Heroes at Odds

by Moira J. Moore

And then Taro breezed in. Oh, lords. I had to tell him.

  “Your family is very free with their hands,” he commented.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t a complaint. I like them.”

  Yes. Taro liked to touch people, too. Or he used to. He didn’t do it as much anymore. I wondered why.

  He liked my family at the moment. What would he say once he knew why they were here? “They have told me some disturbing news.”

  I had planned to get it out all at once, I wasn’t looking for drama with a significant pause, but Taro interrupted me.

  “Is something wrong? Is someone ill?” He reached out to touch my hand.

  “No, nothing like that.” I pulled in a deep breath. “Apparently, when I was a child my parents entered me into a betrothal with a boy named Marcus Pride. They never invalidated the agreement when they sent me to the Shield Academy, and Marcus Pride and his father are coming here in an attempt to enforce the contract.”

  He stared at me. “What?”

  It was too ridiculous to say again. “You heard me.”

  Taro’s lovely black eyes widened. “You’re betrothed.” His voice was flat with disbelief.

  “Of course not. The agreement became invalid once I was recognized as a Shield.”

  “So why are they coming here?”

  “Apparently they’re claiming the contract was never voided. Mother says they’re desperate.”

  Taro’s posture stiffened. “Wonderful. That’s just wonderful.” He started pacing.

  “Listen, it’s nothing. They’ll come here, they’ll make their demands, I’ll say no, they’ll go home. That’s it.” I almost felt sorry for them, coming all this way for nothing. Almost. They should have written. Or, better yet, just accepted that the contract was void.

  Perhaps they had hoped I wouldn’t know they had no legal claim, hoped to arrange a quick wedding before I found out differently. If Marcus was so meek, they might assume I would be, too.

  I was almost looking forward to proving them wrong.

  “Have you met this Marcus Pride?” Taro asked.

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “So what happens if he’s moderately handsome and intelligent with a pleasing manner?”

  I glared at him. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Please, the whole situation is absurd.”

  “I don’t disagree. It’s going to be humiliating. It won’t result in anyone getting married.”

  Taro knocked his knuckles against the wall before turning and pacing back. “It doesn’t make sense. You don’t own anything.”

  “My family does.” That was all the Prides would care about.

  “Becoming a Triple S member severs family ties.”

  “I already said that.”

  He pushed his hands through his hair and then rubbed his face. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “It’s always something.”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There is always someone.”

  “There is always someone what?”

  “Someone . . . interfering. With us.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes. You do.”

  I really didn’t, but I had no interest in arguing. “They’ll get here, I’ll tell them there’s no chance, they’ll turn around and go back home. Sorted.”

  “You really think it’s going to be that simple? They’ll come all the way from . . . wherever they’re coming from, and they’ll just turn around and leave on your say so?”

  “They can stay as long as they want. I won’t be marrying anyone.”

  He just scowled and kept pacing.

  “My family is against this. The only pressure I’ll be feeling is from a couple of strangers. Do you really think I’ll submit to it? You know me better than that.”

  “If this Marcus is—”

  “Who cares what Marcus is? It doesn’t matter. And I can tell you this much about him: he’s prepared to go through with this asinine marriage plan. How could I possibly respect someone like that?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with someone who cares about his family and is prepared to sacrifice for them.”

  My mouth dropped open, I was that shocked. “Have you been drinking?”

  “You haven’t even met him yet, and you’re discounting him. You do that, you know. With people.”

  “You sound like you want me to give this serious consideration.”

  “You are naive. You underestimate people all the time. You have no idea what’s going to happen.”

  None of that mattered. “I know that I will not be marrying anyone.”

  He paced a bit more. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he said finally.

  “Good. Neither do I.”

  He stomped out through the door, closing it too loudly behind him. I sighed. What a completely wonderful day.

  Chapter Two

  I was surprised when Holder Ibena Bridge tried to punch her husband in the face. Hiroki, one of Fiona’s footmen, grabbed her from behind and swung her away. Another footman, Sam, prevented Trader Andes Bridge, the husband, from charging after them. On the one hand, I shouldn’t have been shocked, as they had entered the court room screaming at each other with no noticeable concern for the spectators in the room. On the other hand, well, she had tried to hit him. In front of everyone. If for no other reason, she should be concerned at how it would make her look in front of Fiona, the decision maker. In my experience, violent people weren’t granted a lot of credibility.

  It was Decision Day, held every week. It was the day when Fiona, as titleholder, heard the complaints and the disputes of her tenants and local aristocrats and ruled on them. Observing the process was a wonderful method of learning who all the residents were and what was going on in the area. I attended frequently, though there was no function for a Shield to perform.

  And yes, it was a form of entertainment for me, for which I was a little ashamed. But that day, I was really in need of entertainment. I’d slept badly, Taro was in a mood, and I could barely make myself talk to anyone I was related to. Decision Day was an escape.

  Except, the two current parties appeared to be particularly crazy. That was a little too entertaining for me. Issues that private should never be put on display.

