Linner stared back, startled. “What do you mean to say?”
Shianan loosed his practiced commander’s glare. “I owe Lady Ariana a dance yet, and she would appear rude if she left you here alone. No thoughtful gentleman would put a lady in a position to appear rude.”
Linner visibly swallowed. “I see, your lordship.” He bit out the honorific with hardly concealed distaste. “Then I will leave the lady to your care for now.” He made a stiff bow to Ariana and none to Shianan before he merged into the crowd.
Ariana cleared her throat, and Shianan self-consciously withdrew his possessive arm. Before he could decide how and for what to apologize, she shook her head and smiled. “He wasn’t so bad as to deserve that,” she scolded gently. “But he’s probably none the worse for it.”
Shianan exhaled. “I’m sorry for overstepping.”
“I had him in hand, but I appreciate the gesture.” She tipped her head. “How are you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t know if I have the privilege of prying, but I saw enough to wonder.”
His gut clenched. “What did you see?”
Ariana’s eyes widened. “Don’t look like that! I won’t ask any more, if you want. I only wanted to—”
Shianan shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. What did you see that concerned you?”
“Only what was obvious. When the summons came, you looked as if someone had poured snowmelt down your collar. You walked away as if going to your death.” Her voice was pitched low, careful no one else would hear.
Shianan winced. “Was it so plain?”
“Only to those who were looking.” She hesitated and then touched his arm. “If I can do anything...”
“No. No, it was the queen.” Shianan took a deep breath. “The queen sent for me.”
Ariana’s fingers tightened on his arm. “She’s here? Did—are you all right?”
He didn’t know how to answer her.
The prince emerged from the corridor beside them, and Ariana pulled away from Shianan to curtsey. Shianan half-turned and made the obligatory bow.
When he straightened, Soren was smiling faintly. “That didn’t take long.” His smile broadened as he turned to Ariana. “Are you enjoying the ball, my lady mage? It is, after all, partly in your honor.”
Ariana was not practiced in speaking with royalty, but she made a valiant effort. “Oh, no, Your Highness. I’m only the most junior member of the Circle.”
“Ah, but the Black Mage is a part of the Circle, yes?” Soren grinned at her. “Enjoy yourself this evening. Bailaha, may I expect you in the morning?”
“At what time, Your Highness?”
Soren glanced over the swirling gaiety and one corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing too early, I think. Or rather, nothing early to my pampered eyes, as early to a commander is probably not even within my cognition. Come when you will. Tomorrow I have no appointments before noon.”
Shianan bowed. “I will, my lord.”
Soren excused himself and went out into the ball. Ariana watched him and then looked toward Shianan. “You don’t look apprehensive at that.”
Shianan realized he did not feel apprehensive, either. But he was not sure he felt much of anything at the moment. The dizzying exchange of joys and despairs of the last hour had left him exhausted. “No.”
She waited a moment and then faced him. “Well, then, my lord, will you pay your dance debt, or must I go and chat with my dear friend Lady Bethia Farlyle?” She nodded toward the striking young woman casually intercepting the prince’s path.
Shianan looked at Ariana’s expectant expression and a little of the weariness left him. She was trying to distract him, but he did not mind. And perhaps he could feel something, after all.
He bowed. “Forgive me, my lady mage. A man must always pay his debts. And I think the Lady Bethia would prefer that you not join her and the prince-heir.”
Ariana raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard?”
Shianan attempted a smile. “It is quite the rumor, if even I’ve heard their betrothal will be announced before long.”
“No rumor, I had it from Bethia herself. It’s the most open secret in Alham.” She extended one hand to him, her chin raised in mock imperiousness. “Enough court gossip. Let us find music.”
CHAPTER FOUR
TAMARYL CAME GENTLY to the ground, his wings stretching pleasantly as they flexed against the air. It was good to be himself again, his own Ryuven form. A warm breeze brushed over him, welcoming him from the cold human world.
His first duty was to report to the Palace of Red Sands. He had stayed longer in the human world than expected, and he should explain himself. He must also find a way to break the news that the shield was renewed. After Oniwe’aru had finished being disappointed in him, Tamaryl would go to his house and see how Maru fared, and whether Daranai’rika had thought to bring formal complaint against him for breaking their betrothal contract.
He sighed. There was much to do here, so far to go, but in the end, this was his home. He could do good here. He’d studied what he could find of human agriculture, wrestling with books on crop diseases and treatment in his hours away from assisting Ewan Hazelrig. Their flora was not identical, but there were similarities and shared species, and he hoped for new insight on the problems which had led to so much. They could work away from their dependence on the human world.
He folded his wings against his back and started toward the palace. The guards knew him and directed him to the aru.
Tamaryl entered Oniwe’aru’s audience chamber and dropped to one knee. “I have returned, Oniwe’aru.”
“So I see. I had expected you before now.”
“I apologize, Oniwe’aru. I wanted only to be sure that there was nothing more to be done.”
He had evidently interrupted a conversation. A rika stood near Oniwe’aru. Her emerald-black hair was bound in a high tail which dragged over her wing and shoulder as she turned her head toward Tamaryl. He recognized her, and the cobalt sash she wore from right shoulder to opposite hip.
