Chapter 50

"Aunt...." Lucas carefully placed his cup in its saucer. "Perhaps I've put this off too long--though there were reasons, very good ones!--but I find myself wanting very much to go home after lunch, and reluctant to do so without an answer for Clara."

"Ah." The Queen smiled. "Is this your formal request to approve the betrothal?"

"It is."

"Hmm." The Queen tapped her finger against her lips.

Lucas tilted his head, abruptly wary for no good reason he could fathom. "'Hmm'?"

"Hmm." The Queen set down her cup. "I've been talking with Cr醱a."

Lucas waited for a moment, but when she didn't go on, he prompted, "Oh? Does he have some sort of objection to Clara marrying a Daimin? Because I'm certain that when I tell Clara, she won't care where Slade's from as long as he--"

"No, no--no objection from Cr醱a. Nor from me, for that matter."

Lucas sat back with a relieved huff. "So you approve, then. Good! For moment there, I thought--"