Green, Sharon - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter.htm

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by Lady Blade, Lord Fighter


  "Anytime he feels up to it, he's welcome to try me," Rullin answered in a very soft voice, the look in his eyes bringtarg"$eran's head up. "1 don't give a damn who he is, Softy doesn't want anything to do with him."

  And I'll see to it that he doesn't have anything to do with her, Rullin thought, his fist clenching where it lay on the arm of the chair. Twerp might not be the best descriptive word for someone like that Fighter, but if he tried taking Softy away the best descriptive word would be dead.

  "Can't the rest of you talk any sense into him?" Oeran demanded, looking around at the others of the Fist. "I'm willing to bet you're thinking about breaking her out of here, but don't you see that will just make it harder on her? She doesn't have a choice about this, something she'll accept as soon as she calms down—if you four don't try telling her she's right. She's probably sick over the thought of deserting you, of never being part of the Fist again. Do you really intend making it worse for her?"

  "Rull, think about what he's saying," Foist advised after a moment of that heavy silence Oeran had found when he'd

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  first come in. "You told us you asked her to marry you, but you also admitted she didn't agree in so many words. We'll go with you to talk to the Duke tomorrow, but if you don't get anywhere we'll call it off and go and see Softy herself. We'll all give her a kiss and tell her how much we'll miss her, and then get her to promise each of us a dance at the Feasting after the ceremony. Every one of us owes our lives and more to her, Rull; making her feel better about this is the least we can do in return."

  Rullin put his palm to his mouth and rubbed at his face, sick himself at the thought of losing the woman he called his infant female. He had no words to offer back to Foist'or Oeran. He felt too empty, and for the first time he was really afraid. Would it end with his having to give her up? He knew he'd never find another like her, not if he lived a thousand decades, but he also didn't want to give her any more hurt than she already had. Be a good girl, Softy, he would say, and let that Duke's son give you the Fist that would have been ours. Don't think about us, we'll be fine without you. It's not as if we loved you—

  When Rullin rose abruptly and strode out of the room, none- of the men left in it made an attempt to follow. They all knew why he had left like that, but weren't about to tell him he was too late. He hadn't left soon enough to k«^o them from seeing the glint of weakling tears in his eyes, a* glint more than one of them didn't want to admit he could match.

  I'd spent some time breaking up furniture after getting my father's note, discreetly pushed under the door rather than handed to me, but I'd only done it because it was expected of me. The note had told me that the next day would be my wedding day whether I liked it or not, and no one with ears in the entire castle was prepared to believe I would like it. They were right, of course, but none of them seemed to realize I usually did something about things I didn't like. What I did right then was break up some furniture, then take myself into my bedchamber for a little nap.

  I didn't bother getting up again until it was deep night, a time when even our still-jumpy Guards and fighters would be

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  more relaxed than wide awake. My father had locked me in, thinking he had me caged until it was time to nail me permanently to the floor, but there were still some parts of my childhood he didn't know about. There was a way out of my apartment other than through the door, and I was just about ready to use it.

  "Many misspent youths turn out to be better spent than we know," I muttered as I moved around my bedchamber, making sure I hadn't left anything 1 really needed to take with me. I wore my own black leathers and boots again, and had found my Company medallion where someone had left it, on the table beside my bed. The medallion's chain had somehow been broken, but that didn't make any real difference. I would have packed it away in my pouch even if it had been whole, a gesture for my own benefit to finally let myself know that that part of my life was over. I would never be a Fistmate in a Company again, even if things worked out the way I intended them to.

  "And they'd damned well better work out, or the next time they catch me they will chain me," I muttered, stopping to look down at the letter I'd written. I'd awakened from sleep that first night with the perfect solution all ready and waiting for me to notice it, which I'd done as soon as I'd sat up ready to start cursing. It was so simple it was beautiful, but it was also going to be tricky and depended on my getting out of the castle to begin with. That part, though, shouldn't be anything like as hard as it sounded, and would sure as hell be satisfying to the soul.

