Green, Sharon - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter.htm

by Lady Blade, Lord Fighter

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  nounced to three-quarters of the Duchy that she'll have nothing to do with you. Let's assume we tell her the truth and she eagerly agrees to go along with us; what do you think would happen then? Either she would have to pretend to still be furious, or she would have to find a reason for a change of heart. Will she be good enough at either pretense to fool the people who will be watching very, very closely? Can we stake her life on there being not even one small slip? If even once she happened to smile at you—and someone saw it—the game would be up."

  Kylin stood silently and—in his own opinion—expression-lessly, and didn't see the two men with him exchange a raised-brow glance. He had no idea that his light, changeable eyes had taken on the cold, hardened appearance they did when the man who owned them was ready to end lives without number. When Duke Rilfe had mentioned the attack against his daughter, Kylin had experienced a surge of rage stronger than any he could remember ever having felt. He didn't know the girl who would become his wife, hadn't even seen her until just a few moments ago, but that brief glimpse had shown him someone he very much wanted to get to know. That strangers, intruders, had tried to keep that from happening, had tried to harm a girl like that—!

  "Your daughter and I are officially betrothed, Duke Rilfe," Kylin said after the pause, bringing those eyes to the man he addressed. "I'm sure you know as well as I do how much latitude that allows me. I can't take her to my own apartments until after the ceremony, but there's nothing to stop me from moving into hers for the days before. And believe me—nothing will get past me to reach her."

  "For some odd reason, I have no doubts on that score," Duke Rilfe murmured, eyeing his heir-to-be over his cup rim. The Duke was not a man who had ever had occasion to question his personal courage, but he suddenly found himself exceedingly pleased that he would never need to go through the young man before him to reach a desired objective. He had managed to choose even better than he'd known, and for that he fervently thanked Evon the Shining.

  "Kylin, I have no doubt that you wouid protect my daughter and your wife-to-be, but there's still something you don't understand," Duke Rilfe said. "Sofaltis has always been

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  independent, and high-spirited, and somewhat on the impulsive side, and right now she's distressed and upset. Considering that, it might be the least bit difficult convincing her to agree to your proposal. What do you say, Traixe?"

  "Since she's not my daughter, what I say can be said more plainly," Traixe answered, his tone faintly on the hesitant side despite the bluntness of his words. "The girl is stubborn, hardheaded and wild, and she isn't upset; she's screaming mad. If you tried moving in wiih her, it wouldn't be attack from without that you'd have to worry about. And I can just see her standing behind you if there was an attack. And what about the traditional rivalry between Fighters and Blades? Right now she's spoiling for a fight, and if she finds out what you really are she'll probably jump in with both feet just for the hell of it."

  "Then what can I do?" Kylin demanded, frustration blazing from him like sunlight. "If I continue with the masquerade, she'll think I'm a Flower; if I don't continue with it, she'll be out for my blood. And what happens after the ceremony, when she has to leam the truth? Am I supposed to spend my wedding night defending myself from my bride? Or were you planning on tying her up?"

  "Say, that's not a bad idea," Traixe put in, considering it rather more seriously than Kylin enjoyed seeing. "We'd first have to work out a plan for sneaking up on her in large enough numbers, but . . ."

  "Traixe, stop tormenting him," Duke Rilfe ordered, finding it prudent to hide his own amusement. "Kylin, the truth of the matter is, we weren't expecting any difficulty at all from Sofaltis. The manner she adopted the last time she was home led us to believe she would do whatever she was told to do, and we haven't yet recovered from learning of her Blade status, i think frankness is called for here, so let me be frank: my first concern is for my daughter's safety. Once that ceremony is completed she'll be safe, but not until then. Afterward, well, are you really all that worried about her mood on your wedding night? If she orders you out of the bed chamber, is there any possibility of your going?"

