attempt he had made to bridge that distance had cost her yet another measure of the courtesy Vehase extended for Valere’s sake.