by Megan Hart
"And even that can be had, if Daelyn doesn't seed an heir before his coming-of-age in two years." Simelbon let out a low chortle. "And since he's not had any luck even spawning useless girls, it seems unlikely he'll get a boy."
The shuffle of their feet stopped outside the balcony. I shrank back from the archway and stifled my breathing. I didn't care to imagine what they might do if they discovered I'd overheard them.
"Still, we need to nip this problem in the bud." Rosten sighed. "We may be a minority, but we are still the majority of that minority. I aim to keep it that way."
"Too true!" The lords moved off down the hall.
The majority of the minority?
Women. For every male child born, three females were spawned. That was the reason why male children were so precious, because like jewels, they were so rare. I knew why men were so revered over women. What I'd never before thought of was the power women had by the force of their numbers alone. It had never occurred to me before that women outnumbered men, or what that could mean.
I left the balcony and returned to Daelyn's chambers to find them dark and quiet. The snort-whistle of his breath told me he was deep asleep. I crept to my own privy chamber. The cold water stung my cuts, and the water went pink almost immediately. Naught could be done for my clothes, but I stripped my undershirt into several long lengths to be used the next time I had my flow.
I didn't want to wake my prince before he was ready, especially when I anticipated he might be angry with me. I found the texts he'd left for me to read those nights he went out without me. The books had been bound with smooth leather, finer than that from which my boots had been cut.
I couldn't read as well as I liked. The ancient text and the faded ink made my task even more difficult. I was able to pick out most of the words. Some, like "mother" and "sister," considered by so many to be the foulest of words, I was stunned to see written. Yet here, in this book, women were referred to by those terms with no sense of malice. I read the lineage of the Alyrian ruling family and was even more stunned to see the female children listed along with the male, and the women who bore them listed alongside the men.
I lingered over pictures of women whose kedalyas were naught more than long veils tied round their heads with fluttering ribbons. 'Twas strange to see the flowing gowns and pretty shoes, to see women with long hair like only men wore now. When had this book been written, that fashion and politics could have changed so much nobody even remembered a time when they were different?
The next page gave me part of the answer. The text chronicled the plague that had taken the boy children but spared the female and had been the reason Alyria closed its borders. I turned the page and could do nothing for a long moment but sit and stare. The illustration was almost identical to the poster that had been tacked up in the King's Arms. The text was not "Givers of Life," but a name, perhaps the woman's name, or the artist's, but the sight of it made me gasp so hard I hurt my lungs.
She had my name.
Chapter Eleven
"Aerisa Delaya, Year 3133."
The date meant this book was nearly one hundred years old. Who was the woman in the picture? I closed the book with trembling fingers, more afraid then I'd been when I thought Rosten and Simelbon might overhear me. This book would be considered treason, if not outright blasphemy.
One hundred years. Was that enough time for a society to change so thoroughly nobody could recall any different way of life? If nobody was taught anything other than what was, yes.
"Aeris!"
For a moment, the name sounded foreign to me, a man's name and not the feminine form I'd just read. "Coming, my prince!"
"Where were you?" He asked, but without the irritation I'd expected. He looked me over. "You got yourself cleaned up, I see."
"Yes, my prince." I picked up the brush and comb from the vanity table and went to him.
He moved over to allow me to sit. I put the brush to the silky gold tumbling over his shoulders. Careful not to snag and pull, I worked at the tangles with the brush and my fingers. Daelyn made a low purr of pleasure and tilted his head to allow me greater access. In a few moments, I could run the brush from his crown to the end of his hair with no tugging.
"Don't stop." He sighed. "I love to have my hair brushed."
"Then I'm glad to brush it for you."
And I was. I wanted to bury my face in the smooth and shining golden-red. I satisfied myself with letting it spill over my fingers and the palm of my hand.
"Where did Lir take you?"
I scowled and sat up straight. I should've known Lir would brag to Daelyn about what he'd tried to do, and how I'd failed at even that. "To teach me how to fight."
Daelyn turned so fast the brush caught in his hair and yanked from my hand. "Sword fight?"
I reached for the brush and began to disentangle it before it could hurt him. "Aye, my prince."
Daelyn pushed me aside and leaped from the bed. "That bastard!"
I heartily agreed with that assessment of Lir's character, but couldn't understand why Daelyn now thought so. "I ran away before he could."
Daelyn gave me an angry sniff. "Did you?"
I put the brush down and got to my feet. "If I'd known it would make you so upset, I wouldn't have gone with him at all."
"What did he say to you?" Daelyn pressed one fist to the palm of his other hand. His nightrail and the curtain of his hair swirled around him as he paced.
"He said I needed to learn to fight with a sword if I was to beat Vermonte."
