State Visit: Day 3 [Callan/Marton/Anna.]
Feb. 8th, 2005 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
callanoferador.
Lack of sleep was not conductive to clear thinking and Callan had managed very little last night. His dreams had been as restless, as sweat-soaked and every bit as frenetic as previously, despite his discovery of his dream-tormentor’s identity.
Fortunately, he'd not been meeting again with Marton until this afternoon and had had a catnap, a scant but very refreshing twenty minutes of downtime and a skill he’d taught himself as a student many years ago.
Not that many, truth be told, although sometimes, with the weight he carried on his shoulders, it felt like it. How the long-living peoples of Dnara and Calera coped with such pressure while knowing how many years of it they had to endure, escaped him. He had enough trouble himself, thinking of his own, unspecified, lifespan, a burden for which he had to thank his Caleran mother.
He had something else for which to thank her, he thought, specifically how her premature death had begun his father’s downward spiral into madness, but neither was truly her fault and it was hard to curse the dead.
Curse instead the living, or yourself. Callan sat in the balcony alcove sipping his coffee and did just that, mentally cursing Christian for simply being but more himself for his own inability to forget!
Edward appeared in the doorway to his right, cleared his throat and bowed. “His Majesty is here, Sire.” he told him.
Callan put down his coffee cup and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Out here I think. Thank you, Edward.”
The steward reluctantly vanished and Callan couldn’t help but smile, Caleran informality did not sit well with his staff and his own attitude shift meant they’d had little to do since arriving. Presently Marton took Edward’s place in the doorway, pausing briefly after giving Callan a smile of greeting, to take in a huge lungful of the fresh air. “Oh, that’s better.” he said, dropping into the other seat.
Callan knew what he meant, the air had a salty tang to it and was cool, coming as it did off the bay. He was unused to sea breezes as his capitol, New Norfolk, was far from the sea, Erador itself landlocked on all but the Western border.
He watched as Marton poured himself a coffee, thinking over their many discussions of the last two days and still a bit bemused by the King’s co-operative attitude, his decision to help. Of course it was in Marton’s interests to take the deal, but what he was offering, Callan had figured out, was far beyond what his ‘concerns’ might require.
It was strength and an unassailable position for Callan himself that Marton was giving him with this wedding talk. He had no need to offer his heir, any one of the other princes, or indeed even a well-placed Caleran noble would serve just as well. Nor was it a ploy of any description, which fact was the hardest for Callan to accept.
Callan had nothing Marton wanted; the mineral rights were his by default, heir or no heir, Erador needed the aid and were in no position to negotiate, despite appearances to the contrary. He didn’t want territory for, if he had, Calera could have invaded Erador years ago and been done with it. No, Marton of Calera was offering Callan the backing of his considerable power simply because he could.
It was difficult to fathom. Callan was used to the devious machinations, dealings and double-dealings of his own court where everyone was out to gain advantage, to line their own coffers and profit materially or politically. A simple hand of friendship was unheard of and yet this is what he was being offered, without ever having to ask.
Marton took a sip of his coffee and put it down. “I’ve asked my daughter to meet us upstairs.” he said.
Callan nodded. They’d talked about it further and although both men knew the suggestion Callan had made was not a serious one for the moment, had decided it politic for Callan to at least meet the princess. Circumstances might change things and Callan’s schedule might not allow another visit for some time.
The original deal would be signed in the next few days with Catherine generously offering to travel to Balize for it, an offer, Callan had noted, that painted a genuinely warm smile on Marton’s face which had lasted for hours afterward. The possibility of a Royal wedding was also nearly settled, waiting only on the return of the prince in question from a short trip and his personal approval of the plan.
If he did, which Marton seemed confident he would, then Callan would arrange a visit here for Caeline as soon as possible. The two of them could meet and, if all three men were still in concurrence after, the wedding would take place.
Marton cleared his throat and Callan belatedly realized that he’d been lost in thought for quite some time. The King had finished his coffee and was watching Callan with those disturbing tawny eyes, a tiny smile quirking his lips.
“Ready?” He enquired. “Anna will be waiting.”
“Of course. My apologies.” Callan got to his feet and waited for Marton to do the same. “Shall we?”
*
Anna took a minute before reaching her Father's rooms to adjust her dress. Again. She hated formal meetings for this reason. Having to get all Princess-ed up. Or dressed Proper as Gwyn would say. With a sigh, she walked forward and entered the room.
