Sit Pretty

by R. J. Price

  Jer swallowed his protest, aware it would only make things worse. Av snatched the report from Jer, reading it to himself as his lips moved. A good fighter, Av had always been a little slower at reading and numbers.

  Av shook his head when he was done reading. "He always had an excuse, Aren, and not like your excuse when I went sniffing after you, because you were bleeding. He'd have a fresh shaving cut, or stabbed himself with a letter opener while I was in the room with him. Deret is clumsy. There was never any reason for us to look into his mate."

  "Are you telling me that you are both useless at judging people?” Aren asked. “That neither of you looked to this woman and wanted to gut her for a reason you could not put words to? Not even a flicker of doubt in your mind?"

  Av shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. "Under Em, we weren't allowed to pursue someone based on feeling alone, otherwise I could have taken you before the throne."

  "So you admit to having ill feelings for Deret's mate?" Aren's attention swung to Av. "Yet, Lord Av, you did not come speak to me about these feelings when I was taken by the throne. Or even when I announced that mated pairs could bring forward their complaints."

  "Half the court makes me upset for no apparent reason," Av said, trying to sound steady. "Are you saying you would like me to act on my instincts and question them all? That you would give me permission to do as much?"

  "Since when does your rank need permission to do anything?" Aren asked. "The two of you are warriors, yet you spend a majority of your time shuffling your feet and apologizing for being what you are."

  "Em didn't allow us that freedom," Jer said, drawing Aren's attention to him and giving Av time to collect himself. "She didn't even believe we were ranks. Had a steward chastise us about playing nicely with those whose rank truly matters."

  "If you don't act like warriors, I will not treat you as such," Aren snapped, turning her attention back to Av. "You both spout nonsense and then do not lead by example. Talk of equality, but are entirely focused on the women at court, leaving the men to struggle on their own. That is not equality."

  "The court says—" Jer started.

  "The court be damned!" Aren shouted over Jer's protest. "We are rank, we are here to lead them, not the other way around"

  "Shouting," Av said, raising his voice to match the volume of Aren's, then lowered it, "is not going to do anything but anger us. Lady Aren, if you are going to sit there and insult our rank, expecting us to simply take your words without anger of our own, you are sorely mistaken."

  "Maybe if you are angry, you would act appropriately. Instead of sniffing about for scraps from your masters," Aren said, standing.

  "I have no master!" Av bellowed, standing so quickly his chair was toppled backwards. "How dare you insult me?"

  "I will call a pot, a pot, Lord Av," Aren said, turning her icy stare to Jer. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

  "Em ruled for a decade, a third of our lives," Jer said. "That leaves an impression on a man, even one of our rank. If you believe we are not doing as our rank should be doing, then, by all means, tell us how we should be. Like our blood to the north?"

  "Like warriors," Aren said. "Warriors do not hide when the court stomps their feet, warriors do not permit a woman to ruin their lives. Warriors have courage."

  "I have plenty of courage!" Av shouted, slapping the desk with his hand. "Excuse me if I try not to incite commoners to violence for the sake of an untried woman who refuses to return my affections!"

  Jer winced as Av left, slamming the door as he went. Aren glared furiously at the door.

  “He just turned me down and he has the audacity to make that claim?” she muttered under her breath.

  "Av is angry and living in the moment. He will find an absolutely foolish way to assert himself over you," Jer said, feeling he should at least give Aren the warning. He owed her that much.

  "If he does something stupid, I will simply have to make my opinion on the matter clear enough that he cannot deny it," Aren said.

  "Kicking him between the legs works better," Jer said. "Trust me, he's about as stubborn as we come. Matches you, I'd dare say."

  "I will try using my words, before I take your advice," Aren said. She walked around the desk and righted Av's chair before she sat in it. "Url walked me down to the archives. While we were there, he pointed out that you are stronger than any of his grandfather's children. I didn't understand what he meant."

