Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  “It’s not that simple,” Mother said. “Felice is infertile.”

  It was so unexpected it took Sienne a moment to remember who Felice was. Right. Her lover-stealing sister. “That’s…too bad? I’m sure she’s not too upset about it, she likes children even less than I do.”

  Both of her parents looked at her steadily, as if they were waiting for her to make some connection between herself and her sister’s infertility. “Is Rance disappointed? We never talked about children, which in hindsight probably should have told me something.”

  Now her parents exchanged a private look, and Sienne got the feeling they were wordlessly arguing over who would speak next. Her father won the battle—or lost it, Sienne wasn’t sure which. “We only found out two months ago,” he said. “She and Rance hadn’t been married long enough for anyone to be concerned, but Felice needed healing for a minor illness, and Lorne discovered her condition.”

  Lorne Macchari was her mother’s personal priest of Kitane. “And he couldn’t fix it?”

  “It’s beyond the scope of anything healing can do.”

  “I guess that saves them months of wondering if this is when she’ll conceive. Is that…” More dread crept up her spine. Her father’s expression said there was something awful he was working up to tell her. “She can’t have children. What does that mean for the succession?”

  “It means,” Papa said, “you’re going to be the next duchess of Beneddo.”

  5

  Sienne’s mouth fell open. A hundred possible responses choked her. What came out was, “How can I be duchess of Beneddo? I’m a scrapper!”

  “You are our daughter, and next in line to inherit,” Mother said. “This…adventure…you’ve been on may have been an exciting diversion, but you have a birthright you can’t ignore. And a duty to your people.”

  “They’re not my people! They’re your people! I can’t be a duchess!” She was breathing heavily and tried to calm herself. “Felice can adopt—it happens all the time—”

  “Legally, only a child of the blood can inherit a ducal title.” Papa clasped Sienne’s unresisting fingers. “We have been over the problem with a dozen law-speakers. There’s no way around it.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “I realize this must be a shock,” Papa said, “but we’ve redoubled our efforts to find you in the two months since this all came out, and if you hadn’t run away, you wouldn’t—”

  “So this is my fault.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant you’d have been better prepared to accept your new role.”

  Sienne drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. All right. This is…I don’t know what to say. It’s a long way off, because you won’t die any time soon, and Felice is likely to live a long time…” Her parents were exchanging meaningful glances again. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Felice will never be duchess,” her mother said. “We didn’t just come to Fioretti for the celebration. We’re here to have her officially disinherited.”

  Sienne yanked her hands away from her father. “That is sick,” she said. “She loses her birthright just because she can’t produce a snot-nosed brat? How could you do this to her?”

  “Stop shouting and calm down,” Mother said sharply. “It was Felice’s idea. Leaving the dukedom for so long in the hands of someone whose heir is a potential rival…you hate the idea of being duchess now, but who knows how you’ll feel about it in ten years? Or even five? We don’t want you breathing down Felice’s neck, waiting for her to die.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “It’s possible. And the law is on our side.”

  The room felt small and closed-in now, or maybe it was just the way her vision was tunneling to nothing. Sienne closed her eyes and wished she could cast jaunt, take herself somewhere far away where no one had ever heard of the dukedom of Beneddo. “It’s still not fair. And what about Rance? He always wanted to be a duke. Is he willing to let that dream go?”

  More meaningful glances. “Rance has asked for his marriage to be annulled,” Papa said, “on the grounds that it cannot produce offspring.”

  Sienne wished she had Rance in front of her so she could smack him with half a dozen force bolts. She might have hated her sister for taking him away, but for him to desert Felice just when she needed him most…he’d done Sienne a huge favor in abandoning her. She never would have imagined he could be so cruel. “Damn him,” she said.

  “Language, Sienne,” Mother exclaimed. Sienne bit back another, cruder remark.

  “Rance and Felice discussed it, and they agreed it was the best course of action,” Papa said. “It’s an amicable separation.”

  “And…” Mother sat forward. “There’s no reason Rance has to leave the family. You’ll need a husband, and—”

  Sienne laughed once, harshly. “Me, marry Rance? Not a chance!”

  Mother’s brow wrinkled. “Sienne, you begged us to let you marry him. I thought you’d be pleased at the idea.”

  “It’s been a year, Mother. Things change. I’ve changed. Rance didn’t love me, and I was stupid to make such a fuss over him. I wouldn’t marry him now if you paid me.”

  “We will pay you,” Papa said, “or, at any rate, you’ll have his marriage settlement.”

  “I don’t care. I love someone else, and Rance can go off and make a life for himself with anyone but me.”

  “You—” Mother’s eyes grew wide. “Who is this man?”

  Sienne swallowed. Defying her parents about Rance was one thing. Telling them about her love when they would likely be furious about it was terrifying, like opening her heart for them to stab it bloody. “His name is Alaric. He’s my companion, the leader of our scrapper team.”

  “Alaric is an Ansorjan name. What’s his family?” Papa asked.

  “His family—his clan—doesn’t use surnames because it’s so small. And yes, he’s Ansorjan.” This was only partly true. The wizard who’d created the Sassaven had used Ansorjans for the root stock, so as far as anyone knew, Alaric was an ordinary Ansorjan man. If anyone could call him ordinary.

