by E. P. Clark
“Mirochka…” I said.
“Mirochka is your daughter, Valya, and no one else’s, do you understand? The rest of her parentage can hardly be acknowledged, especially amongst the black earth princesses. Her very existence is an insult to them; that has been made clear to me. But if you were to marry, lawfully marry, one of their sons, that would put things in a very different light. Or so I believe.”
“Very well,” I said, trying not to sound too disgruntled about it. After all, it was only the same conclusion I’d already come to on my own.
“And besides, Valya, it is not as if you have always shared the steppe disdain for black earth men,” she said. She smiled at me as she said it, and then laughed at the glare I gave her.
“Well, I suppose I did promise to sacrifice whatever needed to be sacrificed if you needed it,” I said gloomily. “So who are these men you have in mind for me, Sera? I suppose I should at least consider their merits before pronouncing my judgment upon them.”
“Well, I should start by saying I thought it best to choose young princes for you, Valya, which narrowed down the field somewhat—no widowers or older men for you.”
“Why?” I demanded. “Princess Malokrasnova’s older brother…”
“Is forty if he’s a day.”
“But he’s still a black earth prince, and a valuable alliance…”
“True, Valya, but do you really see yourself married to a man more than ten years your senior?”
“Why not?” I asked, feeling contrary, but also curious. “We’re doing this to forge an alliance, not provide me with a lover, and older men might be more…stable. Sensible. Easier to convince of the necessity of this alliance. Princess Malokrasnova’s older brother, for example…”
“I don’t think Princess Malokrasnova’s older brother is particularly interested in…marriage,” interjected Vyacheslav Irinovich. “At least not with you, Valeriya Dariyevna, if you will pardon me for saying so.”
I thought back on my few interactions with Princess Malokrasnova’s older brother. “Well, that certainly explains a number of things. But it doesn’t negate what I just said, and he might be glad to have the protection of a wife.”
“Really, Valya?” asked Sera, raising an eyebrow at me yet again. “You really think you’d marry a man almost half again your age, and turn a blind eye as he dallied with guards and stableboys?”
“If necessary for the alliance!” I said.
“Your devotion is admirable, Valya,” said Sera dryly. “In fact…” she turned more serious, “to be honest, I don’t think you’d be happy if you weren’t sacrificing yourself for something. You’ve always thirsted for it, you know.”
“Arranged marriage?”
“No, sacrifice. You wouldn’t be happy if there weren’t…difficulties along the way, ruts in the road, battles to be won, blood to be lost…”
“Not in love! Not in marriage!”
“Yes in love, Valya, and in marriage too. After all, it isn’t as if love or marriage turn you into a whole new person. You’re still the same person you’ve always been, just, if you are lucky, kinder, more generous, more complete—a better version of yourself. But yourself nonetheless, and your self, Valya, likes to leap over obstacles, strike down enemies…you know, fight. Strive. Sacrifice. So here is your chance. Your chance to be you—the direct descendent through the female line of Miroslava Praskovyevna, and all our other foremothers who brought the world to its knees and bent it to their will with blood, steel, and cunning. Because the gods know that you’re the only one in whom the line runs true. No, don’t argue with me. The rest of us, ever since Darya Krasnoslavovna, have been nothing more than ordinary, despite all our illustrious heritage. Some dreadful taint through the male line, perhaps, but none of us have lived up to Darya Krasnoslavovna’s potential, none of us have been any more than what you’d expect after she was married to some inoffensive Zapadnokrasnov in order to shore up support amongst the Western princesses. She told me once, you know. That he was a perfectly pleasant husband, but…”
“But perfectly pleasant husbands don’t always give you daughters who bend the world to their will. For that you need a man with spirit.”
“Well…” I hoped that my eyes were deceiving me when they told me that Sera was trying not to give Vyacheslav Irinovich a sidelong glance. “Yes. There was talk of her taking a foreigner as a husband, you know. And I think that sometimes she wished she had. That would have freshened the line nicely, and maybe things would have turned out differently for all of us.”
“Maybe. But not necessarily better. You can only have so many women who bend the world to their will before it falls apart completely.”
“Perhaps. But you need some. And now may be the time. Now may be the time for us—you—to bend the world to our will, and choose a man with enough spirit to father a daughter whose name and whose blood will run down through the ages.” She smiled. “A mighty task, and who better than you to undertake it? I know how much I am asking of you, Valya, so I will try to make it…enough of a challenge that you will enjoy it, but not so much that you will hate me forever, or, the gods forbid, fail at it. So if you really think that Princess Malokrasnova’s older brother is the right kind of challenge for you, then I won’t stand in your way. And…” she started to smile, “some women do find that sort of thing…attractive. To watch, you know. You could make it a condition of the marriage.”
“Only if the guards and stableboys were young and very handsome,” I said. “And even so…no, I think it would be best if that…aspect of our life together were to remain a secret, even from me. Especially from me. We would have to negotiate some other kind of arrangement. But in all seriousness, Sera, if marrying him is what is needed, then that’s what I’ll do, and if there are…certain things that I have to overlook, then I will. After all, this won’t be a love-match; I know that perfectly well. You would see that I can be…tolerant about that sort of thing. As you said, I like a challenge.”
