“He answered me with a jest. As yet he was not prepared to marry or to think of marriage. He preferred to retain his liberty.”
She bit her lip, and the colour mantled in her cheeks.
“And you?”
He hesitated.
“It was after the words of the ceremony. He was my king. Between a Reist and a Tyrnaus the difference is purely accidental. The Reists are, indeed, the older and the nobler family. But between a Reist and his king there is a gulf. I cannot point my sword against him.”
She walked restlessly up and down the room. Her thoughts were in confusion. For some vague, unacknowledged cause, her first impulse had been one of relief. She had expected a formal offer for her hand, and she would scarcely admit even to herself that that expectation had been a dread. Yet to be ignored touched her pride keenly. She stopped by her brother’s chair.
“What, then?” she asked. “Am I, the Countess Marie of Reist, to be flouted and passed over by a beggarly soldier, whose life has been spent as an adventurer, because the blood of the House of Tyrnaus is in his veins and chance has brought him to the throne? Nicholas, am I to look to you in vain to avenge this insult?”
The man’s eyes flashed fire.
“Be patient, Marie,” he answered. “Ughtred of Tyrnaus has lived in strange countries all his life, and imbibed the hateful modernisms of the West. Let us wait for a little. Perhaps he does not understand. Perhaps the time would seem to him too short even for a royal wooing. We will watch and wait. Meanwhile, listen. This is certain. If Ughtred of Tyrnaus lives out his reign, you and no other shall be his queen. That at least I can answer for.”
She shrugged her shoulders.