Marton smiled and held out a hand, guiding his daughter with his hand resting in the small of her back. He could tell she was uncomfortable, but no one else would know. Coming to a halt in front of Callan, he cleared his throat and the King of Erador swung around, his mouth open as if to apologize for his distraction. He changed it to a smile as Marton said, "Your Majesty, may I present Her Royal Highness Princess Anna Helene, Lady of the Realm of Tscar, Duchess of Darquez and Captain in Her Majesty's Personal Guard. Anna, His Majesty, Callan of Erador."
Anna heard Gwyn's voice in her head as she always did at times like this. Curtsying, she remembered just in time to make it deeper than she would normally, since this was a King and not a lesser Royalty. "Your Majesty." She really looked at him as she stood back up. Not bad. Her smile got a little more real as she thought how his eyes reminded her of Jared's.
"A pleasure, Your Highness." Callan responded with a genuine smile and offered his hand. He noticed what he'd done and his eyes glinted with humor. Picking up on Marton's habits, he thought, a wry twist to his lips. "Your Father has told me a lot about you. In Erador, ladies cannot join the armed forces." he told her. "I am most impressed. Tell me, is it common here?"
"Not so much here in Calera, Your Majesty. But in my home of Dnara, it is more common. There is a long history of women in my family having served their country." Anna winced inside. She was never sure which she hated more, having to speak so formally or how easy it was for her to. In a small act of rebellion, she shook his hand with her usual grip, instead of the 'delicate' one Gwyn liked her to use.
Lucius appeared in the door way and cleared his throat. Marton stood. "If you could excuse me." he said to them both. "I've been waiting on this call."
Callan watched him leave and then turned to the lady by his side. "Shall we sit?" he invited, crossing to the couches and taking a seat. He watched her as she came to join him, noting with amusement how unimpressed she was by both his presence and with the idea of this audience in general. Feisty, like Caeline. He liked that. "It's one of the many changes I intended implementing," he told her. "although like all radical shifts in thinking, it will take time."
"That's understandable. I'm sure the women of your country will make fine soldiers given time." Anna fussed with her dress to hide her horror at nearly saying 'barbarians' to his face. She wasn't even sure where the rest of that sentence had come from, since it wasn't what she started to say. She looked back up at him. "I hope you're enjoying your stay in Calera. Have you visited my Mother as well?"
"Yes." he told her, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hands on his knees. "I came directly here from Dnara. Your mother is a most gracious and lovely woman. I grew to admire her greatly. As I am your father." He studied her as he tugged at the dress and decided that this princess was not of the delicate sort. He chose to be frank. "Apart from the obvious courtesies and your father's wish not to have me left to my own devices while he took that call he was waiting on, do you know why we've been introduced?"
"No, I don't." Anna sensed the change in his manner and was glad for it. "His call came rather suddenly. I had heard you were here, but I hadn't expected to meet you. I'm basically a visiting Royal as well so didn't think there was any need if you were here on Caleran business."
Callan nodded. "The call was expected. You're here because you became part of our discussions." he told her. "I'm sure you know about the mineral rights deal I came to broker with your parents. Your father is more than willing to sign, however his sole concern was my lack of heirs and the possibility of either the deal being broken by my successor or worse yet, a resumption of hostilities." There. If she was as clever as she looked, she'd put two and two together. Callan wanted to see if she did.
"Oh, I see." Anna's jaw tighten imperceptibly. She had always been taught there was a chance of this, but hadn't really thought it would ever come close to happening. She had the insane urge to laugh at how Gwyn's face would look when she heard about this. "Then this is our 'getting to know each other' meeting." She forced a smile. "You will forgive me, this is my first of this kind."
Callan's smile gave nothing away. "How would you feel if it did happen?" he asked.
Anna's gaze grew harder. "I know my duty to my family, King Callan. I would honor their wishes."
"That's not what I was asking." Callan said gently. "And please, I am becoming very fond of Caleran informality, call me Callan. If I may call you Anna? I wondered about your personal feelings, about a political marriage, about Erador?"
"This is unexpected. And yes, you may call me Anna. Callan." She took a breath. "Truthfully I had not thought much of marriage, political or otherwise. You may have seen my sister and my new nieces, so the throne of Dnara is secured. I have been courted in the past, but marriage was always somewhere down the road, not in the near future."
