Rebel's Honor

by Gwynn White

  Typical of Kestrel to grab the center spot. She frowned, more at herself than at Kestrel, because such thoughts were churlish on this sorry day. She concentrated on her fiddle playing and studied the funeral pyre.

  It was the first time in living memory that so many Norin had lost their lives in a single Chenayan attack. If this was the new order of things, Lynx feared for her tribe’s very existence.

  And yet, under the guise of the Unity, Emperor Mott still demanded a Norin bride for his son. It was inexplicable to her.

  In the turmoil, she had yet to speak to her father about whom Mott had selected for Lukan. Trembling with pent-up emotion, Lynx swept her bow across her fiddle strings, sending an angry caterwaul over the gathering.

  Her father stood, fixing her with a piercing stare. “On that note, I think we should begin.”

  “Sorry.” Lynx dropped her fiddle to her side.

  Heron took her other hand, holding it tight in his callused fingers.

  King Thorn cleared his throat, and then his voice rang out in the silence. “May the Winds be with you all! For four hundred years, we have borne Chenayan brutality. That will not stop just because today we weep for our family and friends. Treacherous bastards that they are, their guardsmen will be back. It behooves us to remain vigilant, to remember who we are and what our friends died to preserve.”

  King Thorn’s face blazed anger and hatred. He took a deep breath. “Despite being a signatory to the Treaty of Hope with the other surviving nations of the Burning, the Chenayans rebuilt their armies in violation of that accord. Norin was the first country they attacked.”

  Although familiar, hearing this history still had the power to raise goose bumps on Lynx’s arms. Twenty years before the Chenayan leader Thurban invaded Norin, the nations of the world had reached a pinnacle, creating vile weapons of mass destruction. Old conflicts between nations turned to war, and in a few short months, the planet had been left desolate by the Burning. Even now, there were lands where no living thing grew.

  The survivors of the Burning swore to never let war on that scale ravage their world again. To that end, all weapons and the technology that made them possible were destroyed per the terms of the Treaty of Hope.

  Thurban Avanov of Chenaya had stepped into that chaos when he attacked Norin. They had begun to rebuild their schools and universities, but Avanov claimed they were in violation of the peace. He argued that book learning had been banned by the accord, that no one was ever to read again.

  Within weeks, Thurban and his guardsmen had kidnapped the Norin professors, destroyed their fledgling schools, and shattered their society for a second time. With Norin on its knees, Thurban placed a vassal king on the Norin throne and forced him to sign the Unity. As part of the agreement, the Norin monarch promised that a Norin princess would marry the Chenayan crown prince. Then Thurban set the survivors adrift to roam their land as ostrich herders.

  Four hundred years on, little had changed for the Norin people. Every emperor, Mad Mott included, used their guardsmen to keep them moving, never letting them settle long enough to build a stone hut, let alone a proper school. In retaliation, true Norin kings decreed that, at the very least, parents were to teach their children to read, write, and do basic arithmetic.

  Lynx leaned forward as her father continued.

  “Why did Avanov and his Chenayan army attack us all those centuries ago? For the same reason Mott’s guardsmen attacked us last night. They seek to control us because we are powerful. They fear us like no other nation on this windswept planet.” King Thorn raised his fist, shaking it to the sky. “Our masters call us low-born savages and cut us down like vermin, but they know we are the only educated people in the empire. And it is that which makes them fear us.”

  Lynx felt her father’s eyes alight on her before moving on to drill the faces of other mourners.

  “Would you relinquish that freedom for false promises of respite from Chenayan attack?” He pointed to the funeral pyre. “Would they?”

  A murmur of noes ran through the crowd.

  “I thought not. Our education and our egg raids make Norin great—the greatest thorn in our enemy’s hoof.”

  Lynx nodded in agreement. Thurban’s destruction of the old Norin had marked the beginning of the egg raid tradition; if Norin could no longer build places of learning, they would be warriors, fighting to be free from Chenayan bondage. That, coupled with their education, made them a source of constant aggravation for their overlords.

