Blood & Bond

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  Shianan froze, staring at the cup in his hand. “My lord...”

  “Did he ask you to keep it in confidence?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Can you not, in good conscience, tell us what business he had?”

  Shianan closed his eyes and swallowed. “After this day, I have no pride to spare. He wanted my loyalty to His Highness, Prince Alasdair.”

  There was an awkward pause. “Of course you would be expected to be loyal to the princes,” the queen said slowly. “Is that all he asked of you?”

  “That is all. He bade me kneel and swear my obedience to Prince Alasdair, who accepted it with all the dignity of his position.”

  “Alasdair was there?” Soren sounded surprised and—something more. “He swore you to Alasdair directly?”

  Shianan saw the queen’s eyes flash dangerously. Her voice was terse. “Soren, have you...”

  “No, Mother. No, I have received no oaths. Not while my king lives.” He exhaled in a long stream. “Ethan, I think I’ll have what the commander is having.”

  Slow realization came to Shianan’s jangled mind. The king had ordered an oath of allegiance to the younger prince, not the elder. Some might see it as the first act in arranging the succession to pass over the elder prince.

  Shianan had seen it as his own complete humiliation, but now he recognized it as an affront to the only prince who had been civil and even kind toward him. “I’m sorry,” he began, hardly hearing his own voice. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. It wasn’t—‍”

  “It wasn’t your doing,” Soren interrupted, almost annoyed. “Mother, do you—has he said anything?” He turned to face the queen. “Has he said anything at all?”

  Shianan blinked at the plaintive note underlying the prince’s words. But that was hardly surprising from a man who had thought to be king one day, suddenly learning that perhaps he would not.

  I still resent you, commander. I hate you for every big and small victory the king hangs over my head to show me just how far short I fall. Soren, the elder prince and apparent heir, fought for the king’s eye just as Shianan did. He was unsettled, even frightened, by this news.

  “He’s said nothing to me, Soren,” the queen answered quietly. “I hear only of your accomplishments and his pride. But perhaps this conversation should be continued another time.”

  “Your Highness,” Shianan tried, “I would not—I protested that a military commander should not be sworn to a mere boy—‍” He faltered.

  Soren turned with a grim smile. “You protested? I am almost glad to hear that, though it could not have done either of us any good. How did the king respond?”

  Shianan glanced down, flinching at the hot, shameful memory. “His Majesty...”

  But Soren must have read something in his hesitation, for his eyes narrowed. “And Alasdair,” he muttered.

  “Who was present?” asked the queen.

  Shianan swallowed. “Only His Majesty and His Highness, my lady. And myself. No one else.”

  “Not even a slave?”

  Only myself. “No one else, Your Majesty.”

  “Then, Soren,” she said thoughtfully, “it’s possible he meant only to straighten this morning’s affairs. This was not a public gesture, this was a bit of housekeeping. It may not have been intended as a slight against you at all, though it seems he wasn’t especially thoughtful about it.”

  For most of Shianan’s life, one of his greatest fears was to be thought of as a political pawn, as that potential defined his danger and alienation. Now the king himself had drawn Shianan into the devices of succession, and he was helpless to escape.

  “If he meant this only to ensure recognition of Alasdair,” continued the queen, “then it will be simple enough to arrange for you to openly receive oaths from a few key nobles and officers. If the generals swear publicly their fealty to you, who can give more credence to a private vow from a commander?”

  Soren hesitated. “If he was... But yes, you’re probably right. He probably was caught up in our talk about Alasdair, and he did not intend a public...” His voice faded and he glanced toward Ethan. “Still—leave the queen’s wine, Ethan, and send a note to His Grace that I’ll want to see him at his earliest convenience tomorrow. I want to have that trade route agreement finished.”

  Ethan bowed and left. Shianan bit at his lip and stared at the chair beside him. The prince, too, needed accomplishments. Shianan felt ashamed to have seen his insecurity.