He was not letting her off the hook that easily. "And Erador?" he repeated, drawing one leg up, he half-turned in his seat so that he was facing her.
Anna looked steadily at him. "My position in Her Majesty's Personal Guard is not an honorary one. Nor are we decorative. There are those in my company who had fought in the war with your country. There are...stories."
His smile dimmed only slightly, but his eyes darkened with remembered pain. "Most likely," he said, "that they are true." Callan looked away for a moment and then turned back, a cheerful smile now adorning his face. "However, you need not worry. The discussion has taken a different turn for the present. You are," he told her "probably off the hook."
"Off the hook?" Anna stared at him, than her eyes narrowed. "Exactly what does 'probably' mean?"
Callan shrugged. "We may be able to resolve our problem another way. We're talking about it." She was still giving him a suspicious glare and a sudden flash of humor had him saying, "But I'm still in the market for a wife." He was teasing and the sparkle in his eyes, the genuine quality of his grin revealed the young man lurking beneath the more formal exterior probably a little more fully than he'd intended. However, he didn't notice, he just laughed, amused.
"Callan. Believe me when I say this, that I say it with all due respect. You Bastard." Anna punched him hard in the arm, unable to keep from returning his smile as she did so. "I got shoved into this damned dress for NOTHING! Wait. Other way." She thought. "That means Christian, Craig or Orlando. Which is it?"
Callan roared with laughter, completely delighted. His father, long ago, would have said she was 'quite the pistol' and the description was apt. He didn't even mind the punch, despite it being the first time in his memory that anyone had dared touch him unbidden. Not even Caeline would venture such a liberty. "I probably shouldn't say." he grinned. "It's only a discussion, nothing firm and still between your father and I at this point. Go fish with him." he chuckled.
"Oh, I will. We'll be having a nice discussion about today." Anna ground her teeth a little. "Can't believe he did that to me." She fumed silently for a moment, than looked at Callan again. "But if it does fall thru and it winds up being up to you and me, did I just blow it by that punch? And the swearing?"
Callan pulled a face. "Yes." he said. Then it broke and he grinned again, the smile only fading a little as Marton re-entered the room behind them.
"Sorry." Marton apologized to them both, turning his head to look down at Callan. "My office took a call from your steward as I was leaving." he told him.
Callan stifled his sigh and got to his feet. "I'd best go see what it is." Edward would never interrupt unless it was important. "If you'll excuse me?" He was back to his polite, formal self as he turned to Anna with a small bow, "Milady."
"Your Majesty." Anna stood up and held her hand out as she curtsied again. "It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope we shall become better acquainted."
"I'd like that."
Lucius appeared in the doorway like clockwork and escorted Callan out. Marton watched him go and then turned to Anna, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Nice young man." he commented. "Lots of potential. Reminds me of myself at that age."
Anna glared at Marton. "YOU! I can't believe you made me get into this damned dress and put me thru that when you had already sold off Christian, Craig or Orli!!!" She put her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height.
Marton pretended to look taken aback for a moment, but just like Callan he couldn't contain his mirth in the face of Anna's outrage. He held up his hands for peace. "Back off, bombshell!" he chuckled. "It wasn't as bad as all that! Besides, it may yet come to pass." His attempt an ominous undertone was obviously a rank failure if the look Anna was giving him was anything to judge by.
"He already told me was shopping for a wife, but that I was pretty much off the hook as far as an alliance. Dammit Father all that was missing was Gwyn hiding with a scorecard rating how badly I messed up."
"Anna, Anna." Marton shook his head. "He was winding you up! It was never serious, just a feint. Though I can't speak for the future." He shrugged his shoulders expressively. "Who knows?" he added, waggling a suggestive eyebrow. "He might come back for you."
"And he was the only one?" Anna grumbled. "Just tell me you're not selling off Orli. I know Harry probably could handle it, but not sure about Orli. Just tell me it's not him so I can get out of this get up."
"Not Orlando, no." Marton conceded, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders and tugging her into his arms so he could press a kiss to her hair. "And not you either, not if I can avoid it." he added softly. "Now, come on. I've got some files in my room to collect and I'll walk you down so you can go get changed."
"She better take care of whomever then. That’s all I have to say." Anna sighed, putting her around Marton's waist as they walked out.