  “Today,” King Thorn continued, “we not only mourn their deaths, but we also celebrate the triumph of their lives, lives built on honor, learning, and pride.” He hefted a burning torch from a wrought iron stand next to him and held it high. “They did not die in vain. May the Winds receive their souls and carry them to their reward.” Slowly, he walked around the pyre, brushing the kerosene-soaked wood with fire. Within minutes, the pyramid was ablaze, a giant beacon of flame and heat shimmering in the midday sun.

  Face like stone, Lynx watched it burn. “This cannot go unchallenged,” she whispered to the wind that moaned around her.

  She knew the Winds had heard her. What the answer would be, Lynx could only guess.

  Chapter 4

  Nothing but ash and smoke remained of the funeral pyre as the sun set, red and angry, over the camp. Her back and legs aching from her day-long vigil, Lynx was more than ready to collapse into her bedroll. She forced her muscles to move as the crowd drifted away from the place of mourning.

  Her father tapped her shoulder. “Come to the council tent. We have things to discuss.”

  Lynx suppressed a sigh, knowing sleep was now a dream. “Of course.”

  Clay hissed in a breath. Only raiders were permitted to enter the council tent. When his step fell softly behind her, Lynx gripped his hand and found his face desperate with longing.

  She whispered, “Trust me. Remember, I made you an oath that I would plead with Father for you. You will raid again.”

  Clay’s shoulders and face relaxed.

  Her father stopped at the tent entrance. “Clay, come. You too, Kestrel. This is family business. Nothing concerning the other Norin yet.”

  Lynx stared at her father in astonishment. Before she could say anything about his strange invitation, Kestrel, who had also never entered this hallowed space, darted past her into the tent. Irritated, Lynx stepped under the tent flap. Kestrel was usually scathing about Norin traditions like the exclusivity of the council tent.

  Lynx’s breath caught, all thoughts of Kestrel’s animosity toward her Norin heritage forgotten.

  The spicy tang of ostrich and chickpeas filled the dimly lit space. In one corner, Dove, her mother stooped over a makeshift kitchen, stirring a stew pot. Cooking was Mother’s passion, but seeing a kitchen in this tent was as unheard of as her father inviting Clay and Kestrel to join them. Every Norin tradition screamed that this was wrong. Before Lynx could question it, her stomach rumbled.

  “Come. Sit.” Mother gestured to the plump leather cushions circling the fire pit in the center of the tent. Strands of blond hair spilled out of her bun, and her server’s apron was stained with cooking juices. “Lynx, your stomach speaks for all of us. Everyone in this family needs a hot meal after the trauma of these last two days.”

  Lynx gave her mother a quick hug. “Food smells great. So this is why you left the funeral early?”

  Mother nodded. “There is so much to discuss tonight, and I know my family. Hard discussions always go better with good food.”

  Hard discussions. This had to be about Mott’s demand for a wife for Lukan.

  Please let it not be me. Lynx’s stomach knotted as she sat on her usual cushion around the fire pit. A prime spot, it afforded her a view of the entire tent, made from hundreds of ostrich skins cobbled together.

  Clay slumped on the cushion next to her.

  Mother clicked her tongue and then said to Kestrel, “Dish up food for your brother. And don’t be stingy.” She tousled Clay
’s hair. “For Lynx, too, while you’re at it.”

  “But Clay’s a server now,” Kestrel protested. “Why should I wait on him?”

  “Just do it,” Mother snapped.

  Their mother didn’t allow other servers to attend to them during their private family time. That meant Kestrel was always called on to help.

  Scowling, Kestrel pulled her hands out of her apron pockets and bent over the cooking pots. She shoved earthenware bowls at both Clay and Lynx.

  Too hungry to care about her rudeness, Lynx was about to spoon stew into her mouth when Wolf burst into the tent. Aloe and their young son, Raven, trailed behind him. Neither of them had ever been in the council tent before. Her expression nonchalant, Aloe ran her fingers through her mass of blond hair, unfettered by braids or feathers. Raven wasn’t so coy. The little boy stared around in wide-eyed wonder.

  Lynx smiled at him, patting the other cushion beside her. “Come, Raven. You’ve wanted to peek inside this tent for ages now.”