  "Not really," Kylin admitted, grudging a relaxation from the grimness he'd been showing. "I didn't get to see that much of her, but I think I'm safe in believing I'm bigger than

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  she is. And you're absolutely right. Duke Rilfe. Her safety is our most important concern. After we're settled down we'll work something out to suit both of us, which I expect will put more interest in the marriage than I'd been anticipating. A sweet, obedient wife adds very little spice to a man's life."

  "You do find an attraction in living dangerously, don't you?" Traixe commented, the amusement in voice and eyes dry. "I've always admired men who charge ail alone into the thick of battle, but I can't ,say I have a very high opinion of their intelligence. Present company excepted, of course."

  "Oh, of course," Kylin agreed with a grin while Duke Riife chuckled, but the young Fighter's amusement didn't stay with him. "Meanwhile I've got to continue being a Flower," he said with a glum sigh, finally noticing the cup he held to the extent of sipping from it. "My wife-to-be won't care for that, but I want to get acquainted with her now. How are we going to get her to hold still long enough for me to do that?"

  "A fair question, and one that merits discussion," Duke Rilfe allowed, liking the young man more the longer he spoke with him. "Since we also need to discuss other things as well, let's sit down and see what we can come up with. As soon as I was told of your arrival I ordered a Grand Feasting for tonight, and despite my terrible disappointment I won't sink so low as to cancel it. We have until then to plot our plannings."

  "During which time we wilt come up with something," Kylin declared, moving with the others toward the chairs. "I consider it completely sufficient that the enemy intends having my life; I'm not about to accept the same thing from the woman who will be my wife—especially when she's most likely better with a sword than they are."

  "Definitely better," Traixe and Duke Rilfe said at the same time, causing all three to laugh as they made themselves comfortable, and then it was time to get down to serious discussion.

  I can't honestly say I was calm and tranquil when the knock came at my reception room door, but I had managed to

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  stop pacing and sit down. It was an excellent indication of what my mood had been like, that the door didn't open after the knock. Whoever was out there didn't seem inclined to take any chances, or possibly my bodyguard felt it was everyone else who needed their services more than I. At that point I wouldn't have argued the contention, which might be why I called out my permission to enter. The enemy wasn't too likely to knock before coming in, but one never really knows, and I had my hopes very high.

  "I'm not sure I believe the lack of hostility in your voice, but I'm coming in anyway," Traixe called through a very small crack, then opened the door wider to step inside. "I'm a man of unquestioned courage, and besides that I've had a long, full life."

  "Well, it looks like I was wrong," I said into his grin as he closed the door again behind him while watching me swallow at the brew in my cup. "Here I thought the enemy wasn't too likely to knock, but that's just what happened."

  "Please, Sofaltis, don't say that even jokingly," he asked, actually wincing at the thrust. "No matter how it may look, your father and I aren't your enemies."

  "My Fist name is Soft and Gentle," I informed him, looking at him over the toes of my boots. My feet were crossed at the ankles and propped up on a very elegant, very expensive table, and from the way he glanced down and then quickly up, I was willing to bet that under other circumstances he would have commented. "If you expect to be answered when you talk to me, don't call me Sofaltis. She's someone else entirely, and has nothing to do with me."

  "How much o
f that brew have you swallowed?" he demanded, apparently finding it impossible to stick to the apologetic tone he'd started with. "You're expected at the Grand Feasting in a short while, and if you show up swacked your father will probably have you taken out behind the stables and taught the folly of overindulgence. He's in no mood to be kind and understanding right now."

  "Neither am I," I said with a shrug, deliberately taking another swallow. "Pass that word along to whichever poor soul my father gives that order to, and don't forget your condolences. You won't have another chance to offer them."

  "Damn it, I'd be the poor soul he gave that order to, and

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  you know it!" he snapped, putting his fists on his hips as he stepped forward just a little. "Do you expect me to believe you'd draw on me? For any reason?"

  "Do you know what they call men who depend on friendship to keep them alive?" I asked, meeting the anger in his eyes. "More often than not, they call them dead. I'd probably be sorry afterward, if it's any consolation to you."