“And when he contradicted you, or disobeyed you, or refused to go along with something you considered essential?”
“Well…do you really think he would?”
“Yury Yarmilovich Malokrasnov? I’m sure of it, Valya, and given that he’s almost half again your age, I’ve no doubt that he’d be trying to order you about like your own father in no time. Now tell me, Valya, what do you think you’d do if your own husband tried to act like that to you?”
“I’d…I’d set him aside,” I admitted.
“Which we simply can’t be having, Valya. Given that we are planning a marriage alliance here, it is essential that we choose someone to whom you have a reasonable chance of remaining married and not offending his family within six months of the wedding. No, Valya, I think you need someone young and biddable, who won’t be arguing with you at every turn. If I know you, Valya, simply going through with the marriage will be challenge enough, whatever you might think of the matter right now. Thank the gods,” she grinned at me, “that that wretched fashion for ill-tempered young men that was popular when our foremothers were courting has gone out of style, or I would have no hope whatsoever of getting you in front of a priestess. I know some women like to tame a husband who argues back at them, but in your case I fear the taming would go much too far, and lead to breaking. You need someone biddable, and we’ll just leave you to do all the arguing on your own, shall we?”
“I don’t argue!” I cried.
This provoked Sera to raise not one but both brows, and elicited a snort of laughter from Vyacheslav Irinovich, which he at least had the decency to choke off as hastily as he could manage.
“Well, fair enough, I did just contradict my own Empress,” I said. “I guess I can see your point. So, young, biddable men only. What young, biddable men did you have in mind, Tsarina?”
“It would also be best, of course, if he were known to be fertile. If you are going to get an heir off of him, we need to know that he’ll be up to the task.”
“Oh very well,” I said, still chagrined. “What young, biddable, fertile princes do you have in mind?”
“Only one is known to be fertile. I have to admit that, as much as I would like to ensure that you get another heir, Valya, I wasn’t sure about the wisdom of joining you with someone who already has other children from other women lying about the countryside. Be that as it may, the young Prince Yuzhnokrasnov, apple of his mother’s eye, is yet unmarried at five-and-twenty, perhaps because, as my sources tell me, he is known to have fathered a daughter on a serving girl in his mother’s house, and despite the best efforts of the Yuzhnokrasnovy to hush it up, word got out to the other black earth princesses, and now none of them will take him for their daughters. His mother might be so glad to make a match for him at last that she could be willing to concede us whatever concessions we might wish, and by all accounts the child is a fine, healthy girl, which is something in his favor, Valya, you must admit, unseemly as some might find it.”
“Very well,” I said. “I could overlook the daughter, I’m sure, if it came to that. Who else?”
“The Vostochnokrasnovy are, to a man, out of the question, as I’m sure you’ll agree, Valya…”
“Yes-yes,” I said hastily. “I think there’s nothing I can do to mend that breach.”
“And the only one who would be eligible is barely ten, which seems young even by our current standards,” Sera said with a grin.
“Yes. A boy of ten is…out of the question, even for a betrothal that wouldn’t be consummated for ten years or more—which would do nothing to help get an heir.” I shuddered, hoping to shake off the distaste provoked by that line of thought. “Who else?”
“Princess Zapadnokrasnova has a son, three-and-twenty, supposedly very fine to look upon, although they say he is of a sickly constitution…”
“Well, we’ll keep him in mind, of course, but that hardly sounds promising,” I said. “Who else, Sera.”
“Well, there is always, of course, Valya, Ivan Marinovich Velikokrasnov.”
“You are JOKING!” I said, only it came out much louder than I had intended.
“Oh, come now, Valya, we have to consider him. He’s just of marriageable age, just about to turn twenty, if I remember aright, and everyone agrees he’s a fine, handsome, fair-spoken, good-hearted, dutiful young man, if perhaps, if the rumors are right, a trifle shy. But, again if the rumors are right, there would be no question of you getting spoiled goods, Valya, no worries about some little indiscretion popping up and causing you trouble down the road. And then the Velikokrasnovy are the most powerful of the black earth princesses, so a marriage with Princess Velikokrasnova’s only son would be the best alliance we could possibly have amongst them. Of course, he himself was conceived out of wedlock, and they say his father was just some man-at-arms in his mother’s guard, or maybe worse, but a little common blood through the male line never hurt anyone. After all, you and I both bear more than our fair share of it. But the black earth princesses are a snobbish lot, so it might make it difficult for his mother to find him a good match, despite all his other fine qualities, which could strengthen our suit. There are many advantages to the match, Valya, so please consider it carefully.”
“If he’s shy and dutiful and all that, I don’t see how we could possibly expect him to agree even to consider a match with…well, me.”
“Ah, but Valya, it seems he is also known to be a trifle hot-tempered. Not so much that I would expect you to have any trouble handling him, but enough that now, when he has just come into his manhood and come to Krasnograd to be courted for the first time, he might be swayed to do something of which his mother might not approve, especially if it were a woman courting him who were doing the swaying, and especially if that woman were the infamous Valeriya Dariyevna, a steppe princess with Imperial blood, the unspoken villain of his family’s tales and yet still young, comely, and notoriously seductive.”
