Highest Lord

by R. J. Price

  “Shush,” Jer said to Laeder.

  Av frowned at the two of them. Then it dawned on him that Aren’s mating ceremony was to happen three days after either the messenger returned or Merkat arrived at the palace.

  “I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,” he said with a sigh.

  “Well, that was a disappointment if ever there was one,” Jer said.

  “Normally that’s amusing?” Laeder asked.

  “He once convinced me I was late for a formal meeting when I wasn’t,” Av said. “He likes to watch me struggle. Are you wearing that? Why is my outfit more formal?”

  “Seriously?” Laeder demanded.

  “Av, you’re participating in the ceremony.”

  “So are you,” he snarled back.

  “How long is this mating for?” Laeder asked.

  “No one’s said,” Jer murmured. “Frankly I don’t think anyone has the courage to ask. I suppose we’ll find out when the officiate announces it. I think it should be for a year, then ten, then life. As is good and proper. You never know when she might up and find herself pregnant with your child, deny it’s yours, and then manipulate you for the rest of her days.”

  “Do you question that she is mine?” Av demanded.

  Laeder stepped away from him. Jer held his ground, even dared to meet his eyes.

  “Just to be clear, you realize you are mating Aren?”

  “Danya pointed that out days and days ago,” he said. “I don’t understand why you think this is so amusing.”

  “I thought you didn’t understand.”

  “Danya pointed it all out days ago,” he repeated. “She also pointed out that Aren’s actions weren’t about keeping distance between me and her, but that I should have crossed the line she drew in the sand. However, no one else was kind enough to point this out. By the time I did, Mar was at court and I had to sit in on tea, and listen to gossip, rather than doing something more interesting.”

  Jer muttered a curse to himself. “I was hoping for something entertaining tonight.”

  “There’s a chance Url will resurface,” Laeder said. “Rumour is he drank more than you. Not even his father knows where he is. That would be amusing in a miserable sort of way.”

  “You’re right, that would be amusing,” Jer said quietly.

  “More important question,” Av said, raising the vest again. “Why am I wearing red?”

  “Because you were raised on palace lands,” his brother said.

  “But shouldn’t I have had a say in what I wore for my mating ceremony?”

  “It was my understanding that the event was planned using as little coin as possible,” Laeder said. “In fact, no coin whatsoever went into the event and the choices were going dressed in red or going in the nude. While most the court is interested to see you in the nude, it was surmised that Lady Aren would not appreciate a naked man at her mating ceremony. So you’ll wear the red, or I’m to fetch Telm who will make you wear red in one fashion or another.”

  “I’ll wear the vest, then,” Av muttered with a sigh.

  There was a knock on the door, then it opened and in came the barons and several warriors from court. Each made comment about how they were surprised he was upright. He received several pats on the back. Gamen punched him none too gently on the shoulder and muttered something about youth springing back so quickly.

  There were not that many years separating Av and Gamen.

  The door opened again, without a knock, and Url slunk into the room. While he tried to sneak in, everyone stiffened and turned to the door as Url approached them. The younger warrior’s face reddened as all eyes turned to him.

  “Where have you been?” Er asked.

  “Busy,” Url said. “Telm found me and told me what day it was, but not before she dumped a bucket of cold water on my head. I’m not too late for the ceremony, I trust, because the water was not followed by the bucket itself.”

  “No, though I almost didn’t get up,” Av muttered, shrugging into the vest. “That would have been a waste, now wouldn’t it?”

  “Why were you in bed?”

  “Same reason you were in bed,” he said boldly.

  To which his cousin went red all over and then started turning an almost purple colour of rage.

  “Oh,” said someone as everyone stepped away from Url.

  “He was hung over,” Jer said loudly. “Obviously you were tangled up in something else.”

  “More like someone else,” Av muttered. “Who’s the woman?”

  “The healer you brought to court,” Er said, turning his attention to Av. “At least, that’s who he left with.”

  “Nae’s not here for a tumble,” he said. “She’s here because she was getting riled in her village and didn’t feel like she was being understood. She’s here to make friends and connections. Preferably to find a mate to take home with her, but not for a tumble.”

  “And apparently teach the healer hall tricks they’ve long forgotten,” Jer muttered. “Like how to cure a hangover.”

  “They know how to cure a hangover, and yet they let me suffer?” he asked.

  “It was the easiest way to keep you out of the way,” Laeder said.

  “They thought it best not to encourage you to drink that much again,” Jer said. “They helped the barons and Lerd and myself with our hangovers because we were required to run court and be representable. We were, however, told that if we come to them again for a hangover cure it will involve several pots, screaming children, and cleaning up after ourselves.”

  “What if I had still been hung over today?” he asked.

  “Why do you think the healer came to check on you this morning?” Jer asked in response.

  “All she did was check my temperature with the back of her…” Av trailed off. “Ah, yes, Nae doesn’t hem and haw like healers do to make it seem like she’s doing more work, when she can just be done with you.”