  Jer wondered why Url had used that wording specifically. Did his dear cousin know something Jer needed to beat out of him?

  Did Jer want to know?

  "How do you mean?" Jer asked. "What did you not understand about his words?"

  "Not his words, it had nothing to do with the wording," Aren said, letting Jer know in that moment that she too knew something and was not sharing with him. "It was that you are strongest. I don't understand. How do warriors know which is stronger if only a handful of you ever have magic? It's not physical strength, else Av would be stronger, no?"

  "It's not strength or magic," Jer responded quietly. He appreciated the fact that Aren came to him with her questions about rank instead of someone else. Her choice spoke of trust beyond that of their everyday interactions. "It's about dominance, I think. It's hard to describe to someone who isn't of the rank. Though odd. I would have pegged Av as stronger than me in this case."

  "He didn't say you were stronger than Av, just that you were above his grandfather's children in strength," Aren said with a nod.

  Why would it be said in just that manner? Jer thought for a moment, a memory nagging at him. After the moment he thrust the entire idea aside. He didn't care why Url had worded it just so. If there was a reason and Jer needed to know, Aren would tell him the moment it was necessary. Until that time Jer would go on living his life as he had been, ignorant to the taunting secret his cousin was trying to allude to.

  "Well, I would say Av is stronger than me and in our lives that is what matters," Jer said.

  "But my question was how can I tell which is stronger," Aren grumbled, more to herself than to Jer.

  Jer could only shrug in response. "Ask us?"

  "You don't have to ask me which queen is strongest," Aren said pointedly.

  "You have more magic, Mar has more control, and Telm more experience. At the end of the day what I care about is asking the question. If I made the three of you angry, who should I be running from? And who can I still hide behind? In all those scenarios, I hide from Telm. Typically behind you."

  "Therefore Telm is most powerful," Aren said.

  "She trained with my father and her reputation is quite well known. She will have control in her house and she never makes threats, only promises. I've never known her to be dishonourable or to have a single ounce of emotion for anyone who didn't do something terrible to deserve it," Jer watched Aren consider his words, watched as frustration took hold. He had to try to explain it another way. "It takes a lifetime to build a reputation like the one Telm has. In thirty years I've only seen her once need to act violently, that was just recently, and only because Em told her such things weren't allowed, told the court she no longer had teeth."

  "Warriors see the world in a very strange way," Aren said after a long silence. "I think I understand a little, as to how you decide who is strongest amongst yourselves. It seems unnecessarily complicated, deciding strength on such a reputation. At least it gives me a starting point."

  "We see dominance," Jer insisted. "It may be something that only we can see, that is beyond the other ranks. It's somewhat like what you were trying to say to Av. That he and I need to be more like our rank is supposed to be."

  "You do need to be more like warriors," Aren growled at him.

  "But what is a warrior? There are no wars to fight. It's not a clear definition like your rank. Those with magic who can lend that magic to others are to be called queens. There. Done, your rank defined. Healers, heal. Trainers? They train. Especially warriors, but they can train anyo
ne or anything. Thus, what is a warrior?"

  "A warrior is a man—"

  "Let me stop you there," Jer said, holding up a hand. "A rank can be either gender, though for some there may be one gender that is seen the most often. Queens were named so because the first ones to be noticed were the queen, literally. They, your rank, tend to be female, but it is possible for males to be born. The same with warriors. Only women are born as warriors more often than men as queens."

  Aren frowned at Jer. "A warrior is a person… Who feels like you do?"

  "There's a starting point. Now how do warriors act?"

  "They vary, just as queens do," Aren muttered, frown deepening.

  "Excellent, we're getting further. Now what are the duties of the warriors?"

  "To protect the people?" Aren sounded uncertain.

  "That's a very good statement," Jer said quietly. "Warriors, like queens, are meant to protect the people. You were upset because, in your eyes, the people are not being protected if Av and I allowed a person to abuse their mate."

