by Autumn Dawn
Namae laughed at Xera’s desperation, then sobered. “I was involved in adultery,” she explained.
“You, Namae? I just can’t picture that,” Xera said, looking over the elegant young lady. “I can see how seriously you take your duties. I can’t imagine you’d be any different in a marriage.”
Namae gave a watery sigh. “It was not by choice. My brother-in-law forced himself on me when my husband was away. He came home as his brother Myg was finishing. I…” Namae looked close to weeping again. “Tovark would not believe me.”
Xera was outraged. “What! Was he stupid? They were lucky you didn’t kill them both.”
A sound that was half laugh, half sob broke from her. “I am not a warrior like you, and I was hurt. My heart…it broke. Myg said I had seduced him and my husband believed him. He spit on me and walked away.”
Xera could only shake her head. “What about your family?”
“I went to them for help,” Namae said, valiantly calming herself. “My father and brothers were outraged, and my mother and sisters held me. My brother took the matter to the judges, who ruled against my brother-in-law. He was sentenced to death. My husband was disgusted with me over the death of his brother and still believed me to be a liar. The courts granted him a divorce. My brothers cheered, and my father agreed it was for the best, but—oh! The shame of it! To be a divorced woman is almost unbearable. I have no more honor. I am treated as so lowly, so—”
“Nonsense!” Xera cried, unable to stand the woman belittling herself. “You were attacked! You were wronged! This is not your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Namae said in a choked voice. “You do not understand my world.”
Xera stood up and gestured as she spoke. “I understand what honor is! I understand that your family is behind you, and that’s what matters. Better yet, you get behind you, Namae! You’re somebody special, somebody important. You deserve to walk down the street with your head high, and damn anyone who looks down on you.”
“That’s what we’ve been telling her,” a voice spoke into the pause.
Xera whipped her head up. Ryven stood in the doorway, and in a flash, she understood. “You’re her brother.”
“Yes.”
Confused, she looked at Namae. “Then why…?”
“It’s time to go,” Ryven said quietly. “I like your hair down. The braids look nice.” Namae had braided strings of milky crystals into the short hair, making it glow.
She’d also slipped away while Xera wasn’t looking. Ryven answered her questioning look by gesturing her to come to him. When she was close enough, he took her arm and murmured softly, “She does not wish to be a part of the family yet.”
Dismayed, Xera looked in question at him.
“We tried to force her at one time, but she only withdrew more deeply. She has gotten better with time. I am hopeful she will take her proper place again soon.”
“How long has it been?” Xera asked softly as they left the room. The world didn’t need to know their conversation.
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Two years.”
“Did you beat up her husband?” Xera asked, feeling bloodthirsty. Poor Namae!
He looked straight ahead. “Something like that.” She looked at him long enough that he finally answered. “We broke him financially, gelded him socially. He will not be taking another gentle girl to wife.”
Hm. Not as grisly as she’d envisioned, but poetic. “It might’ve been nice to have brothers.”
He smiled at her. “You would keep a brother busy. Who is in your family?”
“Sisters.” She didn’t want to talk about them right now, though. “Are things really as bad as Namae says? Could she remarry?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “Could she? Yes. Would her situation be forgotten if she did? Yes. It would take a special man to woo her, though. I think she protects her heart by hiding away. There are many who would have her, but she will not see it. Also, there are few our family would countenance. Many would marry her for the prestige of the social connection. After the last time, Namae will look to us for guidance before she chooses a man.”
“You didn’t like the first one?”
“Despised him. She was youngest, though, and spoiled. She would not hear no.” He was quiet for a moment. “She has matured much since then.”
Hoping to change the sad subject, Xera said, “She mentioned a mother and sisters.”
“Our mother died of an illness some months after Namae’s divorce. We have three sisters, all younger than me.”
“Big family,” she said, impressed. “Toosun’s younger than you, too. I hope they plagued you as children.”
His look was reproving, but a glint of humor sparked those brimstone eyes. “Your hopes were fulfilled, but sadly, you will not be meeting my sisters to night. My aunt has come, though. You will judge if she is torment enough.”
His words made her expect a dragon, and the woman Ryven introduced her to was formidable. The Lady Tessla was a silver-haired dowager with an upright carriage and a timelessly beautiful face. Her teal and silver robes were immaculate and draped a slender figure. Though obviously in her fifties (more noticeable by bearing than any age in her skin), she moved like a dancer, every move unconsciously graceful. She was gracious, though, and quickly put Xera at ease.
They were seated across a low table with cushions for chairs. Gauzy fabrics draped the ceilings, lending colorful shadows to the inlaid stucco walls. Little globe oil lamps in swirling, colored glass lent atmosphere to the party of four. Xera was a little surprised to see Lord Atarus reclined on a cushion. She hadn’t expected it of him, nor the informal atmosphere.
“You are very beautiful to have been unmarried for so long,” Tessla observed. “Is it common to remain unwed so late in life on your planet?”
