by Gwynn White
“I don’t doubt that,” Lynx said. “For weeks now, we’ve wondered about the Chenayan troop buildup at Tanamre. Now we know. If I refuse to go, a thousand guardsmen will arrive at our tent flaps. We will all be dead in a matter of minutes.”
Aloe cradled Raven’s shoulders. “Lynx, I understand you don’t want to marry Lukan. Honestly, I do. But how can you risk our lives? You adore Raven. How can you condemn him to death?”
The accusation in Aloe’s voice made Lynx grimace with guilt. She steeled herself against it and continued to work her plan. “Death is preferable to a life of servitude. No matter whom one serves.”
Kestrel hissed. “And you wonder why I can’t stand you and the other raiders.” She leaped to her feet, stumbling over cushions until she stood opposite Lynx. “All you can think about is death and honor.” She shoved Lynx in the chest.
A tide of anger engulfed Lynx. She rose and said to her father, “Control your daughter before I do something I won’t regret.”
He shook his head. “There’s a reason I invited the family here tonight. Their anger will be nothing compared to the fury of our people if you break the Unity with Chenaya. You will be declared a traitor. I will have no choice but to put you to death.”
The shock of hearing the word made Lynx’s face flush and then chill. Bluffing her way through this plan was becoming one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Her discomfort didn’t stop Kestrel. “Yes, you’re so filled with self-righteous anger at me for spoiling Clay’s stupid eggs, but you’re willing to see us destroyed. How does that work, Lynx?”
Wolf stepped between his sisters. “Sit. Both of you.”
Lynx obeyed, settling back on the cushions, eyeing her father.
Kestrel hesitated, then flicked her veiled hair over her shoulder. “What do I care what Lynx does? I’ll be at the palace, married to Tao.” She settled on the cushions and folded her arms.
Lynx snorted. “So, Wolfie-boy, do you honestly believe she’ll support me in Cian?”
Wolf opened his mouth, but Mother interrupted anything he intended to say. “My child, does that mean you’ll go?”
Lynx didn’t reply. She was still focused on her father. He met her gaze, ice on ice. A heavy silence settled on the gathering, broken only by the rustling of the tent in the wind and the hiss of the fire. Still, Lynx and her father stared at each other.
Finally, her father laughed. “Lynx, we’ve had too many arguments over the years for me not to recognize what you’re doing. Be careful. I am not just your father. I am your king, too.”
Lynx’s pulse sped up, but she forced herself to remain calm, her face resolute. “Right now, I am not speaking to my king, to whom I owe fealty. I am speaking to my father. My father, who I believe cares for me . . . and those I care about.”
Her father’s lips quirked. “Death versus servitude.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “It’s not your life—or death—you’re worrying about, is it?” He turned to Clay and slapped him on the shoulder. “Son, it seems we are discussing your future. Aren’t we, Lynx?”
“Let him raid again, and I will go to Cian without a fight.”
Clay jumped to his feet. “No!”
Lynx sprang up and grabbed his arm. She ignored his cry of pain. “I made you an oath.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Lynx shoved him, sending him spinning onto the cushion by her father. “Father, that is my condition. Clay raids again, or I refuse to go.” She swallowed hard, thinking of the funeral pyre. “And damn the consequences.” There would be no one left to burn the dead if her father forced her to push through with this.
Her father half-rose to his feet. “As your father, I could say you have no choice, that I will drag you to Cian myself.” He settled back, sighing. “But we both know that will not guarantee a marriage. As your king, I could command you, and you will be honor-bound to obey. I will do neither because I have no wish to condemn my daughter to a life of misery. My conscience would not stand it. Lynx, only you can choose to do this for us.”
Lynx licked her lips. At all costs, she had to keep him wearing his loving father hat because he was right—if he gave her a royal command, she would obey without question. That’s what fealty to the Norin throne meant. It was yet another reason why Chenayan emperors had always hated them. The Norin knew that no man could serve two masters.
“Father, I’m not trying to be difficult. Please, just let him raid again.”
