by Jane Glatt
He nodded, his eyes wide. Brenna stared at him, a gray-haired stranger who was her grandfather. Tentatively she reached a hand out and touched his face, tears in her eyes. Did the shape of his jaw remind her of her mother? Was he where she got her one green eye? She’d never wanted to see herself in Duke Thorold but with Yowan Sellars she found herself looking for hints of her and her mother. Yowan, her grandfather, clasped her hand and settled it over his heart, his eyes damp. Brenna was barely aware when Kane reached a supportive arm around her.
“Prophecy,” Kane whispered into her ear. “He said your grandmother is Madelay Kerrich. She must be related to Duchess Avery.”
Looking up at Kane’s solemn expression, Brenna stilled. She was a direct blood relation to all three ducal families. Could it really be the prophecy?
“The child,” Yowan whispered. “What happened to the child, my child?”
“My mother, Wynne,” she said. She turned her hand so she could grip his. “She died when I was sixteen.” Yowan deserved to know how she’d died but that could wait until later. Let him get used to the fact that his child was dead and that he had a grand-daughter.
Brenna sat down across from Yowan while Kane left to find Kevan. He’d have the lad take a message to Laurel saying that they were delayed. Yowan stared at her and she stared back, hardly able to believe she’d actually found him.
“My own child,” Yowan said. “And I’ll never know her. What of your father?”
“My father died before I was born - mother told me they loved each very much.” Brenna ran a hand along her knife hilt. She felt the reassuring presence of Kane through the old steel. “Yowan,” she said gently, “I’m sorry, but I need to leave very soon. Kane and I are dining with Laurel Kerrich and we can’t postpone it - we are hoping to get some information from them. Can we talk tomorrow? There’s much we need to discuss, about my mother and the Brotherhood.”
Yowan nodded. “The Brotherhood. I’d almost forgotten the reason I came to meet you. Yes, we’ll talk tomorrow. And Brenna?” he looked up at her. “You might not want to discuss me with Laurel.”
“Not to worry,” she smiled. “I lived with Laurel for over three months - she was my teacher but she doesn’t even know my real name.”
“Which is?”
“Trewen, Brenna Trewen.” She wondered why he raised his eyebrows but at that moment Kane returned.
“We need to go, Brenna,” Kane said. “Do you feel up to this?”
Brenna nodded. “We’ll talk with Yowan tomorrow.”
“Good,” he said. He held the door open and she picked up her pack and walked into the hall. Shakily she made her way up to their room. She needed to take a few minutes to tidy up and she had to compose herself. Laurel might notice her unsettled state and ask questions and it was too soon to talk about the Brotherhood, and definitely too soon to discuss their kinship. Thankfully she couldn’t See this about Brenna.
Dinner had gone smoothly enough. Kane liked Laurel’s man, Clift Mackenee. The two of them were generous hosts and their family had quickly captivated both he and Brenna. Brenna laughed and Kane glanced over at her. Laurel’s son Russel, a good-natured young man just shy of eighteen, had been flirting with her ever since they arrived. Laurel’s daughter Tressa was fifteen and heir to the duchess by a line of succession that Kane did not yet fully understand.
“My mother tells me you were Captain of the Kingsguard.” Tressa smiled and leaned toward him. “That must have been terribly exciting.”
“Not really,” Kane said. “It’s mostly dealing with the king’s council. You can ask your grandmother how exciting that is. There are many tedious meetings.”
“But surely you must have faced dangerous criminals?” Tressa asked.
“Well, I came across a very good thief once.” He glanced over at Brenna. “She was the best thief in Kingsreach, at least according to her.”
“A female thief, how extraordinary,” Tressa said. “Was she really all that good?”
“I did end up catching her,” Kane said.
“So maybe she wasn’t that good after all.” Tressa’s voice faltered when she caught sight of him grinning across the table at Brenna.
“You might be right, Tressa, maybe she wasn’t that good after all.” He laughed when Brenna made a face at him. “What do you think, Brenna?”
