by Kirby Crow
This was too rough-spoken, even for a man like Ressanda. “You daughter is not a cow at market, ser.”
“That is exactly what she is!” Ressanda snapped. He took a deep breath. Snow hissed against the window in the silence. “And she knows it,” he added, much calmer. “She is a prince in her own right, a great woman already. I would not see her given to a dog of a man who snarls for scraps at a royal table he has not earned a place at by deed or character.”
Vladei. “Ah. And has such a dog been sniffing around your daughter?”
“He has,” Ressanda growled. “But he shall not have her. I am saving her for another.”
“Cestimir.”
“No other is worthy of her,” he said grudgingly, as if he privately thought that not even Cestimir would do. “When you returned, I had hoped, just for a moment...”
Liall sat back. “My heart is elsewhere,” he said. “And even were it not, I would saddle no child of mine with a crown. But I am flattered,” he added. He meant it as a courtesy only, but when Liall said it, he found it to be true. The girl was obviously Ressanda’s jewel and he had meant, however fleetingly, for Liall to have her.
The Baron nodded, unsurprised. “Well, I heard as much. But a man always hopes, yes? Anyway, I wanted you to know my will; that if Vladei sues for leave of any queen or regent or prince the right to wed my daughter, and wins it, I will take it as a mortal offense.”
So that was it. By ancestral right, a Druz married only at the pleasure of the queen, whomever she chose, whenever she chose. However possessive his words may have sounded, Ressanda had no legal choice in whom Ressilka married, though he could always rebel and face the consequences.
“Royal blood and royal name are too precious to bestow lightly,” Liall said carefully, wanting time to think.
“My daughter is too precious to bestow lightly,” Ressanda said meaningfully. “Not even as the scrap that will keep the wolf from seeking blood.”
Liall was silent for several moments, pondering. Not for a moment did he believe that Ressanda meant him when he said wolf. It was true that Ressilka would be a powerful foil to calm Vladei should he lose his bid for the crown, which he would if Liall had his will. A Druz prince as his wife would insure that Vladei’s future generations, at some point through marriage, would sit on the throne of Rshan. If Vladei himself could not be king, at least his granddaughter might rule at the side of one of Cestimir’s heirs. Ressanda had good reason to fear.
But those assumptions were made upon a guess that Vladei would be content with his heirs inheriting power and nothing for himself. It was logic, made upon the premise that Vladei was a logical man. Liall knew that Vladei was not.
Liall pushed back the chair and rose. Startled, Ressanda, got to his feet as well.
“Fear not,” Liall said before the man could speak. “Vladei will not have your daughter.”
“How—”
“Ask me nothing,” Liall said curtly, and the Baron closed his mouth. Liall put his hand on Ressanda’s shoulder and pressed it, hoping Ressanda could find the strength to trust him. “I can only give you my promise; Ressilka shall belong to Cestimir, or she shall belong to no man.”
Liall saw that Ressanda did not know how to interpret that. Outwardly, the Baron was not a subtle man and perhaps he thought Liall was being cryptic, yet the promise must be enough for him. Ressanda’s eyes grew stony and Liall saw that he realized which way the prince’s thoughts must run.
“So even she would not be enough for Vladei,” Ressanda said slowly. “Very well, my prince. My lot is now cast with yours, and if you should fail, we must fall as well.”
“There is a way out of it for you,” Liall said gently, for he did not wish Ressanda to lose hope.
The baron shook his head. “We cannot all be as brave as you, to accept exile in unknown lands, for that is how far we would have to go to escape him. No, I’m afraid that death would be a much more welcoming embrace.”
Ressanda left without another word or glance at Liall, which somehow was worse. Though it had been there from the moment they landed on Rshan, Liall felt keenly the heaviness Ressanda had placed on him. If Cestimir failed to win the throne, Vladei would still seek to have the boy murdered. Once in power, Vladei would never tolerate such a threat to exist. Cestimir would be forced to flee or fight, and he would never run. Conversely, if Vladei failed, he would not rest until power was his. Civil war was looming on the horizon.
His shoulders slumped under the new burden, Liall put out the lamp and went to seek his bed. Scarlet was already asleep, his eyes closed so peacefully that Liall could not bear to wake him. Through the window, the blue morning twilight looked the same as evening twilight and every other hour of the day.
It is beautiful here, Liall thought suddenly, wondering when he had forgotten that. He had forgotten what it was to wake and part the gauzy bed-curtains and see snowflakes cascading past a gilded window in the half-light of the Rshan winter, with the bright stars wheeling in a sky the color of faded indigo.
It is wondrous pleasant to sleep with the smell of incense and flowers in your nose, he thought, to feel silk against your skin and open your eyes to blue lamps cut from a crystal that only grows in your homeland.
Scarlet slept deeply, one hand curled under his cheek and his dark eyelashes like frayed silk on his cheeks. Liall looked at him for a long time, standing by the bed, marveling at how a chance meeting on a mountain road could have brought them together here, and terribly alarmed at how strongly he felt the sudden urge to send Scarlet away.
