Lee Shores

by Rachel Ford

“He has?”

  She nodded, casting a furtive glance in my direction. “Forgive me for assuming you were a warrior. Only, he said you were one of the bravest people he knows.”

  I felt my face color. “He said that?”

  She smiled at me. It was a curious smile, as if she was satisfied on some point. “Do you know why F’er was called home?” she asked abruptly.

  “Uh…” I hesitated. Frank had shared his guess, of course. But was I at liberty to disclose it? “Not really.” That was true, wasn’t it? I didn’t know. I had only an educated guess, but no sure knowledge.

  She cast her eyes up and down the hall, and when she spoke her tone was low. “You must warn him – I cannot. Mother made me swear that I would say nothing to him.” She smiled. “But I made no promise about telling you.”

  “Telling me what?” I could feel the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. Her secrecy was starting to alarm me.

  “Mother and father have picked a wife for him. The betrothal ceremony is tonight.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Wait,” I said, my mind still racing to catch up. “What now?”

  “The betrothal ceremony: it’s tonight.”

  I shook my head. “What’s a betrothal ceremony? And what can he do?” Something told me that Frank’s parents wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to get him here if getting out of it was as simple as saying “no thanks.”

  “It’s – in your language, like an engagement. Only it’s binding. Like a pre-marriage marriage.” She looked me square in the eyes. “And as for getting out of it: he’s got to level with them.”

  I still wasn’t understanding. “Level with them?”

  She gave me a knowing smile. “About you two.”

  I blinked. “About us?”

  “Don’t look so surprised, Katherine. I know he’s in love with you.”

  Surprised? Freaking out, more like. “He told you that?”

  “Of course not. He’s too discrete for that.”

  I tried to picture Frank, gregarious, open-natured Frank, as discrete. It was almost as hard to believe as any of the rest of this.

  “But I’m his sister, Kay: I can read between the lines.”

  “He’s not,” I protested. “We’re just friends.”

  “I know he’s worried about what mother and father will say, because you’re a human. And he’s right: they won’t take it well. But I’ll have your backs. And I think F’rok will, too.” She shook her head. “We both love F’er. And his happiness is what matters most. Mother and father will come around in time.

  “This is your room, by the way.” With that, she clapped a firm hand on my back and smiled. “Welcome to the Inkaya House, Kay. I hope we will be friends.”

  Then, she turned and left me in the hall, openmouthed and head reeling.

  I stepped inside the room she’d indicated. It was large and spacious, with a fourposter bed, elegantly carved furniture, and colorful paintings adorning the walls. I took very little of it in, though, depositing my bag unceremoniously by the door and heading posthaste back for Maggie’s room.

  I knocked, waited for her “come in,” and entered. She smiled as I did. “So I guess it’s separate rooms for us, eh? We’ll just-” She paused mid-comment, her forehead creasing. “Kay, what’s wrong?”

  I shut the door behind me, relating everything F’riya had told me – everything except her certainty that Frank was in love with me.

  Maggie whistled, taking a seat on the bed. “Well hell.”

  “Frank’s not going to like this,” I said.

  “No,” she agreed. “And it’s worse than it sounds. Legally, you can break a betrothal, but it’s costly and embarrassing. And what’s more, it’s a cause for permanent enmity. It’s basically an insult to the other family.”

  “We’ve got to let him know.”

  “Yes. He’s got to put the kibosh on it now, if he wants out. If she gets here…” Maggie shook her head. “Best case scenario is House Inkaya makes an enemy of whatever house she’s from.”

  I nodded. “Alright. So we’ve got to talk to him.”

  “It should be you.”

  “Why me?”

  “His sister told you.”

  I couldn’t argue with her logic, but the fact was I was still trying to figure out why F’riya had gotten the impression she had. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to handle this. “Fine,” I sighed. “But that means I need an opportunity to get him alone.”

  “I’ll help with that,” she decided with a grin. “They said they wanted to hear about the Black Flag. Well, they’re going to.”

  I smiled too. “Thanks, Mags.”

