Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 11 of 59

The palace towers rose ahead, sharp against the grey sky. Delia rode hard behind Rynn, and the whole way one thought ran under the hoofbeats. The king wanted to punish Nick for giving away crown land. But land given as a gift was not a crime. And a gift between a man and the woman he meant to marry was no one's fault at all. She had the answer. She only had to reach Nick before the king spoke, and she had to know he wanted it too. They reached the ornate gate and left the horses. Rynn cut through the guards with a look, and the cadets stepped aside for him the way they always did. He pushed a side door open. "The hall's this way," he said. "Be quick. He'd already ruled when I left." Nick stood alone before his father's chair. The king watched him with plain, tired eyes. Delia crossed the stone floor and caught Nick's arm. He turned, surprised, then set his jaw. "You shouldn't be here," he said. "Listen first," she said, low. "You gave me that field. But what if it wasn't crown land you gave away? What if it was your own gift to me, because we're to be married? A man can gift his land to his bride. There's no crime in that." She searched his face. "But only if it's true. Only if it's what you want. I won't buy your safety with a lie you don't mean." Nick did not answer with words. He reached into his coat and drew out a small ring. Rose gold, an oval stone circled by smaller ones. He had carried it, waiting. "I bought this a week ago," he said. "I was looking for the right day. This isn't it." He almost smiled. "But it's the true one." He pressed the ring into her palm. "Marry me, Delia." "Yes," she said. They turned together to the king. Nick spoke plainly. "The field was never crown business. It was my engagement gift to the woman I'm going to marry. My own to give." King Rowan looked at the ring in Delia's hand, then at his son. He was quiet a long moment. "A gift to a bride," he said. "That I can't call theft." He leaned back. "No exile. No land taken. But you'll wed in the open, before the court, so there's no lie in it." "We will," Nick said. Outside the gate, Delia slid the ring onto her finger. Nick was staying. Her field was safe. Thirty patients would still find her door open tomorrow. She looked at the towers and felt the ground steady under her. But a court wedding meant the whole kingdom watching. And a sanctuary garden, once known to nobles, would draw more than the sick and the poor. She had won the land. Now she had to decide what it would become in the light.