by Julia Knight
“But do you really want sugar-ants?”
She smiled slowly. “Like Valguard, no? What did you have to give him to agree? Because I suspect he was against this to start with.”
“Nothing. I gave him nothing.”
“He didn’t oppose?” She raised one delicate eyebrow. “That does surprise me.”
“I thought he would. But he was all in agreement.”
“And now so is Arashin. That is all we need, yes?” Nerinna looked up at him with her hands on her hips and seemed half-amused and half-annoyed. “Will you make a habit of interfering in my rule?”
“Only when people threaten you with weapons.” Hunter was amazed that, half-addled as he was, he could speak so coherently. Especially to her. Because speaking was not what he wanted to be doing. Damn his own eyes, he saw what she was like. How she used herself. And yet part of him couldn’t blame the men for taking what she offered. Or her for using what she had. He didn’t like what she did, but she did it well. And she did it for her country. But then she would never have held onto her rule for so long otherwise.
“I can handle Arashin. Or should I interfere between you and your nobles, say, Valguard? I would say you should beware of knives in the dark too.”
“That would be far too painless a way for me to go, as far as Valguard is concerned. Maybe you should return to your palace? And why didn’t you call for your guard?”
“Because I…” She faltered and looked up him, earnestly now. Her real face, not some practised mask. One with a plea behind it. “You would really be my protector?”
“Of course. It’s my sworn duty. King’s Champion and Queen’s Protector was my title before I came to the regency. It’s still mine to do.” And he’d failed in both before now, and would not do so again. He turned his head away from her to hide his burning shame and they walked on towards the guard and the palace.
“Do the Gan always take their oaths so seriously?”
They reached the guard and entered the palace. Hunter kept his eyes on the intricate design on the floor. “Always.”
Negotiation
Chieftain’s palace, Kadara
Nerinna glided into the chamber set aside for the negotiations, her heart fluttering in an unfamiliar way. Her protector. She liked the sound of that, and the hint of a thrill in her stomach when she thought of him. She had taken even more care than usual over her clothes and hair and she knew she looked her very best. Lord Hunter was someone who could be useful, someone she wanted to impress, the more so because he seemed so uninterested in her. Even last night he’d seemed so impassive, except when he spoke of the oath he had taken to protect the queen. He’d been very firm about that, the one time she’d seen some hint of emotion in him. Talking about that had almost brought him out, he had almost made her think she’d found her way to get to him. But a small lapse. Apart from that, he acted as though it were all so impersonal. The thought of the challenge brought some high colour to her cheeks.
Arashin glared at her and Fadeen bowed from his chair, but the Gan all stood as she entered. Aran gave her a shy smile and bowed. Hunter’s greeting was perfect in its propriety, but his eyes looked wary. Valguard smiled and bent over her hand again. She waved them back into their seats, smiled inwardly and offered them a drink of fruit juice.
When they were all refreshed and the small pleasantries had begun, Nerinna took time to study them. Aran was restless, fidgeting endlessly with a tassel at the bottom of his tunic, and when he looked at her he blushed. By Herjan, this would be easy if it were just him she had to deal with.
Valguard sat and watched her carefully with a smug little smile on his lips. She’d thought he would have opposed this alliance, though not for the same reasons as Arashin. From what she knew of the priest he was rather rigid in his religious views, and none too fond of the Reethan. And yet he’d agreed without protest, from what Hunter had said. Strange, and worth keeping an eye on.
Lastly she let her gaze fall on Hunter. He looked back to normal this morning. Last night he’d looked very odd. Pale and sweating, and his eyes had been, well, peculiar was all she could think. The pupils had looked very wide and unfocused in the shadows. The only part of him that had seemed a way in to his thoughts. Vulnerable, as though it would have taken but a word to rip his heart from him. And she hadn’t even tried.
But today he looked more as he had when he’d arrived. In control of himself and impatient with the small talk, which didn’t bode well for her in these negotiations. She would much rather have had him at the disadvantage.