  With a shriek of delight, Raven leaped onto the ostrich skin cushions and snuggled up against Lynx’s side.

  “Hey, Lynxie,” Wolf said. “I shouldn’t trust you with my son. Look what you did to Clay. Poor kid’s wrapped in bandages.” This was typical Wolf, doing his best to lighten the mood. He smacked them both lightly on the back, jolting Lynx’s spoon and spilling her stew.

  “Wolf,” Lynx moaned. She scooped meat and gravy off her leather trousers, then sucked her fingers, relishing the spicy taste.

  Wolf whisked his son up, handed him to Aloe, and threw himself down next to Lynx. He leaned against her arm. “You’ll need to brush up on your table manners when you get to Cian. I hear tell Lukan likes his girls compliant and sweet.”

  The confirmation that she was Lukan’s bride of choice made her freeze.

  “Wolf.” Mother shoved his shoulder. “By the four Winds, did you have to blurt it out? You’re an insensitive—”

  “Mother, there’s no sensitive way of saying Mott chose my sister for Lukan.” Wolf squeezed Lynx’s hand. “I’m sorry, Lynxie.” He turned to Clay. “I’m sorry for both of you. Really, I am.”

  Her father clapped Wolf on the shoulder. “That bastard Mott may have signed the letter, but he didn’t do the choosing.” A scowl darkened his face. “I’m convinced that was Lukan. He sees your sister as nothing more than a plaything.”

  “Yes. A whore for him to tumble.” Lynx scowled. “Winds! Is he in for a shock.”

  Kestrel stepped forward, hands on her hips. “A whore? Really, Lynx, he is the crown prince. I hardly think he spends his time with harlots. Girls are probably lining up to oblige him. You should feel honored he chose you.”

  “Honored? That some Chenayan pig wants me?” Lynx laughed bitterly. “Kestrel, as I’ve always said, you and I have very different ideas about honor.”

  Kestrel rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. And anyway, it’s not like marrying Lukan is news to this family. Norin princesses have been marrying Chenayan crown princes for centuries. And I’d already told Lynx she’d been picked, so I don’t know why she’s acting so shocked.”

  A clang of dropping pot lids sounded. “And just how did you know that she had been chosen?” Mother demanded.

  Kestrel’s eyes widened. “I—I overheard you talking to Father and Wolf about the letter.”

  “So now we add eavesdropping to your other crime.”

  Kestrel looked at her hands, unable to meet the anger and disappointment in her mother’s eyes. Mother flicked her dishcloth out, snapping Kestrel on the arm. Kestrel winced. Her sister and her mother were close, so her reaction was even more startling.

  “So, in all your snooping, did you hear that Mott wants you, too? For Tao.”

  “What?” Lynx and Kestrel gasped simultaneously.

  “Dove, please.” Her father stood, a commanding figure looming over the family. “I’ll handle this.” He gestured to the cushions. “Now sit. All of you.” When Lynx hesitated, he added, “That includes you.”

  Reluctantly, Lynx sat next to Clay. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Is it not enough that I had to burn twenty-six of my people today?” her father asked. “Do I also have to deal with insanity in my own family?” He turned to Clay. “Care to explain why you sneaked off to raid without telling me?”

  Clay’s face bloomed red.

  Her father shook his head. “I’ve known for months you were ready, but I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to sponsor you. Do you think I’d refuse you something so important?” His eyes bored into Clay’s. “Such a waste. You’d have made a formidable raider.”

  Lynx’s heart soared with pride as Clay held their father’s gaze, never flinching.

  Her father turned his attention to Kestrel. “And you? What were you thinking?”

  Kestrel stared into the fire pit. “I hate egg raids and raiders.”

  Lynx shot her head around to see her father’s reaction to that heresy, but it was their mother who spoke.

  “My child, we know you detest the way we live. The old Norin is where you belong. You would have—”

  “Studied painting at one of the universities,” Kestrel burst out, looking at Mother with tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m good enough. But instead I’m forced to spend my time scraping up ostrich dung because I don’t see the point of risking my life in a stupid egg raid.”