  “Then,” said Queen Azalie with a sidelong glance toward Shianan, “let us talk of something else entirely. You say this is your first visit, Bailaha?”

  Shianan jumped. “Er, yes, Your Majesty, it is. My duties do not usually bring me here.”

  “You did not tell me much of yourself last night. Will you do so now?”

  Shianan was utterly unprepared for a conversation with the queen. He could hardly think, reeling from the day’s events. “Your Majesty could not be interested in the concerns of a mere soldier, my lady.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You might be surprised what could interest me, Bailaha. But if you won’t tell me of yourself, tell me of something else. I want to hear you speak.”

  Shianan hesitated. What was safe for conversation? What would she want to hear? When would she release him?

  Soren smiled. “He has a slave of whom he’s fond, like my Ethan or your Eve. What’s his name? Luca?”

  “Luca,” repeated Shianan softly. Without warning his throat closed, and he had to blink firmly. “Luca is gone.”

  Soren opened his mouth in surprise. “He died?”

  Shianan shook his head.

  “But you would not have sold him? I thought—it seemed you liked him.”

  “I did.” His throat swelled and closed. “But his brother came from the Wakari Coast to redeem him.”

  The queen looked from Shianan to Soren. Soren’s face softened. “You let him go?”

  “His family wanted him.” Too late Shianan realized the danger of that thoughtless statement.

  The queen, at least, seemed to have understood both possible meanings. She stiffened in her chair. “Well, it was good of you to send him to where he was wanted.”

  Shianan flinched and stared at the drink sloshing thinly at the bottom of his cup. He wanted to escape, to flee to his quarters, cold now without Luca to stoke the fire in anticipation of his arrival, and to hide within his room, safely away from king or prince or queen.

  “Er,” continued the queen in a softer tone. “That was hardly in the spirit of my words last night. I shall try not to take offense from your impersonal comments.” She glanced at Soren. “Besides, you are still the guest of my son.”

  “He was freeborn?” asked Soren. “Your slave?”

  Shianan nodded. “He was enslaved for debt.” They did not need the details. “His brother came to Alham on business and—they recognized one another. I sent Luca home with him.”

  “A touching story,” commented Queen Azalie. “But shouldn’t a Furmelle commander be more cautious in relating how he freed a slave?” She smiled.

  Shianan shook his head. “I did not, Your Majesty. I merely transferred him to another man. What his new master does with him once they cross the border is none of my doing.”

  “Oh, I meant no harm,” she assured him. “I think it a rather grand tale, myself.”

  It had hardly been a grand life for Luca, but Shianan did not protest.

  The queen stood, brushing her skirts into place as the two men straightened. “I will not keep you from your business. No, Soren, you needn’t trouble, I can return by the palace passage.”

  Shianan bowed deeply as she passed, remaining still a moment longer than the prince. Only after she had gone did Shianan straighten.

  Soren gave Shianan an empathetic look. “It’s been a difficult few days, I see. The Shard, the Court, and Luca. My lady mother. And today the king, and then the mage... What happened, dare I ask? May I?”

  Shianan sighed. “I
misunderstood. I was moved to defend her, but it seems she needed no defense, and—well, my erroneous assumption was not appreciated.”

  Ethan, returning, collected the queen’s cup.

  “Sit down, Becknam, please.” Soren gestured Shianan to a chair as he took a seat himself. “I’m sorry to hear about your misunderstanding.” He paused. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

  “Your Highness?”

  “About the Shard. The reason it disappeared.”

  Shianan’s stomach clenched. “I don’t know all the purpose behind the theft of the Shard. Perhaps they intended to ransom it to the kingdom—‍”

  Soren waved a hand imperiously. “Oh, no, no. I don’t intend to try and overturn the Court of the High Star’s ruling; think how that would look. But I believed you more the first time.” He lifted his drink and gazed at it. “Though your Luca, when I asked, did a splendid job of protesting how the merchant had tried to kill you. One almost forgot, listening to him, that he’d not answered about the Shard itself.”