Valguard startled her from her scrutiny. “My lady, Lord Hunter, Fadeen and I have come up with a little agreement of our own, one which we would be most gratified if you could include in the formal alliance.”
Hunter looked at him sharply, opened his mouth as if to say something then shut it with a snap. The scar at his eye twitched and he looked as though he was barely controlling himself.
It was left to Nerinna to answer. “I will certainly take it under consideration, Valguard. Fadeen?”
Her ambassador glanced nervously at Hunter and licked his lips. “It’s the shrines, my lady. We are in complete agreement. They must go.”
Valguard glanced at Hunter and his lips twitched. Hunter’s knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword, but his voice was icy calm when he spoke. “You know my answer, Valguard. No. Not under any circumstances.”
Fadeen coughed, a dry, nervous sound. “I’m sorry my lord, but neither Valguard nor I will agree to this alliance without it.”
“He has you saying his words for him now?” Hunter said. There was a rawness to his voice, as though anger was fighting his throat to be let free. “I said no. This was not part of the arrangement I agreed to.”
Aran sat between them, looking aghast from one to the other.
“You would let your country starve for that?” Hunter flinched at Valguard’s words, and the priest turned to Aran and pressed on. “Highness, the choice will ultimately be yours. What do you say?”
Poor boy. Nerinna felt for him, stuck between two such forceful personalities. Aran licked his lips and his eyes flickered round the room, as though looking for an answer somewhere. He looked at her but she nudged her shoulders into an almost imperceptible shrug. She didn’t yet know which way the wind blew with these two.
Finally he came to a decision, though his voice wavered a little as he spoke. “Whatever Lord Hunter decides. He is regent after all.”
Valguard seemed as though he might actually explode. His face went bright red with two hectic spots of white in the centre of his cheeks and he fingered his sword. When he grasped the hilt and threatened to draw and Hunter leapt to his feet with his scar twitching more than ever, Nerinna stepped in.
“My lords! That is enough!”
Arashin grinned at her from the corner. He may not have understood the words, but he understood what had happened. And knew what she would do about it. She turned so she couldn’t see him, even from the corner of her eye. Hunter stared at Valguard, a flat, uncompromising look in his eye. Valguard was smiling though, as if this was what he’d hoped for. What was going on under the surface here? Never mind that. She had to get this alliance finally and irrevocably agreed.
“Lord Hunter, if your king gives you the right to speak for him, maybe this negotiation would go better privately. Without interference.” She looked pointedly at Fadeen.
Fadeen babbled out his acceptance and left. Arashin smiled at her as he trailed Valguard and Aran through the door.
Hunter took a deep breath and relaxed his hand on his sword. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me.” He sat down again, stiff and tense.
Nerinna offered him some more food, or drink. Anything to try and relax him enough for what she had in mind.
“No, thank you,” he said and it seemed that even that small thing had been forced from him.
“I’ve heard you are a straightforward man, my lord,” Nerinna began. “So
I shall be blunt. I know what you require. Food, as much as the Reethan tribes can spare. What can you offer in return?”
He seemed to relax at her forthright manner, as she had hoped he would. “What do you need?”
“As I had Fadeen tell you. Men, such as yourself. Soldiers. As many as you can spare. I’ve tried to keep it quiet, but my eastern borders are not as safe as they once were. We’ve kept up a semblance of security, but our neighbours have become overpopulated and begin to stretch outwards, hoping we will not, cannot, stop them. It seems they like the look of the more fertile lands we control on our borders. But as yet I have few men to fight. Most are very young, inexperienced. I need men. Men to fight for me and mine.”
“It may be I have some I could send. How many?”
“A thousand to start. More later, if you can. Mounted and armed. I will provision them. An ongoing arrangement. While I am queen, Ganheim will look to the Reethan’s safety as it looks to its own.”
Hunter nodded thoughtfully. “I can have them assembled and ready to sail to Kadara inside a month. When can I expect the food?”
“Inside the month.”
“This is your only condition for the marriage?”