“I’ve told you why that’s impossible, Lynx. Isn’t it enough that your mother and I are giving up both our daughters? Your mother will probably never see either of you again once you go to Chenaya. I’m not willing to risk losing our youngest son as well.” He paused, then whispered, “Work with me here, child.”
Lynx put her hands on her hips. “Death is better than servitude.” She turned to Clay. “Tell him that.”
Clay bit his torn lip, tears glistening in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “Please don’t make me trade you off, Lynx.”
Seeing her brother’s anguish, Lynx dropped her shoulders. She sank to her knees in front of Clay and took his hand. “If I go without you trying again, you will spend your whole life dying slowly. Those were your words, not mine. That’s how you convinced me to sponsor you. Remember?”
Sorrow and regret wracked Clay’s face.
“But,” Lynx continued, “if I refuse to go, you will also die—along with the rest of us. Only it will be a swift death at the hands of our enemies. Which must I choose?”
Clay gripped Lynx’s face in his two hands. He rested his forehead against hers. “You had this all worked out, didn’t you?”
“No, I hadn’t. I fully expected you to come home with an egg.” Lynx glared at Kestrel. “Clay, this is our last chance to put this right.” She turned to her father. “Father, I won’t give in until we’ve succeeded. How does that make your conscience feel?”
No one in the tent moved.
Finally, her father spoke. “You drive a hard bargain, Lynx. I wonder if Lukan knows what he’s getting himself into?”
Lynx’s laugh was ugly and cruel. “I will marry him, but he’ll pay every day for choosing me. That’s my revenge for everything they have ever done to us.” She sucked in a breath, realizing she had exposed too much of her hand. To cover up, she skewered her father with another glare. “Am I to be declared a traitor, or will Clay raid again?”
Her father pulled himself up and walked to the open tent flap. He stared out across the sea of tents. Lynx guessed what he was thinking. In each of them lived families, their friends, or blood relatives. Children huddled in their leather homes, wrapped in blankets of antelope and lion skins hunted by their fathers. Teens—both boys and girls—dreamed of love or egg raids, many of them longing for the day they could fight the Chenayans, too. Adults busied themselves with the endless chores that came with caring for a family. They trusted her father implicitly. Up until yesterday, under his leadership, they had found peace—of a sort, given their hostile masters—and now, she threatened that peace.
No, she corrected. Lukan and Kestrel did this to us. Determined to see this through, she waited for him to speak. After an eternity, her father faced her.
Sorrow engulfed Lynx, and she stifled a groan. His eyes seemed to have sunk into his head, and his face had an unhealthy gray cast. Even his back looked stooped under the weight of his decision. These last two days had truly aged him. She wanted to throw her arms around his shoulders and cry that she was sorry, that if she could change it, she would. But that wouldn’t help Clay—and some good had to come of all this misery. She dug deep for her fiercest expression and willed it to remain.
“Lynx, I speak to you as your king,” her father said, his voice firm. “You cannot begin to imagine how difficult it is for me when the needs of my family conflict with the interests of my people. Still, I recognize a compromise when offered.” His eyes roved the tent, stopping to look at each face. “Sin
ce the start of autumn, three youths tried and failed to raid eggs. They each have one week to try again, and then the offer closes. Forever.”
Lynx’s shoulders sagged with relief.
A stifled snort escaped Clay’s mouth, but her father held up his hand to stop him speaking. “We will make a celebration of it. It will be our way of . . . of acknowledging Lynx’s and Kestrel’s marriages. As such, it will take place at the same time as those events.”
“But,” Wolf burst out, looking both pleased and confused, “who will sponsor Clay if both you and Lynx are in Cian for the wedding? I mean, I could, I suppose, but—” His voice trailed off, leaving his doubtful expression to finish his sentence.
“How you survived your raid is still a mystery,” Lynx said with both sadness and joy as she patted Wolf’s shoulder.
“I marvel daily at the miracle of it.” Tension marred Wolf’s laughter. “So, I don’t think we want to risk Clay training with me.”