“She did elude you for years,” Brenna said. “Besides, it wasn’t you who caught me, her, I mean.”
“But it was my jail you were in, wasn’t it?” Kane said.
“I would have gotten out eventually,” Brenna replied. “Don’t worry,” she said to their surprised hosts. “There’s no need to count the silver. I never steal from friends.”
“Brenna, I thought you said you were a healer when you lived in Kingsreach.” Laurel’s voice held a touch of reproach in it.
“I was, but it’s too dangerous to make a full living at it if you’re not Collegium trained.”
“Dangerous in what way?” Clift asked.
“If you’re labeled a witch you’ll likely be run out of town with only the clothes on your back.” Brenna shuddered. “That’s if you’re lucky.”
“Sabine Werret,” Laurel said softly.
“Yes,” Kane agreed. The woman had been killed because she’d been mistaken for Brenna but that didn’t mean she would have been safe otherwise. “Recently the church of the One-God has been encouraging it’s members to distrust those who don’t follow the same path.”
“What does the king say about that?” Tressa asked.
Her serious tone surprised Kane - here was the heir to the duchy, not the carefree girl he’d been chatting with up until now.
“I’m sure your grandmother will give you all the news, Tressa,” Clift said. “In the meantime, I suggest we retire to the sitting room.”
When Kane stood up he found Tressa attached to his arm. As the left the dining room she excitedly told him about her dress for the Spring Festival, once more a cheerful fifteen-year-old girl.
Kane had completely underestimated the amount of time a young girl could talk about a dress for a dance. She certainly spent time talking about the young men she would dance with but for the most part, the dress, her very first adult dress, was what filled her mind. Kane’s eyes were beginning to droop as she described the color of her dress for the fourth time - lemon, saffron, sunshine and now buttercup yellow. Then the door to the sitting room opened and a red-haired man stepped in.
“Rory.” Tressa jumped up, Kane thankfully forgotten, and rushed over to hug the newcomer.
“Well, look at the fine young lady - an absolute vision,” Rory said. He smiled at Tressa until she blushed and looked away.
“Rory – it’s good to see you.” Clift rose and clasped a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Please come in and meet our guests.” Rory glanced speculatively at Brenna before he met Kane’s gaze. The man’s green eyes blazed a challenge at him and Kane nodded slightly and smiled lazily back at the lad. This would be another one of Brenna’s suitors – he would not let himself be pushed around by this cocky young man, not when there was so much important work ahead.
“Rory Doyle, this is Brenna Lightfingers and Kane Rowse,” Clift said.
“Rory, nice to meet you,” Brenna stood up and smiled at him. “I believe I met your brother Samuel some weeks ago in Lakeview.”
“You did indeed,” Rory bowed low, “but I fear my brother may have vision problems, for you are far lovelier than he described.”
“And come meet Kane,” Tressa dragged Rory away from Brenna and over to him. “Kane used to be Captain of the Kingsguard,” Tressa said. “He’s had to fight all kinds of criminals and I bet he’s even killed people, haven’t you?”
Kane nodded briefly to Rory. “Killing isn’t something to brag about,” Kane said. “Although at times it is necessary.”
Rory glanced at Brenna before turning back to Kane. With a nod, he seemed to make a decision. “Good to meet you Kane,” he said. “I think you
’re a man I’d prefer to have on my side.”
Kane was content to watch Rory for the rest of the evening. The man certainly was charming - he soon had Brenna, Tressa and Russel laughing about his adventures. Every once in a while Rory would look over at Kane, as if to make sure Kane knew he wasn’t singling out Brenna for attention.
“Looks like Russel is trying to learn a few tips from Rory,” Kane said as Clift sat down in the chair beside him. He took the glass of brandy Clift held out to him.
“Yes,” Clift said. “Rory is a nice enough lad. Tressa is absolutely smitten with him, though she knows neither her family nor his would allow a match. Not that Rory would be willing - he’ll do what’s right for his family.”