  “So he’s not noble?”

  “No.”

  Her parents had exchanged so many meaningful glances it was almost funny. Sienne wished she could eavesdrop on the conversation they were sure to have after she left. “Is he your lover?” Mother asked.

  “He is.”

  Mother’s face whitened fractionally, and her lips compressed again, but she said nothing. Papa said, “I shouldn’t have to say anything this indelicate to you, but…I hope you’re taking precautions.”

  She was not about to share the details of her sex life with her parents. “I won’t get pregnant, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “At least you’d know I was qualified to inherit, if I did.”

  “Don’t joke about it,” Mother said. “You have no idea how traumatic this whole experience has been for all of us. Felice has been raised to be a duchess, trained almost from birth. You know nothing about ruling, you’ve run wild for a year, and you expect us to be happy that you’ve taken up with some nobody scrapper? This has very nearly been disastrous for Beneddo, and it’s past time you gave up playing games with your life and came home to take up your new duties.”

  “Clarie—”

  “Pontus, I’m sick of dancing around the issue. This is no game. This is real life. Sienne, you have a duty to your family and you have a duty to the dukedom. I’m no longer willing to endure your defiance.”

  Sienne shot to her feet. “I didn’t ask for this. And, as you so kindly point out, I’m not prepared for this. Find someone else. I refuse.”

  “This isn’t something you can refuse,” Papa said. “Only a royal decree can disinherit someone who is otherwise legally and lawfully capable of inheriting a dukedom. And Derekian doesn’t hand those out readily.”

  “Then I’ll talk to him. Convince him.”


  “No, you will not,” Papa said, rising to face her. “The dukedom has suffered enough turmoil for one lifetime. Derekian won’t pander to your selfish wishes. You’re the heir now, Sienne. And before you tell me you’ll run away rather than face this, I want to remind you that you’re also a grown woman who understands responsibility. You may not like it, but you’ll do your duty.”

  He was so blurry. Sienne touched her face and realized she was crying. “I won’t,” she said, and had to stop. Papa reached out to her, and she backed away before he could touch her. “This isn’t what I want.”

  “It’s not what any of us wanted,” Papa said. “Do you think Felice wanted to lose what she’s been raised her whole life to be? Or that we wanted anything but a scholastic life for our wizard daughter? But the rules are different for the nobility. What we want isn’t as important as what we owe the kingdom. You’ll come to understand that someday.”

  “Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Mother said.

  “Stop it, Clarie,” Papa said in a cold, cutting voice. “Sienne. Come to dinner. See your siblings. Talk to Felice. Let’s for a few hours be an ordinary family. Please.”

  Sienne wiped her eyes. “I’ll come,” she said. “But I won’t give up hope.”

  Her father had the good sense to say nothing.

  She didn’t remember how she got from the drawing room to the plaza, but when she came to herself, she was standing once more in front of the fountain, this time gazing at tall Kitane’s well-shaped legs. “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered. “You gave your life for the sake of someone else’s dream. I can’t do that.”

  She turned and ran out of the plaza and down the hill, not stopping until she reached the temple district. It was quieter than the rest of the city, if only because the festival decorations hadn’t reached this far. Temples to all six avatars sprawled here, some of them bigger than others—Gavant’s was half the size of the palace—but all masterpieces of architecture and art. She walked until she reached the round temple of Kitane, its golden dome gleaming in the sunlight. Passing through the portico, she stopped just inside to admire the giant bronze statue of the avatar, naked except for helmet, shield, and sword. Sienne had come in on the east side, and the altar on that side was not in use at this season. It was true summer, which meant the southern altar would be where the divines worshipped.

  “Miss? Would you like to make an offering?”

  Sienne startled and turned to face the young priest who stood eagerly at her left elbow. He was too young to be a full divine, and despite her agitation, she couldn’t help smiling at him. “I would like to talk to the divine Octavian, if he’s available,” she said.

  “I’ll ask. Please, have a seat,” the priest said, guiding her to one of the benches lining the walls. Sienne sat and watched the ceremony in progress at the south altar. It looked like a marriage, which should have cheered her, but the memory of her mother so casually assuming Sienne would leap at the chance to marry Rance made it bitter instead. All right, maybe Mother had meant well—she couldn’t have known Sienne didn’t love Rance anymore—but how could anyone treat another person like a commodity, or believe Rance wouldn’t care who he married so long as he could be a duke? Sienne turned that last thought over in her head. It was possibly true, and if it was, Rance was even less principled than she’d thought.

  A door behind the east altar opened, and an old man with a full white beard emerged. He wore a pale blue robe open over an ordinary shirt and trousers, not the garb Sienne would have expected of a divine. His sharp blue-eyed gaze fell on Sienne, and he smiled as he approached her. “I remember you,” he said. “You were paralyzed by that lich. Congratulations on bringing it down.”

  “Your amulet helped us tremendously,” Sienne said. “Thank you.”

  Octavian waved that off. “How can I help you today? I’m sorry, but I’m fresh out of artifacts,” he added with a wink and a smile.

