Tigh put her hand on Jame’s arm, capturing her attention.
“You said the age of consent in Emoria is eighteen,” Tigh said. “She can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I know.” Jame looked down at the scroll. “But she’s so certain about what she thinks is going on in my mind and how I’ll feel once I’m an arbiter that she won’t listen to anything else.”
Tigh picked up the scroll and held it out to Jame. “May as well get it over with.”
As Jame took the scroll, their fingers touched and the shock from just that casual contact was enough for Jame to stare into Tigh’s eyes for several heartbeats.
Jame snapped away from Tigh’s intriguing gaze with a quick shake of her head, took possession of the scroll, and broke the seal. She read the strained formal words and heard in her mind all the unwritten words and emotions.
Jyac was concerned that Jame’s peace warrior had been arrested and that Jame had been threatened. She refrained from mentioning who had saved her from the menacing Lindigan sisters although Jame had no doubt Jyac knew the whole story. Emoran scouts traveled faster than the wind.
“She’s offering a patrol of warriors to ensure my safety.” Jame lifted sad eyes to Tigh. “She’s having problems keeping Argis from rushing here to my rescue.”
She put an elbow on the table and rubbed her chin with her knuckles. All she needed was a quick remedy that could satisfy Jyac and Argis at once.
“That’s it.” She went to the small writing table in the corner of the room and gathered a pen, ink jar, and several sheets of paper and brought them back to the larger table.
Tigh piled the dishes away from the space in front of Jame, who gifted her with a dazzling smile of thanks.
Silence, except for the scrape of the metal nib against the paper, descended on the chamber. Ink flowed on several sheets of paper for a good quarter sandmark. Jame finally released herself from her own spell and lifted her head from her task.
“That ought to take care of it.” She arranged the sheets in order. “I explained what really happened here. Then I told her I want to be an arbiter for a while.” She took Tigh’s hand and gazed into her eyes. “Then I told her I can’t be joined to Argis because I’m in love with you. I wrote a formal petition to allow me to be joined with someone who’s not an Emoran.”
Tigh squeezed Jame’s hand. “And how’s she going to take all that?”
Jame emitted a rueful laugh. “Not well. But given time I think she’ll understand.”
“What if you’re not allowed an Emoran joining?” Tigh asked.
“I hear Ingoran joinings are interesting.” Jame smiled at Tigh’s startled expression. “We’re going to be joined no matter what. It’d be nice if we were accepted by the Elders Council but there isn’t any law against an Emoran being joined according to the customs of another society.”
“But what impact will that have on you becoming queen?” Tigh asked.
“I’d have to do a lot worse than fall in love with an outsider to prevent me from becoming queen,” Jame said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I want us to be joined. I want to spend my life with you.”
Tigh pressed Jame’s hands to her lips. “It would be my honor to be joined with you and to spend the rest of my life by your side. You’re a miracle in my life.”
Overcome by the heartfelt words, Jame released Tigh’s hands and wrapped her arms around her neck. “No matter what happens, we go through it together and come out of it together.”
“Together.” Tigh found Jame’s lips with her own.
Jame reluctantly broke off the kiss. “I guess I should seal this and get it on its way.” She went to the small writing table and applied hot wax and her seal to the scroll.
Tigh picked up the platter of dishes, placed it in the corridor, and waited for Jame before she closed the door.
Jame tried not to think about how Jyac was going to receive her message and put the packet in the mail basket outside the door. She’d have to do it sooner or later. Maybe by the time she had her medallion, Jyac and the Council would accept her decisions.
“That’s that,” Jame said as she closed the door.
Tigh ran a nervous hand through her hair and dropped cross-legged onto the small rug in front of the fireplace.
Jame saw the familiar defense mechanism in Tigh’s mind fold in on itself, creating a maze that no one could penetrate if she let it go too long.