  " 'Dear Father,' " I recited, knowing so well what I'd said in the letter that I could repeat it by heart. " 'As your loyal and obedient daughter I would never dream of disobeying you, so please take this as my full agreement to the marriage you've arranged for me. I will be delighted to join with the man of your choice—as soon as I return from a most urgent duty I've been called away on. I'm certain we all know matters of honor must come first, even before filial duty, and your disappointment at the delay is without doubt on the same scale as mine. I will return as quickly as possible, and until I do, 1 remain, your daughter, Sofaltis.' "

  "But if I don't get away, I'll be your daughter mud," I said in a more normal voice, making a face at the letter. My

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  father would explode when he saw it, going up like a volcano booted from below, and if he got his hands on me too quickly thereafter I'd be lucky if 1 lived long enough to be married. After a good night's sleep it had finally come through to me that my father did love me and trust me, and had only been trying to take care of a helpless female with his roundabout plotting. With that in view I was no longer hurt, only mad as hell that he thought he could get away with it. 1 felt almost honor-bound to prove a very special point, to him and to everyone else involved, and maybe even to the Law. The King's Law said I couldn't refuse to marry, so 1 hadn't; all I'd done was put it off until 1 was able to bring home a very special reason to make it all unnecessary.

  "If I can manage to find that reason," I muttered, resting my hands on my new swordbeit as 1 looked around again. My father had given me part of the answer himself, when he'd mentioned that the betrothal contract called for my "husband" to be named his heir. If one of my brothers suddenly turned up, the contract would have to be abrogated without prejudice, and a new contract, if any, entered into. That much everyone knew about the Law, but 1 also knew that a new contract would then be unnecessary—as well as not terribly desirable on the groom's part. He would still have my dowry, of course, but even a large dowry isn't the same as a Dukedom. And I thought I knew which way my brothers had headed when they'd first left home, something no one else who had searched for them knew about. They had been burning to see the eastern mountains, to find out if all the stories they'd heard were true, and if Evon were even partially on my side 1 might be able to pick up something of a

  trail—

  "And then do Kylin out of what he's been promised,"-1 said, staring down at the floor without seeing it. "You find the nicest ways to thank people for saving your life. He's certain to be grateful to you forever."

  Or at least until 1 got back with one or both of my brothers in tow. It wasn't that 1 didn't want him to be my father's heir; he was certainly decent enough, it was just that I was so horribly caught up in the middle that there was no other

  way— No other way to avoid marrying him. Another aim guaran-

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  teed to make him feel really special. And he'd been trying so hard to set things right between us, even while 1 did everything I could to ruin them. He'd never understand that it wasn't him I was trying to avoid—

  "Don't say it," I warned myself aloud, one hand firmly over my eyes. "Don't start telling yourself how it might not be all that bad with him, or your point's lost and so is your future self-respect. All
three of them lied to you, your father, Traixe and him, 'trying to trick you into something you wanted no part of. Are you going to let them get away with it, or are you going to show them how the game's really played? If they're free to use the Law against you, are you any less free to use it against them? If you're ready to give up without a fight, just say yes."

  No, that was one thing I couldn't do. I took my hand away from my eyes as 1 straightened with a sigh, knowing I'd never be able to live with myself afterward if 1 simply gave in and let it happen. 1 would prove to them all that the choice was mine—whether they liked it or not.

  I laughed shortly, knowing exactly how well they'd like it, but my decision was made. I had a window-slit waiting to act as my means of egress, and it had waited long enough. I'd used that way out of my apartment more than a few times as a child, and when I'd tried it again the night before I'd found that I could still just squeeze through. My gear couldn't go with me but my weapons could, and straight down below past an easily-climbed wall of carved building stones was a night-deserted courtyard. From that courtyard I could slip into the stables which, with the number of men down from the hard confinement and the fighting afterward, weren't being guarded. Once I had Bloodsheen saddled we would use the stables tunnel to leave the castle, and when the sun rose on my wedding day, mat bunch of conspirators would find they were missing something.

  I walked over to the window-slit and brushed the wall drape aside, but refused to ask myself what / would be missing. Just then I knew exactly what it would be, and I wasn't anywhere near up to facing it. Facing him. Kylin, the man I was supposed to marry. After everything I'd said and done to him, after all the times I'd hurt him, how could 1 just—go on with things as if they had never happened? The

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  simple answer was I couldn't, and if that made me a coward then I accepted the calling without argument. 1 didn't have the courage to face him let alone marry him, and I knew that what had happened was primarily my fault even though I'd had help making such a mess of things. If they'd just been honest with me, if they'd simply asked—

  But they hadn't been honest and they hadn't asked, which left me no choice in what I had to do. 1 would go searching for my brothers—and do something else I knew 1 should remember but couldn't bring to mind—and would try to make it all come out right. Once I got back I could think about offering apologies that would probably never be accepted, but until then—

 

 

 


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