  "Yes, that's exactly it," Aren said. "I don't expect you to protect all the people, all the time, but you have sworn yourselves to protect me. Haven't you?"

  "We have, which means we should protect the people you have claimed as your own," Jer said with a nod.

  "Yes, exactly."

  "Thus, your warriors protect your people and we have not been doing a very good job at that." Jer nodded slowly. "Once Av calms down, there's no point in doing anything else besides giving him a stout kick. I will sit him down and explain to him what you expect of warriors who claim you."

  "Thank you, Jer, you are an immense help," Aren said, smiling finally.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Er looked up as Van entered the sitting room. He motioned for the western baron to take a seat. Watching the man do so, Er motioned to Gamen, the baron of the east.

  Gamen turned to his page. “Go on, boy, just outside the door, like your mother taught you.”

  The boy bowed and left the sitting room. He would stand outside the door for hours, if necessary. Van watched the boy go, then turned his frown to Er.

  “Is that really necessary? Lady Aren would hardly spy on us. The only other one strong enough to do so is Lady Mar, and she is currently busy. If she knows how to at all,” Van said to Er. The man took the time to glare at Gamen, causing the others to remain silent until he continued. “Using your own son in such a manner? Do you know how delicate the boy's mind is?”

  “Calm yourself, brother,” Gamen said soothingly. “He volunteered for this. His mother believed it high time that he see what palace life is like for ranks. Before he gets it in his head that he should visit by himself.”

  “And then?” Van demanded. “My father made just such a statement when he first brought me to court, then proceeded to use me until the day of his death. It is not something forgotten easily.”

  “Calm, please,” Er said, raising his voice just slightly. “Before you alert the other ranks as to your state, Van. Remember, coastal tricks only work as long as a calm, level head is kept. That is not what I called you for, and once I tell you why, you will appreciate the boy out there and not doing it yourself.”

  Van sighed and slumped in his chair. “Fine. What is it.”

  A statement, not question. Er watched Van, wondering what had riled the man to this sort of anger. He carried on conversations with all the barons over the years. The letters to and from Van were always coloured with mirth and happiness. Yet at the palace he was sullen and angry.

  “Thirteen years ago we all received letters from Mirmae Hue,” Er said to the room. “In each letter she delivered us an ultimatum and demanded obedience. Shortly before her death she sent us each another letter.”

  “To those without faith, it would seem madness,” Van whispered to no one in particular.

  “Those who withhold from the throne will suffer its wrath,” Er said.

  “Not even the one who sits it, can stop the throne in this,” Gamen finished. “I always wondered if there is a fourth letter.”

  A knock came at the door.

  Laeder walked in without waiting for an answer and closed the door behind him quickly. “Sneaking past a queen, now that is something I've not tried before. Good thing he likes sweets.”

  Er went deathly cold. In palace lands, announcing that a boy was queen would result in his destruction. Sitting back, Er judged Laeder for a moment, looked over the others in the room and then back to the younger man. Laeder could very well make their decision easier, simply by mentioning something else about the boy guarding the door.

  “What do you want, Laeder?”

  “Mirmae Hue sent my father a letter, which he sent me upon my refusal to come to the palace,” Laeder said. Walking forward, he pulled the folded paper from seemingly nowhere and held it out for Er. “Also, it is my understanding you gentlemen might help me.”

  “Then you must sit, and keep silent,” Er said, guessing what was wanted as he took the letter from the lord.

  “Very well.” Laeder moved to the hearth and sat beside it, back pressed against the wall, feet laid across the floor.

  Frowning, Er opened the letter, read it once, then read it again just to be certain. “This is impossible.”

  “There lies one hope for any man. Lady Aren Marilton,” Laeder said to no one in particular.

  “Is there another Aren?” Van said quickly. “Are we certain that it is Mirmae's hand?”