  "Probably sorry," he echoed, still angry but now in a different way. "That's really very effective. If I didn't know you so well, that deadly understatement would probably have convinced me. And telling me to use your Fist name. That's to make me forget who you really are, isn't it?"

  "That was to remind you of who I am," I said, beginning to get annoyed. "I'm the one with the sword and the pretty silver medallion, not the one in the gown with the vacant smile who says, 'Yes, Father, no Father, anything you like, Father.' If you remember that, Traixe, 1 won't have anything to be sorry about."

  "So you think you can best me," he said, this time folding his arms and smiling at me very faintly. "Are you absolutely sure about that? No doubts, no hesitations, just convinced?"

  "No doubt about it, you've got that deadly understatement part down better than I do," I conceded, reluming his very faint smile. "As far as besting you goes, when is the outcome of a private fight ever that sure? The only certain part is something I am convinced about, because I know I'm good enough: I can force you to the choice of your life or mine. Is that unhesitant enough for you?"

  "Evon broil it, girl, what are we arguing about?" he demanded, his face suddenly drawn from the realization that I wasn't joking—or bluffing. "Do you really think I would face you with weapons? Or that any man of this household would? How did we end up talking about killing?"

  "That's what comes from associating with certain people who shall remain nameless," I answered, not any happier than he was. "If those certain people—or you—think I'm going to chain myself to a Flower for any reason at all, you and they are in for a rude awakening. I'm not being difficult, I'm flatly refusing, so if you want to avoid conversations about killing, forget about whatever you were sent here to say. And go away so I can get drunk in peace."

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  "Sofaltis, you aren't being betrayed," he said in a gentle way, his eyes now reflecting hurt. "I didn't come here to tell you what you don't want to hear, I came to say your father is just as furious as you are. Would you rather sit here and swallow brew until you pass out, or would you rather try helping us to get out of this Evon-forsaken travesty of tradition and Law? We're going to fight to get out of it whether you help or not, but your efforts might make all the difference."

  "Efforts to do what?" 1 asked with a snort, completely unimpressed with his sincerity. "Am I expected to challenge him, or do I simply take him to bed and work him to death? Always assuming, of course, that he'd know what to do in bed, which I strongly doubt. Did you see the nerve of him? He actually tried to touch me!"

  "He—ah—pointed out to us that by betrothal Law, he has the right to do at least that," Traixe said, then waved his hand to keep me from interrupting. "Stop foaming at the mouth, the subject came up when your father tried to take him to task for the very thing you just complained about. It seems your—intended—is unexpectedly taken with you."

  "I'll take him somewhere," I growled, pulling my feet down from the table. "And I don't mind telling you what i 'intend' doing with him. I'll start with letting out just a little blood, from his wrists, say, and then . . ."

  "And then you go on to guaranteeing that we all swing with you," he interrupted flatly, stating rather than arguing. "It was your father who registered the betrothal, which means that we're legally responsible for seeing that the marriage rites are performed—and also legally responsible if something fatal happens to the groom because the bride doesn't care for him. You'll swing for doing it, we'll swing for allowing it, and only DukeTrame will have all his problems neatly solved."

  "Then what do you expect me to do?" I demanded, slamming my cup down on the table before getting to my feet. "Are you suggesting I pretend to marry him, not seriously, of course, only as a joke, and simply keep the pretense going until he dies of old age or overeating? Do I look as though I'm in the mood for any sort of joke? If you stop to think about it, you'll realize I find considerably more appeal in the thought of hanging."

  "If you'!! just listen to me for a minute, you might dis-

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  cover none of us has to hang," Traixe said, and if I hadn't known better, I almost would have thought he was finding the situation very funny. "We can't refuse to go through with a registered betrothal, but if the groom changes his mind it won't be our fault—or at least it had better not be. If you can show him—honestly—what he can look forward to with you as his wife, he just may decide the Duchy isn't worth it. But just in case there's an inquiry later, everything you say and do has to be strictly true, an accurate example of what you're really like. No man could mind the real you, but Lord Kylin, now, that might be another story."