  “Which is another reason you invited her to court,” Jer said sternly. “She’s not had a chance to encounter Aren yet, which begs a question. Url, did you leave the woman in a state of standing?”

  All eyes swung back to Url, who tried to appear as if he hadn’t just been asked a question.

  “Pardon?”

  “Is Nae attending the festivities after the ceremony?” Av asked.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. Has someone extended an invitation to the healer hall?” was the calm, if mildly annoyed response.

  It was Er who took in a loud, deep breath and turned to his son. “Url, you march right out of this room, you find that woman, and you invite her to the ceremony and the event afterwards. You will take her to the tailor and find her a suitable dress to wear and you will escort her to both.”

  “Why would the tailor have a dress?” Url asked.

  “He always has spare dresses for servants or healers who are invited at the last moment, since they usually don’t have a court dress of their own,” Jer said.

  “What if she says no?” was the next, desperate question.

  “Your father said invite her, not make excuses to avoid it,” Av said sternly. “You made the mess and confounded my well-laid plans, so you’re going to fix it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Aren took in a deep breath as Telm walked into her rooms. The head of house paused, looking over the other queens gathered in the room, before she shook her head and approached Aren.

  “I’ve extended the invitation to all healers, guards, and servants. I requested that one of the healers bring Danya to the ceremony and after. Have you seen her since you returned to the palace?”

  “Have you seen her?” Aren countered.

  They both stared at the other, waiting for the defences and excuses. Aren had no excuses. Yes, she had been busy, but every time she set aside to go see Danya she had ended up getting distracted by a book or a bit of stitching. While it had not been that long since her return to the palace, events had made it seem a great deal longer.


  “Are you really going to wear that?” Telm asked, motioning to Aren’s wrist.

  She held out her left hand for the head of house to inspect. Silently, Aren watched as Telm fumbled with the bracelet, looking for the clasp.

  “It’s the manacle he caught me by,” she said. “Transformed by my magic, I think, as I was trying quite hard not to give him the magic, but couldn’t rightly keep it to myself. I’m not sure how to get it off.”

  “This looks like…” Telm tugged Aren over to a light orb, peering at the bracelet as Aren stood awkwardly. “How did you do this? This is impossible.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, causing Telm to release her wrist. Aren frowned at the woman and rubbed absently at her wrist. “I simply did it. Now what does it look like?”

  “Like the stuff I showed you and Mar that night.”

  Aren felt a distinctly cold trickle up her spine. The suggestion that what she wore on her wrist had some semblance to the lump in the original throne room was unsettling.

  “No time for wondering and theories,” Olea said quickly. “We have to get her ready for the mating. Surely, Telm, there’s a comment on the dress or the hair, or the paint she refuses to wear.”

  “Do you want his impression, or mine?” Telm asked.

  “Both,” Olea said.

  “Mine is that Aren never wears paint, so good luck convincing her to now. The hair is fine, but did you have to use so many pins?”

  “I wanted it to last more than an hour,” Iln said.

  “It better,” Aren grumbled. “Took almost two to put it up like this.”

  “I saw the dress as the tailor put the finishing touches on it—quite lovely. Not quite the right shade of blue, but it was created to remind the court of who and what Lady Aren is. Where she came from and of last year. The lighter blue isn’t as harsh though, and it almost makes her look cheerful.”

  “I am cheerful,” Aren snapped out at Telm. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.”

  “Then look like it’s the happiest day of your life instead of a march to the pyre,” Telm said sternly.

  “No one has seen Av in days,” she protested.

  “He’s alive and upright, as is Url,” Telm said.

  “Oh?” Olea asked. “Where was my wayward son that you could find him, but I could not?”

  “There’s not a room that is out of my reach, not any longer,” Telm said. “Though it did take me the better part of a morning to figure out how to get in there without being stripped bare by the one he had with him. She’s been sent back to her duties and he was sent to his father, who was with Av, which is how I know that he is upright.

  “On the topic of the man. He won’t be looking anywhere but at her face. For all he cares she could be naked. He may take a glance to be certain she is not, but he will hardly notice anything the matter with any of this, let alone recall tomorrow what she was wearing.

  “The court will gossip about the entire outfit and how this is not befitting of one who sits the throne, but as of tomorrow morning that will no longer matter.”

  “Why will it no longer matter?” Aren asked.

  “Because you will be mated and the man will not put up with anything beyond complete obedience. Becoming mate to the throne gives a man quite a bit of freedom, which the one who sits the throne does not have herself. Though you do have to grant him that freedom in public before he can act.”

  There was a knock on the door, then Jer entered and glanced over the group. He cleared his throat quietly, then looked to the door and back to them.

  “How much longer, do you suppose?” he asked.

  “Whenever you are ready,” Mar said.

  “Good—now, then, before he starts biting people. People meaning Url. Biting meaning actual biting, or even stabbing. Let’s go.”

  Aren took a deep breath, then accepted the arm Mar offered her. The younger queen gave her arm an affectionate pat and led her from the room. Her heart was beating so loudly that she was certain everyone could hear it as they walked through the palace hallways.