Jame knelt in front of Tigh and resisted trying to make eye contact until Tigh was ready. After two years of working with Guards, she knew a lot more about them than Tigh probably suspected. She had heard her share of stories on what the Guards did to satisfy their physical desires. Love, or affection, was never involved. The story was that love ruined a Guard’s battle lust. Sex had been nothing more than a selfish sport between them.
“We slept in the same bed last night,” Jame said.
“I was unconscious at the time,” Tigh said to the floor.
“We don’t have to sleep.” Jame watched as the battle Tigh waged within herself surfaced in a twitch around the lips.
“My memories are . . . like all the memories I have from that time.” Tigh’s voice reflected the haunted look in her eyes.
“There’s a difference between sex and making love.” Jame brushed Tigh’s cheek with her knuckles. “I don’t want to have sex.” Tigh looked at her. “I want to make love.”
Tigh shook her head. “I’ve never—”
“Of course you have.” Jame smiled and enveloped Tigh’s cheeks with her hands. “You made love to me all this evening with your eyes. They caressed me gently and tenderly through our meal and they devoured me when we talked about our joining.”
Tigh swallowed hard and gazed at Jame.
Jame pressed a kiss on Tigh’s forehead. “You make sweet gentle love every time you kiss me. I dream about how your lips softly caress mine.” Her finger brushed the objects in question. “I can’t even find the words to describe the giddy, wonderful, sensuous, magical sensation.” Her own lips descended upon Tigh’s with each descriptive word until they were wrapped around each other, savoring many more sensations for which words had not yet been invented.
Jame finally broke from the stunned Tigh and stood up and held out her hand.
Tigh took the hand and scooped a startled Jame into her arms, and stumbled to the bed on weakened knees.
Much to Jame’s wondrous delight, the smiles and tender touches lasted long into the night.
INGEL COULD ONLY imagine how nervous Jame was at the thought of facing the Council of Glaus and convincing them that Tigh the Terrible was not a threat. She knew the Military Tribunal of Ynit wanted Tigh free from their responsibility—although they were cautious about it, not wanting their decision to come back and haunt them. But the situation at Glaus was quite different. Glaus had no reason to want Tigh in their city and had every reason to have her removed.
Ingel rapped on the door of the Sword and Bow and realized this would be her first glimpse into the world Jame grew up in. A tall woman opened the door and beckoned her inside.
“My name is Ingel. I’m an arbiter from Ynit. I’m here to see Jamelin Ketlas,” Ingel said, as the Emoran looked her over.
“I’m Balwen, proprietor. This way.” She led Ingel into the common room where guests lingered over their morning meals. “They’re over there.” She nodded to the back of the chamber where Jame and Tigh consumed their meal.
Ingel noted the warrior theme of the decor from the painted depictions of famous battles and heroes to the artful display of weapons hanging on the walls. As she approached Jame and Tigh, she was surprised that they seemed to be in amazingly good spirits.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Ingel. Good morning, have a seat,” Jame said.
She raised an eyebrow at Jame’s good mood and sat in the offered chair. “I just stopped by in case you had any questions or concerns about the hearing.”
“I
do have one question,” Jame said. “Will it be only before the city council or will there be a crowd of people there?”
“Unfortunately, being a public hearing, the Council can’t keep the people out,” Ingel said. “But they promised they won’t let any more in after all the seats are filled.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jame said.
“This isn’t going to be like arguing in front of the Military Tribunal with only friends and family and members of the compound community in the audience.” Ingel looked at Tigh, who was munching a mouthful of greens. “As dramatic as it was, I’m not quite sure the Ketlas interpretation of Bailikon’s procedure will work in this situation.”
Jame glanced at the discreetly listening Emorans at the tables around them. “I don’t think I’ll need Bailikon’s procedure or anything else so dramatic.”
Ingel eyed Jame with curiosity. “I hope you’re right. The hearing will be right after the midday meal. That means you’ll have to stay in here for one more morning.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Jame said. “I’m enjoying the company.”
Ingel looked from Jame to Tigh, noting the light blush coloring both their cheeks. The rumors were rampant about them, but she honored their privacy and refrained from asking.