“And we won’t,” her father said, taking back the discussion. “I will be here to sponsor him. And his mother will provide a feast when he wins.” He fixed his eyes first on Kestrel and then on Lynx. “Mott has not extended an invitation to us to attend your weddings.”
Kestrel burst into tears.
Lynx barely heard her wails. She had won, but at what price? Her father’s sorrow and a wedding to Lukan Avanov she now had to honor.
And what came after that wedding? Lukan would pay in every way possible for what he had done to her king, her family, and her tribe.
Chapter Five
It had been a miserable day, filled with hugs and commiseration on Lynx’s upcoming nuptials. At sunset, she escaped with her fiddle to the same grove of acacia trees near the northern gate where she, Clay, and Heron had repelled the Chenayans.
Heron had offered to keep her company, but she had waved him off with a sad smile. Her chest ached with sorrow every time she thought of leaving him. He was her best friend, the person she shared her triumphs and disasters with. Spending time with him now would only make parting harder—for both of them.
It was after midnight, and the strains of her fiddle still floated over the camp. She didn’t care. By agreeing to marry Lukan, she had made the ultimate sacrifice for her people. The least they could do was put up with her music.
A week had passed since she and her family had gathered in the council tent. Clay’s wounds were on the mend, and she had no doubt he’d be ready for his next raid by the time she and Kestrel arrived in Cian. Heron and three other raiders would accompany her and Kestrel to the Chenayan military base in Tanamre. A general and a priestess would meet them there, and together, she and Kestrel would travel by train to Cian. Heron and the other raiders would return home.
And I will never see them again.
As for the thousands of troops at Tanamre? Mott had made it clear that they would be a permanent fixture on Norin soil.
A sudden lull in the chirping of crickets and nightjars alerted her to someone watching. She spun and saw her father standing in the shadows.
“I know you want to be alone,” he said, “but you and I need to talk.”
Lynx lowered her fiddle and bow. “Why do I break out into a panic when you say that?” She grinned. “Oh, yes, maybe it’s because you will then proceed to tell me that I have to marry Lukan.”
“And you will threaten to have us all killed if I don’t give into your blackmail. I think we’re quits on that one, my Lynxie.” He gestured to the coarse grass. “Can we sit?”
Can we sit? He was obviously wearing his father hat tonight. Lynx adjusted her thoughts accordingly. She plunked herself down, sitting cross-legged in her leather trousers, and laid her fiddle and bow across her lap.
He took a deep breath, finally blowing it out of pursed lips. When he spoke, his voice was heavy. “We would be idiots not to take advantage of your presence at the palace, Lynx.”
“Intelligence gathering, you mean?” Lynx asked, going for a lighter tone. “I already have a list.” She gave a wry smile. “Number one, find out what gives the Chenayans superhuman powers. Number two, check out why they wear those stupid rocks in their faces—I’m sure there is a correlation. Number three, fulfill my oath to you by marrying that moron Lukan, though I make you no promises that I won’t stick a knife in him on our wedding night.”
Her father didn’t even smile. He took her hands in his. “Be careful, my Lynxie. I know you. You embody all that is best . . . and worst about the Norin. You shout your mouth off like you own the world. You’re defiant, prideful, and arrogant—”
“Whoa!” Lynx held up her hands. “You say all that like it’s a bad thing.”
Her father snorted. “The trouble is that I’ve indulged it. Encouraged it, even, because I never, not for a minute, believed that Mott would choose you, when Kestrel would make such a perfect Chenayan empress.” He rubbed his hands across his face. “You know how confident I was that you would never be chosen.”
Lynx nodded. He would never have started training her to take over the raiders if he had believed her destined for Lukan’s bed.
“That was my mistake and my deepest regret. I have not prepared you well—” He snorted again, this time filled with self-loathing. “I have not prepared you at all for the Chenayan court.” His hand brushed her face. “My Lynxie, Mott and Lukan won’t be as tolerant as I have been.” He fixed her with a stare, the same look he always used when extracting oaths from people. “Swear me an oath that you will do nothing to antagonize them.”
