by R. J. Price
“I’m going to put out those pretty eyes of yours—”
“Ella!”
The bellow made everyone stop.
There was no questioning the anger, the hatred, and … the disappointment?
Av turned his head and watched as his father marched up to the suddenly still group. Grey eyes flitted over Av, then dismissed him and focused on the woman. Hands at his sides, not crossed in front of him like normal, Ervam was angry and willing to fight.
The woman dropped Av, who was unbalanced, to the ground. Av stayed where he was as the guards began filtering apart from the ranks, helping their wounded companions along with them. He was afraid to move, but risked a look at the other ranks. The barons were in the fray, along with several young men who shared features with the barons.
They and their sons had come to court for Aren’s mating ceremony.
Which meant the woman was Van’s mate. Av looked at Ella, who stubbornly stood over him, leaning ever so slightly towards him. She obviously wanted to beat him more and was weighing the risk of Ervam’s anger against how much damage she could get in before the trainer took her down.
“You do not put out his eyes,” Ervam said.
“He bit my Van!” Ella shouted back.
“Eye for an eye doesn’t mean you put out his eyes. You bite him back!” the trainer shouted.
Ella snatched Av off the ground—the woman obviously did not see winter as a time for holiday and rest—and bit his arm a great deal harder than he had bit Van. Av batted at her face, only to be tossed at his father’s feet. He looked up the feet and met his father’s eyes.
It was obvious he was pissed at him.
Av hadn’t seen that look since he had accidentally set a barn on fire. The barn hadn’t suffered much damage, but he had still been in trouble as if he had burned the whole thing down on purpose.
The captain approached from the side, head down as he cleared his throat quietly.
“You started this along with Av,” Ervam said to the air in front of him, ignoring the captain.
“Yes, sir, I did,” the captain said. “No one informed me the barons were coming, otherwise I might have sought other methods.”
“You know what this means?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ervam drew in a loud breath, then growled it out. After another breath, he finally said, “You have all just broken palace law and will be tried by the one who sits the throne. Spirits have mercy on you, because we have no idea whether or not she will.”
Chapter Six
Aren looked over those in the sitting room.
She had spoken to Ervam about what had happened, and had done so in private. He had sternly lectured her on being harsh. She could not appear weak, given who would be tried.
The barons, Er, Gamen, and Van. In order for them to arrive as one, they must have met somewhere else, which meant they were planning something and her reaction to this, whether it was too harsh or too lenient, would sway whatever they planned to do.
With them had come their mates, of which only Ella, Van’s mate, had been involved in the fight directly. Ervam had pointed out, however, that the other mates were more than capable of calling off their men. Aren had yet to be introduced to the other two, but knew the queens were sitting in the back, mildly annoyed with their mates. To her that said that on palace lands the women believed only their men had power. The women were referred to as ‘lady’ not as ‘baroness.’
Only the barons were permitted to use the title.
The captain of the guard and Av had been the start of the fight. Aren had spoken with the captain in private. From what he said, Av had been looking for a fight and chosen to fight over his sexuality. The captain wasn’t certain if it was the fact that the chosen partner was the same gender as himself, or if it was simply someone being capable of loving as he would, that had set Av off.
It might have also been the fact that Aren had gone straight to the captain for training, instead of Av.
However, she could not discredit a very real concern, that Av’s attack may have been focused on someone who was different from himself. While it was completely normal for a riled warrior to pick a fight with a member of the guard in order to let off steam, doing so while pointing out the problems of a sexual relationship could not be ignored.
Av was among the number in the sitting room, awaiting her verdict to be displayed to all who had been involved. Except for the captain of the guard, who had been given leave to return to his post after seeing a healer.
With Telm still in the healer hall, Aren had no one but herself to come up with a verdict. She had no idea if she was about to be fair or too strict. She wished it didn’t matter, or that she cared about what happened.
Warriors started fights; it was what they did. It was one of the reasons why the guard was there. It was one of the reasons why the barons had hopped into the fray with their sons, why no one was dead even though the barons got involved. If it had been a real fight, it would have been a bloodbath. The barons had still been armed upon their arrival.
The barons were not permitted to join such a fight while armed. The palace guard, though the captain said they hadn’t known, should not have been dealing with a riled warrior in public when important guests were expected. It should have been done in private and Ervam, as master of palace grounds, should have been sent a runner immediately following Av’s arrival at the training grounds.
She realized it had been some time since she had sat in the chair.
Everyone else was becoming agitated with the waiting.
Trying to come up with words, she simply watched those who had been brought before her, watching her. The warriors were starting to fidget; they had been involved in a tussle and wanted to use their pent-up energy.
“Three of my guard are in the healer hall, removed from active duty because of your actions,” she said finally. It was a fact none of them likely knew, from the way they all suddenly found their laps very interesting.