Xera blinked. It wasn’t often she was called attractive, let alone beautiful, but the lady also implied she was a delicacy that had been held in the oven too long. It threw her. “It can be. Even if I were considered more than average on my world, I’d still have chosen to explore a career. I wasn’t happy in the family business.”
“How did your mother and father feel about letting you go?” Tessla asked curiously.
“My parents are dead. My eldest sister resisted my leaving for a long time, but we had a rule about dreams. She let me go to pursue mine.”
Tessla raised a brow. “Hm. Would she be happy to see you here now?”
Xera considered that. “She’d have some words for me. Ever since my middle sister ran off and got married without her permission, she’s been a bit touchy about being out of the loop—not informed,” she explained. “She made me promise not to…” She trailed off, unwilling to complete the thought. Her smile died.
“What did you promise?” Tessla prompted gently.
Eyes still on the memory of her sister, Xera said softly, “I swore I wouldn’t get married without telling her.”
There was silence at the table. Xera took a deep drink of her beverage. Turned out they did have booze here after all.
“Well, then. You must keep your promise.”
Uncomprehending, Xera looked up. “What?”
The aunt looked at Ryven and his father. “She must keep her promise. She has given her word.”
Lord Atarus frowned and opened his mouth.
“Iagree.”
Xera looked at Ryven in shock. His eyes were on his father. “It’s possible. She doesn’t have to meet in person. A video conference would suffice.” He looked calmly at Xera. “It is knowledge she needs, yes? You don’t require permission.”
“N-no,” she stuttered, shocked by this turn of events. She never expected to be allowed to keep her word. That they would go to this length to allow her to do so…she was going to owe them. Big time. But…“I hadn’t planned to marry for some years yet.” It was the closest she could come to a protest. By law and custom, she was still a war prize. Though she’d been treated very well, she still kn
ew that Ryven considered her life his to do with as he pleased. It was obvious that his father and aunt were of the same mind. Pitching a fit over it would only demean her in their eyes. She was being honored, she thought with inner rebellion. She must behave.
Her words were ignored.
“Very well,” Lord Atarus said at length, as if she’d never spoken. He looked rather grumpily at his son. “It will delay events, though. We do not have a communication relay set up that can bounce a message that far. One will have to be set up. It will take time. There is also the issue of security—pin beams are not the most secure of media. Something will have to be done about that.”
“Yes,” Ryven said calmly. “I will bear the expense. It will be my bride gift.”
His father sighed. “It will be arranged, then.”
Xera stared at them until she remembered herself. “Thank you.” The lord governor nodded regally, and then returned to his dinner with an air of resignation. Ryven merely inclined his head.
Xera couldn’t eat, so she sipped her drink instead. Turmoil whipped her heart into a storm. She thought she’d never see her sisters again, never speak to them. The chance to tell them she was alive, was okay, was a golden gift. She didn’t ask for more, didn’t even hope. She understood these people more every day, knew what a concession she’d been given. Even aside from the distances involved, there was the political hostility.
She didn’t want to think too deeply on it, but she knew their plans for her. They wouldn’t let her go. What she didn’t understand was why. Why her? Ryven was the son of a powerful family, and quite a force in his own right. Surely he could have any one of dozens of women.
She glanced up as the lord governor’s words caught her ear.
“Your brother has made my heart glad. This promotion he’s earned is just the thing.”
Ryven grinned. “I see how you are. If your sons make commander you think you will see marriage in their near future.”
His father looked pleased with himself. “My theory would seem to have merit. Once you stop thinking of your careers, other needs hold your attention.” He glanced at Xera, transparently pleased. “He leaves on his first mission shortly. Make no mistake; his mind will turn to a wife of his own once the thrill has settled. It is the next great challenge.”
Xera studied her drink, faintly annoyed at being classified as a challenge. To her mind it was no reason to get married.
“Come, my dear,” Tessla interrupted her thoughts. “They’ve degenerated into discussing starship specifications, and you look as bored as I am. We will take a walk and I will show you around the staterooms.” The men nodded congenially to the women and went back to their discussion.
The floors were all tiled in marble or elegant woods. Long drapes of silk and velvet framed the arches between rooms, dampening sound and giving the rooms an inviting, exotic look. There was a great deal of stained glass art and lamps, interspersed with scrolled metalwork in the style of wrought iron. Portraits and landscapes hung on the walls in gilded frames, inviting Xera to stop and look. A particularly arresting one made her pause and study it. The landscape had been painted at sunset, with the light glinting off the lake. It wasn’t light in full bloom, but the last throes of dying sun that cast shadows on the mansion in the center. It managed to be poignant and moody, beautiful and exciting at the same time.
“This is amazing,” she said at last, aware that the aunt was watching her. “Caught between the old and new, life and dying. I feel so sad for the past, yet hopeful for the future when I look at it. I didn’t know a painting could say so much.”
“Thank you,” Tessla murmured. “It took me days to find just the right light to portray the mood.”
Surprised, Xera sent her a questioning look.
“Of course it is my work. I have done several of the portraits here as well.”
“You’re very talented,” Xera said honestly. “I wish I could capture feelings like that.”
“Have you ever tried it? Art, that is.”
