by R. J. Price
“My mother,” Aren said. “My grandfather had no sons, my mother was eldest daughter and took his name, passing it on to my father in a prearrangement. All of us children took the name. They were to lead the coastal village my grandfather leads, but the vineyard needed a lord and the throne begged my grandfather to release us from duty to go there. He agreed, so long as his eldest grandson by my mother's youngest sister could change lines to his and take over the village when the time came. Though to be fair the village had seen enough of my parents by that time.”
“Interesting. Your father inherited from whom, exactly?”
“His great-uncle, about seven years ago,” Aren said.
Ervam climbed the three steps to his porch and sat beside Aren. He reached into the bowl and took a pea. He began shelling them as Aren did the same.
“I'm guessing you're the only ranked member of your family?”
“Oh yes, commoners all the way down,” Aren said with a nod. “My brother, second child to my mother, is slow. My next sibling is a brother—he takes after my father and is training to inherit the vineyard. He seems a good deal better with the wine than father is, however. You might have a chance to taste his vintage, if you visit the palace, called Thirdborne.”
“Jer sent me a bottle, I've not opened it,” Ervam muttered. “Afraid it will taste like horse piss.”
“It is a good deal better. Good at wine, wouldn't want him in charge of me, however,” Aren said and then took in a deep breath. “Then there is Anue, my sister.” She looked up to see where Av was, but the man had left without her noticing. “She is the youngest and relatively unnoticed by Mother and Father. She is a kind spirit.”
“Does she know? About you, I mean?”
“No, I would never put that burden on her,” Aren sighed.
“And I do believe Av said you were a ward of the throne, making you eighteen,” Ervam said.
“I am, yes, for a few months now. Why do you mention that?”
“Are you aware that Av is thirty-four?” the man asked.
“But,” Aren looked at Ervam. “How old are you then?”
“Fifty-two, we had Av at a young age,” Ervam chuckled. “He was a bit of a surprise.”
“I can imagine,” Aren said.
“Mar was more of a surprise,” Ervam said. “Jer is thirty-two. Em was not a woman when she had that child, just a child herself. Has anyone discussed with you the options for a young woman? I mean the contraceptives you could take, to prevent an incident that you might regret later?”
“No, my mother always said that a woman who does not own her mistakes does not deserve to live,” Aren said. “Besides, it doesn't happen that easily.”
She smiled nervously as Ervam watched her. The man sighed, gave her a look of pity and set aside the bowl of shelled peas.
“Darling, my mate and I were both on contraceptives when Av was conceived. Barring magic, which only healers can perform and only on themselves, the contraceptives can have problems. Nothing is tried and true like not hopping in a bed. Just keep that in mind, when a man makes an offer to you. I don't know the ways of women. You'll want to find an older woman for that kind of advice.”
Aren thought of that night and chewed her bottom lip with worry.
“You cannot be serious.” Ervam growled. “Of all the young men I've seen in my years, Av was never the type to throw a woman into bed. Lovely, I suppose I should ask you about your past then.”
“My past?” Aren asked.
“In bed.”
“That is hardly your business!”
“As father to the man you bedded, it is my business. Though usually the mother carries out such conversations,” Ervam said.
“Probably with a good deal more tact,” Aren pointed out.
“True, but I don't know the tricks as I've never had this conversation with a woman before. When I went to talk to Mirmae's father, he put a dagger to my throat. He told me that if I did not give him my full sexual history, including any, and all, exploratory romps as a child, he would put the blade through my throat missing the windpipe and anything necessary to live, but I would never again enjoy breathing.”
“Oh dear,” Aren said, giggling despite herself.
“If you don't mind...”
“I've never done anything before. My parents kept me close. Besides a kiss to the cheek by a serving boy, when I was ten, not a man has touched me until I came to court. Certainly no kisses or,” Aren hesitated, “bedding of any kind.”
“It's called sex.”
“Yes, and it's called a penis, but that does not mean I need to bandy the word about if I am uncomfortable with saying it,” Aren said.
Ervam shifted in his seat, away from Aren as if he could put distance between the two of them.
“Very well. As your mother is not around to question Av for you, I will tell you that he has had several lovers over the years. A few lasted long enough for me to wonder if it was time he went public with the relationship. Nothing ever came of it and the ladies returned home absolutely happy that they had met him. When Mie came around Av stopped seeing women, focusing on other ventures, besides that one romp that ended just a few years ago. Didn't last long, however; Em put an end to that very quickly. Even banished the poor woman. She's doing well now.”
Aren frowned at Ervam. Mie was a male derivative of Mirmae, shortened to represent rank.
“Mie?” she asked.
“Mie's seven years old. Normally they're fourteen before you know for certain, but Mie's mother saw in him the same sorts of things, her mother told her, Av and Jer did, and she brought the boy to me to be trained. I see him quite often now, which is good, good to have blood close.”
She tried to speak, but choked on her own breath. Aren cleared her throat and tried again.
“Mie's like Av and Jer?”