She caught the faces at a nearby table and was shocked to see the women glaring at Tigh. She remembered the incident at the safe house in Ynit and realized the Emorans were less than happy with how close Tigh was to Jame. Much like the Ingorans’ unhappiness with Jame representing Tigh.
“How do you feel about the argument Jame has prepared?” Ingel asked Tigh.
“It’s the best argument for this circumstance,” Tigh said. “Whether she succeeds or not, she’ll have given it her best shot and that’s good enough for me.”
Ingel flashed a glance at the nearby table and noted that the glares turned to puzzled frowns. “That’s all any of us can ask for.” No matter the outcome, she had learned that Jame would make the hearing worth talking about for a long time.
SARK STRODE THROUGH the scouts’ camp in the meadows above the city of Emor. She always spent the sandmark after the midday meal away from the more sedentary duties as Jyac’s Right Hand. Staying in mental touch with her former occupation as a scout helped her to keep her perspective on the governing of her country.
The young scouts in training were practicing their stealth skills by navigating a course filled with metal odds and ends that clanked with every wrong move. Sark smiled in remembrance of the many long moons she practiced on that course until she could walk through it as soundless as a cat.
Above the clattering and crashing from the course, Sark heard rapid footfalls behind her. She turned and was surprised to see Eiget running toward her.
“Sorry to interrupt your walk, Sark.” The palace guard slid to a stop on the slick grass. “The queen would like to see you.”
“Thank you, Eiget.” Sark fell in step next to the guard. “Any idea what this is about?”
“A message came from the princess. Jyac wasn’t very pleased with it.” Eiget was famous for her droll understatements.
The walk to the palace was too short for Sark and she could feel Jyac’s displeasure the moment she walked into the chamber.
“This came by overnight courier from Glaus.” Jyac held up a handful of papers. Eiget closed the door behind Sark.
Sark approached the table and accepted the letter. She roamed the oversized chamber and read Jame’s words. “Not quite what we expected.”
“She wants to be joined with that woman,” Jyac said. “Argis shouldn’t have ever gone to Ynit.”
“You think she’s just angry at Argis?” Sark remembered how different Jame had acted with Argis during her last visit.
Jyac stood, wandered over to the clear quartz window, and stared outside. “I want to hope she’s angry with Argis. She was so uncertain about her feelings all the time she was here. Then Argis rushed off to Ynit following her stubborn pride rather than her brain.”
“You know, it’s possible that Jame no longer loves Argis,” Sark said.
“It’s possible.” Jyac ran a hand through her hair. “But she thinks she’s in love with that Guard, an outsider with a ruthless past. A warrior known for her compelling personality who’s probably using Jame’s skills to help her through her rehabilitation.”
“Then Jame will return to us brokenhearted but wiser for the experience,” Sark said. “Sometimes that’s the best thing that can happen.”
“And how do you propose we keep Argis from charging off to Ynit, once again, and challenging the former Supreme Commander of the Southern Territories?” Jyac asked.
“Argis has already struck her and she didn’t even try to fight back. What kind of warrior is that?” Sark tossed Jame’s letter onto the table. “If Argis kills her, we’ll lose Jame for sure.”
Jyac sighed. “We need to send a delegation to Ynit to get a first hand look at the situation.”
“Maybe we won’t have to do anything.” Sark shifted the sheets of paper on the table and put her finger on a passage. “She says she’s going to argue Tigh’s right to walk the streets of Glaus as a free citizen. Jame’s good but this sounds impossible even for her.”
“So you think the situation will naturally sort itself out if she loses this case?”
“If Tigh is using her, it will,” Sark said. “Maybe we’ll have Jame back with us sooner than we think.”
“Not a word of this until we hear from Glaus.” Jyac straightened. “Then Argis can go after Jame with our whole army at her back if need be.”