  Yet there were no loiterers in the halls and the queens behind her giggled like young women as they went, commenting on one another’s clothing and hair.

  Outside in the gardens, full spring had taken hold. The ground was dry and bright with new grass edging the pathways they took to the alcove. Nearly the entire palace must have come out, the people spilling out of the alcove and moving to the sides to make room for Aren. She could hear Ervam speaking around the corner and almost dug her heels in. Mar caught the tremble and gave her a comforting pat.

  “Calm down, he’s officiating because the steward is standing for Av. As the only one of his rank, he claimed the spot without much argument.”

  They walked into the alcove and all eyes turned to her. Again, Mar’s hand patted her before it pressed into the small of her back and propelled her forward. She tried to hiss a protest that the queen who stood for the woman was supposed to be there first, but the hand that pushed her pinched her into silence and directed her towards Ervam.

  Av stood before his father, staring openly at her.

  “Thank the spirits,” she said.

  Those gathered chuckled as Ervam paused. The man looked amused as Aren came to a stop before him and turned to Av.

  “What if I hadn’t shown up?” he asked

  “I’d have to kill you and mate the nearest man available, I suppose,” she said before she glanced at Ervam.

  The trainer arched an eyebrow and then raised his voice to begin the ceremony. Aren stared at Av and he smiled back at her, taking her hands in his own.

  This had never been her plan.

  Her chest constricted as it had the day when Av had been disciplined. Fear—that was what they had called it. She was afraid of going through with the ceremony, but it was too late to pull out now.

  She realized everyone was staring at her. Aren looked over the crowd, then to Av, then to Ervam. The trainer made a small hand motion, which meant absolutely nothing to her. She looked to Av instead, who smiled at her.

  “Vows,” he murmured.

  “Oh...” She hadn't prepared any vows, hadn't thought that far ahead. She should have. She recalled how Mar had looked when no one had told her to prepare vows. At a loss for words, she reached up and set a hand against the side of Av's neck. “You are mine.”

  The man's smile grew. He raised his hands to her shoulders.

  “You are mine, and I am yours,” he said.

  He leaned forward and captured her lips as Ervam attempted to conclude the ceremony. She almost melted into that kiss, but she was ever aware of the fact that everyone was watching them. The heat of his mouth, the slip of tongue—it all seemed distant to the bated breath of those watching them. Av pulled away after a moment, giving her forehead a peck, before he turned her towards the crowd.

  A hand at the small of her back propelled her forward. Those present smiled and cheered. On the other side of the crowd, the barons suddenly materialized and slid in behind them. Av glanced back but kept pushing Aren forward.

  “What's going on?” she asked.

  “I think they've stopped the court from following us,” he murmured, directing her around the bend. “Who knows how long we have. This way.”

  They made it to the palace with no one attempting to stop them. Av pulled her into the first room he found and locked the door behind him.

  “Well, this is familiar,” she said, turning to him slowly.

  “Let me just reiterate, you can say no at any time, for any reason,” he said.

  She considered for a moment. “They all know what we're up to.”

  “My uncle is currently telling them a tale of a private Northern tradition,” he responded, pushing off the door to move towards her slowly. “Wherein those who support the man distract the party. The women challenge them, which my aunt no doubt will start amongst the ladies, and the two bicker and fight. Now, my uncle will say this is part o
f the tradition, a representation of what can happen if the couple listens to outside voices. Our time, here, is private, for us to reflect on what we desire of this mating, to exchange private vows that we will never share with another.”

  “Will any of them believe that?”

  “They will when Aunt Olea starts beating anyone who suggests otherwise, because that's also part of the tradition. And it's an actual tradition because apparently queens in the North are able to see things they aren't around. Saying their name draws their attention. So anyone who draws the woman's attention away from the man by, perchance, mentioning that the couple are now engaged in something, gets a smack.”

  “I should get Mar to teach me to do that.”

  “No one is going to be thinking about what we're doing here,” he said, coming to a stop just before her. “And if anyone makes comment of it to you, I want you to come tell me about it. It won't happen again. I am mate to the one who sits the throne, and I will be obeyed.”

  “Oh really?” she asked.

  “Yes. Now take that dress off, because I command it.”

  “No,” she said, walking away from him and towards the bed. “You'll have to take it off of me. Perhaps with your teeth?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mar listened to the bickering and the fighting, as she drifted through the crowd to Jer's side. Laying a hand on her belly, she looked to the steward and tried to see him as her father. He had been so young when she was born that it was difficult to see him as anyone's father.

  “If anyone tries something that you would need to see to as queen, Olea will step in,” Jer said sternly. “Do not stress yourself or the babe over it. Once you give birth then you can pounce, but not before.”

  “I can care for myself.”

  “Your mother had a difficult time with you, Mar. I don't want to lose you, or my grandchild because you were stubborn.”

  “Very well, Father,” she said.

  “Don't say 'Father' as if I've no place.”

  Mar stuck her tongue out and made a rude sound before she walked off. She found Telm and linked arms with the woman as ladies wept into their handkerchiefs.