“Why wouldn’t his family agree to the match?” Kane asked. “I would think they’d be want to align themselves with the Duchess of Aruntun.”
Clift looked at him. “I forget you’re not from Aruntun. I’ll start by asking you a question. Why do you suppose there’s always been a Duchess of Aruntun and not a Duke?”
“You’re saying there’s never been a Duke of Aruntun?”
“Not a one,” Clift replied. “The title is always passed down to the women, which is why Tressa is Avery’s heir and not Russel. Nor do any of the Kerrich women wed.”
Kane looked up, startled. “But what about you and Laurel?”
“Laurel and I may be a family, but we are not husband and wife.” Clift smiled. “I am her consort, which in Aruntian terms means everything from bodyguard, to advisor, to lover to father of her children, but not her husband.”
Kane nodded. He was beginning to understand. “That way the title can never be taken away from the woman.”
“Correct. The laws of Soule have enshrined the notion that anything a woman brings to a marriage, whether it’s a title or land, becomes her husband’s property.”
“As long as Aruntian duchesses never marry there can never be a claim on their property.” It was logical, when you thought it through. “So why has this been a secret?”
“It’s not a secret.” Clift laughed. “The rest of Soule can’t imagine that any man would accept it. I also think there may be some old magic involved that keeps the rest of Soule from looking too closely, but Laurel says no,” he paused. “As to why Rory’s family would disapprove - they are Seers and need them in their family. He’s here for Brenna, not Tressa.”
“Any children Tressa has will be in line to inherit from her not from him,” Kane said. “All Kerrich women have consorts?” Yowan Sellars had been bodyguard to the duchess’ family all those years ago. Had he been Madelay’s consort?
“All of them. It does have its benefits.” He glanced at his family and smile. “And by some charm or magic, we all seem to be military men.”
“Neal Ravershaw,” Kane said.
“Yes, Neal is Laurel’s father as well as Avery’s key advisor and militia leader.” Clift grinned. “Who else would be able to give her advice that would so completely be in her best interest, both politically and personally?”
“And who else would be able to protect her so well?” Kane asked. Having a trained swordsman in her bed would give the duchess an edge when dealing with would-be assassination attempts.
“Exactly.” Clift glanced sideways at him. “But it’s not a position all men are comfortable with. Letting a woman chart the course, I mean, following a woman’s dreams and destiny instead of his own.”
“So why do you?” Kane asked.
“Consorts seem to be a breed apart, again either by charm or magic. Our women are the only love of our life, whether she shares that life or not,” Clift said sadly. “It can be a cruel fate, as happened to the consort of Avery’s older sister, Madelay.”
“What happened to them?” Kane asked. Brenna’s grandmother was Avery’s older sister. That meant she should have been duchess.
“Madelay was a healer - the best seen in over two hundred years - and she wanted to keep the old tradition of journeying,” Clift sighed. “She never came back and poor Yowan was like a ship lost at sea for many years. Finally he seemed to find some purpose in his life, but he never was the same after that.”
Kane sipped his brandy in silence. He looked at Brenna, who was laughing with Rory and Clift’s children. Rory glanced nervously his way and Kane nodded absently.
“That Rory, he saw the same thing I saw when I met you although you staked your claim stronger with him,” Clift said.
“What was that?” Kane asked.
Clift looked at him, eyes serious. “That whatever Brenna’s background - thief, healer or anything else - you are her consort.”
seven
After seeing Brenna to their room, Kane headed back down to the tavern. He stood in the doorway watching the few groups of men still drinking in the dim room. Warrick Chennel nodded to him from behind the bar but instead of joining the man, Kane turned and headed out the door.
When Clift had pronounced him Brenna’s consort Kane had known that it was the truth. But what did that mean for Soule and for the prophecy? She was the heir to the prophecy but most of Soule would need more than that before they would be willing to call her their queen.