  She nodded. “Of course. But…there’s one thing I’m curious about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why did F’riya tell you, and not both of us?”

  “I…I’m not really sure,” I lied.

  Maggie shrugged. “Well, at least she told us.”

  “Right. Exactly.”

  We returned downstairs shortly thereafter. Maggie took the lead, greeting our hosts with a warmth that quickly put to rest the awkward silences of earlier. They led us toward a sitting room, where coffee and some fashion of biscuit was waiting.

  I grabbed Frank’s arm as we walked to slow him. Maggie was chattering away ahead of us to his parents. With a glance to ensure that they hadn’t seen, I whispered, “I need to talk to you. Very important.”

  He turned surprised eyes to me. “Now?”

  I nodded, then he nodded. I released his arm, and he cleared his throat. Pulling out his communicator, he said in loud tones, “Oh. Oh boy.”

  A few eyes turned to us. “Captain, Katherine and I just got paged. By the Black Flag.”

  “Is everything alright?” Maggie asked.

  He nodded. “I think so. Syd just had a question about…the engines. He has to run it by Katherine.”

  “And helm,” I added. “For F’er.”

  “Right.”

  Maggie nodded. “Of course. Well, you’d better take it.”

  “We can wait,” R’ia offered.

  “No,” Frank said hastily. “Thank you, Mother. But this may take a while. Please don’t wait on our account.”

  “We don’t want the coffee getting cold,” F’riya offered.

  “With that robot,” Maggie sighed theatrically, “it will take a while.”

  “Robot?” Dre wondered.

  She nodded, stepping toward the sitting room and beginning a new tale. “He’s a battle bot, actually. Customized by Katherine. It’s a fascinating story.”

  We pretended to be making a call, but as soon as they were out of earshot, I hissed, “Frank, the wedding isn’t for your sister: it’s for you.”

  He blinked at me, confused. “What?”

  I relayed the story, and Frank alternated between a ruddy hue and a paler-than-usual pallor. “Good gods, I should have known.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s only one thing I can do: tell them to call it off, now.”

  I nodded. “Alright.”

  “Hell. This may get ugly. I’m sorry, Kay. This was supposed to be a relaxing trip, I know.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Frank.” I paused. “But there is one thing…”

  He glanced at me. “What?”

  “Your sister…she said…well, she thought you were in love with me. That’s why she told me. She thinks we’re – you know, a couple.”

  He was crimson by time I finished speaking, and he laughed nervously. “Oh, F’riya. She’s not much better than my mom, I think, with matchmaking.”

  “Frank,” I said, holding his gaze, “are you okay with our friendship? I don’t want to hurt you. I know – well, I know you liked me, before. And you’re one of my best friends, and I’d hate to lose you. But I care about you. So if…if you need space for a while, I can give it to you.”

  He brushed this aside with a wave of his hand.
“Look, Kay…I might have talked about you a little to F’riya.” He shrugged. “Or, maybe a lot. But that was before you and Magdalene. I did like you. I was disappointed, I won’t lie. And I think Maggie’s a damned lucky woman.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “But we’re good, Kay. I got over it months ago. You’re my best friend, and I’m happy for you.”

  “You’re sure? I don’t want to hurt you, Frank.”

  He nodded. “Absolutely.”

  I nodded too. “Alright. Good.”

  He smiled. “So…now that we’ve got that awkward business out of the way…you ready for round two? Shall we go break up my engagement?”

  I grinned too. “What the hell: let’s go for peak awkwardness.”

  We headed back to the sitting room. Maggie was still talking about Sydney, this time explaining how he’d learned to cook. Frank’s family was feigning interest with varying degrees of success. They all looked up as we entered, though.

  “Katherine,” she said, “how’s the ship?”

  “Good. He just need to talk about…fuel mixtures.”

  “Shouldn’t he know that already?” Dre wondered. “If he’s captaining your ship?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Maggie laughed nervously.

  “Mother, I need to speak with you,” Frank said, cutting to the chase. “About this evening.”

