“Lady Tryneowy Kiskaddon,” he announced in a formal tone.
Benjamin caught her sleeve before she entered the room. “Your father wishes to see you before you return to Ploemeur. Shall I wait for you?”
Trynne shook her head. “Is he in the solar?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will go there afterward. Thank you.” She nodded to him and then stepped into Genevieve’s rooms. The quarters had once belonged to the queen dowager and then to Princess Elyse, who was now the Queen Dowager of Occitania. Genevieve had adopted the customs and decorations of Ceredigion rather than favor her Atabyrion tastes for fancy headdresses and furs.
One look at Genny’s eyes told Trynne that the decision had not been favorable. Her heart sank with disappointment.
“There you are,” Genevieve said, rushing up to her and taking her hands. “Let’s neither of us pout, Trynne. We must school our feelings in the face of rejection.” The queen kept a hold on Trynne’s hands as they began to walk in a circuit around the beautiful chamber. Trynne admired the various gowns and the huge four-post bed draped with veils and gold-threaded blankets. The backboard was nearly invisible beneath all the frilled pillows. The queen’s ladies-in-waiting were arranging her gown for the evening meal and some were tidying up.
“The king said no?” Trynne asked despondently.
Genevieve’s brow wrinkled. “It wasn’t a no so much as it wasn’t a yes.”
Trynne’s shoulders fell.
“Don’t lose heart, Trynne. I haven’t. Some men need coaxing to change their minds. I reminded the council that my mother defeated an invading army at Blackpool at the age of seventeen. I also reminded them of how the Maid of Donremy was Fountain-blessed to be a battle commander. I’ve read many of her stories and have always found them interesting. But men are rather . . . sensitive in this area. Believe me, we went through all the arguments against it like a stage performer doffs and dons costumes. But the actor is still the same beneath them all. The menfolk are wary of us, Trynne. We are a great mystery to them. Drew didn’t render a verdict. He will summon the full council within six months to discuss the matter again when my parents can also be there to offer counsel, along with the other lords of the council.”
“Six months?” Trynne said, trying not to sound devastated.
Genevieve patted her arm. “Patience can be a trial, believe me, I know. But my husband is not rash. He wishes to hear all the sides before making up his mind. You can trust that I will do my part to encourage him to see reason.”
Trynne let out a sigh. “It’s not fair, Genny. Men get to decide so many things. They can make candles, butcher hogs, train to be knights, lawyers, scribes, or whatever they wish. Yet we, as ladies, can only hunt and hawk alongside them. We can shoot arrows at a clump of thatch, but not at a soldier trying to burn our home.”
“You’re right, of course,” Genevieve said. “But when men feel threatened, just as a skittish horse, they must be handled with gentleness. They will come to see our view eventually.”
Trynne smiled, then felt self-conscious and forced it down. “There could be a lot of training in six months. How do we know this Gahalatine fellow will not invade before then?”
“We don’t,” she answered. “That is why you must continue your training in secret.” She gave Trynne a knowing look.
Her heart fluttered and she blinked rapidly.
Genevieve smiled and patted her arm. “You think your morning exercise has gone unnoticed? The Espion is pretty efficient, my dear. I’ve asked about you, and so I was told, but only because I’m the queen. I admire you more than you know, Tryneowy. So does my husband. He heard your counsel and is considering it in his own way. Give him time. I do think he’ll come around.”
Trynne felt a warm tingle of pleasure at the queen’s words. “Thank you for telling me.”
Genevieve put her arm around her and squeezed. “You have friends at court, my dear. Never forget that. Now, be an obedient daughter and go see your father.”
“I will,” she answered. She hesitated a moment and then asked, “How is . . . Fallon?”
The queen raised her eyebrows in a knowing way that made Trynne’s cheeks begin to flush. She had tried to make the query sound casual and realized her blunder immediately. She should not have asked at all.
“He’s preparing for the Gauntlet of Brugia,” the queen answered with the loving care of a devoted sister. “I think he trains nearly as hard as you.”