“Continued alliance between us. And my country stays my country, not yours or Aran’s. I shall return often to see to its running. We can come to an arrangement regarding how often, and how long, but I expect to be here half the year, whether Aran comes too or not. As for heirs, the Reethan are well used to women rulers.” She smiled at him. “The first son for Aran’s heir. The first daughter or second son for mine. The wedding one month from today.”
He watched her warily for a time then nodded. “Agreed.” He held out a hand, a gesture she knew meant the sealing of a deal among the Gan. Not yet.
“And the matter of the shrines. I’ll rid the Reethan lands of the lesser shrines. All of them. Only the temples to the true gods shall remain. Won’t you do the same?” She wouldn’t go against the priests, or her gods. Prayer had done a lot to keep her countrymen going. And if he refused…well, there are some things men never refuse.
His eyes blazed at her from a face transformed. “Do what you will in your country, but the shrines will stay in Ganheim while I’m alive.” The veneer of strained courtliness had gone and she was sure she saw the real man beneath, one of forceful emotions and passionate opinions.
It made her wonder why she was making do with the cub when she could have the lion. But then maybe she could have both. The thought made her tingle.
What he said was true enough—she couldn’t force any such thing in Ganheim. But she could persuade.
She stood up, walked delicately over to him and smiled her best seductive smile. A gentle hand trailed over his good shoulder and along his neck to stroke at the fine hairs there. She bent down and breathed in his ear. “There would of course be something in return. A mistress for you, one who would give you what you have barely dared dream of.” Her hand slid down the front of his tunic, danced lightly over the soft skin in the hollow of his throat.
He leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand. She had to bite back a scream when he towered over her with a face as terrible and furious as the sea in a storm. “On my honour, there’s nothing you could offer me to make me close the shrines, or betray my king. Nothing. And this, all this must stop. No more loyalty pledges. No more using your bed to get your way.”
Nerinna shook in front of him and tried to quell herself enough that she could answer without a tremor. She needed this man on her side. “I’m sorry, my lord, if I’ve offended you.”
“I’ve always thought the Reethan couldn’t love their wives so well to allow this.”
“Of course not! Love and nobility don’t make good bedfellows. But this is the way of negotiating my father taught me, has always been the Reethan way.”
He looked aghast and dropped her hand. “Your father taught you to sell yourself?”
“I don’t sell myself!” She stamped her foot and spat her words. How dare he judge what she did? Stopping the pledges was for her benefit, not because it was that! Politics, that was all. Suddenly she was proud of it, of how she’d kept her tribes together. “I do what I must for my country, the way I have since I was thirteen and old enough. My mother was dead, he had no other incentive to give to gather the tribes together. It’s no disgrace. It’s an honour to serve my country so. I offer this marriage in good faith.”
He turned away but not before she saw disgust on his face.
“It’s the Reethan way,” she said to his back. “Love leaves you weak. Enemies use it as leverage to crack open your heart so you yield everything you have to them. It’s to be avoided, and I make that sacrifice happily for my country. Arranged marriages have been used many times in Ganheim and Armand. Or is it me you object to?”
He shrugged, something that made him look oddly vulnerable because only one arm moved to it. “I’ve seen the misery arranged marriages cause. I’d not make Aran do that without need. Things are different in Ganheim, and I’ll not have him disgraced by you.”
She bit back the first words that came to her lips. After a moment she regained her control. “My lord, you have my word I’ll not disgrace him by your laws. I’ll be a good and true wife because my country needs me to be. But do I have the men? Because women and children of the Reethan die daily and I would have it stop.”
He looked out the window for a long time, until she was sure she’d ruined any chance she might have had of alliance. Finally he turned and held out his hand.
“Aye, a thousand men, more if I can spare them, for all the food you can give me. But the shrines stay. And you’ll be true to Aran, no matter the Reethan way. The wedding in Ganberg, a month from today. We leave for Mimirin tomorrow.” He forced the words out through clenched teeth, waited for her shocked nod of agreement and her hand briefly in his.
