Exile

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  “I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said weakly, meeting his dark gaze.

  “As you wish, Shannen,” he said in a low voice. They sat through the rest of the dinner hour, Daarik holding her hand on his thigh, his leg pressed against hers. His grandmother stood up and bid them both good evening a while later, an all-too-knowing smile on her face as she did. On the seat beside the one Faerlah had vacated, the king, Elrek, sat. He glanced down at Shannen and Daarik, and Shannen gave him a respectful nod. He moved to the seat beside Shannen’s and greeted her kindly.

  “I hope you won’t mind writing to your uncle with our concerns,” he said, and she looked at him blankly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I apologize, father. I haven’t mentioned it to Shannen yet,” Daarik said, finally releasing her hand with a gentle squeeze.

  “Ah. I see,” Elrek said, and Shannen took note of the close way he seemed to be studying his son. “Well. Allow me, then. Your people have been skirmishing with our warriors at the borders. We are trying not to harm them unduly. We have sent our concerns to your uncle, suggesting that he may want to try to keep his people in line, but those pleas seem to have fallen on deaf ears. We were hoping,” he said, and she noticed the sharp look he shot at Daarik,” that you would write to him, as the emissary between our two peoples now, and request the same.”

  “I distract Daarik with all of my questions,” she said, feeling defensive on her husband’s behalf, and then immediately feeling annoyed with herself for even caring. “As to the rest, I will certainly write to him. I do not know that it will do much good, but I am happy to try.”

  “I appreciate it,” Elrek said. “Why would he not take action on this?” he asked.

  Shannen took a deep breath. “Anyone who does not live in the capital city is basically of no consequence to my uncle, especially now. They are just more mouths to feed, more problems to have to watch over. He is not, as I’m sure you have noticed, the most benevolent leader. I daresay he cares not at all about what happens to our people when they clash with yours.”

  “Such an odd way to lead,” Elrek murmured. “The former ruler, his older brother?” he asked, and Shannen nodded. “I had no love for him, as he caused the deaths of so many of our own people but he seemed to be a better leader.”

  Shannen nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “That seems to be the general consensus, Your Highness.”

  “Hm. Well, if you would write to him, I would appreciate it. It appears that we may need to find our own way to deal with those on our borders.”

  Shannen watched him as he stood up and shuffled out of the dining hall. Even as stooped as he was, the Maarlai leader radiated dignity and strength. As a king should, she thought. As Daarik would, someday.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re not especially interested in having contact with your uncle,” Daarik said quietly.

  Shannen shook her head. “It is fine. This is why I am here, after all.”

  “Is it?”

  She looked at him, meet his dark eyes. “Of course. My entire reason for being here is to try to protect my people in any way I can.” That, and to be an example for her people should they get too out of hand. And she was finding that it was all too easy for Daarik to distract her from both of those purposes.

  When they returned to their rooms after dinner, Shannen immediately went to her writing desk and took out a parchment and pen. She heard Daarik moving around elsewhere in the room. She kept her focus on the paper, the ink, the window looking out over the sparse forest beyond.

  She needed space.

  “You don’t have to do that now, you know,” Daarik said.

  “Best to get it taken care of before I forget,” she answered. She thought she may have heard a deep sigh, but she didn’t bother turning around. She sat, and thought, and finally, she took up her pen and began writing:

  Dearest King and Uncle,

  I hope this letter finds you and your household well. I intend to write to my cousins as soon as I have a spare moment. Life among the Maarlai is not as trying as I thought it would be. It should ease both your and your lady wife’s minds to know that I am treated well here.

  Or, perhaps not.

  I am writing on behalf of King Elrek of the Maarlai people. He relayed to me that there have been several skirmishes between the humans and Maarlai along the borderlands, and that he has written to you about these incursions. I feel that I should reiterate that the Maarlai do not want to harm these people; indeed, they have done their best to try to avoid killing or gravely injuring those humans who insist on encroaching on their territory.

  We would, perhaps, do well to remember that technically ALL territories are now Maarlai territories. They have been patient, but their utmost interest lies in protecting their own people, as your interest, I’m quite sure, lies in protecting yours.

  I hope you will draw your commander’s attention to these issues and ensure that what is left of humanity remains safe.

  Cordially,

  Your Niece,

  Shannen of House Lyon

  “Did you want to read this before I seal it?” she asked Daarik.

  “I trust that you’re not plotting against us with your uncle,” Daarik answered, and she turned to look at him. He was sitting on the settee near the fire place, one arm slung over the back of the settee, reclining and looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in the time they’d been together. She was also aware that he’d been watching her the entire time.