  Sienne smiled back. “Nothing like that. But it is a delicate personal matter. I was…I need to know if I’m capable of bearing children.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but normally when I receive that request, the person is not nearly so grim. Do you have reason to believe you are infertile? Family history, or a long succession of miscarriages?”

  “No. I just need to know. It’s about an inheritance.”

  Octavian nodded and pressed his hand to Sienne’s stomach. “Our Lady of Power, bless this young woman,” he said.

  Green light flared, and flames flickered across Octavian’s hand. Sienne didn’t flinch. She felt no pain, just a trickling sensation of warmth. Then her skin glowed green for a moment, flashing bright and then dark a few times, and faded. Octavian smiled. “There is nothing wrong with your female organs,” he said. “I hope that’s the answer you were looking for.”

  “It’s not,” Sienne said. “You’re probably not willing to lie about it, are you.”

  The smile faded from Octavian’s face. “I choose to believe that was a joke.”

  “A bad one. Of course I wouldn’t ask you to lie. But it would be so much easier if I were infertile.”

  He sat beside her on the bench. “Children are a gift of God. Even if you don’t choose to have them, you should still be grateful that She made you capable of bearing Her gift.”

  “It’s not that. I’ve just learned that I’m going to inherit a title because my sister, the actual heir, is disqualified on those grounds. It’s stupid, I know, but I thought…anyway. I’m not prepared for this.”

  “We rarely are prepared for the surprises life hands us. I’m sorry for your sister. She must be devastated.”

  “I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her in over a year.”

  “Well. Your life seems considerably more complicated than just an unexpected inheritance. Is there strife in your family?”

  “It’s too long a story for me to burden you with, sir.”

  Octavian shook his head. “One of my duties is listening to people’s long stories. I won’t pry, but I think you could use someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t a member of your family.”

  Sienne hesitated. Then she said, “A little over a year ago, I was a graduate living in Stravanus…”

  She told him everything, even her most shameful memories of pleading with her parents to let her marry Rance that made her cringe just thinking about them. She told him about Alaric and her friends and her new life. And she recounted the conversation she’d had with her parents that had ended with her leaving in tears. When she wound down, Octavian said, “I can see why you’re in turmoil. What a nightmare for all of you.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I can’t be a duchess.”

  “You mean you don’t want to be a duchess. You’re too intelligent not to be able to learn the skills necessary.”

  “I mean I have another life now. I’m happy with who I am and what I have. And I’m not giving up Alaric just to marry some…I don’t even know who my parents would want me to marry, except it’s not a Sas—an Ansorjan scrapper from nowhere. And he can’t have children, so even if I did marry him, we’d still be in the same position.” It was the closest she could come to explaining why she and Alaric would never have children. No one knew of the existence of Alaric’s race, and he wouldn’t thank her for sharing the secret.

  “I admit that seems the sticking point. As far as I know, there is no law requiring a Rafellish noble to marry a citizen, your parents’ objections notwithstanding. You…I won’t insult you by asking if you’re sure he’s the one for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish I had a solution for you, but as with much of life, the most profound solutions come from within ourselves.” Octavian patted her hand. “But I think you already know you need to reconcile with your family, whatever else you decide to do.”

  Sienne bowed her head. “I know. I was selfish to run away. I mean, I don’t regret it, because it brought me to where I’m loved and appreciated by
my friends, but objectively, it was the wrong thing to do. I put my family through terrible pain. But they hurt me, too.”

  “Neither of which excuses the other.”

  “Yes. I know that too.”

  “Do you have an avatar you worship more than the others?”

  “I’m not very religious. I suppose I depend on Averran a lot, since my friend is a priest of his and his intervention has saved my life more than once.”

  “Averran is a good choice for your situation. He was cranky and recalcitrant, but he also believed strongly in the human capacity for choosing wisely, even in the most dire of circumstances. You might speak to your friend about receiving Averran’s guidance for you personally. If he’s already taken an interest in you, as I conclude from your story, he might have a hand in this test you’re undergoing, and the avatars never give us tests without giving us the means to pass them.”

  The idea that her life might be at the whim of the curmudgeonly Averran made her nervous, but she said only, “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  Octavian helped her rise. “Good luck,” he said. “I’ll pray for you. And be open to the possibility that this new challenge is actually for the better.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true, but I’ll remember.”

  “Oh, and one more thing. You say your relationship with your young man is permanent?”

  “Of course.”

  “How does he feel about the prospect of no children?”

  “He’s fine with it. He wasn’t at all disturbed when he told me—he was more worried that I’d be upset.”

  Octavian looked skeptical. “Be certain of that. Sometimes we don’t know what we want until we’ve lost it.”

  “I’m sure. Thank you for being concerned, though.” She waved goodbye and left the temple.

  She passed through the celebrating streets without noticing the festivities, her mind fully occupied with memories and plans. She simply could not be her father’s heir. She’d worked too hard to get where she was to give it up. And Alaric—there was no way she was going to leave him, especially not to marry someone she didn’t love. A perverse imp at the back of her head muttered You might learn to love someone else, and she almost smacked herself in the forehead before remembering it was her imagination.