  “How dare you!” Her father’s hand slapped down hard on his thigh. “It’s thanks to egg raids and raiders that you were spared a place on that funeral pyre today. And as for what you did to Clay? It was malicious and cruel. The only thing saving you from a month of shunning is your marriage to Tao.”

  Kestrel gulped. Shunning—an entire month of being ignored by the tribe as if invisible—was no minor punishment. She croaked, “Clay, I’m sorry.”

  Lynx suppressed a disparaging snort, wishing she believed her sister’s contrition.

  “Can’t he try again?” Kestrel asked.

  Hope gleamed on Clay’s face.

  It was driven away by a shake of her father’s head. “No, he can’t.”

  “But, Father—” Clay began.

  “Clay, enough. The law applies to everyone. I will not change a statute that has been in place for centuries to suit my family.” Her father’s face was hard, uncompromising. “You had your chance. These are the consequences of your actions.”

  Clay picked at a fleck of dried blood on his trousers. Aloe, sitting on his other side, took his hand. Clay pulled away, obviously embarrassed by her comfort.

  It was time for Lynx to start her campaign. Praying to every Wind that blew that her family would not end up shunning her for what she was about to do, Lynx sat forward, catching her father’s eye. “But those weren’t his actions. He’s being punished for what Kestrel did. He’d done the hard part before she destroyed his eggs.”

  “I’m painfully aware of that. But there’s a reason for the law. Raiding is dangerous. If a raider fails and walks away with his life, then it’s my duty to protect him from trying again. Next time, he may not be so lucky. You only get one chance in battle against a guardsman. If you are not the best, you die.”

  Tears sparkled in Clay’s eyes. He brushed them away. Like Lynx, he, too, seemed to be working on his stoicism and bravery. It made Lynx even more determined not to fail.

  Kestrel’s chin dropped to her chest. “I was wrong, so I accept my punishment. I’ll go to Chenaya to marry Tao.”

  Only Mother reacted to Kestrel’s comment. She wrapped her arm around Kestrel’s shoulder, squeezing her tight. Time was needed for the rest of the family to forgive Kestrel for what she’d done to Clay.

  Finally, Wolf leaned forward and patted Kestrel’s knee. “You’re always telling us we should embrace Chenayan culture, so you should be happy at the Chenayan court. And I’m sure if you’re nice to Tao, he’ll let you paint.”

  Kestrel gave him a rueful smile. “What you mean is, if I’m nicer to him than I am to my fam
ily, he may let me paint.”

  “That’s your interpretation,” Wolf said. “But remember where your loyalties lie, Kestrel. As much as you despise our way of life, you’ll always be a—”

  “I don’t hate us,” Kestrel’s voice shrilled. “I just think there is more to life than what we have in Norin. There is good in the empire, too, you know.”

  Lynx wasn’t the only member of the family to glare at her.

  Wolf cleared his throat. “Stand by Lynx. She’s your true family in that place.”

  Lynx took a deep breath before throwing down her challenge. “Not so fast, Wolfie-boy. I haven’t said I’m going.”

  Wolf’s mouth dropped, and Lynx knew he hadn’t expected that. He quickly replaced his shocked expression with one of mock outrage—and changed the subject. “Hey, Father, how about scolding Lynx? Look at how she returned our little brother.”

  “I’ve been trying to control Lynx’s defiance for twenty years. Never done any good, so why waste my breath now?” Her father’s lighthearted reply belied his steely eyes boring into her, telling her he’d brook no challenge on her marriage to Lukan.

  It was now or never.

  Lynx swept her feathers and braids over her shoulder. “Surely, after their attack on us, you don’t expect me to go?”

  “It’s precisely because of the attack that you will go. You asked why they would sacrifice fifteen guardsmen, yet you see the damage those fifteen men did. The attack was a warning of worse to come if you refuse to marry Lukan. Disobeying Mott would be suicide for all of us. Men, women”—he gestured to Raven sitting next to Lynx—“even children.”

  Mother sucked in a breath. Aloe and Kestrel exchanged panicked looks, and Wolf’s hand tightened on Lynx’s. Clay wore a puzzled expression. Lynx wondered if he realized it was all part of her plan to help him.