Daelyn didn't laugh. "You could beat Vermonte with a blindfold on your face, Aeris. You're twice the fighter he is. He had to pull a dirty trick to win over you."
"You let him do it." I heard my voice break and turned so he wouldn't see my face. "You laughed...at me. You and your friends."
"I'd have thought by the number of bruises you've garnered recently that you'd developed a rather thicker skin." His voice had become light, but dangerously so, and I knew I was walking on jagged pavement. One wrong word would trip me up entirely. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were chastising me, Aeris."
"No, my prince."
"Really? Because I'm fair certain I heard a hint of reproach on your tongue."
I risked a glance at him. "No."
He put his hands on his hips. "I brought you from the gutter. I've given you food, and clothes, and an opportunity most young men would gladly grovel for. But if you'd rather go back to the joba melon stand...."
"No!" I softened my voice at the sight of his raised brows. "I plead your mercy. I spoke out of turn."
"You lost that fight because you were too cowardly to face Vermont's blade. He's better trained, but you are better skilled. You could've taken his sword from him, turned the fight, had you the courage." His words were soft but dangerous. "Your fear kept you from winning. Lir's my Fight Master, Master of the Art, my best swordsman. He should be my Book Master instead of that monster Rosten, but Lir refuses. He says the Art isn't something to be squandered. He holds his skill with the blade like a treat for good behavior. But he was wrong to offer it to you. You don't deserve what Lir could give you. Not if you're too afraid even to take a sword from someone as cocky and overconfident as Chesley Vermonte."
I nodded, crushed. I couldn't answer even to agree. Everything he said was true, but it hurt to hear it spoken aloud, by him, my prince.
"Prepare my bath and clothes. I'll be going out later."
"Am I to join you?" I couldn't disguise the hopefulness in my voice.
He looked down his nose at me. "It’s an outing for men. Not boys."
Then he disappeared into his bathing chamber and left me standing in the shreds of my pride.
Chapter Twelve
I helped him dress and do his hair and made up his face for him with his expensive cosmetics. He seemed pleased with the results and deigned to give my hand a squeeze as he slipped his feet into high-heeled shoes.
"You've developed a deft touch with f
ace paint." He reached to touch the thin braids I'd woven like the threads of a spider's web. "And with hair."
"Thank you, my prince." His praise couldn't quite take away his former harshness, but it helped.
"Don't wait up for me. I'll be back late. Very late. And don't wake me early in the morn, either. Amuse yourself however you must....leave the chambers, in fact, until well after the midday chime. I won't be pretty if I'm disturbed too early."
"I understand, my prince."
"Aeris," Daelyn said as he gathered up a fine velvet cloak and put on a plumed cap that tilted over one eye. "You might start to call me Daelyn on occasion."
The offer pleased me, but I bit back my smile so as not to seem too eager. "Yes, my...Daelyn."
He swept from the room, cloak like wings helping him to fly. The room seemed smaller when he'd gone. I watched the door swing shut behind him and turned to look at my own face in the mirror.
Though I was taller than Daelyn, we had the same slight but muscular build. We both had thick, smooth hair that fell down our backs. His was the color of autumn leaves, mine like the dark, bitter drink cacao. His eyes, brilliant blue, mine the color of storm clouds heavy with snow. He was lovely, and I...I was battered, rough, a broken toy. No wonder he didn't wish me to accompany him. I was shameful.
There was naught to be done for it. My wounds would heal, but I would never be more than a fetchencarry. I turned from my reflection. It held no interest for me.
A folly glided into the room and gathered Daelyn's discarded clothes. She moved around me as though I weren't there, and though I knew 'twas her duty not to disturb me, I was in a fractious mood. I stepped in front of her. She stepped away and bent to pick up a fallen pair of hose. Her hands were small, with slender fingers. Young hands. Standing, she was shorter than I. A young girl.
What lay beneath the kedalya? What color eyes, what hair, features fine or coarse? I would never know.
I stepped in front of her again, and again she moved to the side and continued her cleaning. Desperate to get her to acknowledge me, I did the unthinkable. I reached out and grabbed her bare hand. Her skin was rough against mine.
She gasped and drew back, then dropped to the tile floor like a blanket kicked from a bed. The rough black wool of her follyblanket spread out around her, making her shapeless, taking away her form, her humanity, turning her into naught more than a puddle of fabric.
"Get up," I told her.
She did, her body bent in obeisance.
"Stand up straight."
She did. The glint of tears shone through the sheer panel of her veil. I could see her shaking even through the heavy material.
"Don't be afraid of me."
She shook her head, a small, almost unnoticeable movement. Her breathing rasped. Her head only came up to my chin.