“Yes, he is, adorable little boy.” Ervam nodded.
“Can I ask...” Aren hesitated. “Ranks, their names shorten when they are discovered?”
“That's true, they are.”
“What are Jer and Av's full names?” Aren asked.
“Jer and Av, their mother knew the moment they were born. By their naming day I knew as well. We named them appropriately and raised them as such. Being entirely in a ranked family, without commoners, makes it easier to recognize the other ranks. I grew up among them. Av and Jer were born to it, but didn't grow up around it, identifying you, for example, is more difficult for them, but simple for me. I can look at you and see it.”
“And Mie's name?”
“Milerme, his name was derived from Mirmae's. His mother wanted to honour her memory.” Ervam sighed. “It was a touching gesture, but Mie was an accident and it dredged up old memories, ones that hadn't fully healed, still haven't. If I were ready to move on I would have a woman here. It does get lonely, you know, by myself, but a woman is definitely not the answer.”
“Why would he be named after Mirmae?”
“A gesture is all.”
“Does Mie look like Mirmae at all?”
“No, why would he look like my mate?” Ervam asked.
Confused, Aren frowned at Ervam. “Isn't Mirmae Av's mother?”
“She is, but what's that to do with Mie? Oh, oh no, Aren. No. Mie is my son. Av stopped seeing women when my son was born. At first he claimed it was awkward to be chasing women when I had an infant son, then he simply stopped talking about courting all together.” Ervam shook his head. “Truth be told I think he was just angry that Mie was conceived because I was forcing myself out there. Trying to set a good example for Jer. I want him to move on after Em passes because he's far too young to mope about.”
“Your mate died, what, ten years ago?” Aren asked.
“I loved her.”
“And he loves Em.”
“That's adorable, that you think what is between Jer and Em is love.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jer walked the shore of the lake, aware that his father was watchi
ng him. He stopped here and there, kicking lightly at the sandy shore, and at times he would pick up a rock, adding it to the ones he had already collected, then continue walking.
He enjoyed skipping rocks across the surface of the lake, a habit he had developed when he was a young boy, one that continued on into his adult years. Each time he visited his father’s home he was certain he had found the last of the skipping rocks, yet there were always more. Which had always made him wonder if his father wasn’t bringing rocks in from other places for him to find.
Ervam approached Jer, watched him glance up and back to the lake.
“What is eating at you?” his father asked.
“A good deal,” Jer said.
“And how is Em?” Ervam asked.
Jer countered with, “What did he tell you?”
The two watched each other for a long moment. Ervam seemed to consider his options before he said, “Your brother unburdened himself onto me, Jer, nothing more. If he mentioned anything that is burdening you it is because these things were a weight on his mind. One that has now been lifted. Am I to take your anger as an answer, Em is not doing well?”
“She's begun wasting away, more unstable than ever,” Jer said.
“I told you when she took the throne, you may need to do her a mercy,” Ervam said, setting a hand on Jer's shoulder. “Son, there's no shame in taking your mate's life when all she has before her is pain, misery, and a slow death.”
“I know that, but I feel no desire to take her life, not for mercy, certainly,” Jer said in frustration. He turned his body and flicked a rock at the lake, skipping it across the water's surface.
His father frowned, confusion playing over his features. “What do you mean by that? Take her life, allow another to take the throne. Mar is stronger than her mother, and from what Av says she may be stronger than your mother, and she would have had a long, prosperous reign if only consumption had not come down the mountain.”
“No, Mar will not take the throne,” Jer said in a quiet tone. “No daughter of mine will suffer that fate. How, though, how have mates in the past taken life, knowing that another would be sentenced to death by their actions? It is not a mercy. It is a death sentence to another young woman.”
“Have you not been in the queen's library?”
“The what?” Jer asked.
Ervam sighed, giving Jer the distinct impression that in that one question many answers had been given. This was something that mates were supposed to know about, apparently, something that Jer had never been told before.
“The library is made up of journals of past queens,” Ervam explained to Jer. “It is off of the rooms. Which I'm guessing you do not share with Em, otherwise you would have found the library on your own. In it there is a book, Telm gives to each who takes the throne, which has been transcribed from an older text. It explains the use of the throne, of where consumption comes from.”
“That was how you knew to bury the mines?” Jer asked.
Ervam nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. “Too little, too late. Those who came before, they thought to use the locations of the mines to do what our ancestors did, and bring the stone into the court to control it. Yet it cannot be controlled.”
Even with so many years between the event and then, Jer still saw the grief in his father’s eyes.
“What does this library say, exactly?”
“It tells you why you need to sacrifice your daughters, mothers, and sisters to the throne,” Ervam said, “but that is a conversation we can have with your brother, seeing as how there will be another queen soon. Your mate is unstable, going mad from the throne picking away at her. The madness comes about when the emotions are dragged away—love, compassion, these are things that Em can no longer feel. Anger, hatred, revulsion, these are the only emotions that are left. When she feels, her magic flares, since emotion fuels the magic. When she feels strong emotion, the throne seems distant, the scratching at the back of her mind eases and for a moment there is relief.”