That only backed her belief that the barons had thought it a good-natured tussle. Ervam had stressed that warriors needed to maintain control over themselves, especially on palace lands where the commoners were a different sort and the warriors were few and far between. As there was no way to prove who had hurt the guards, all had to be tried as one.
Ervam had suggested a fine of some extravagant amount, which the barons could easily pay and that Av would be humbled by.
She didn’t believe coin would make the point she direly needed them to understand.
“You started this over a man loving a man?” she asked Av.
“What?” Av asked, his head snapping up. “No! I have no qualms with those who like themselves.”
“The guards witnessed you picking a fight with a man for shifting another man to another time slot so that the first man might… what did you say, exactly?” Aren asked. It gave her a thrill to see Av go bright red. “For someone who once told me that you would do that to me whenever and however you please, you certainly are picky about the relationships of others.”
“To be fair, you’re taking that out of context,” Av protested.
“You will apologise to the captain for making comments that seemed to judge his preferences. You will aid him in finding the other man in question a suitable position on palace grounds. And if I ever catch word of you making such degrading comments to another person again, I will strip you of all you own. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Lady Aren,” Av said, lowering his head.
He at least knew when to submit.
“As to the guards who were wounded, I hold you responsible, Lord Av.” She paused when Av flinched at the title. “You will pay for their income until such a time as they are better and able to return to the guard.”
“The palace is supposed to pay for those wounded on duty,” Av countered.
“And so I will pay, but so will you.”
He opened his mouth to protest again, but closed it instead of speaking his
mind. Aren held her ground and made eye contact with Av until he looked away. Then, and only then, did she turn to Lord Er, who looked like he was about to start snickering at any moment.
“You are dismissed.”
She didn't need to say who was dismissed for everyone in the room to know. There was something in the room, underneath it all. As if all present shared their understanding with one another.
Or perhaps that was fear tinting the atmosphere of the room.
Av got up, making it to the door before he hesitated. He likely wanted to ask about the others, if they were going to get off without any sort of discipline. Whatever the inner debate, self-preservation won out and he left the sitting room without comment.
She looked over those gathered, wondering just what she could do to them. A fine would do nothing more than slap them on the wrists. They were barons and thus wealthy. They were also ranked, which meant that hitting them in the purse might even be considered an insult to their honour.
“You jumped into a fight that was not yours to join,” she said. “On palace lands, we settle things differently. You have insulted both the guards' pride and their sense of self. We do not tussle on palace lands. There are not enough of us.”
“Ha, someone on palace lands finally willing to admit your ranks are weak!” Er said with a chuckle.
Which died in his throat when Aren met his eyes.
This 'meeting eyes' thing was effective, but drained Aren in a way she could not describe. She just wanted to run and hide.
“Your actions hurt three of my guard, which has burdened my healer hall unnecessarily,” she said to Er before turning her focus to the other men in the room to be certain they were listening. “You will arrive at dawn tomorrow morning to help the healers in any and every way they see fit. If you think to have yourself removed from duty by negligence or clumsiness, let me remind you that the palace hires those who are healer in more than just name.”
The room went a deathly sort of still. Did they know first-hand what a healer could do to a body? Or was it simply an instinctual reaction to being threatened by a rank?
Aren had read the stories in Danya’s little book, so she knew what the ranks were capable of. Perhaps not the full extent of what each rank could do, but she had a pretty good idea.
“If you complain a single time, your sentence will be doubled. Not one of your sentences, all of your sentences. Three days you are to serve the healers from dawn until they dismiss you. If I hold court, you are to attend it, but then you are to immediately return to the healer hall. To do otherwise will double your sentence.”
The men turned to one another, to see the reactions of their companions. Aren looked past them, to the two in the corner, who both looked at her expectantly. One of them twirled her finger in the air as if asking Aren to continue.
“And your mates will join you,” was all that came out of her mouth, and yet all she could have come up with at the same time.
The quiet respect turned to verbal protestations. Aren held up a hand for silence, but noted that the two women in the corner, the two mates who were queens, did not attempt to correct or whine about the sentence.
“What you do on palace land not only reflects on you and on the behaviour of your peoples, but also on your women.” Struggling with herself, Aren felt the desire to run overwhelming her. She was not used to people so focused on her, in such a small area. It was too much, and if she didn’t leave now she would do something stupid or wrong.
She stood, then stopped, stock still. It dawned on her very slowly that the barons expected her to give them some parting words.
“You should know better.”
Aren left the sitting room and bolted past a startled Ervam, who had been positioned there in case one of the barons had caused more trouble. She fled for her rooms and slammed the door behind her, feeling all the better for the seclusion.
For being in control of herself once more.
But where had she left Wena? Aren cursed herself. The handmaid was probably right behind her the entire time. She turned and opened the door, to find Wena standing there, eyes wide, face pale.
