“Your Majesty,” the dark haired woman bowed then straightened. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“I’m not sure what advice I can offer you,” Rensa admitted, “but please sit down, Sevrin, and I’ll see what I can do.” She waited for the other woman to lower herself into one of the sitting room chairs and then asked, “What seems to be the problem?”
“Tuluc.” Sevrin looked embarrassed. “You know that he’s been supervising my…rehabilitation since your wedding?”
Rensa nodded. The attractive young woman opposite her had been one of Trode’s most loyal adherents, part of a squad the late leader of the revolution had set up to carry out any “tidying” that he felt was needed. Since she and her squad mates had crashed Yannic and Rensa’s wedding to protest the continuation of the Imperial model they had been closely supervised. Rensa had heard the word ‘deprogramming’ used. “Yes. I heard that he was worried about you.” No need to tell Sevrin that Tuluc had told her and Yannic that over lunch only a few days after their wedding.
Sevrin gave a short laugh. “I don’t know that worried is the right word. I came to you because, well, you agreed to marry Yannic despite everything.”
“It seemed my only option to have any sort of life that I would want to lead,” Rensa agreed quietly.
“And you two seem to be making it work. You both seem happy.” Sevrin hesitated, “Even if everybody wants you to have babies straight away. I don’t even know if he only wants to do it because all his friends are getting married, first Yannic and now Bannoc.”
Rensa blinked hard for a moment. “Tuluc has asked you to marry him?”
“Yes and I don’t know what to say!” That ended in an almost wail.
“What do you want to say?” Rensa thought that was a good place to start.
“I want to ask him why. Why does he want to get married and why me? Except,” she hesitated, “I worry that if I can’t figure it out for myself he might change his mind.”
“That sounds to me like you’re inclined to accept,” Rensa commented.
Sevrin nodded in agreement, “It does, doesn’t it?”