  Shianan sat very still, wondering if he were expected to respond to this indirect accusation.

  Soren sighed. “I’m sorry you lost him. I could see you valued him.” He drained his cup and held it toward Ethan. “What about you, Ethan? Do you have any freemen family to take you?”

  Ethan approached and refilled the drink. “No, master. I was bred for royal service.”

  “I thought so. But would you wish for ransom?”

  Ethan paused. “Had I a different master, I might.”

  Soren smiled. “Are you being truthful or obliging?”

  “Both, master. May I speak freely?”

  “Please do. Becknam is not likely to act on anything you say.”

  Ethan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “A slave always wishes to be free, and I cannot deny I have dreamed of being my own master. But my position here is better than that of many impoverished freemen, and my service is such that I would exchange places with few. My master is both fair and generous.”

  Shianan stared down, seeing nothing. I’ll never do better, Luca had said. I want to stay your servant.

  Soren was grinning. “Generous, you say? What do you have your eye on?”

  “If Your Highness could spare me, I would like an afternoon or evening...”

  Soren’s grin widened. “Paying a visit to the lovely Clara?”

  Ethan returned a nod which managed somehow to be simultaneously obedient, conspiratorial, and prurient, and Soren laughed. “See which day has the fewest appointments here and take it. I’ll have work enough to keep me occupied, but if I need anything, a prince should be able to find help somewhere.”

  “Thank you, master.”

  “Not at all. Please fill Becknam’s cup again and then you may go.”

  After the slave had left, Soren glanced at Shianan again. “You have not answered my question, but I suppose it no longer matters. As far as the annals are concerned, the Shard is recovered and that is the end of it. But if I can help in any way to soothe this recent misunderstanding, please let me know. ’Soats, after facing that this morning, you deserve a little luck in your love.”

  “Your Highness....”

  “Becknam—even a king can err. Between us, I’m sorry for it.”

  Shianan looked at him wonderingly, but Soren seemed absorbed in his own thoughts. He turned in his chair, one leg propped upon the other, chewing at his lip.

  The fire in the cleft, the Kalen baths, even the awful night on the wall, all had shown Shianan aspects of the prince no one else had been present to see. Prince Soren was no longer a resented entity to be hated for his privilege, but a thoughtful and deliberate man conscientiously working through his tasks. He would make a good king.

  Shianan set his cup down and rose to his feet almost without thinking. “Your Highness,” he began, surprising the prince into looking up, “is it true you have received no formal oaths of allegiance?”

  “As I said.”

  Shianan took a step and knelt before the prince’s chair. “I would be honored, my lord, if you would accept my pledge as your first.”

  “Becknam...!”

  “My lord, I solemnly swear my loyalty to you and to the kingdom which will be in your hands.” The words tumbled earnestly from him as if by their own will.

  “Becknam—‍”

  “I pledge to follow my prince.”

  “Becknam, you needn’t do this for this morning’s—‍”

  “That had nothing to do with it,” Shianan interjected. He swallowed and continued. “I can think of no other master I would rather serve. This is my oath to Your Highness—I have sworn to obey Prince Alasdair in the letter of the law. I swear now, not to obey but to serve Prince Soren, with spirit and heart.”

  Soren straightened in the chair, leaning toward Shianan. His expression, when Shianan lifted his eyes, was intense. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “I believe so, my lord.”

  “In the event the king really is positioning Alasdair to inherit, you have just committed yourself.”

  “I would be honored to serve you.”

  “’Soats, Becknam, I am not looking to assemble a personal army, not now. I don’t want to draw attention to the succession. If rumor goes out that the prince is—‍”

  “There will be no rumor, my lord,” Shianan interrupted quietly. “I seek no public witness for a declaration. This is between my prince and his willing servant.”

  Soren gave him a long, appraising look. Something in his eyes softened. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Shianan held his gaze. “This oath, Your Highness, I make of my own will.”