“I’m sorry, I felt very—”
“No need to explain—public speaking can do that to the best of us,” Wena offered, slipping into the rooms.
“It’s just...it was the barons, and I’m worried I was doing something stupid,” she said, closing the door behind Wena. “What if I went too far and a war starts? What if I just started a war?”
“Now that is stupid,” the handmaid said with a shake of her head. “The barons did not keep control of their lands by chasing after every woman who shook a finger at them and told them to behave.”
“Their women are going to be furious, and I’ve never made a queen angry before. At least not one sane enough to stand on her own two feet. I don’t know how to handle an angry queen. Do you know how to handle an angry queen?”
“Calm down,” Wena said as a knock came at the door. “The entire staff is trained to handle angry queens. Let me get that.”
Aren moved to the hearth as Wena stepped outside to deal with the visitor. After a few moments, Wena returned with a palace servant who curtseyed to Aren and kept her eyes lowered.
“I have been assigned as handmaid to Lady Olea, Lord Er’s mate,” the servant said. “She bid me beg you for a formal audience for both herself and Lady Iln, Lord Gamen’s mate.”
Aren turned to Wena for help. The handmaid looked perplexed, causing the servant to look up and then at each of them.
“You’ve received no training in this?” the servant asked, sounding startled.
“No,” Wena said.
“Damn it all,” the servant muttered, before recalling Aren was there. A red crept over the woman’s face. “My apologies, Lady Aren. Should the mates of the barons ever visit, they are free to come and go to court as they please. They may act as other ladies might act.
“A formal visit is when two ladies, or more depending on the invitation, sit down for tea. It usually happens that these ladies discuss engagements. Very specifically in this case, I believe, that of your younger sister. Anue happens to be the only rank at court who is, as of yet, un-mated.”
“My sister’s hand is not to be sold off.”
“That’s not the sort of engagements I mean,” the servant said quickly. “The men make those arrangements, the women move the true arrangements, those who don’t yet know each other exist, but would appreciate one another. They don’t want to bid your sister off, they want to know about her so that they might find a suitable mate.
“Or… in the case of Lady Olea’s last formal visit with the one who sat the throne, they want to get blisteringly drunk with someone who will understand whatever it is that queens babble about when they get blisteringly drunk.”
Aren considered the offer. “And the timing of a formal visit?”
“Normally one must wait between a day to three days, to forever. Depending on schedule and reputation, friendship and coin. However, it is my understanding the ladies are performing some civil services beginning tomorrow morning at dawn and proceeding until their mates learn to obey healers. Which I gather from their talk will be a while.”
“They’re quick,” Wena muttered. “We only just arrived.”
“They wished to send me immediately upon my being assigned to them, but they were then called to attend to Lady Aren. Upon their return they glazed over the rest.”
“One hour—that’s enough time to ready me, isn’t it?” Aren asked Wena.
“You’re already clean and done up, but we should change that dress to something a little less hostile.”
“Something I can breathe more easily in,” Aren said, patting her stomach before she turned to the servant. “Tell your lady an hour. Then she and her friend may come visit me formally.”
Chapter Seven
Av walked into the healer hall and moved to the desk. Danya sat at the desk instead of one of the healers. He frowned at
her and she smiled, but continued to look forward.
“Good day, Av,” she said.
“What are you doing sitting at the healer’s desk?” Av asked.
“It was decided that I should be given something to do, to stretch my senses and get me out of the room. It was decided this without my consent. I was dumped here and told that if I move, unless it is to piss or fetch a healer, I will be beaten to within an inch of my life.”
“That’s their way of saying they’re worried about you,” he responded, wondering if Danya understood the interplay between healers and those who needed their help.
“Does that mean they won’t beat me?” she asked.
“No, oh no, it means they will if you disobey,” he said quickly. “The healers have been looking for anyone to disobey so that they can renew the terror that is a healer’s reputation, but everyone at court knows what they’re doing so everyone’s on their best behaviour.”
“I see,” Danya muttered, then chuckled, her eyes still focused forward. “That’s really the problem, isn’t it? I don’t actually see.”
“Wait, what?” Av stepped in front of Danya, directly in front of her, but the woman still looked at some far-off point. “But your eyes aren’t cloudy or anything.”
“There has been some debate.” She lifted her head, obviously aware that he had moved from the sound of his voice.
“What does this debate say?” he asked.
“That when a child is raised in the dark, being brought into the light can blind them.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Warriors are not expected to understand such things, only accept them as true. I am blind because you removed me from the village. I don’t blame you, as the debate seems to be leaning towards the fact that I was always blind, but life in the village existed outside normal rules of life and so I could see.”
“That, I understand,” he said. “Has Aren come to see you yet?”
“No, I believe Aren has forgotten about me.”
“But you two—”
“Again, it is not expected that one with your upbringing understands such things, only that you are open to their possibilities.”