“You put a lot of faith in my ability to turn young men’s heads.”
“With reason, Valya, with reason,” she said with a smile, while Vyacheslav Irinovich nodded behind her, also smiling.
“Well…I suppose it can’t hurt to try.”
“Oh, try to look a little more enthusiastic about it, Valya! You’re going to be courting a prince, not cleaning a stall. Don’t make a face as if you’ve just stepped in something unpleasant. I would have thought you would have relished the challenge! And if he does balk a bit, well, as we know, many believe it’s more fun to bring an unwilling man to marriage, and I thought perhaps you of all people would be amongst that number.”
“I don’t force myself on people who don’t want me,” I said through stiff lips.
“Of course not, of course not—who said anything about forcing? You just…of course he might be a little shy at first, a little uncertain whether this is the right course, but you will just have to…convince him otherwise. Court him, you know, turn his head, so that he forgets all about any earlier scruples or doubts he might have had about any connection with you. You see, Valya, I think it would be best if you won him over first, before we propose the marriage itself. Let him be its biggest proponent. And if it’s a hard-fought battle—well, I’m sure you’ll win out in the end, and you’ll relish your victory all the more.”
“How much am I supposed to ‘win him over’?” I asked, trying not to make another face at the prospect. “I mean…should I leave him with no option if he wants to keep his honor? Ply him with strong drink until he loses his head and then…” Now I couldn’t stop myself from twisting my lips in distaste.
“That would certainly be the most direct and efficient method,” said Sera, nodding. “I admire your practicality, Valya, as always. I knew I could count on you.”
“Count on me to do your dirty work, you mean! Would you want a husband gotten that way?” I demanded. “Or would you want someone to do that to Ruslan?”
“Oh, well with Ruslan…” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Someone needs to take him in hand, and no mistake.”
“He’s twelve years old! Of course he’s annoying! But that’s no excuse for, for…taking advantage of some other woman’s son like this!”
“Think of it as a little well-earned revenge on Princess Velikokrasnova,” suggested Sera. “After all, I’m sure you wouldn’t be sorry to make her suffer.”
“Well…no, but…Ivan Marinovich has never done anything to me. It’s not his fault that his mother and I are…at odds. And I don’t…I don’t like the idea of starting a marriage off that way. It’s…it’s not how we do things back home. The other person has to prove their willingness in order for it to work out.”
“I always forget when I’m not around you how many scruples you have, Valya, much as it might surprise everyone to know it,” said Sera, looking at me with delighted interest.
“Of course I have scruples! I have lots of scruples! What I’ve done…what happened with, with him…well, you know he wasn’t unwilling. I didn’t trick him into anything. If I had, things would have been very different. We wouldn’t be having this conversation, for starters, because I would already be married to a black earth prince.”
“Of course, of course. And so…do as you think best in this matter, Valya, but I agree: it seems to me that, aside from any scruples you might have, it would be better if he were still eager to sample the delights you have dangled in front of him, if you see what I mean, when we go to propose the match to his mother. That way he will be even more intent on making the match, and if it should all fall through—well, there will be no permanent damage done.”
“I will try,” I said.
“Wonderful, Valya, wonderful! And have a little faith in yourself. Mark my words, you’ll have him eating out of your hand like a tame fawn before the month is out. I thought you could introduce yourself to him tomorrow night at the feast. He is here with his friends under the protection of Princess Srednekrasnova—I believe there is talk of a match between him and her younger daughter—but his mothe
r has not yet come to Krasnograd, so it will be a most auspicious moment for courting him. Ask him to dance or something—or maybe even better, don’t ask him to dance. Say you prefer swordplay, or something of that sort. Are you still good with a blade?”
“I hope so,” I said dryly.
“Well, so is he, according to all who know him. Challenge him to a match, or something. That is almost certain to turn out well—if you beat him, he will be all in a rage to try again to prove himself, and if he beats you”—Sera had the good grace to look embarrassed when I raised my brows at this suggestion—“or if you let him think that he has beaten you, he will be kindly disposed to you, or at least ready to show you how he gained his prowess. Really, Valya, it will be child’s play.”
“So you keep saying,” I said. “We’ll see how it goes when the time comes. But let us turn to the serious matter, Sera.”
“Your marriage is a serious matter, Valya! I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said it was a trifle…of course it’s a serious matter…”
“Oh, very serious, I’m sure. But you said you had another request of me.”
“Oh, yes, that…” Her face shut down, and she twisted her hands for a moment instead of speaking, which was most unlike her.
“You’ve already asked me to woo the son of the woman I hate most in the world, Sera. What could possibly be worse than that? Spit it out.”
She smiled painfully. “It’s not that, Valya. It’s not that I’m afraid you’ll find it too onerous a task—in fact, I think you’ll find it right up your alley, much more so than wooing Ivan Marinovich or any other prince we end up choosing for you. It’s just that I’m afraid of what you’ll find.”
“Oh,” I said. “You need me to spy for you again. You know that isn’t a problem, Sera.”