  “I could be,” she said. She pulled her veil and scarf off and tossed them on the nearby dressing table, then she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it tumble free. She sighed in relief. While she appreciated the privacy her veil gave her, she preferred to have her hair down and free, which ended up being too much of a hassle with the veil. Too much volume. “You never know. I may be telling him all of your secrets,” she said, glancing back at Daarik with a raised eyebrow.

  He was watching her intently. He’d leaned forward, his relaxed posture long gone. He looked, to her, like some kind of wild creature on the hunt. She dropped her hands from her hair and shook her head.

  “So you do not want to read it?”

  “I don’t.”

  She couldn’t look at him anymore. She turned her attention back to her work, folding the parchment after blotting the ink, then she tied a cord around it and sealed it with the double wax seals of both of her houses, the lion of House Lyon and the dragonish-hawk of the Maarlai.

  “Do you think he will listen?” Daarik asked.

  She shook her head. “I doubt it. As I said before, he cares little for the lives of our people, as long as he holds power. It is the only thing that has ever really mattered to him.”

  “We may have been foolish to let him keep his throne,” he said after a while.

  She turned to him, swiveling in her seat. “Your father tried to deal honorably with a dishonorable man. The Maarlai have shown him far more respect and leniency than he would have given you were the situations reversed.”

  He nodded.

  She watched him, weighing how much she wanted to say. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe that, if it ever came to it, he would put his promises to her above the orders of his father and king. But she had lived too long among royals to believe in loyalty to anything other than power.

  “What are you thinking over there, wife? You look at me as if you’re trying to see inside my soul.”

  “Perhaps I am,” she said softly.

  “You could just ask me.”

  “Would you answer honestly though? There lies the real doubt of the matter.”

  “To you? To you, I would speak honestly. I’ve pledged my life to you. I meant my vows.”

  She stood up, tossing the sealed letter down onto the desk, and walked over to the settee where he was sitting. She sat beside him.

  “I want to trust you,” she said, meeting his gaze and, this time, not looking away.

  “A
nd I want you to trust me,” he answered.

  “The women your father chose to be possible brides for you… do you understand who we all were?”

  He seemed to be considering it for a moment. “High-profile women among human society. Of appropriate age and eligible to be married. Women who hold some sway in your society, so that the marriage would hold addition importance and legitimacy to your people.”

  She watched him.

  “Am I wrong?” he asked.

  “We were all of those things. And, a little more. The other three women, the ones you didn’t choose, were all well-loved among our people. The closest things we have to celebrities. A beloved scientist, a celebrated fighter, and the most beautiful woman in our land.”

  “And are you loved among your people?” he asked.

  “I am one of the daughters of house Lyon, one among, reportedly, dozens of children and bastards produced by our family. But the difference is that I am the only illegitimate the King has officially recognized as a Lyon. The only of the daughters not yet promised to a husband. It was always assumed that I would go to some lordling to live my life out on a miserable estate somewhere. But I destroyed my chances at that fate with my behavior.” She paused, then smiled a bit. “People love a scandal. And I have given them the biggest one of their lifetime.”

  “And, via scandal, I’m guessing you have earned their adoration and a fair bit of celebrity,” he said, catching on.

  She nodded. “My people have lived hard under my uncle’s leadership. That is no secret. To see someone in his own family so flagrantly ignoring his rules…” she shrugged. “So sending me here was a way to both be rid of a problem and remind our people what happens to those who defy him.”

  He was thinking it through. “All right. But I’m not following you. What does that have to do with us? What does that have to do with the fact that I make no secret of how I want you, and you seem, at least in those unguarded moments of yours, to want me just as much?”

  She closed her eyes. “The point of a political marriage is twofold,” she said, opening her eyes and looking into his dark gaze. “It is to tie two families together. To form a bond. A promise.”

  “Right,” he said, nodding.

  “It also serves the purpose of having a very high-ranking member of your enemy’s society essentially held prisoner in a hostile land. To have a readily available symbol of what will happen to the rest of that person’s society should they step a toe out of line. A first and very accessible example of what punishment looks like.”

  His gaze hardened, and she went on.

  “I am a bond. I am also a threat. A symbol to show my people what your people are more than willing to do should they begin to be too much of a problem.”

  Daarik glared at her and stood up. He stalked across the room, then back. “You’ve spent too much time with your twisted royal family. Too much time among humans.”

  Shannen didn’t answer.

  “Your people know nothing of honor. At all. My father would never, ever be that conniving in their dealings with you. They wouldn’t use you as a pawn.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think I would ever use the word ‘naive’ to describe you, husband, yet here we are.”

  He glared at her, and she forced herself to stay calm.

  “My father would never do that,” he said, and then he turned and walked to the window, bracing himself against the sill as he looked out. “The reason you were among them was to forge an alliance with the human royals.”