Almost as soon as their skin touched he whipped his hand away, spun on his heel and left. She sagged to a divan. That hadn’t gone at all how she had planned.
***
Hunter stormed back to his rooms. Part of him thought her father was gladly dead for trading his daughter’s body. And at thirteen. Thirteen! The thought of Amma… That was not a thought he wanted to entertain.
No doubt Nerinna had been trained for this since she was a child. All those seductive looks, the smiles and low laughter that made his stomach burn—everything she did was all just a ploy, an inviting game to get what she wanted. No feeling in any of it. Nerinna was a strong woman, a formidable one. She needed a strong man, or she would ride roughshod over whoever had been foolhardy enough to marry her. Would ride roughshod over young Aran.
Her perfume still lingered around Hunter, caressed him—jasmine and honey. Treacherous thought, maybe if he himself were to…it would still be an alliance, a good one for now. Best for him though, not best for Ganheim. Unequal, and why would she agree to it? In five years he would be relieved of the regency, and no doubt Aran would have children, placing Hunter ever further from the throne. A woman like Nerinna wouldn’t like a lessening of power. Besides she’d want someone young, with both arms that still worked. And the marriage was arranged now, sealed on the handshake. A promise made. He couldn’t back out, or back Aran out, without a great deal of disgrace.
Yet maybe they could weather that. Maybe it would be best if they left now, if they found some other way to survive. This woman would be trouble for all of them. Still, no. Oaths enough had been broken. Besides which, Aran was more than a little taken with the woman, for all her faults. No going back, though the trip to Mimirin, including two days at close quarters on a ship, was going to be a trial. No matter how mercenary she was, something about her made the breath stop in his throat.
He pushed open the door to his rooms with more force than he needed and startled two Reethan servants who were bowing before the counter. Before Regin’s sword. Sannir jumped in alarm that he might have done something wrong and tried to explain. “They just wanted to l
ook, my lord. Look and leave an offering. It seemed bad grace to refuse. I’ll send them off.”
Little of the sword could be seen under the flowers, corn dolls, fluttering strips of red and black silk, bowls of fragrant tea, perfumed candles and other gifts. The servants leapt to their feet, abashed and apologetic, but he waved them back with a smile. He wasn’t the one who had a problem with their reverence. Only Valguard. But that line of thought would just get him angrier, so he shut it off. For now. Valguard needed careful thinking about.
He sent a contrite Sannir out to his post at the door and stared down at the gleaming steel. What would Regin have done? He laughed out loud at himself, startling the servants again so that they hurried away silently. Regin wouldn’t have fallen for women he couldn’t have. Not even once, never mind twice. And if he had, he would never have allowed it to cloud his judgement about what was right. The alliance was the thing. The food. I must keep that in mind.
He would get her there, get her and Aran to the wedding. The promise had been made; he must keep it. One month. After that, well, after that he wasn’t sure he could carry on. Not live all the years ahead like that, eaten alive with jealousy and the need to hold to his word. Not again. Never again.
Forn’s Blessing
The Reethan lands
Nerinna had forgotten just how dry and dusty this road to the sea was. Two veils and the gauzy curtains on her open carriage and still she had grit in her mouth. Her maid passed her a flask of yinae, a drink made of an herb that only grew here, near the sea. One that her father had sworn staved off assassins and magic and who knew what else. And staved off other things too, things she thought more likely. She took a sip of the foul liquid, wishing she didn’t need to take it every day, discreetly ran it round her mouth and swallowed. She envied the men that. The riders could openly rinse their mouths with water and spit out the grit, but she could not.
She lay back on the cushions and looked up at Aran. He was regaling her with the beauties of Ganheim and Armand that she would soon see. Another hour or two on this road, two days more aboard ship and then they would be at Mimirin. Another hour of frying heat and blowing grit. Two days sailing, with all its attendant nausea. Torture. But necessary torture. She had to do this or face a loss of almost half her land, the deaths of thousands of Reethan, a fact she’d neglected to mention and which the Gan seemed only partially aware.