Yes, there was beauty here, but every instinct Liall had was telling him that what he found the most beautiful was in serious peril. His heart said that he should send Scarlet packing before Fate grew tired of Liall’s flirtation with disaster or his enemies grew luckier. The pirate attack had been a warning. It had shown him that Scarlet could innocently be caught in the crossfire of kings and be killed for it. One misstep: that is all it would take. A poisoned cup, a dagger in the night, a broken neck on icy steps, and Scarlet would be gone. Liall’s hard heart, so long unmoved by anything but regret and guilt, would again turn to stone.
The scene played itself in his mind; Scarlet on the blood-soaked deck of the Ostre Sul, ducking under the Minh’s sword, only this time he moved too slowly and the blade caught him under the chin and that beautiful face vanished in a spray of red. Scarlet’s black eyes would be open when Liall found him, still caught in an expression of endless surprise and accusation at how Liall had failed him.
Send him away, the wise part of him whispered.
Liall undressed and crawled silently into bed, not wanting to wake Scarlet. When I wake in the morning, Liall told himself stoutly, I will feel better and be more optimistic. There is no need to send him away.
He would realize later that it was, as in Volkovoi, pure selfishness that made him forget any thought of sending Scarlet away from the Nauhinir. With Scarlet, his blood had come to life again. His heart was not a lump of cold seeping into his veins.
I want him with me.
It was decision he would have cause to regret within a day.
***
“Kaya hast kyen min fer s’ctath!” Liall swore, his voice rising.
“Same to you,” Scarlet quipped, not at all impressed with Liall’s anger. He sat up in the bed and moved a little away from the prince. “And I’m still going. You said I could.”
“Scarlet, a bear hunt is not like fishing for trout. Bears bite back!”
“I’m going. Try and stop me and you’ll regret it.”
It was two days since they had quarreled. The morning of the bear hunt had come and Liall still had not been able to convince Scarlet to stay behind. Liall had mentioned it gently when they awoke, cajoling Scarlet with caresses and soft words to do as he asked. When that had not worked, the words had become more forceful and Liall had grown exasperated.
Liall opened the bed-curtains and swung his legs over the side of the bed before stomping
naked into the privy. The servants turned and bowed politely as he passed, and he heard Scarlet utter a Bizye curse and throw the covers aside. Typical of Hilurin, it annoyed Scarlet when others saw Liall’s body.
When Liall returned, Dvi had brought a tray to the side of the bed and Scarlet sipped hot che with a thick robe belted around him. Scarlet gave Liall a sour look and eyed the robe that Nenos held out for the prince. Liall stepped into the robe and avoided Scarlet’s glance as he took a cup.
Liall sipped it. “Stop being such a prude,” he said lowly. The che was dark and doubly strong, which was welcome.
Scarlet muttered and rose to go to the table. Liall followed, but not before Nenos had pulled him aside and questioned him about the wisdom of taking Scarlet on the hunt.
“He has had no real exercise in months, since before you set out at sea,” Nenos said, his jaw set mutinously and his bright blue eyes sparkling with anger. “If he were my charge alone I would forbid him to go in such a condition. He grows weak and listless in these rooms, and boredom preys on his mind. He has nightmares. Did he tell you that?”
Liall shook his head, shocked. “He has said nothing about nightmares.”
“He is in no shape for a bear hunt.” Nenos’s tone was truculent and almost rude. “You must forbid this.”
If only he knew. “I have tried!”
Nenos glanced at Scarlet worriedly and insisted on getting Liall’s promise that Scarlet would be kept in the rear guard of the hunt, and not allowed near the spears.
“He is safe with me,” Liall said, stiff with insult. Nenos turned and spoke in a scolding tone to Scarlet, who did not catch a word of it.
“What did he say?” Scarlet asked, resigned.
“Aside from telling me that Hilurin are reckless, stubborn fools, he says you should listen to me and keep your stubborn arse in this room before you get yourself killed chasing bears.”
“He never,” Scarlet scoffed, disbelieving. “He’s too polite.”
Then Scarlet did an odd thing. When Nenos put the che pot on the table and before he could leave, Scarlet took Nenos’s gnarled hand in both of his and pressed it to the side of his face in a very old gesture of gratitude. Only another Hilurin would have understood the gesture fully, but Nenos interpreted it well enough.
Nenos stared at Scarlet, startled, then summoned a smile and patted Scarlet’s cheek with his free hand. Liall watched Scarlet thoughtfully as Nenos left.
“Why did you do that?” Liall asked. He had only seen Scarlet do such a thing once before, and the gesture had been offered to Liall himself on the mountain road near Lysia, in gratitude for saving Scarlet’s sister from death.
He shrugged. “You probably don’t realize it, but that old man could have made my life a misery here. Any good servant knows how to make a guest feel unwelcome. Instead, he went the other road and made me feel like this was my home.”
“I thought redbirds had no home.”