Oniwe’aru nodded. “At least you are taking your duties seriously. Edeiya’rika, you will pardon us?”
“Of course, Oniwe’aru. And I will set more guards on the storehouses.” Her eyes flicked to Tamaryl as she left, as if assessing him. Given the sash she wore, she might well have been. Tamaryl would have nodded respectfully to her had he not already been on one knee.
“Rise, Tamaryl’sho, and tell me why your steward begged so politely to decline on your behalf my invitation for you and Daranai’rika to dine with me.”
Tamaryl’s chest tightened. “Ah. Er, I’m afraid I am not sure how best to explain... I wish to break our betrothal.”
“Break it?” Oniwe’aru frowned. “That is a significant step, especially after so many years.”
“I was not here for most of those years.”
“All the more reason to be cautious now. You left her in contract, locked in a partnership without a partner, unable to negotiate a new joining. Even when her house faltered, even when her aunt died, she did not ask to be freed of the contract which could not be completed with you in exile.”
“She wanted the position of a prince-doniphan’s mate more than the prince-doniphan,” Tamaryl snapped.
Oniwe raised an eyebrow. “I remember once you were pleased.”
“I was. I was glad such a beautiful and vivacious match was chosen for me. I could do far worse.” Tamaryl took a breath. “But I have seen what she is, and I won’t be joined to her.”
“Strong words, Tamaryl’sho.” Oniwe’aru scratched at his chin.
Tamaryl had to be careful how he presented his complaint. Ending a betrothal severed a link both familial and political, and discipline of a nim was hardly a crime, even if the nim was Tamaryl’s friend. “She is unhappy in this betrothal, and cruel in her unhappiness. She has taken nim as lovers, and against their will.”
“There are many nim who would not argue at the
chance to share a rika’s bed.”
“That may be true, but those who did protest were coerced into acceptance.”
“What did she do to your friend?”
Oniwe saw so clearly through him. “He would not lie with her, and she tortured him for it.”
Oniwe’aru frowned. “As I recall, you left him in her household while you were away, and she has the right to discipline a servant.”
“Not for refusing to bed his lord’s betrothed. And it was not the typical minute or so of fup; she was stripping his power from him.”
“I did the same to you, if you recall.”
“I was a condemned outlaw. You were quick and efficient about it—not that it was pleasant, and by the Essence I would be pleased never to taste it again, but it was different. This was a slow process, intended to force him into submission.” Tamaryl tried to keep his voice level. “At first she lied, saying he’d assaulted her, but—”
Oniwe’aru snorted. “Maru, attack a rika? Not at his most foolhardy, and never successfully.”
Tamaryl was relieved at his agreement. “She blamed me and my absence. She resented me and—and you. I think she might be as glad to be done with me.”
“Oh?”
“She called herself the traitor’s betrothed. She was caught between position and notoriety.” Tamaryl was unwilling to defend Daranai’s actions but obligated to express her frustration. And if he emphasized that the engagement should have been long ended, perhaps it would be simpler to end it now. “I know my duty, but I cannot condone her taking lovers by force. Nor one bound in service, which is too near force.”
Oniwe blew out a long breath. “Daranai’rika was not often present at court, though I heard of her frequently. I had thought—well, I was wrong, I see.” He eyed Tamaryl. “But you won’t repeat that, will you?”
Tamaryl tried to gauge the ruler’s humor. “I will forget your confession the moment my betrothal is dissolved.”
Oniwe’aru gave a small chuckle. “Bravely spoken.” He drummed his fingers absently. “But the law allows. You are certain she wants to be free of you as well?”
“I do not know. She may not know herself. I believe she wants to be matched to someone, especially someone with privilege, but whether she favors me over another is uncertain.”
Oniwe’aru nodded. “I will speak to her.”
“I am afraid she will not have kind words for me.”
“I am not interested in her kind words,” Oniwe’aru answered shortly. “I am interested in whether she wishes this betrothal ended.” He looked frustrated. “With the deaths of her aunt and father, she became less of a political benefit. If she is unhappy with you and you with her, there is no reason to pursue this.”
Tamaryl felt relief, mixed with a faint fear that Daranai might refuse only to spite him and retain the powerful association of his house.
Oniwe’aru sighed. “I wish she had said something to me before now. Or you, Tamaryl’sho. You never led me to believe you might want someone other than her.”
Tamaryl eyed the floor. It had never occurred to him that he might, either. He had always known that he would conjoin for the good of the court and clan, and he had never considered an alternative.
Oniwe’aru gestured toward the open doorway. “You know Edeiya’rika?”
“By reputation, and briefly—long ago—but not well.”
Oniwe’aru raised a significant eyebrow. “You should. She will likely be Edeiya’silth in the future.” The leader of the Ai.
“I see she is Tsuraiya ni’Ai now.” The cobalt sash marked a hard-won prestige, one that would be useful to carry her to the head of the Ai.
“Indeed, and most respected in that role.”