I'd done this to her with nothing more than a forbidden touch. Should I desire, I could beat this girl for my indiscretion. I could order her starved. I could do many things designed to cause her pain or humiliation, and the law would not stop me, but I could do nothing to bring her joy.
"I'll finish here," I told her. "You...you go."
She backed away from me, trained not to turn her back upon a man for fear of causing insult. Only when she reached the doorway did she turn and flee. The hem of her veil caught on the doorframe for a moment, and I heard the purr of tearing fabric, but she was gone.
I hadn't meant to frighten her. I'd only meant...I didn't know what I'd meant to do. Not so long ago, I'd been selling joba melons and thinking about how to get away from my uncle's household. With a gesture of his hand, Daelyn had lifted me to stand behind him on his pedestal, and now I had to balance or fall.
I stood upright with determination. I would be the man Daelyn expected me to be, if I had to fight myself bloody every day. I could never hope to make him love me, but I would make him proud, and glad he chose me.
Chapter Thirteen
"I thought Daelyn might have taken you with him tonight." Lir crossed one long leg over the other and settled further into his high-backed leather chair.
I'd thought the same of Lir. "He didn't."
"Obviously." He looked pointedly at the chair across from his. "Have a seat?"
"I'd like to stand."
I'd taken care to wash my face and change my clothes, to bind my hair as elegantly as I could, before I sought his audience. My preparations hadn't extended to putting a smile on my face. The best I could do was not frown.
He didn't seem to mind my lack of fawning. "Have you changed your mind, then?"
I nodded slowly. "If it pleases you to teach me, my lord, I'd be pleased to learn."
Lir swept his tongue along his lips and turned his head to look at the fire as he considered his answer. The movement left his mouth glistening, and the pure sensuality of the sight hit me in the gut like a punch. The golden firelight outlined his profile in flickers of red and orange and played its glamour in the dark thickness of his hair. I'd always known he was handsome. Until now, I hadn't cared.
He turned and caught me staring, and a sleepy, assessing gaze took over his eyes. "What changed your mind?"
At first I thought he meant my opinion of his physical form but realized he meant my desire to learn the Art. "I don't want to lose again to Vermonte or to anyone."
Again, the sweep of his tongue mesmerized me. I had to force my eyes to lift to his instead of focusing on his mouth, quirked into a familiar smile.
"I'm not an easy taskmaster, Aeris. I can be impatient."
"I'm used to impatience." My uncle Akadar had once split my head for not remembering to package the green joba melons differently than the purple. "I want to learn."
"To please Daelyn." It wasn't a question.
"Yes." I stepped forward. "You said I have skill."
"That was this morning, before you ran away like a child." Lir's answer sliced me harder because I knew he was right. "When I thought you wanted to learn the Art and how to use a sword to please yourself, not some vain and spoiled master."
I couldn't deny Daelyn was vain and spoiled, but it rankled to hear it coming from a man who named himself the prince's friend. "I do want to please myself. If I thought anyone else could teach me as well as you, I'd go to them instead. I'm here because you're the best."
"And it hurts your mouth just to admit it, doesn't it?" Lir spoke matter-of-factly, but I rose to his words as though he'd growled them.
I gritted my teeth but forced myself not to shout. "I plead your mercy, my lord."
He laughed again. "You don't deny it. Yet you come here asking me for my help. What makes you think I'm going to give it, when you slapped it away only a few hours ago? And without grace, I might add."
"If you want me to beg," I said. "I will."
The thought seemed to amuse him. "You would get on your knees in front of me? What then? Would you extend your favors to me to get what you want?"
I thought of Daelyn's earlier contempt. I could perhaps earn his respect, but more importantly, by learning from Lir, I could earn my own. I could make something of myself.
Without a word, I knelt in front of him. My mouth felt dry, and I licked at my lips, thinking of how he'd done the same only moments before. I reached for the tie at his waistband.
Like a snake striking, his hand gripped my wrist so fiercely my bones ground together. The pain was intense. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. Our eyes locked. I dropped my hand from his groin.
"I only want that if you're doing it for yourself, too." He jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out of here."
Humiliation spurred me to my feet, and hatred made me swift. I was at his door with my hand on the knob before his voice stilled me for a moment.
"Be on the field at dawn."
Chapter Fourteen
True to his word, Daelyn didn't return to his chambers until long after the midnight chimes had tolled. Despite his orders I was awake when he returned, though not apurpose to wait for him. I'd bee
n tossing and turning for hours, thinking of Lir's face when he told me to get out.
I slipped from my sheets and crept to the curtain closing off my. I'd left a lantern burning for him, and though the light had dimmed considerably, I could still see him stagger through the doorway, supported by Freet and Penryn.
"I'll be all right." He didn't sound drunk, just testy. He tripped on a chair leg, cursed and nearly fell. "Damn it!"