Scarlet only smiled a little, not answering, and after a long moment Liall leaned over and shoved a plate in front of him.
“Eat,” he commanded. Scarlet dug in, seeming content for once to comply without argument. “How do you know so much about servants? You were a pedlar.”
“I had a friend, Kozi, who was a servant in a Morturii house before becoming a pedlar.”
“The boy who disappeared one year? Were you close?”
Scarlet speared a piece of the salt fish. “If it’s so risky, why is Cestimir going?”
A nobleman knows when a subject has been turned. “Hunts are always perilous, especially with rivals like Vladei and Eleferi skulking about, but if Cestimir is to be king, he cannot sit in his chambers and hide while the world spins around him.”
“Is this another thing that only another Rshani would understand?”
“Possibly,” Liall said, nettled at the jibe. “Let me just say the Hunt is a matter of honor, and as matters stand now, well... Cestimir cannot refuse to go, and neither can I. You could,” he added hopefully.
Scarlet ignored the hint. “Has Cestimir hunted snow bears before?”
“That shocks you?”
“From the way you described the beast, yes. Hard to believe that a fourteen year old, no matter how tall, would be allowed to track and kill it.”
Liall nodded. “My mother says that Cestimir has been on many hunts, but not on the spear team.”
Scarlet gave him a blank look.
“He rides in the rear of the hunting party and observes, but does not participate,” Liall explained. “Which is where you will be, if you are truly resolved to do this. Jochi will be at your side, and you must stay there.”
Scarlet opened his mouth to say something and Liall gave him a black glare that made him shut it quickly. “On this point, I will not yield,” Liall said sternly. “I regret that I have been overprotective and you feel coddled, but I really will have you locked in this room if you do not promise to stay behind the spear line.”
Scarlet laughed a little. “You could try, but I promise. I’d rather be beside you, though.”
“Too dangerous.”
Scarlet nodded. “And the queen?”
“She is not well enough to join us.” Liall looked away for a moment. “But I remember a day when she trailed the hunt as fiercely as any warrior. It is difficult to see her so frail.” Then he saw that Scarlet’s dark eyes were suddenly misty and sorrowing. “What is it?”
“I was thinking of my mother, Linhona.”
Liall took his hand and held it. Linhona and Scarlet’s father, Scaja, had both died in the Aralyrin raid on Lysia. He wondered if Scarlet would ever be able to talk about it. Scarlet had not mentioned them more than a handful of times since their murders.
They finished breakfast in silence and washed up before Nenos dismissed everyone and brought the hunting clothes. The servant gave Scarlet a handful of silver ribbons while giving Liall a baleful eye. Liall saw that Scarlet had no idea what to do with the ribbons, so he plucked them from Scarlet’s hand.
“Here, turn around,” Liall said brusquely. He was still angry at Scarlet for insisting on going, and resentful at being cast as the villain in the whole affair. “They are meant for your hair,” he said, quickly weaving a ribbon into Scarlet’s black locks. Liall caught Scarlet’s horrified expression in the mirror and could not repress a sudden smile. “Is this another thing that only women do in Nemerl?”
“You should know,” Scarlet complained. “You were there for, what, how many years? Did you ever see a man in a dress with ribbons in his hair?”
“Never on the street anyway,” Liall chuckled, avoiding the slanted question about his age. “There was a bhoros boy in Rusa, though...”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Liall weaved three or four more into his hair. “It suits you.” But when he took Scarlet’s shoulders and turned him into the mirror, a chill raced down Liall’s back and his smile faded.
“Liall?”
Liall shook his head, trying to clear the vision. “Nothing. A will o’the wisp, nothing more. I fancied for a moment that I had seen you with silver in your hair before.”
“Only snow,” Scarlet said, looking at him with puzzlement.
They finished dressing, and Scarlet marveled at the skill of Rshani weavers as he drew on layer upon layer of the thin woolen hunting gear. Over all this went the glittering court vircas of blue and silver and black. Soon, they left the apartments and went down to a lower hall and thence to the courtyard, where Jochi awaited. Scarlet was given a white fur coat to match Liall’s and it fit him snug and warm, as well as fur-lined gloves and a conical fur hat that was the standard Rshani outdoor dress. Scarlet examined the hat and saw that it had been thoughtfully embroidered with a little crimson flower with saw-toothed green leaves. Liall wondered who had ordered that, but forgot it when Jochi brought the silks.
“Pull this up to your nose while riding,” Jochi told Scarlet, showing him how to wrap the long length of tightly-wove
n silk around his neck and the lower part of his face. “It will protect your face from the wind.” The silk was woven of blue and silver –the queen’s colors– and also served to denote which team they rode for in the hunt.
“Hunting silks,” Jochi answered Scarlet when he asked. There were others in the hunt wearing similar scarves, but only a handful in these colors. Others were in red and gold or green and silver, which Jochi explained to Scarlet were colors of other noble Rshan houses. Liall was silent while this education progressed, still shadowed by the vision of Scarlet with silver in his hair.