Lack of sleep was not conductive to clear thinking and Callan had managed very little last night. His dreams had been as restless, as sweat-soaked and every bit as frenetic as previously, despite his discovery of his dream-tormentor’s identity.
Fortunately, he'd not been meeting again with Marton until this afternoon and had had a catnap, a scant but very refreshing twenty minutes of downtime and a skill he’d taught himself as a student many years ago.
Not that many, truth be told, although sometimes, with the weight he carried on his shoulders, it felt like it. How the long-living peoples of Dnara and Calera coped with such pressure while knowing how many years of it they had to endure, escaped him. He had enough trouble himself, thinking of his own, unspecified, lifespan, a burden for which he had to thank his Caleran mother.
He had something else for which to thank her, he thought, specifically how her premature death had begun his father’s downward spiral into madness, but neither was truly her fault and it was hard to curse the dead.
Curse instead the living, or yourself. Callan sat in the balcony alcove sipping his coffee and did just that, mentally cursing Christian for simply being but more himself for his own inability to forget!
Edward appeared in the doorway to his right, cleared his throat and bowed. “His Majesty is here, Sire.” he told him.
Callan put down his coffee cup and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Out here I think. Thank you, Edward.”
The steward reluctantly vanished and Callan couldn’t help but smile, Caleran informality did not sit well with his staff and his own attitude shift meant they’d had little to do since arriving. Presently Marton took Edward’s place in the doorway, pausing briefly after giving Callan a smile of greeting, to take in a huge lungful of the fresh air. “Oh, that’s better.” he said, dropping into the other seat.
Callan knew what he meant, the air had a salty tang to it and was cool, coming as it did off the bay. He was unused to sea breezes as his capitol, New Norfolk, was far from the sea, Erador itself landlocked on all but the Western border.
He watched as Marton poured himself a coffee, thinking over their many discussions of the last two days and still a bit bemused by the King’s co-operative attitude, his decision to help. Of course it was in Marton’s interests to take the deal, but what he was offering, Callan had figured out, was far beyond what his ‘concerns’ might require.
It was strength and an unassailable position for Callan himself that Marton was giving him with this wedding talk. He had no need to offer his heir, any one of the other princes, or indeed even a well-placed Caleran noble would serve just as well. Nor was it a ploy of any description, which fact was the hardest for Callan to accept.
Callan had nothing Marton wanted; the mineral rights were his by default, heir or no heir, Erador needed the aid and were in no position to negotiate, despite appearances to the contrary. He didn’t want territory for, if he had, Calera could have invaded Erador years ago and been done with it. No, Marton of Calera was offering Callan the backing of his considerable power simply because he could.
It was difficult to fathom. Callan was used to the devious machinations, dealings and double-dealings of his own court where everyone was out to gain advantage, to line their own coffers and profit materially or politically. A simple hand of friendship was unheard of and yet this is what he was being offered, without ever having to ask.
Marton took a sip of his coffee and put it down. “I’ve asked my daughter to meet us upstairs.” he said.
Callan nodded. They’d talked about it further and although both men knew the suggestion Callan had made was not a serious one for the moment, had decided it politic for Callan to at least meet the princess. Circumstances might change things and Callan’s schedule might not allow another visit for some time.
The original deal would be signed in the next few days with Catherine generously offering to travel to Balize for it, an offer, Callan had noted, that painted a genuinely warm smile on Marton’s face which had lasted for hours afterward. The possibility of a Royal wedding was also nearly settled, waiting only on the return of the prince in question from a short trip and his personal approval of the plan.
If he did, which Marton seemed confident he would, then Callan would arrange a visit here for Caeline as soon as possible. The two of them could meet and, if all three men were still in concurrence after, the wedding would take place.
Marton cleared his throat and Callan belatedly realized that he’d been lost in thought for quite some time. The King had finished his coffee and was watching Callan with those disturbing tawny eyes, a tiny smile quirking his lips.
“Ready?” He enquired. “Anna will be waiting.”
“Of course. My apologies.” Callan got to his feet and waited for Marton to do the same. “Shall we?”
*
Anna took a minute before reaching her Father's rooms to adjust her dress. Again. She hated formal meetings for this reason. Having to get all Princess-ed up. Or dressed Proper as Gwyn would say. With a sigh, she walked forward and entered the room.