  R’ia and Dre exchanged glances. “We’ll discuss it later, son. Right now Captain Magdalene is telling us about the culinary adventures –”

  “I’m sorry, Mother: but it has to be now. I’m sure our guests will excuse us.”

  Maggie and I demurred that we would, of course. Dre frowned, saying, “There’s nothing to discuss. The feast begins at seventeenth bell. We’ll all be there.” He turned to us. “Please, resume your charming story, Captain.”

  Frank crossed his arms. “I’m not entering a betrothal, Father.”

  R’ia and Dre exchanged a second set of glances. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  R’ia shot a dark look her daughter’s way. “Who told you?”

  He scoffed. “I’m not a child, Mother. F’riya’s not getting married, neither is F’rok. So why else would you have called me here?”

  “Moderate your tone when you speak to your mother, F’er,” Dre barked.

  Frank’s tone had barely changed, though his father’s was considerably more heated. This was going to be an ugly conversation. I caught Maggie’s eye, wondering desperately if there was a way for us to extricate ourselves from it. I didn’t want to pry. I didn’t want to make an already miserable situation worse for Frank by having outsiders in the midst of it. Then again, the presence of strangers might compel restraint from his family.

  “The point is,” Frank declared, his tone low and calm, “I am not going through with the betrothal. So you can call it off now, and hopefully salvage your relationship with this girl and her family. Or you can invite them here, and publicly humiliate her, whoever she is – and make her clan an enemy of House Inkaya’s.”

  “You haven’t even met her,” R’ia protested.

  “Exactly, Mother: I haven’t. I am not marrying someone I haven’t even met.”

  “She’s a sweet girl, F’er. Pretty too.”

  “She’ll bear you strong sons,” Dre put in. “And she’s the heir apparent of House Nikya.”

  “I don’t care if she’s the chancellor’s daughter,” Frank snapped at his father. “I’m not marrying her.”

  “Why?” his mother demanded. “You haven’t given me a single good reason, F’er.”

  “I’ve given you several, Mother: I don’t know her. I don’t love her. I’m not going to marry someone I don’t know and love.”

  “Enough,” Dre sighed. “I’m your father, so I must say what your mother is too kind to say: you are no longer a young man. You’re one and thirty, now. And you live your life with humans. You may be our heir, but do you think these things make you a desirable match?” He shook his head. “You must settle down. Soon, not even the prestige of House Inkaya will be able to find you a suitable mate.

  “It’s all well and good to talk about sentimentality, but when you are a lonely old man with no children or grandchildren of your own, what will that sentimentality get you?”

  The speech seemed to stun Frank into a temporary silence. I, though, found my temper flaring at this abuse of him. “Forgive me,” I said, “but Frank is an adult. He’s plenty old enough to choose his own wife.”

  Five sets of Kudarian eyes turned to me. R’ia scoffed, “Frank? You have taken a human name, my son?”

  Dre said, “You are a human. You know nothing of our ways.”

  “Perhaps,” I admitted, “but I know Frank. F’er, I mean. He’s one of the smartest, bravest, sweetest people I know.”

  “He’s a Kudarian,” R’ia interrupted hotly. “Not a person.”

  “And I know whoever he chooses is going to be a damned lucky woman. I don’t care if he’s ‘one and thirty’ or one and fifty.”

  “One and fifty,” R’ia repeated, shuddering at the thought.

  “You are our guest,” Dre said, “so I will not argue with you.” He turned cold eyes to Frank. “But you are my son. And I am ordering you, as your father, to proceed with this betrothal. You will not get a better offer than this, and I will not see you throw your life and youth away.”

  A long, pregnant pause followed as the two men stared at each other, arms folded, brows creased.

  It was interrupted by F’riya. “F’er cannot obey you, Father,” she said.

  “Stay out of this, daughter,” R’ia demanded.

  “I cannot, mother. What you are asking of F’er is impossible.” She stood tall, her head high. “You see, he’s already betrothed.”

  Frank blinked. “I am?” Then, he mastered his confusion. “I mean, I am.”

  R’ia and Dre sat in silence, mouths agape, for a moment. “Already betrothed?”