  “Then why not just send for me? If it was all about royal bonds, why even have other choices? They had no tie to the royal family. No. They, and to a degree, I, am of value to our people. Our loss would hurt. It would frighten them. And, after all they’ve lived through, it would cow them. Your father is a very smart ruler.”

  He didn’t turn around, or answer her.

  “Was there a point to this, Shannen?” he asked after a while.

  “As you pointed out, there is something between us. I do not understand it. I do not plan to play the fool and pretend that there are not other factors at work here. I prefer to have all of my cards out on the table, so neither of us goes into whatever this is blind. Can you say the same?”

  “One might think that maybe you’re trying to use the fact that I clearly want you to cause divisiveness between myself and my father. After all, you’ve lived your life among the human royals. Isn’t that how they maintain power? Divide and conquer?”

  Shannen shrugged. “Well. We are at an impasse, then. Know that I will remain loyal and do what is asked of me by your people and your king. I will show you the loyalty I promised I would when we wed. But if you cannot even stop for a moment and consider that my concerns may be valid, then this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them, “is as far as it goes with us.”

  “Seriously? You’re using that against me? If I want you, then I have to believe these ridiculous accusations again my father?”

  She shook her head. “What I wanted to know was where your loyalties would lie if it ever came to choosing. And, now I know,” she said.

  She went into the changing room, washed herself, and changed into her sleeping garments. When she entered their chamber, Daarik was gone.

  Shannen didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as she settled herself into what was destined to remain a cold and empty marriage bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Daarik trudged through the village, past the palace and library, past the outer ring of market stalls and outdoor eateries, to the area beyond, where the dwellings of his people stood. He could see several fires lit, hear the laughter and voices of the Maarlai as they relaxed for the evening. He knew that, at the very outer edges, the soldiers that he called brothers stood as a living wall around their people and any danger they faced.

  He debated for a while. Going to the wall, joining his friends, would be a good way to spend the evening, and he could be doing something useful. Instead, he found himself moving toward a hut near the library. As he passed, other Maarlai called to him, and he stopped and occasionally talked to them, listening to their concerns, from the human threat to, in the case of some old timers, the annoying pains they experienced in their bones.

  Finally, he ended up where he wanted to be. Janara sat near the fire outside her hut, a candle lit beside her, a book, as always, open in her hands. Much like his wife, his dearest friend was almost never without a book nearby.

  “You must have had an argument with your wife,” Janara said from behind the book. Her thin body was swathed in a heavy sweater, and he could see the glint of her daggers in their sheaths on her thighs. Janara hid nothing and was completely herself, and that, more than anything else, was perhaps why he had always been so close to her.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She lowered the book and looked up at him. “Because if things were fine, you’d be with her.” He didn’t answer for a moment, and she set the book down and crossed her arms over herself. “A bit of advice? If you’re arguing with her, you should have remained in the castle, with her, not wandering around out here.”

  “Why? Because she can’t be trusted and might be, at this very moment, plotting against me in her alone time?”

  Janara laughed. “You are an idiot,” she said affectionately. “No. I don’t think the human would plot against us. You should be there because the only way you can fix things with her is to push through. Arguments are bound to happen.”

  “You don’t even like Shannen. Why are you always defending her?” he asked irritably.

  “Oh, she’s not so bad,” Janara said. “She loves books, which is an immediate sign of good character. And she says what she’s thinking, rather than meekly accepting the things some say and do to her.”

  Daarik’s gaze shot up to Janara’s. “What do they say and do to her?”

  Janara studied him. “She hasn’t told you?”

  “No.”

  “The woman get
s spit at every time she leaves the palace. A few of your former lovers have threatened her outright. And both in the palace and out of it, she can barely walk through a group of people without getting called a harlot, human garbage, or worse. Seriously, she’s told you none of this?”

  He stared at his friend blankly.

  Janara rolled her eyes. “Come on. You can’t possibly be surprised. We’ve been fighting a war against her people for over ten years. We’ve lost nearly seventy-five percent of our people thanks to that war. The world we thought was to be our salvation is one on which we’ll die along with the humans who destroyed it. Our people are angry, and a human in their midst both angers them and gives them an easy place to vent their rage.”

  “She is a member of my family,” he snarled.

  “I am shocked that this surprises you. Our people tend to be kind, but everyone has their limits. And you know as well as I do that there is an entire faction who believes this was an enormous mistake, and an insult to have you married off to her.”

  He lowered his gaze. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Janara sighed. “My guess? She has grown accustomed to people treating her that way. She was scorned in her uncle’s home, and she is scorned by many here.” She laughed a little. “She does not take it meekly.”

  Daarik looked back up at his friend. “No?”

  “Do you know your wife at all? The woman has a mouth on her that would make most warriors blush. And she is not afraid to use it. Which I’m guessing may be part of why you’re out here instead of in there with her,” she said, nodding toward the palace.