Tamaryl considered his next words. “While conjoining the Pairvyn with the Tsuraiya, who may become silth, would indeed be a coup, I observe that entering a new betrothal just as one is dissolved might be—”
Oniwe’aru laughed. “Be at ease! Even I wouldn’t throw you into a match so abruptly. And Edeiya’rika takes her duty very seriously; I doubt she would accept a mate tainted by humans.”
Tamaryl frowned. “I am not so corrupted as that.”
“You might explain that to her,” Oniwe replied, chuckling, “but not near my fragile valuables, if you please.”
Tamaryl sighed. He had known he would be doubted. It would pass. Eventually.
Regaining his abandoned position had not been simple, and Oniwe’s assignments were a simultaneous punishment for his long-ago treason and probe for his present loyalties and abilities. But they had been necessary and practical tasks, Tamaryl admitted. Oniwe was not wasting him in petty make-work, and Tamaryl could be proud of what he’d done since his return.
He was less proud of what he must do next, but it was necessary for the welfare of his struggling people.
“Oniwe’aru, I have brought something more from the human world.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE PALACE OF RED SANDS had one of Tamaryl’s favorite gardens, a small jewelbox of fountain, moss, and vivid flowers cascading across and down from a few thin overhead chains and down a wall, providing both color and a modicum of privacy in the roofless space. Tamaryl slipped into it and sank onto a narrow stone bench, warm with the sun. Safely out of sight, he slumped and put his face into his hands, his wings hanging low behind him.
“Is it so terrible to be home?”
He jerked upright and twisted on the bench. It took him a moment to identify her form through the tumble of flowers. “Edeiya’rika. I am sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
She shook her head as she came around the vines. “I usually find this place empty, too. That’s why I like it.” She sat on the edge of the fountain, facing him. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“I was only thinking, and it probably needed interrupting.” He blew out his breath in a long stream. “It was something about you in a way. About your duty, I mean. To be perfectly honest, I was envying you.”
She cocked her head, her emerald-dark hair falling over the crest of one wing. “Oh?”
“You know each of your fights is right. You fight only for defense, and when is it wrong to defend your home? So you can face battle, or thoughts of battle, with confidence and a clear conscience.”
She nodded. “It is one of the joys I find in my duties as Tsuraiya. Most of politics is not nearly so clear.”
“I want it, some part of it, some piece at least, to be clear.”
She waited, watching him, inviting him to speak if he wished.
Words he had not been able to speak in Alham tumbled free. “Before I left—I was focused on the fighting, I suppose. Yes, I knew the crops were poor, I knew there were shortages, but I was the Pairvyn, and what I saw was the raids themselves. I saw sho strategize to maximize their own glory. I saw che sabotaging tactics to put warriors at risk so that they could come in later as heroes and win recognition and reward. I knew this war would undo us, and I decided I could not fight it.”
She nodded, though of course she knew all this.
“But I saw only what was immediately before me. I did not see how severe the famine was growing. I did not realize that by refusing to participate in the sho’s and che’s petty competitions, I was sacrificing the people I had pledged to aid. When I returned... I saw with fresh eyes.” He looked at her, expecting to see judgment.
But her expression offered a sad empathy. “You were not as blind as you think. In truth, it has worsened considerably since you left, despite our best efforts. People are growing more frightened. There was a riot at one of the Union storehouses a few days ago.”
Tamaryl winced. “I can’t bear to think that I helped to cause that desperation. But I don’t want to undermine social stability and set inexperienced che to oversee fields that aren’t producing and yes, kill human farmers who are also just trying to survive. I can’t focus on only my duty. I don’t know if I can be the Pairvyn as I should.” He forced an unconvincing chuckle. �
�I’m not sure why I am, to be honest. I didn’t hazard to ask, but shouldn’t I have been replaced after so many years?”
“He didn’t dare.” Edeiya leaned back, dangerously near the splashing water. “As you’ve seen, the situation has been worsening, and Oniwe’aru manages his ministers tightly. He could not afford to place a representative of another family as Pairvyn, not when he needed to consolidate power.”
“Was there no one in the South Family to serve?”
“He did consider Gann’sho for a time, but then Gann’sho died in a raid, so that effectively ended his candidacy. After that, he could choose someone from one of the other families or keep the position of champion empty under your name. Which is what he did.” She shook her head. “It’s been a dangerous field, and I am frankly impressed that Oniwe’aru has managed so well the last few years without the Union recalling his vote.”
The four ruling families voted upon a silth or aru, who would serve for the next thirty years—if he or she safely navigated the three confidence votes at the conclusion of the first, third, and seventh years and then governed well enough to avoid a recall during the ensuing reign.
“It sounds as if no one else would want to take his place, not with things the way they are.” Tamaryl looked at her. “Though I have heard you are a candidate.”
Edeiya did not downplay it with false humility nor puff up with pride. “I am one. Frenses’sho of the West Family is another, and I do not know if the North Family has settled on someone, or if they mean to put anyone forward.”
Tamaryl remembered how Edeiya had, with a quiet observation, smoothed tensions between Ariana and Oniwe while simultaneously destroying Daranai’s social standing. He did not know if she had done it because of Daranai’s assault on Maru or for another reason, but it had been subtle and efficient. “You will be a formidable silth.”
She smiled. “I am honored that you think so.”
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