not young.” Seregil gave up on his hair and tossed the comb aside. “There’s nothing to secure her throne but her own will. Klia
could
make a claim for it, as Idrilain’s daughter, even if she is the youngest. Hers would be a stronger claim in some minds than Princess Ariani’s, with her war skills, and certainly better than Ariani’s daughter’s.” Of all Idrilain’s children, Ariani, who shared a father with Phoria and Korathan, was the only one with children. The eldest girl, Elani, was supposed by most to be the heir apparent.
“Klia’s always been popular with the people,” he went on. “Why do you think Phoria’s kept her out of sight since their mother’s death? Phoria’s never been one to think the best of others—particularly those she sees as potential rivals. It’s a good trait in a general, but not so good between sisters. The nobility are different, Alec. Don’t ever forget that.”
“You’re a noble,” Alec teased.
“Only a very minor one, and only in the minds of Skalans. I think my people have the right idea when it comes to that. But here it comes down to heirs, and Phoria means to control that and keep it to her own father’s line.”
“Makes them sound like horse breeders,” Alec snorted, climbing under the covers.
Seregil blew out the lamp and joined him.
Alec settled his head on Seregil’s shoulder. “Still, it makes you wonder, doesn’t it, Phoria being barren and all? Why would the gods curse her?”
“A bit of bad luck for her, that’s all. And I’m sure she wouldn’t care, if she wasn’t queen.”
“Mmm. Can’t picture her as much of a mother,” Alec agreed with a yawn.
“Some are better suited than others.” Seregil idly stroked Alec’s bare shoulder, enjoying the length of warm body pressed to his. This was one of his favorite moments of the day. Comfortable and sleepy, he spoke without thinking, as images of Alec rolling around with the children came back to him. “Do you still think about it? What the oracle told you at Sarikali?”
He regretted his careless words the instant he felt Alec go tense beside him.
“Why bring that up again?”
“They aren’t always clear in their prophecies, you know. And I still think maybe you got some of it wrong.”
Seregil’s heart sank further when Alec pulled away and settled on his back. “I’m ‘the wanderer who carries his home in his heart.’ I’m ‘the bird who makes its nest on the waves.’ I will father a child of no woman. And it’s a blessing. What part of that didn’t I understand?”
“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Until you bring it up again.”
“I won’t!”
“Yes, you will. Just like you did last time we were at Watermead. Sometimes I think it bothers you more than it does me.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
He couldn’t see Alec in the dark, but the sigh that answered spoke volumes. “I am. Let it be.”
Easier said than done. Those uncontrolled feelings were threatening again, chasing away any hope of sleep. “You know, Alec, there’s no reason you couldn’t find some willing girl…”
“Don’t!”
Despite the dangerous edge in Alec’s tone, Seregil pressed on. “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t matter to me if you wanted to get a child on someone.”
There was a moment of truly ominous silence, then the bed lurched as Alec left it. He snatched the robe from the end of the bed and stormed out. A moment later the door of the library down the hall slammed decisively shut.
Seregil sat up, stunned. Nothing like this had ever happened between them. They’d had disagreements, certainly, and even come to blows a couple of times during the long winter days in that cabin, but Alec had never just walked away.
Seregil pulled on his own robe and went out into the corridor. No light showed under the guest chamber doors, but he suspected Micum and Kari had heard.
He found the library door locked against him. It would have been an easy matter