  Gamen growled, likely more to himself than at Van. “Better question, is this a plot to get a Marilton on the throne? The north has wanted the throne since it separated from palace lands. That was why they separated and literally took the palace with them.”

  “Not the entire palace,” Er said. “Just all but the important bits. This is Mirmae's writing, and it is not a plot to get my son on the throne, or myself, or the sons of any of my sons. I have no idea to who…” Er trailed off, his mind racing.

  “You know?” Gamen asked.

  “Lord Av Marilton,” Van said bitterly. “Son of Ervam Marilton, Er's youngest brother, and son of Mirmae Hue. A rank such as hers cannot tell the future, but if she sits the throne, she may find the best mates for her children in order to continue her link and her good blood, on the throne. The lad's been chasing after Aren ever since we arrived, puppy-dog eyes and making a scene in the hallways.”

  “By coastal rights he should be a Hue,” Gamen said quickly. “Even by north standards.”

  “Not by north standards,” Er growled. “You know as well as I do that a claiming is as a mating. It's how many of your ancestors mated. The celebration is nothing more than a formality for commoners. No one of rank would dare touch a man who has been claimed.”

  “I thought it was the man who spoke his desire for the woman in a claiming,” Laeder said from the floor.

  “What did I tell you?” Er asked.

  “To keep silent. Oh. I understand. Av's already been pretty clear that he's claimed Lady Aren and now…” Laeder trailed off, frowning as he did so. He sat off the wall, looking to Er, “…are you saying what I think you're saying?”

  “Keep silent,” Er said to Laeder.

  “You called us for that?” Gamen asked. “We should not speak of such things, least we be accused of telling one of those involved. It could jeopardize the entire thing.”

  “At least I wasn't the only one,” Van muttered. “I can feel it all over me. If she doesn't get ridden soon, I might just do it myself.”

  “What?” Er and Gamen asked at once.

  “Please, you can't tell me you're completely oblivious to how the lords and ladies are acting. I'm surprised you haven't both selected mistresses for your duration here. When a queen is mad, her people are mad. Which means if she is happy, her people are happy. And if she happens to be frustrated, her people are frustrated. Two more days is almost too long to wait.”

  Er shared a look with Gamen before both focused on Van. “That's not her.” They
said at the same time.

  Gamen cleared his throat. “We've blocked it out because it's our rank and we know who it's coming from. Normally it doesn't get like this, but Er sent Url to walk Aren, which tormented Av.”

  “If we agree on that matter, is there more to speak about?” Van asked. “As there’s nothing we can do about that.”

  “The south is a broken line,” Er said quietly. “We three, we know how we came to be. The north protested the rebuilding of the palace and took the stones the builders were going to cast aside as they have done with our entire history. The palace lands have forgotten what we as a people are. They have forgotten what we as ranks are. It is time to remind them, brothers. I wish to call the Brotherhood. Become my brothers and stand with me as ranks.”

  “The Brotherhood has always been four,” Gamen said. “Who will stand for the south? North, east, south, west. We four ranks come together and force the hand of the court in protection of the one who sits the throne.”

  “You, Gamen, your east broke off when the palace discovered it had been you who supplied the north with the queens to move the stones. That it was you who ensured the slaughter of anyone who knew where the mines in the mountains were.”

  “Aye, it's true,” Gamen responded. “My ancestors slaughtered all but the babes and took the babes in as their own. Raised them as their own.”

  Van spoke quietly. “The west left when the throne consumed forty women in forty years. The palace demanded we supply our daughters to them and we said no. Leading the last bloody war the lands saw. And you, brother of the north, came to our aid, and you, east, cut them off from their supplies that we might hold our victory and take our independence.”

  Er spoke once more. “What has the south done? Withdrawn from palace lands with all the blessing of the throne, because the palace couldn't afford to protect them against the west. Last to leave, first to return is what Para is saying, as if that is an honour! They haven't the rank to stand against us.”

  “Aye,” Van and Gamen called.