Marton smiled and held out a hand, guiding his daughter with his hand resting in the small of her back. He could tell she was uncomfortable, but no one else would know. Coming to a halt in front of Callan, he cleared his throat and the King of Erador swung around, his mouth open as if to apologize for his distraction. He changed it to a smile as Marton said, "Your Majesty, may I present Her Royal Highness Princess Anna Helene, Lady of the Realm of Tscar, Duchess of Darquez and Captain in Her Majesty's Personal Guard. Anna, His Majesty, Callan of Erador."
Anna heard Gwyn's voice in her head as she always did at times like this. Curtsying, she remembered just in time to make it deeper than she would normally, since this was a King and not a lesser Royalty. "Your Majesty." She really looked at him as she stood back up. Not bad. Her smile got a little more real as she thought how his eyes reminded her of Jared's.
"A pleasure, Your Highness." Callan responded with a genuine smile and offered his hand. He noticed what he'd done and his eyes glinted with humor. Picking up on Marton's habits, he thought, a wry twist to his lips. "Your Father has told me a lot about you. In Erador, ladies cannot join the armed forces." he told her. "I am most impressed. Tell me, is it common here?"
"Not so much here in Calera, Your Majesty. But in my home of Dnara, it is more common. There is a long history of women in my family having served their country." Anna winced inside. She was never sure which she hated more, having to speak so formally or how easy it was for her to. In a small act of rebellion, she shook his hand with her usual grip, instead of the 'delicate' one Gwyn liked her to use.
Lucius appeared in the door way and cleared his throat. Marton stood. "If you could excuse me." he said to them both. "I've been waiting on this call."
Callan watched him leave and then turned to the lady by his side. "Shall we sit?" he invited, crossing to the couches and taking a seat. He watched her as she came to join him, noting with amusement how unimpressed she was by both his presence and with the idea of this audience in general. Feisty, like Caeline. He liked that. "It's one of the many changes I intended implementing," he told her. "although like all radical shifts in thinking, it will take time."
"That's understandable. I'm sure the women of your country will make fine soldiers given time." Anna fussed with her dress to hide her horror at nearly saying 'barbarians' to his face. She wasn't even sure where the rest of that sentence had come from, since it wasn't what she started to say. She looked back up at him. "I hope you're enjoying your stay in Calera. Have you visited my Mother as well?"
"Yes." he told her, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hands on his knees. "I came directly here from Dnara. Your mother is a most gracious and lovely woman. I grew to admire her greatly. As I am your father." He studied her as he tugged at the dress and decided that this princess was not of the delicate sort. He chose to be frank. "Apart from the obvious courtesies and your father's wish not to have me left to my own devices while he took that call he was waiting on, do you know why we've been introduced?"
"No, I don't." Anna sensed the change in his manner and was glad for it. "His call came rather suddenly. I had heard you were here, but I hadn't expected to meet you. I'm basically a visiting Royal as well so didn't think there was any need if you were here on Caleran business."
Callan nodded. "The call was expected. You're here because you became part of our discussions." he told her. "I'm sure you know about the mineral rights deal I came to broker with your parents. Your father is more than willing to sign, however his sole concern was my lack of heirs and the possibility of either the deal being broken by my successor or worse yet, a resumption of hostilities." There. If she was as clever as she looked, she'd put two and two together. Callan wanted to see if she did.
"Oh, I see." Anna's jaw tighten imperceptibly. She had always been taught there was a chance of this, but hadn't really thought it would ever come close to happening. She had the insane urge to laugh at how Gwyn's face would look when she heard about this. "Then this is our 'getting to know each other' meeting." She forced a smile. "You will forgive me, this is my first of this kind."
Callan's smile gave nothing away. "How would you feel if it did happen?" he asked.
Anna's gaze grew harder. "I know my duty to my family, King Callan. I would honor their wishes."
"That's not what I was asking." Callan said gently. "And please, I am becoming very fond of Caleran informality, call me Callan. If I may call you Anna? I wondered about your personal feelings, about a political marriage, about Erador?"
"This is unexpected. And yes, you may call me Anna. Callan." She took a breath. "Truthfully I had not thought much of marriage, political or otherwise. You may have seen my sister and my new nieces, so the throne of Dnara is secured. I have been courted in the past, but marriage was always somewhere down the road, not in the near future."