  Traixe finished up looking very innocent, but the gleam in his eyes was anything but. 1 hadn't had so much brew it was affecting me, but I still had the strangest feeling his amusement had a source other than what he had proposed against the Flower. Or an additional source. I couldn't think of anything it could be, but that didn't mean I was willing to ignore the suspicion.

  "You said that overblown joke was 'taken' with me," I finally tried, groping around to see if the suspicion had flesh and bones. "Flowers, almost to a—you'll excuse the expression—man, don't usually like women. Or real men. Or other Flowers. What could there possibly be about me that attracts it?"

  "Your father and I were discussing that very point," Traixe said, leaning down fast to take my cup of brew before I could pick it up again, and then draining it. "Ah, I needed that," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before replacing the empty cup. "No matter how long I've been with your father, I still don't feel comfortable drinking in his presence. Not that he's ever discouraged it, you understand, it's just something that / feel."

  "Help yourself, then," I returned with a shrug, deliberately folding my arms to show unconcern. "Plenty more where that came from, especially if I insist."

  "Soft and Gentle," he said, looking at me sourly. "I think Sweet and Reasonable would have been more fitting. Do you mind if I sit down, or will that start you considering sacking the castle?"

  He sat down in the chair to the left of the one I'd been in without waiting for an answer, which was very wise of him.

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  At that point I was waiting for an answer of my own, and wasn't about to be decoyed into discussing other things.

  "Ail right, all right, the truth of the matter is—we're not sure," he grudged, looking up at me where 1 still stood. "Not only were we surprised at the way he reacted to the sight of you, we were just short of shocked when he defended what he'd done by insisting it was his right. The only thing we could think of was that Duke Trame is his father, and that might account for the difference. His brothers are certainly lusty enough, so maybe the seeds are just dozing in him."

  "You certainly know how to choose the proper words and phrases to convince s
omeone to go along with your plans," I observed, swallowing the urge to make a face in reaction. "So all you want me to do is encourage it while discouraging it. Also while being my own sweet self. Nothing to it. If I can't use my sword, I'll use my boot dagger."

  "You can't simply refuse to try," he said, holding down annoyance. "What we want you to do is start out treating him the way you did earlier, but let him talk to you and get to know you. While he's being eager and what he considers charming, you make sure he understands exactly what he's getting in you. Let him get to know the Blade as well as the woman."

  "And if it decides it likes the Blade as well as the woman?" I asked, still extremely unhappy with their brilliant ploy. "If there's attraction involved there's always that possibility, but I can tell you right now what my final answer is and will continue to be: under no circumstances will I have anything to do with a marriage ceremony, not for anything imaginable. Have I made myself clear?"

  "You have a talent for making yourself clear," Traixe said, back to the sourness. "As long as you're willing to help us try, though, your father will be satisfied. And since you've been so generous as to share your thinking with me, I've decided to do the same with what I've come up with. Your father blames himself for what's happened, and although he hasn't said anything aloud, I'm convinced he means to order you to leave before the time of the ceremony if Lord Kylin still insists on going through with it. I can't begin to tefl you how much trouble that will bring down on his head, but he'll find it the better bargain over betraying his daughter into

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  something that would destroy her. He loves you, you see, and doesn't want to see you hurt. Do you want to freshen up a little before we go to the Grand Feasting? We still have a few minutes."

  I don't remember whether or not I nodded, but I did turn toward my bedchamber and a minute later was closing the door behind me. Traixe had accepted my departure without comment, so it was possible he didn't know what his words had done to me; for my own part, I felt the way I had that time in battle, when someone had come at me from a direction I hadn't been expecting. I'd thought the blood I'd lost had taught me not to let that happen again, not to let anyone tn any position get past my guard, but there I stood, bleeding again without a single blade having touched me.