“Attacking a rival feels good because she is no longer being stripped of all that she is?” Jer asked.
“Exactly. There have been times where the one who sat the throne was a terrible woman, and a terrible queen. Yet she would rule for decades, do you know why?”
“Because they were quick to anger,” Jer responded.
“Yes, that is it,” Ervam said, looking out over the lake. “Em's instability will become worse in the coming months. If she is to survive, she needs to become every horror the people whisper in the night. It will infect those nearest to her first, the lords and ladies, and spill over into the people. The prosperity Em has brought to the lands under the palace will vanish, already is. Look at Aren's father, at the number of young women being abandoned at court. At this Worl fellow. When a queen is mad, her people are mad.”
“But I do not want Mar to take the throne,” Jer said.
“I heard you the first time,” Ervam said. “No daughter of yours, really? Did you adopt her before the court? Because that sounds like something Em would prevent from happening.”
“Mar is my daughter. My blood. Your bloodline.”
“And where is the young lady now?”
“On her way to Perlon's lands, mated to him.”
“Perlon?” Ervam asked, almost sounding surprised at hearing the name. “Why did he not mate before?”
“Why did Av not mate before?” Jer asked in response. “It took both Av and myself to convince Perlon into mating Mar. In the end he did it as a favour to me. When he arrived at court, Aren introduced him to Mar, for some damnable reason, and the two discovered they enjoyed one another.”
“Clever girl, that Aren.”
Jer made a sound at the back of his throat, and then skipped another stone across the lake.
“What else is bothering you, surely that is not all?”
“Aren didn't complain a single time,” Jer said, playing with the stones in his hand. “She didn't whine when Av woke her, didn't snivel all the way out, didn't ask where we were going, or how long it would be, or how much longer. She didn't talk about how her feet hurt, didn't slow us down. When we started out, she actually complained because we were taking packs and she was to walk just on her own.”
“You mean, unlike Em?” Ervam asked.
“Yes,” Jer said.
“Jealousy is a heavy burden, Jer, one that you must leave behind. Aren is not the woman for you—she is the woman for Av, in case you have not noticed what is going on between the two of them.”
“He claims he is only doing it to control her,” Jer said
“What was his first excuse?” Ervam asked. “To discover what she was hiding, no doubt. And once he found out what she was hiding it was reason, after reason, to keep her around.”
“Had to ride out once he knew where she went because she was a queen, then it was to keep her from Worl, then for control, and then to keep her from Em.” Jer shook his head. He frowned at the water for a moment before he realized what his father meant. “He's making excuses. Why?”
“Because of Em, because he's afraid Aren will say no,” Ervam said with a shake of his head. “When a young man finds a woman he wants, he gets nervous, can spend months trying to talk himself into going near her, let alone speaking to her. Given the situation, Av did not have the time to gather his courage. He latches onto excuses instead. Like you did with Em.”
“I did not,” Jer said.
“She's kind of pretty, in a way,” Ervam said, repeating the words Jer once said to him almost two decades previous. “A woman is actually speaking to me. She's pregnant, she says it's not mine, but I'm pretty sure it is. She's a queen for crying out loud, and who walks away from a queen? Em could hold the throne. Em is on the throne.”
“All right, fine, I made excuses. But look how that turned out.”
“You made negative excuses. You made her excuses. You stayed because she might be pretty, or might be speaking to you, or might be interested in
you. Av followed his instincts, first to find what the young woman was and since then, what sort of excuses has he been using? Ones to protect her.”
“Control is not protection,” Jer said.
“It can be. If Aren is not brought to line, Em will destroy her. Wasting or not, the throne will give Em the magic necessary to execute Aren, then Av will execute Em, and you and he will likely kill or cripple one another. All without control.”
Jer ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“You don't agree with the idea of controlling Aren?” Ervam asked.
“No, it feels wrong,” Jer said. “We have no idea what she is capable of. You always taught us that control was a form of abuse.”
“It can be, but you control the life of your child, tell them the rules, and discipline them for breaking the rules,” Ervam said. “Can you see the difference there?”
“One is for their good and one can hurt.”
“Exactly. You can abuse a child through control, just as anyone else can be hurt with it, but if Av tries such a thing, Jer, it is your duty to stop him. If not as his brother, then as mate to the throne. Your duty is to protect the young ranked women of the palace, even from your mate.”
“I know,” Jer said with a sigh. “I know, you told me how many times. It is the duty of the mate of the throne, and no one else, to protect the young women at court. If he fails in doing so, it is the duty of the master to remove him. Though in this case the master wouldn't exactly do that, now would he?”
“He might not, but I would,” Ervam growled. “I gave up my position, but that does not mean that I will stand by idly while he bastardizes everything I did.”
Jer sighed again, loudly.
“I said unburden yourself, not natter,” Ervam said.