He was not letting her off the hook that easily. "And Erador?" he repeated, drawing one leg up, he half-turned in his seat so that he was facing her.
Anna looked steadily at him. "My position in Her Majesty's Personal Guard is not an honorary one. Nor are we decorative. There are those in my company who had fought in the war with your country. There are...stories."
His smile dimmed only slightly, but his eyes darkened with remembered pain. "Most likely," he said, "that they are true." Callan looked away for a moment and then turned back, a cheerful smile now adorning his face. "However, you need not worry. The discussion has taken a different turn for the present. You are," he told her "probably off the hook."
"Off the hook?" Anna stared at him, than her eyes narrowed. "Exactly what does 'probably' mean?"
Callan shrugged. "We may be able to resolve our problem another way. We're talking about it." She was still giving him a suspicious glare and a sudden flash of humor had him saying, "But I'm still in the market for a wife." He was teasing and the sparkle in his eyes, the genuine quality of his grin revealed the young man lurking beneath the more formal exterior probably a little more fully than he'd intended. However, he didn't notice, he just laughed, amused.
"Callan. Believe me when I say this, that I say it with all due respect. You Bastard." Anna punched him hard in the arm, unable to keep from returning his smile as she did so. "I got shoved into this damned dress for NOTHING! Wait. Other way." She thought. "That means Christian, Craig or Orlando. Which is it?"
Callan roared with laughter, completely delighted. His father, long ago, would have said she was 'quite the pistol' and the description was apt. He didn't even mind the punch, despite it being the first time in his memory that anyone had dared touch him unbidden. Not even Caeline would venture such a liberty. "I probably shouldn't say." he grinned. "It's only a discussion, nothing firm and still between your father and I at this point. Go fish with him." he chuckled.
"Oh, I will. We'll be having a nice discussion about today." Anna ground her teeth a little. "Can't believe he did that to me." She fumed silently for a moment, than looked at Callan again. "But if it does fall thru and it winds up being up to you and me, did I just blow it by that punch? And the swearing?"
Callan pulled a face. "Yes." he said. Then it broke and he grinned again, the smile only fading a little as Marton re-entered the room behind them.
"Sorry." Marton apologized to them both, turning his head to look down at Callan. "My office took a call from your steward as I was leaving." he told him.
Callan stifled his sigh and got to his feet. "I'd best go see what it is." Edward would never interrupt unless it was important. "If you'll excuse me?" He was back to his polite, formal self as he turned to Anna with a small bow, "Milady."
"Your Majesty." Anna stood up and held her hand out as she curtsied again. "It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope we shall become better acquainted."
"I'd like that."
Lucius appeared in the doorway like clockwork and escorted Callan out. Marton watched him go and then turned to Anna, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Nice young man." he commented. "Lots of potential. Reminds me of myself at that age."
Anna glared at Marton. "YOU! I can't believe you made me get into this damned dress and put me thru that when you had already sold off Christian, Craig or Orli!!!" She put her hands on her hips, drawing herself up to her full height.
Marton pretended to look taken aback for a moment, but just like Callan he couldn't contain his mirth in the face of Anna's outrage. He held up his hands for peace. "Back off, bombshell!" he chuckled. "It wasn't as bad as all that! Besides, it may yet come to pass." His attempt an ominous undertone was obviously a rank failure if the look Anna was giving him was anything to judge by.
"He already told me was shopping for a wife, but that I was pretty much off the hook as far as an alliance. Dammit Father all that was missing was Gwyn hiding with a scorecard rating how badly I messed up."
"Anna, Anna." Marton shook his head. "He was winding you up! It was never serious, just a feint. Though I can't speak for the future." He shrugged his shoulders expressively. "Who knows?" he added, waggling a suggestive eyebrow. "He might come back for you."
"And he was the only one?" Anna grumbled. "Just tell me you're not selling off Orli. I know Harry probably could handle it, but not sure about Orli. Just tell me it's not him so I can get out of this get up."
"Not Orlando, no." Marton conceded, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders and tugging her into his arms so he could press a kiss to her hair. "And not you either, not if I can avoid it." he added softly. "Now, come on. I've got some files in my room to collect and I'll walk you down so you can go get changed."
"She better take care of whomever then. That’s all I have to say." Anna sighed, putting her around Marton's waist as they walked out.