TIGH WAS CONVINCED Jame’s voice must have been touched with magic from the moment she was born. How else could the fifty-five members of the Council of Glaus and the near thousand spectators stop their whispers and mumbles as soon as Jame spoke. And all she said was “good afternoon.”
Jame looked puzzled at the immediate silence. “First off, I’d like to thank the city of Glaus for giving a deserving woman the chance to prove that not only can she return to society without consequence, but will most certainly become a distinguished citizen of the Southern Territories.”
Murmurs and whispers rose up from the hall. The Keeper of the Bench rapped a hollow pipe several times.
“Please proceed, Arbiter Jamelin.” Yanders Loften, the mayor of Glaus, motioned to Jame.
“Thank you, Mayor Yanders.” Jame flashed him a gracious smile.
Tigh almost laughed at the Mayor’s reaction to a full out assault of Jame’s charm. Magic. Nothing less.
“The Guard rehabilitation program has been completely successful,” Jame said. “To date, over seven hundred Guards from the regular regiments and eighteen former members of the Elite Guards have been rehabilitated. Now I ask. Has there even been a hint of a problem from any of them?”
“Eighteen Elite Guards?” Yanders asked in amazement.
Jame nodded. “Eighteen. Including Nark the Notorious, Silar, Rewn the Rough, Ienor Quet, and Patch Lachlan.” Each name brought a louder gasp from the spectators. “They’re all pursuing quiet productive lives.”
“Patch Lachlan?” Yanders asked.
“Patch Lachlan.” Jame drew the name out as she turned to the still, rapt spectators. “Now many consider Patch Lachlan to have been as ruthless as Tigh the Terrible and maybe would have grown to be much more vicious if the Wars had continued. Would the Council agree to this?”
Yanders looked behind him at the arched benches filled with Council members and all signaled mute agreement. “Patch Lachlan was the Elite Guard in charge of the siege engines for the taking of Operal. Our trees were chosen because of their size and strength. Many of us here were involved in moving the timber to the borderlands where Patch’s army was preparing for the attack on Operal. Both Tigh the Terrible and Patch Lachlan were there and many of us agreed that, while Tigh was cold and ruthless, she exuded a strong intelligence and control. But Patch.” He grimaced. “That woman was wild and cruel. Both women were terrify
ing to witness.”
Sometimes, Tigh mused, luck came to those who dug in the right places and knew how to use the small unexpected treasures found buried there. All it took was a mention of her name before stories of Patch Lachlan spilled out of the good people of Glaus. And all it took was her knowledge of where all the former Guards resided—gleaned from reading everything she could during her short time in the archives.
“Patch Lachlan has been a free member of our society for a year and a half,” Jame said. “She goes by her given name rather than her Guard name and has quickly established herself as a learned and respected member of the community in which she lives. Known for her wise and thoughtful personality, Patch has had no trouble fitting back into society. I think if she were still wild and cruel, we would have heard about it by now, don’t you?”
The Council members shifted.
“Maybe she’s been able to hide her violent tendencies,” Yanders said. “Some communities are more tolerant of that kind of behavior than others.”
“That’s true.” Jame nodded then lifted mischievous eyes to the Council. “But not true in this case. So, do you think a former Elite Guard who was wild and cruel and by all accounts destined to be more ruthless than Tigh the Terrible could live in a city such as Glaus as a peaceful law abiding citizen?”
“Of course not.” Yanders straightened then scanned the Council members for any other opinions on the subject. “We witnessed Patch Lachlan as an Elite Guard. It just isn’t possible that a person like that could act in a civilized manner.”
Tigh knew that Jame could bring her own passive presence into the argument and question them on whether she was the same woman they had witnessed on the borderlands before the siege of Operal. But that was the most logical next move and most likely expected. A move that could open up arguments based on opinions rather than logic and fact.
“If I were to show evidence that dispute your conviction that Patch Lachlan could not live as a respected citizen in a place like Glaus, would you agree the Guard rehabilitation program is successful and that Tigh is of no threat to this community?” Jame asked.
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