That she couldn’t do, not when she knew, by her very nature, that it would be impossible to keep. Even if her father wasn’t at the palace to police and enforce the oath, part of her would die if she wasn’t true to him and herself. She could never live with that.
After a long silence, her father sighed. “We are obligated by the Unity to marry our daughters off to them, but the Chenayans have never welcomed their Norin brides. It is not just bad manners that stopped Mott from inviting your mother and me to your and Kestrel’s wedding. Watch your back, Lynx.”
Lynx twirled her feathers and hair. Despite her bravado, what her father said was true. There were many tales told of Norin brides who vanished after providing a couple of heirs.
“Stay close to Bear. I have arranged with Mott that you and Kestrel are to stay at his home in Cian until the wedding.”
Uncle Bear was her father’s brother and emissary at the palace in Cian. Her father scowled, she guessed more at himself than at her.
“I have charged him with doing what I should have done—teaching you court protocol. It is very different than how we do things. More formal. Constricting. You will be under constant scrutiny. Bear will use the time at his home to educate you. Mind well what he says to you.”
From Lynx’s brief visit to the palace, she knew just how suffocating the place was. Fear itched at her, a thousand imaginary ants biting her skin. “I won’t let you down, Father.”
“I know you won’t. But perhaps my best advice, Lynxie, is to tell you to trust no one. At least until you have learned your way through their politics.”
Lynx sighed. “Why they still enforce the Unity is a total mystery. You’d think they’d be tired of blond-haired, blue-eyed emperors.”
In reality, enough emperors had ended up heirless, which meant other dark-haired, dark-eyed Avanovs had filled the throne. It was from one of these lines that Lukan got his dark looks. It was some consolation, then, that she and Lukan were not related by blood.
“Generations of Norin have wondered why the Avanovs keep the treaty alive, and generations of Norin have come up with the same answer—they just do.”
“Maybe I can add that bit of intelligence gathering to my list.” Lynx tried for a smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate.
“As if you don’t have enough to worry about.” Her father’s face hardened, taking on a regal air.
Was he changing hats? Would he now demand—and get—an oath that she wouldn’t antag
onize Lukan?
“Lynx, I must—”
Lynx interrupted quickly, “The only way we will ever truly defend ourselves against them is if we know what gives their guardsmen superhuman powers. As you said, it would be stupid if I didn’t use my position at the court to dig around. I make you an oath, sir,” her fist thumped her heart in salute, “that I will do everything in my power to find that information for you.” She smothered a wince. It had been an expensive week for oaths, but it could not be helped. This was a promise she stood a chance of keeping. She would go to Chenaya, as bound to marry Lukan and be his empress as she was to find the key to overthrowing his empire.
Her father’s face remained inscrutable. Then he smiled, a weary one. “I’ve wrestled this past week with this dilemma—to use my daughter for the good of the tribe or to protect her from harm. On this occasion the needs of my tribe won out over my duty to my family. That’s why I came to talk to you tonight. I’m grateful you spared me the indignity of having to ask.”
He had never intended to bind her to blind obedience to Lukan and the emperor? She shook her head in admiration at how skillfully her father had played her. Her manipulative skills were definitely something she’d inherited from him.
She grinned in acknowledgement. “You know I will do anything for Norin.”
Her father cupped her cheek. “I hope life always looks so black and white for you, Lynx. It’s so easy to get lost in the gray.”
Lynx let his hand linger for a moment and then shrugged. It was time to get practical. “Letters home? Surely they’ll be read? Isn’t that what you and Uncle Bear always say, that Felix checks your mail?”
Her father nodded. “Over the years, Bear and I have worked out a code, of sorts. Thus far, it seems to have gotten past Felix.”
Lord Felix Avanov, Mott’s brother, was in charge of empire security. As an Avanov, he was one of the few people in the empire who could read.
“I don’t want you writing compromising letters. Whatever you find out, tell Bear. He will find a way to relay the information to me.”