Xera laughed. “I don’t think I have that kind of talent. To be honest, I never tried. I was always better at physical things.”
“Dancing?”
“Never tried it. Martial arts were more interesting. Seemed more pertinent to my future, too.”
“Hm. You will try the dancing now, then. I will arrange for you to view several different styles. It is best not to let a figure as trim as yours waste away for lack of exercise.”
Reminded of her present situation, Xera’s mood dimmed.
The lady looked at her knowingly and linked their arms. She led Xera to a small alcove and bade her sit. “Come. We will speak of this thing. You have no female elder of your family here to advise you, so I will listen and tell you my thoughts.”
It was a generous offer, even if it was, like so many of the Scorpio statements, voiced as a command. Xera decided to take advantage of it. “Why does he want to marry me? Surely there are lots of willing women here.”
The lady smiled. “This is the heart of your confusion? You have not asked him, then?”
Xera grimaced.
“Very wise,” the lady agreed sagely. “Men do not know their own feelings. I do know his father is delighted he has finally chosen anyone. He has despaired for years of seeing his son wed. The man is obsessed with seeing grandchildren, though of course he wants his son happily settled as well. For years he has shoved young women under Ryven’s nose, until he finally realized he was killing his own cause. Ryven has been more inclined to choose his own women, and not for honorable purposes. You were right in saying he has his pick.”
Xera looked down, embarrassed.
“I tell you this only that you may understand what an…interesting thing it is that he has brought you here to meet his father. Amorata are never given such an honor, of course. It can only mean that he has met his match. But of course, he is marrying you, isn’t he?”
Xera folded her arms. Sourly, she said, “Apparently. We are accustomed to being asked where I am from.”
“Would you say yes?”
“Of course not!”
The lady smiled. “Then why would he risk his heart? Our men seem very fierce, but they are tender enough when a woman finds her way inside. You could wound him very easily.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“If you have any sense at all, do not pose such a question to him until your first child, at least! My own husband would not speak of his love until we had been married twenty years! He was a very stubborn case,” Tessla confided. “Ryven will lie to protect himself, just as you would now. Admit that you would not speak the truth if asked about your feelings for him.”
Xera was silent. She didn’t even know enough about her feelings for him to do more than lie about the obvious.
“He will be good to you,” Tessla said with an air of finality. She rose gracefully to her feet. “Come. It is time for tea.”
They finished off the meal with “small bites” that were spicy or savory rather than sweet, and then Ryven walked her home.
Xera didn’t want to talk. She’d only known Ryven a week. That wasn’t much time to understand the man with whom she was now expected to spend the rest of her life. He’d stood up for her, though, and that had touched her deeply.
“Thank you,” she said, after he’d closed the door to her suite behind them. “I appreciate what you did.”
He made her a short bow. Very formally, he told her, “You realize we are betrothed. That much I insist on.”
She looked at him sidelong and chose an overstuffed chair to sit on. In spite of her emotional fatigue, she tried to choose her words carefully. “That is your prerogative.”
He studied her. What ever his thoughts, he said only, “You’re tired.”
“I am.”
“Tomorrow, then. I’ll give you the night to…think.”
He was letting her be for now, then. Grateful for the space, she said simply, “Thank you.”
He i
nclined his head in farewell and let himself out.
Chapter Nine
Lady Tessla hadn’t been kidding—she had Xera in a dance class first thing in the morning, and Xera was finding it hard going.
The thing was, Xera had always liked sports. She had a natural talent for martial arts and enjoyed things like rock climbing and hiking. Unfortunately, none of that gave her any grace on the dance floor. Of course, that may have been due to the style of the dance: belly dancing was nothing like the fighting arts she knew. The movements were soft, circular, and oddly relaxing, even when she fumbled. Undeniably sensual, the hip circles and graceful arm movements—well, the other women were graceful, anyway—drew her attention to body parts she usually lost track of in sports.
Tessla led the class, which consisted of perhaps twenty women of all ages. Dancing was a highly respected pastime for women here, and considered not only excellent for posture and bearing, but a wonderful conditioner for childbearing as well. Xera could tell from her own aching abs that yes, such toning might be useful on the birthing stool. Not that she wanted to think about children—definitely not yet.
“Relax, Xera. The movement should look as if you are waving your arms gently through water, not as if you had sticks attached to your shoulder sockets,” Lady Tessla chided. A few of the other ladies grinned at her in a friendly way. There was no rivalry here.
It was a pretty room, too. There were three walls of mirrors and one devoted to a lovely pink sunset mural. Burgundy curtains hung from a ceiling medallion and were gathered at the corners by tasseled ropes, giving the room the look of a luxurious tent. Pillows were scattered at the edge for any who wished to watch the class, and candles were generously distributed. Xera could enjoy having frequent workouts in a room like this.
She couldn’t seem to get the hip shimmy right. When Lady Tessla demonstrated, Xera saw hips shaking but was told the movement came from the knees. Unfortunately her version of the move left something to be desired. Her lower back and sides were aching by the time she was done, and she still couldn’t get those hips to swivel on command.