Dreamer's Pool by Juliet Marillier Page B

occasions, lavish feasts, complicated entertainments. I’m quite sure of that. Her party can ride direct to Winterfalls. We’ll have both events here, as well as the waiting period in between. Provided Cadhan doesn’t send an army of folk, we should have room for all of them. If we require additional serving people I will throw myself on Mother’s mercy.’
    Donagan gave me a familiar look. While he did not say it, I knew he was thinking, Your imagination is running away with you, Oran. ‘You’ll want your own family to be present for the hand-fasting,’ he said.
    ‘In fact, I’d be delighted if they absented themselves entirely. It would be so much easier. But yes, my parents must be there, of course; I can hardly deprive them of the opportunity to see their only son wed at last. As for the aunts and uncles, the cousins, the nephews and nieces, the court officials, the hangers-on, if they want to ride here for the event, I won’t turn them away.’
    Donagan went on looking at me, not offering anything.
    ‘What?’ I used my most princely tone, the one that sent servants scurrying. It had no effect whatever on my friend.
    ‘If I may make a suggestion,’ he said, giving me his half-smile.
    ‘You’ll do so anyway, I have no doubt.’ I heard myself sounding like a spoiled child – perhaps, when Donagan had first come to live with me, I had indeed been one – and added more mildly, ‘Please do. But remember, Flidais hasn’t grown up in a king’s court; her father is a local chieftain. She’s a woman who likes solitary walks, poetry, music, quiet conversation.’
    ‘I know that very well, Oran. You’ve spoken about nothing but the lady since we moved to Winterfalls. As that was well before midsummer, I believe I’ve been hearing her praises sung for nearly two turnings of the moon. My suggestion does not relate to Lady Flidais’s preferences, but to how you might best present this to your father.’
    ‘I’m listening.’ I studied Flidais’s picture while Donagan talked, wondering how well Bramble tolerated going on horseback.
    ‘Offer a compromise: ask for the formal betrothal to take place here, but agree that the hand-fasting should be at court.’ When I made to interrupt, he raised a hand. ‘Hear me out, please. You’re the future king of Dalriada. You must be wed at court; it’s expected, and nobody is going to listen to your protestations about Lady Flidais’s sensitive nature. I’d be surprised if your future wife weren’t expecting a ceremony befitting her new status. And who knows, if this territorial dispute dies down soon her parents may even be able to travel in time to attend. They would most certainly expect the hand-fasting to be at Cahercorcan.’
    ‘Is that it?’
    ‘You should approach this with subtlety, Oran. Don’t let your feelings overwhelm your sense of what is appropriate.’
    ‘Appropriate? You must know my mother would take charge of the whole thing, bully Flidais into agreeing with whatever she wanted, make this into a grand spectacle.’
    ‘I believe that is what most mothers do when their sons marry. And you are an only son.’
    ‘Don’t laugh at me, Donagan. This is important to me.’
    He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know. But I do believe you have a better chance of convincing your father if you approach this in a spirit of calm compromise. You might use this argument . . .’
    The following day, I sat with my father in the royal council chamber and presented my case. Not alone, sadly; my father had six councillors, and all of them were present. Over the years I had come to view these advisers as more hindrance than help. Decisions were made far more quickly and easily in their absence. Here at Cahercorcan, the trappings of nobility sometimes strangled one’s capacity for rational thought.
    ‘Father, I hope you will consider that Lady Flidais has not grown up at a king’s court, and may at first be overawed by the scale and formality of Cahercorcan.