  “Let go of me!” the woman shrieked, kicking Hiroki in the shin. He impressed me by doing nothing but wincing slightly. “I’ll smack the arrogance out of him!”

  At the same time, the man was shouting something like, “You suck the value out of everything! The land! The sheep! Me! The sun should have disappeared by now!”

  The two footmen pushed them farther apart.

  “Both of you shut up before I toss you out!” Fiona shouted. I watched her breathe deeply, clench her teeth for only a moment, and square her shoulders. “Holder Bridge, if you would calmly explain—”

  “He’s trying to take my land, the lazy bastard!” she cried.

  “That land wouldn’t be worth half what it is without my efforts, you grasping bitch!”

  I could hear snickering from the aristocratic spectators. They thought this was hilarious.

  How could the Bridges not care how they appeared to us? They looked ridiculous. I would be humiliated to be seen behaving in such a manner.

  Then the holder got Hiroki right in the nose. A good blow if the way Hiroki jerked back was any indication. And the blood started flowing.

  “Floor them,” Fiona ordered. For a moment, I didn’t understand what that meant. The next thing I knew, each footman had a Bridge on his stomach on the floor. The move seemed to knock the parties breathless. It was an appalling example of handling, but I supposed strong measures were needed for the violent. “You are unable to act as adults,” said Fiona, “so I’ll treat you as children.” She paused, and the two parties didn’t seem ready to complain. “Now, Trader Bridge, what is your plaint?”

  The trader
was trying to catch his breath. He looked extremely uncomfortable. “We’ve been married twenty-six years,” he said, his voice unpleasantly scratchy. It was hard to listen to. “Now that she’s tossing me out, she is trying to claim I have no right to the value of the land.”

  “I see.” Fiona ignored the sounds of wordless outrage from Holder Bridge.

  “That land would be worthless without me. I am the one who established the trading partners for all the wool we produce. I was the one that brought back the animal specimens to improve the whole flock. I have made the Bridge name synonymous with quality. Your Wind Watcher prefers our wool and weaves in exchange for favors for you. I have brought honor to our family and our titleholder. And now, after I have given her the strongest years of my life, she wants me to leave with nothing.”

  “I own that land!” the holder exclaimed. “I own that flock. Both of them were handed down to me by my mother. That fool has enjoyed the wealth of them during our marriage, and now that he has decided to slip with another woman, he wants to take with him the value of my land? It’s disgusting and wrong.”

  “What do you say of his claim to improving your land and flock?”

  “He did nothing more than what a trader should. It was why I married him.”

  Well, aye, that was why people married. To share economic connections and political power. Usually. My mother was a holder, and my father was a trader, and I was childish enough to hope that their decision to marry had nothing to do with property.

  “Did either of you bring your marriage settlement papers with you?”

  “There are no settlement papers,” said the holder.

  That created a flood of whispers among the spectators. A few days ago, I would have been shocked. How could anyone with property marry without drafting proper settlement papers? It was all fine and romantic to talk about marrying for love, but love didn’t last forever. Not the passionate kind. Everyone knew this.

  But I could have done with a little less paperwork regarding my own marital state.

  “Really?” said Fiona. “You had viable land and healthy livestock, and you did nothing to protect them before marrying? That leads me to believe that you are not as forward thinking as one might like.”

  “I was to predict the worthless swine would chase other skirts?” the holder demanded with an appalling lack of respect. She should have been more moderate in her tone and vocabulary, both because Fiona was her titleholder—a good one worthy of esteem—and because Fiona would be making a decision that would have an enormous impact on this woman’s life. It was never wise to aggravate the adjudicator.

  “You were to predict your own reactions to any failings on the part of your husband. Marriage is a serious business. You don’t disrupt it for reasons such as infidelity.”

  I thought that was a little harsh, despite it being a common opinion. If someone cheated on me, I doubted I would be particularly rational about it.

  “My steward shall determine the value of the land and the flock as it was twenty-six years ago, and its value now,” Fiona announced. “The value of the assets at the time of marriage shall be the holder’s. The remainder of the value shall be divided equally between the two.”

  Neither party liked that, their objections loud and their slanderous descriptions of Fiona’s parentage creative.

  Fiona ignored it all. “Holder, you may give the trader his share in funds or in land and sheep. I expect everything to be settled within fourteen days, either by reconciliation or the settlement. Please escort them out.”

  The two parties were dragged squirming and protesting out of the room. Really, they had no sense of decorum at all. I could hear them even after the heavy door closed behind them.

  In my brief time at Flown Raven, I had never witnessed such appalling behavior on Decision Day. The lack of dignity was not, however, completely unprecedented. People had been letting themselves slip further and further from the codes of simple good manners. Did that mean they were going to get worse?

  The two footmen returned to the court room. “There are no others, Your Grace,” Hiroki announced.

