“Yes,” Lan said, hot, and then raised his head when his mother gasped her disapproval. He made his voice even. “Yes, if that’s what you want.”
“I worried,” Fen complained, but it was quiet and toothless, and Lan knew already.
Lan’s eyes did not leave him. “Give me your hand, cub.”
Fen extended his arm, letting his sleeve fall to expose his wrist and his bracelet of braided leather. Lan traced the length of it with one fingertip, not once touching Fen’s skin although Fen shivered again as though he had.
Maril was talking loudly suddenly, a distraction as he tugged Heni and his children and Lan’s mother closer to the fire.
“We had no word except that the holding was under your control,” Fen informed Lan. He could summon no honey. “That was some time ago.”
Lan’s fingertip found Fen’s skin at last. “Took a while to get things settled,” he explained, finally looking away only to stare at his hand as he stole Fen’s wits with gentle touches. “I rode with your mother to Bal territory.”
“Thank you. The Bal must have appreciated the gesture.” Fen could not look over at Lan’s family and Lan’s gaze was locked onto Fen’s wrist.
“I thought that would appeal to you.” Lan brought Fen’s wrist up to his lips. “Courtesy to your mother and one more step taken in my gift to you. But will it be enough?”
Fen closed his eyes as if that would keep Lan’s family and the guards from seeing the kiss pressed to his skin. “Lan,” he whined.
“They’ve heard the songs, cub. And I’ve come for you, so they’ll know the songs are true.” The touch of Lan’s breath only made Fen think of how long the winter had been.
“I worried,” he complained again, then opened his eyes.
Lan stared back at him, thinking of what he might do to Fen next, what he wanted to do. “A hard winter, for many reasons. I thought I’d imagined you. Then they would play that song, to torment me or cheer me, I didn’t know, or care, after a while. Whatever you thought of in that mind of yours when I was delayed in reaching you, know that I have spent months worrying that you would finally remove this.” He stroked the braided leather again. “Does the falcon choose to stay? Is he mine?”
“I have a gift for you.” Fen told him, turning his wrist so that Lan might kiss it again, pleased when Lan nudged the edge of the glove away to do so. “Tellan said I could, that it was how courting was done. It’s a small thing. It won’t compare to yours. It’s not the bent knees of every Earl in the known lands.”
“Yet somehow, I think it’s related,” Lan commented. “Show me.” He brushed Fen’s ear with his other hand. Perhaps he recognized his jewelry on Fen.
Fen could not stop talking, his voice cracking in a deeply embarrassing way. “Your family is like me, not all from the morra and not all noble. You will need this for that too. Something new for them.”
“Forus?” Lan asked, after a beat. “Tell me, my plotting flower.”
“You don’t have to use it,” Fen assured him, briefly cold as he stepped away from Lan to snap the swath of fabric in the air and let it unroll until the bottom touched the ground.
The room went quiet. Lan tilted his head to better look at the banner curled by his feet. He made that sound again, winded or startled, then raised his eyes to Fen.
“Oh, Fen, you’ve showed him!” Laiya exclaimed, coming closer to take the ends from Fen’s useless hands. She met his startled stare, then smiled before turning a knowing look on her son. “He worried over this too, your banner.”
Fen hardly noticed Laiya’s quick kiss pressed to his cheek, or how she took the banner from him and held it out for Lan and the others to better see it.
“They don’t only use them for war,” Fen explained quickly to Lan. “The nobles. And whatever you are. The Wild Dog. Killan from the morra.” Fen couldn’t help but whisper it. “With what family name you eventually choose.”
“When we marry?” Lan pressed in a low voice.
Fen looked up. “Yes. And it will fly from sea to sea.”
Lan growled and tugged Fen forward. The banner caught around Fen’s feet. Lan simply lifted Fen from the ground and kissed him with his family there to witness.
Fen blushed for it but did not otherwise object.
Epilogue
The last thing Fy had expected to find and fall in love with was the splendor of the palace gardens. He had never been one to notice plants much unless they were on a plate or in a bowl being served to him. But then he’d sworn himself as a guard to the Tialttyrin family, and something about the way they regarded flowers had rubbed off on him.
The palace gardens were nothing like the flowers that sprouted up wherever they pleased around the Tialttyrin fortress. Each garden was behind walls, although the gates to the gardens were always open. Each one had a different style, presumably to match the tastes of whichever ruler or noble living here who had commissioned it. But whether or not they were overgrown with vines, or full of trees that rustled in the wind, or were covered in ornamental flowers, Fy was convinced they were all as strictly planned and cared for as any kitchen garden.
Except for the nasturtium permanently hanging from the Tialttyrin fortress walls, the flowers that appeared around the Tialttyrins were spontaneous and random. Bright patches of color that came and went, like smiles or surprise laughter—or the berries that appeared whenever little baby Daslin was around, regardless of the time of year or the location of the nearest berry bramble.