As he moved down the cobbled streets towards the docks, Kane ducked past closed up shops that could have been in Kingsreach - a butcher, a tailor, a potter - but nestled in amongst them were shops he knew would never be found outside Aruntun. Like the shop that sold charms to ward off illness or a fortune teller, the lamp still shining in the window even at this late hour. He stopped outside the fortune teller’s shop, tempted to go in, wondering if she’d tell him the same thing Clift had said, what he’d known already - that he had found the one woman in his life he would ever love. Kane shook his head and moved on from the fortune teller’s, down the twisting streets to the sea.
He breathed in the salty tang of the air along with the fishy odor of the boats and the nets that were piled up on them. Soon men came down from the town and busied themselves about the boats, shaking out the nets and piling coiled lengths of rope neatly against the sides of the boats. Before long the last fishing boat cast off, men in bulky sweaters rowing out to sea. As the sun began to rise Kane had no more answers to his questions than before. How could he expect to give Brenna sound advice when he couldn’t even follow his own?
He knew he should maintain a distance from her - she had to marry and it could not be to him. Brenna would need a husband who could help validate her right to rule. Something he, an ordinary military man, could not offer - especially since his uncle had been convicted of poisoning the king.
At least there was a name and a tradition for what he was to Brenna - consort. He would end up like Yowan Sellars when Brenna married. Clift had described him as a man lost at sea until he found a purpose. The Brotherhood was what had given Yowan purpose. What would Kane live for when the prophecy was fulfilled and the Brotherhood was no longer needed? With Brenna married and declared Queen, there would be no place for him in her life – at least not a place he could bear to be. Would it be better to know the full extent of his loss but have the memories or would he regret not being brave enough to seize some joy and happiness and take what Brenna had offered?
Did he think Yowan regretted a moment he’d spent with Madelay, despite the heartache when she’d disappeared? No.
Kane squared his shoulders - he was no coward. If she still wanted him, he would have his time with Brenna - a few months, perhaps a few years and then he’d step aside. Was he being selfish? Maybe, but it’s what Brenna said she wanted. He sighed deeply, raking his hands through his hair. What he’d thought about Duchess Avery and Neal Ravershaw was also true - having a trained fighter in her bed might help keep Brenna safe.
Brenna watched from the shadows as Kane sighed. He’d been preoccupied most of the evening and when she’d tried to ask him about it he’d smiled sadly and told her it was nothing. He’d left her at the door to their room and she’d slid into bed, tossing and turning, waiting for him, but he
didn’t come. She’d checked for him through his sword and been surprised by the song that thrummed though the old steel. It was deeper, richer, and somehow mournful. She’d donned her black thief’s clothes and then she’d headed out the window, the old steel guiding her to him. Despite this being her first actual look at the sea all Brenna’s attention had been on Kane.
With a deep breath Brenna left the shadows and approached him.
“Kane.”
He turned at the sound of her voice and she was aware of the song of the old steel, as their eyes met. She walked slowly up to him, reached her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. With a shuddering breath, his arms encircled her and she was drawn tight against him.
“It’s late, you shouldn’t be here,” he said against her hair.
“Neither should you.” She leaned back to look at him. She reached a hand up to smooth the worried look from his face and he caught it, bringing their joined hands down between them. He stared at their hands before looking away.
“I don’t know what happened tonight, what Clift or maybe Laurel said to you, but you can’t just shut me out, Kane,” she said. “Unless it was Rory? Oh Kane, if I said anything or acted in way that hurt you, I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t Rory.” He met her eyes. “At least, not in the way you think. He did something, or I did something and he reacted to it. Clift commented on it.” He turned and looked out to sea. “Did you know that Laurel and Clift are not husband and wife?”
“Yes,” Brenna said. “We talked a lot about her family. She missed them terribly when she was teaching me. She calls him her consort but that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.” Brenna smiled. “And believe me, there are plenty of married couples who don’t care that much about each other.” She thought about Thorold and the way he treated his duchess.