  Fiona nodded. “Then I will call this session—”

  “A moment, Your Grace,” a man I vaguely knew called out, and everyone turned in their seats to look at him. The tall man with shoulder length white hair rose from his seat near Fiona’s chair. His proximity to Fiona indicated he was among the highest in rank among the spectators.

  “I recognize the Earl of Kent,” said Fiona. “Do you have a plaint to deliver?”

  “Not quite.” He descended down to the floor and stood before Fiona. He was dressed in black from head to toe. It stood out against the lighter colors everyone else wore. “It is more an invitation, one that is in your best interests, and in the best interests of your tenants, to accept.”

  Hm. Someone who thought he spoke in the best interests of others. That was never good.

  Apparently, Fiona didn’t think so, either. She leaned back in her chair, palms resting on its arms, long legs crossed. Her eyes narrowed. “How intriguing.” Her tone was formal and uninviting.

  He smiled. The expression was, on the surface, charming. It made me feel greasy. “All of us here are aware that your coming into the Westsea title was irregular. Source Karish was the natural heir.”

  Oh, gods, what the hell? Did we have to go through this again? Had he been talking to Taro’s mother?

  “I can assure you that there was nothing irregular about my assumption of the title,” Fiona told him coolly. “It was in all ways legal and legitimate.”

  “Yet you do not deny that Source Karish would have been a more natural choice.”

  Really, when were people going to let that go? Fiona had the title. It was done.

  “Had he not been a Source, certainly, though, as you are aware, there is no law stating a title must be passed within a family.”

  “But you have experienced so many difficulties since taking the title,” Kent said in the smooth voice of a practiced speaker. “The decrease in your productivity. The loss of your most necessary wind rock. The desertion by so many of your people. Even the death of your poor husband.” A melodramatic pause seemed to cause those last words to echo in the large room. “It’s almost as though someone was trying to tell you something.”

  And right there, I felt he had gone a step too far. “Someone” meaning who? It would have been better just to announce the difficulties without implying someone more powerful was arranging them on purpose. Because who could possibly do that?

  “And what is it you are trying to tell me?” Fiona asked, apparently unmoved by Kent’s list.

  “I am willing to take the responsibility of Westsea off your hands.”

  The room exploded into the noise of dozens of people trying to talk over each other. There was a mixture of shock, outrage and amusement.

  Fiona was flushed with anger.

  Don’t shout, I thought. It will only make you look as though you’ve lost control.

  She didn’t, which relieved me. “How kind of you,” she said dryly, her voice more temperate than her expression.

  “I have great wealth and I will sell my assets to buy Westsea from you. You will be able to return to Centerfield, where you have been productive. You will be wealthier and more at peace.”

  How very condescending.

  I couldn’t imagine how much an estate like Westsea would cost. How could anyone afford to buy it? It just didn’t seem possible, to me.

  “It is kind of you to worry so about my peace of mind,” said Fiona. “But I’ll stay as I am.”

  “If you won’t do it for yourself, do if for your people. They need someone they can look to for guidance.”

  “I lead my people well.”

  “Are you blind?” And he slid from mildly condescending to outright offensive. “Did you not see what the rest of us did this morning? People coming before you, in disarray and with disrespect. Two of them almost needed to be bound, they so little und
erstood their place.”

  “And is that what you would have done?” Fiona asked coldly. “Bound them in ropes and chains?”

  “With respect, my people know how to behave before me. They are always quiet and orderly.”

  I really didn’t know anything about Kent beyond the fact that his land bordered Fiona’s, but I had seen enough to decide I didn’t like him. I hated arrogance, in every person. It was one of Taro’s less attractive traits, though he didn’t descend into it very often.

  “I congratulate you on your complete control of your tenants,” said Fiona. “But that is not an argument likely to convince me to release my responsibilities.”

  “Certainly. Don’t think of your tenants.”

  I was pretty sure Fiona wasn’t implying the interests of her tenants were irrelevant.

  “Think only of yourself, if you wish. You would be much more comfortable at Centerfield.”

  It never ceased to amaze me how many people thought insulting someone was the way to persuade them to do something. I supposed Kent was trying to humiliate Fiona before the others. Sometimes people agreed to the atrocious when stuck in embarrassing public situations. I didn’t believe Fiona was such a person.

  “Again, I thank you for your consideration, but it’s not necessary.”

  “You refuse my offer.”

  Of course she did. Had he really thought she would accept? Who would?

  “I do.” Her flush had faded.

  He sighed, and he didn’t appear at all sincere. “That is unfortunate. The other way is far less pleasant.”

  “And what way would that be?”

  “I’m sure you are aware of the monarch’s right to give one titleholder’s estate to another, should the former be seen to be mismanaging the estate.”

  That surprised Fiona. “That law hasn’t been invoked for generations.”

  That wasn’t quite true. It had happened at least twice in my lifetime.

  “It’s still in the books.”

  There were a lot of obsolete laws in the scrolls and books, and a lot of traditions that should be left behind. Every law I’d been forced to give serious thought to had seemed unnecessarily cumbersome or outright ridiculous.