Free Fortress of Ice by C. J. Cherryh

troubles for tomorrow, Gran would say, and Paisi very soon snored. Otter found the exact center of the warmed spot for his cold feet, in sheets otherwise smooth and fine as ice itself, and listened to the wind prying about the fine windows. No one stood guard over them, as bodyguards stood guard over the king and Prince Aewyn and every lord and lady under the Guelesfort roof. They themselves had no enemies except the general sort who fiercely deplored Amefin folk and Bryaltines, and none of those, Otter was sure, would care to risk the guards who stood watch over the Guelesfort. Or even raise their voices too much when he appeared with Aewyn.
    So they slept, innocent, under the king’s roof.
    iii
    LATE TO BED, AND FAR TOO MUCH WINE, CEFWYN DECIDED, WHEN HE AND HIS queen, Ninévrisë, reached the sitting room. She had been more prudent at supper—but too long speech-making from the duke of Osenan and a tendency to moralize on the part of the Patriarch, on this eve of the holidays, had driven him to his old bad habits. He hoped no one had noticed.
    And being far too heated from the desire to cut the Holy Father off short, he had smiled, and had a second dessert, which he regretted more than the wine.
    â€œTedious old man, the Holy Father,” he said to his queen, with a kiss on the cheek and a long embrace, which somehow alleviated the weariness. “I wish we were both in Elwynor. Or he was.”
    â€œOh, never afflict my kingdom with your priest,” Ninévrisë said, herhands slipping to his arms. Those wonderful eyes stared straight into his. “You tolerate him.”
    â€œHe’s an old, old man. There’s no mending him at this point. And the Crown needs no contests. Not now.”
    â€œWith this son of yours visiting, no, by no means.”
    â€œAre you at ease with this? Are you truly at ease with him going to services?”
    Those great eyes blinked, once, twice. And never wavered. “I held him when he was born. He had no choice in mothers. Of pity for her, however—I have little.”
    â€œI have none at all. Nor would ever, ever offend you in bringing him to Festival. He could have gone home. He still might. Be sure. Be sure, now. Later—would be very hard.”
    â€œI held him, I say. He looked like any baby.”
    â€œThe gods know what he is. He’s quick. He’s clever.”
    â€œHe’s Otter. And he could go on being Otter, if you sent him back…but that would be hard, now. What you do—what you do, be ever so sure of. For my own part—”
    â€œWhat, for your part?” He had yearned for Ninévrisë’s true opinion on the matter of this son of his—and never felt he had it.
    â€œHe’s respectful, and modest. A good Bryalt lad.”
    â€œIf only he were only that.”
    â€œWhatever he is, he makes our son laugh.”
    â€œI have greatest reliance on the old woman. I believe her. But what I risk by believing this much in her—”
    â€œIt’s Tristen you believe in,” Ninévrisë said. “Isn’t it, after all? And Tristen said you should spare that woman, and he said you should take care of this boy. Me, he never advised in that regard…so I think my part is simply to watch you both and be on my guard. And I find he has a good face.”
    â€œHis mother’s eyes.”
    â€œOh, no such thing. They’re gray. Sihhë gray.”
    â€œThat didn’t come from my house.”
    â€œThat may be. But he has none of her wicked ways. Not a lie, not a prank—”
    â€œExcept our own son instigated them.”
    Ninévrisë laughed the laugh that could cure his darkest mood and laid her head against his shoulder. “Daily,” she said, and looked up. “Wit and grace, both. Have you noticed? Aewyn has taken to books, under his influence.”
    â€œMore than his tutors ever managed. The last, I hear, went into cloister.”
    â€œA