She laughed, muffling the sound with her hand. "I am saying precisely that. I need a good man to be my prince consort. Someone who understands the kingdom, and more importantly, understands people. Who can help me lead without attempting to cast me aside like some courtly decoration."
"You need no man to rule," Davrin replied. "Anyone who thinks otherwise is a bloody fool. I still don't understand why you're choosing me."
"You know people. You have connections around the world that are worth a kingdom all on their own. You are loyal, and ambitious without being greedy or foolish. I have faith you would rule with me, not for me. People like you and trust you, and many are holding you in awe right now for daring to go against Lord Tekker, which basically equates to going directly against His Majesty. I've had my eye on you for some time, but I'd hoped to approach the matter more slowly, give us both time to decide if that would indeed work for both of us. But I am running out of time, so I am afraid the question must be put to you now, and you will not be able to take more than a few days to ponder it."
"I'll have an answer for you tomorrow. How should I send it?"
Removing her gloves, Korena removed a ring that was far too big for her finger but looked as though it would fit Davrin just fine. "If you agree to marry me, wear that to dinner tomorrow night, or sooner if you decide more quickly than that. If you decide against it, stow the ring in some other object and have it returned to me."
"I understand, my lord."
"Good. We'll talk more later once your decision is made. I bid you good day, my lord."
"My lord," Davrin replied, and rose. Retrieving his horse, he retraced his steps out of the woods, mounting when he reached the town.
He rode off in a daze, half-convinced he was dreaming or had taken a severe knock to the head. Not if his life depended on it would he have ever guessed the crown princess had been eyeing him for marriage. At best, if he'd thought about her at all, it would be that she might appoint him to a council position once she was on the throne.
But marriage? Prince Consort Davrin Dweller-by-the-Sea? No, his name would change with marriage. He'd be Prince Consort Davrin Highrow, Duke of Starfast, Earl of Broken Cliff, and Voice of the Council. And so much more besides. That was a dizzying rise in power. He pulled out the ring Korena had given him and finally looked it over.
A handsome piece, brilliant gold and set with a beautiful blue hawk's eye in an oval cut. It was a mark of the Order of the Osprey, a private circle of advisors and protectors founded by Her Highness and funded solely by her. Even her father had nothing to do with it. Membership to the order was secretive, and little was known about it outside its very close circle. So far as he knew, only nine others wore the rings, including Her Highness.
He tucked it away again, shifting his thoughts to more mundane matters as the dull journey carried on.
Sleet began to fall as the city came into view, and he hurried the horse as much as he dared. By the time he reached the inn, he was frozen and cranky. Handing off his horse to an equally miserable looking stable hand, he hastened into the building, where he gladly stripped out of his soaked outer wear and dumped it off on a woman who looked mollified by the coins he handed her for the trouble.
In the dining hall, more coins got him plenty of hot food and warm ale, along with a glass of whiskey to get the warming-up process started briskly. He drank that down in a smooth swallow, then set to work on the bread, venison, and beans set before him.
He hadn't been there long when the girl he'd hired stepped into the room, probably not the first time she'd checked to see if he was there, without sitting around forever with a bunch of packages drawing attention.
Lifting a hand to catch her eye, he beckoned her over and called for a drink. "Thank you. I hope you finished before this awful weather started."
"I did, thank you, my lord." She handed him a small package, the kind that generally came from a healer, containing a powder or bottled tincture. Inside, however, would be a key to a private room where his goods were being safely stored.
He took the package and tucked it away. "Staying here to avoid the weather or did you want to head home?"
"Best be getting home. There's lots of extra baking to be done for the frost fair, and I'll be needed."
"Let me finish my meal and secure my purchases, and I'll give you a ride home. We'll still be miserable, but we'll get there faster."
"I'd be grateful, my lord. Thank you."
He called for more ale for them both and additional food, which she seemed surprised and delighted by. A gamble on his part, but he'd rarely seen anyone who wasn't glad to have more food, especially in winter.
An hour or so later, they were on their way, his cloak big enough to bundle both of them up fairly well, which was good, because hers was decent but not great. The trip to the castle was wretched and took longer than usual, but thankfully was still faster than attempting to walk ever would have been. When they arrived, he sent her bustled off with his cloak while he hastened on to his rooms shivering to death.
Someone had been thoughtful enough to see his room was nice and toasty, the crackling fire the best sound he'd heard all day. They'd hung his dressing robe near it, and he gladly abandoned his wet, icy clothes in favor of dry ones, shrugging into the robe with a groan.
Food was set out, a small plate of pies, cheese, and fruit that would keep if he didn't eat it immediately. Sitting in his chair, he stretched out his legs to thaw his poor feet and sipped at a glass of brandy. He set the ring Korena had given him next to the tray of food, then rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he was stirred from a light doze by a rapping on his door and called for the knocker to enter. Two men bustled in carrying his packages. When they'd settled them on his trunks as directed, he beckoned them over and gave each a couple of coins. "Thank you."
"Milord," they chorused, and bowed before slipping back out of the room.
Left alone again, he worked slowly on the food and a second glass of brandy, worrying the ring the whole while.
Could he do it? For all he was used to wielding some measure of royal authority when he was abroad, it was something else entirely to think that someday he might be the one granting royal authority to speak for him.
Ballior would laugh if he was still here and tell him to do it. He was such a good, loyal friend he'd probably find reasons that Davrin should have always been the first choice, right from the start. Ballior always had possessed more faith and confidence—in himself and others—than anyone Davrin had ever met.
Thinking of Ballior brought a sharp pang. If he were still alive, Davrin would have made him Consort's Champion in a moment. They'd have been a good team, working alongside the princess—queen—and her champion.
Which of course brought his mind to Cimar. If he married Korena, he would have to forsake any feeble hope of speaking to Cimar of his feelings once and for all. But then, given their respective roles, it was not like they could have been lovers anyway. Would Cimar want to be a royal champion? It would suit him, if he did not want to return to his archives.
He'd never ached more for a real friend, someone he could speak with in confidence about this. All the overwhelming possibilities, good and bad, that would come if he agreed to marry Korena.