  She laughed excitedly. “My gods, why didn’t you tell us already, F’er? We’ve been so worried about you.”

  “She’s not that Ekri girl you knew in school, is she?” Dre wondered suspiciously.

  Frank shook his head. “No, Father. It’s not Di.”

  “Good. We don’t need to align ourselves with a bastard’s clan.” Now, though, he frowned. “But who is it? And why all the secrecy?”

  All eyes turned to Frank. “Because…um…” He, now turned to F’riya.

  His sister rolled her eyes, presumably at what she took to be his lack of courage. “Because she’s human.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dre had resumed his seat, a ghastly pallor settling into his cheeks. F’rok laughed out loud. It wasn’t a happy kind of laugh. It was more nervousness and bewilderment than anything else. R’ia was sputtering with anger. “A human? My gods, Frank, a human?”

  “What a scandal,” Dre said. “House Inkaya will be the laughing stock of Kriar province.”

  “Perhaps of all North Kudar,” R’ia put in.

  Frank rolled his eyes. “Why stop there, Mother? Maybe we’ll be the disgrace of the entire planet. Perhaps all three Kudarian worlds. Hell, maybe the Union itself.”

  His parents frowned at him in unison. “Who is this human?” his mother demanded.

  “Uh…” Frank hesitated. “Well…”

  “Me,” Magdalene declared suddenly. She’d been quiet so far, but with this one word, all eyes turned to her.

  “You?” F’riya wondered, astonishment seeping into her tone.

  Frank was hardly less surprised as he asked the same question.

  “I’m sorry,” Magdalene said, getting to her feet. “We were going to tell you, but when the summons came…well, we weren’t sure what to expect.”

  “You?” R’ia repeated. Then, she turned to Frank. “A human, F’er?”

  “She’s so small,” Dre put in. “How will she bear you sons, F’er? And what kind of sons will they be? Weak and small.”

  “Magdalene
is from a warrior clan,” F’riya put in. Her tone sounded a little numb and confused. Still, though, she was advocating for her brother. “She will bring strength and honor to our house.”

  Dre scoffed. “Human warriors. You may as well look to children for strength.”

  “So you see, Mother,” Frank said, capitalizing on the deception, “I cannot marry this girl you’ve chosen, for I’ve already pledged myself to Magdalene.”

  “Oh gods. I’m going to be ill.” R’ia shook her head.

  “We must contact Kia’s parents,” Dre decided. “We must call off the betrothal ceremony, and beg their forgiveness. When they know the circumstances, hopefully they will be understanding.”

  “What a humiliation,” R’ia said, shaking her head reproachfully at Frank. “To admit that our son has chosen a human as his mate. To call off a betrothal to a daughter of House Nikya to own such a shame.”

  I frowned at this abuse of Maggie – as if she was not standing right there, in front of them. She, however, absorbed their insults with a cool grace. Frank seemed to be taking it harder than her. “A humiliation,” he pointed out, “that might have been avoided if you meddled less in my business.”

  “A humiliation,” his father shot back, “that would have been avoided if you had the sense to stick with your own kind. Even farm animals know that, F’er. And yet here you are, bringing a human – a human – into our household.” He shook his head. “Your ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they knew what you had done.”

  Frank frowned at the older man. “You mean, ancestors like your grandfather?” Frank had told me the story of Jak ark inkaya, his great grandfather who had gone to prison rather than fight in the Kudar wars. “Or Uncle Kirl?”

  “Your mother’s brother is a diplomat. He speaks with humans, he doesn’t – doesn’t…” Dre was stuttering, as if at a loss for words. Or, more likely, I thought based on the fire in his eyes, searching his mind for a word that encapsulated the perfect blend of faux politeness with cutting intent.

  “Doesn’t what, Father? Come on, say it,” Frank prompted.

  “He doesn’t bring them to his bed,” he finished finally. “And as for my father’s father, yes, he would go to prison before he’d kill their kind. He was not a murderer. But he would be ashamed to see his line debased with such weakness.”