  Soren nodded slowly. “Then, I thank you. I accept your pledge and in return I swear to honor your service.” He exhaled. “Rise, please, Becknam.”

  Shianan did, standing taller than he had in days.

  “Why?” Soren looked at him. “I, for one, am not worried about any attempt you might make on the throne. And if I feared military support for Alasdair, I would be more jealous of the generals’ oaths than yours. Why?”

  Shianan shifted awkwardly. “Ethan likes you.”

  “What?” Soren made a wry face. “A man’s slave is the truest judge of his character, is that it?”

  “No one spends more time with you, and he respects you but does not fear you. If even your slave likes you... And I have had the unique privilege of seeing you without a gallery of courtiers. You are a good man without spectators, too.”

  Soren eyed him. “One of those privileged instances was when I was beating the bloody snot out of you,” he said dubiously. “Am I to believe you considered me a good man then, too?”

  “The fault, my lord, lay in your zeal for your responsibilities. The destruction of Caftford, that was the catalyst. Remember, you also came to my defense when I was first taken before the king. I did not expect anyone to speak for me.”

  “Because I came first to protest your arrest, I am absolved of pummeling you while you were chained and wounded?”

  “It was the price of my actions, my lord. You did as you thought best for your kingdom, and I had some sacrifice as consequence for my own choices.”

  “Some sacrifice.” Soren stared at him, shaking his head. “King’s sweet oats. No wonder they call you the demon commander.”

  “What?”

  The prince smiled. “Yes, I get some of the common soldier gossip as well. But now I almost believe their nightmarish stories.” Shianan blinked, and Soren chuckled. “While you were watching servants for clues to my character, I was gathering information on yours.”

  A moment of panic struck Shianan. Whom had he asked? And who could give a fair report of the bastard to the prince-heir?

  “Curious? The recruits call you the demon commander, but they have a reluctant admiration for you, I think. The veterans unhesitatingly answer that they would follow you again into battle, that they would rather have you than another. All call you fair and even-handed.” Soren s
miled. “They did not know to whom they were reporting, of course.”

  There was a peculiar warm hollow in Shianan’s stomach as he listened. He had not heard his troops’ opinions so plainly before.

  The prince stood. “And what if the king chooses Alasdair to succeed? What then?”

  Shianan took a slow, deep breath. “Then I must break an oath. And the one I made of my own volition will not be the one I break.”

  Soren gave him a long look, his expression shuttered. “And in the end,” he said finally, “I do want you on my side.” He reached for Shianan’s forearm, clasping it in the ancient sign of solidarity. “I am only now beginning to know Shianan Becknam, but I know I want him beside me.”

  Shianan blinked, and the spreading warm glow began to radiate through him. He gripped the prince’s arm in return, unsure of his voice.

  Soren swallowed and blinked. “We both—king’s oats, man, I can’t—Becknam, I find myself dangerously close to believing you, to thinking you really don’t intend a political move. No one plays his politics according to the opinion of a slave! Do you mean it?”

  Shianan was surprised at the question. He’d never thought the prince might doubt his friends as much as the bastard. “I play no politics, my lord, save to serve my king as best I can. I knew long ago anything more would be dangerous for myself and for others. I never asked for my title. I am not a courtier...”

  “And that is why your oath means more,” Soren said firmly. “I know, at least, you are no threat to the crown. A bit misguided perhaps, in your efforts to help your friends, but no threat to the succession.” He smiled, not the practiced smile of a very public prince, but an honest smile.

  There was a knock at the outer door, and Soren made a face. “But as much as I would prefer to linger and talk all the afternoon with you, we both have other duties, as I was saying, and I’m afraid I must let you go.” He blew out a breath, almost unhappy. “Do let me know if I can help with your mage’s misunderstanding in any way—flowers from the royal hothouse, or fruits, whatever you think might win her fancy and a hearing for your apology.”