Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 328
cured her of, and waited.
Presently there came a polite tap on the door. "Enter,"
she said.
Maut’s hair was disheveled, and faint lines were etched
around his eyes and between his brows. He had discarded his
jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white blouse. He nodded
to her like an intimate, and sat on the chair near her bed. She
glimpsed Ninete peeking around the edge of the door, and
waved her off impatiently. The door slid closed.
Neither spoke for a while. Outside, she heard the first
voicing of a morning bird.
"Will you join me for breakfast?" she said at last.
"I would be honored."
"No, Maut. Don’t say that. Will you?"
He smiled wanly. "I would like to, yes."
"Good." She gestured impatiently. "I have no more time
for ceremony."
Maut drew up one knee and clasped his hands around it,
like a boy. He could only look more at home, she thought, if
he sat sideways in the chair.
He cocked his head and looked at her appraisingly.
"Ceremony has never suited you, has it?"
She laughed shortly. "No. It’s only familiarity that gets
me through it. The words come automatically. Even if they’re
so often like ashes in my mouth."
"I find it hard to believe that this alone is the root of your
passion. Because your passion radiates from some deep
source. It catches up everyone around you. That’s why they
follow you, you know. Not because you’re queen."
"Ah." This was a compliment she had never heard
before. "I’m sure you know my story. Am I not the scandal of
the kingdom?"