by Jaye McKenna
An uncomfortable pang went through Vayne at his words. “Oh?”
“She’s… well, she doesn’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry her, but neither of us has much choice.”
“That’s been the way of it ever since the Wytch Council seized power under the guise of unifying the kingdoms,” Vayne said.
Jaire frowned. “But the Council stopped the kingdoms from fighting one another… they stopped the abuse of power… didn’t they?”
“There wasn’t nearly as much fighting as your history books make out. The Council seized power, make no mistake. And they’ve hung onto it for nearly three hundred years. But all the Wytch Council has really done is shift the abuse of power from the kings to themselves.”
“This Northern Alliance of Garrik’s could be the first serious challenge they’ve had,” Jaire said thoughtfully. “And my marriage to Bria will help strengthen those bonds. At least it won’t be as horrible as I’d been imagining. Remember I told you about the dance, and how I could feel how much she hated me? The moment she touched me, I felt all her fury.”
“Ai, I remember.” Jaire’s unhappiness had been enough to pierce his own heart.
“I found out it’s not me she’s angry with. It’s her father and Wytch King Ord. She has a lover back home, and they’re holding her hostage to make Bria do what they want. She said… she said we’ll have to make the best of things, and give them the heir they want, but… but she said she didn’t think it was fair to let me marry her thinking I could win her heart.”
“Were you expecting to?” Vayne asked, surprised that any prince of Skanda could be that naive. Council-approved matches between members of Skanda’s royal families were very rarely love matches. His own parents had tolerated one another well enough when they had to for the sake of appearances, but there had been no love lost between them. His father had taken lovers where he chose, as had his mother, though she had been the more discreet of the pair, by far.
“No.” Jaire wrinkled his nose. “I’m not… I mean, I don’t… I thought…” He stared down at the floor, color deepening even more. “I thought I might be like Kian. That I might like women as well as men, but… the thought of having to be with Bria… like that… it leaves me cold. I’m not even sure… I don’t know if I can… if I can do that. With her, I mean. Even… even knowing that she doesn’t really hate me, I still don’t know…” He trailed off, still not lifting his gaze. “I think I’m more like Garrik than Kian,” he said miserably. “Women just don’t do anything for me. Even the ones I like.”
“And men?” Vayne couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh… well… Kian. Aio’s teeth, I used to dream about Kian. But he only has eyes for Ambris, and besides, I don’t suppose he’ll ever think of me as more than his little brother.”
“What about now?”
“Now?”
“Is there anyone who… interests you?”
“Not… not really.” Jaire stared down at the floor. “I mean… no one I’d ever be able to… to actually be with.” He examined his fingernails closely.
“Has there ever been anyone?” Vayne asked softly.
“What? Oh, no. Never.” Jaire chuckled, but there was a bitter edge to the sound. “You’re joking, aren’t you? They’re all too afraid of the Dragon King. He’s quite fearsome when he’s in a temper.” He smiled, but it looked forced. “What did you do with yourself all morning? I didn’t see you at all.”
“I thought it best not to distract you,” Vayne told him. “I did a bit of exploring.”
“It must be nice to have somewhere new to explore,” Jaire said, his tone wistful. “I’ve never really been anywhere except here and the hunting lodge near Lake Silvin. We have a townhouse in Askarra, but it’s been shut up forever. Father hated attending the Council sessions, and even when he had to go, he rarely took us with him. Things might have been different if Mother had been alive, but…” Jaire gave him a rueful grin. “He was always at odds with the Council, was Father. Though I don’t think he ever did anything as blatant as what Garrik is doing with this alliance of his.”
“It needs to be done,” Vayne said. “It’s needed doing for a long time.”
“I know,” Jaire said, raising his head and looking into Vayne’s eyes. “But it frightens me, thinking about what could happen.”
Vayne stared back, but he didn’t say anything. He’d love to offer Jaire words of comfort, promises of protection. But in his current state, Vayne couldn’t protect anyone, and he liked Prince Jaire far too much to offer him empty promises.
* * *
Jaire hesitated only briefly before knocking on the door of Garrik’s study. Without waiting for Garrik to bellow at him to go away, he opened it and slipped in, steeling himself to face the dragon’s roar. Garrik had been in a foul temper all through Court and dinner, and Jaire’s request was not going to improve matters.
“I’m busy, Jaire,” Garrik muttered, without looking up from his desk.
“I’m aware,” Jaire said. “And I’m sorry to bother you, but this can’t wait.”
Garrik set down his pen and rubbed his face before giving his brother a tired smile. “Very well. What is it?”
“It’s about the betrothal negotiations.”
“Ai? You haven’t changed your mind, have you? I mean, it’s all right if you have, but—”
“Garrik, stop. I haven’t changed my mind, so don’t panic. I just came by to ask if you could slip something into the contract about allowing Lady Bria to bring her own household staff to Altan with her.”
“That’s standard, Jaire. It would be there anyway.”
“I realize that. But I want it worded in language that’s as broad as possible. Elastic, even.”
“Oh?” Garrik gave his brother a narrow stare. “Is there something specific you’re after?”
“Latitude. As much as we can get without giving away what we really want.”
“Explain.”
Jaire winced. “I’m not sure I should. I don’t want it to influence your dealings with Ord. I realize this is an important step toward your alliance, and—”
“If I’m going to ally myself more closely to Ord, then I need as much information as possible. Jaire, if you’ve found something out…”
Jaire sucked in his lower lip, debating. He’d always been able to trust Garrik, but he was well aware that his brother was about as subtle as an enraged dragon. He wouldn’t put it past him to confront Ord directly, diplomacy be damned. “Bria and I had a long talk this morning,” he started.
“What did she say?” Garrik’s eyes narrowed. “If she’s hurt you—”
“Stop jumping to conclusions. Honestly, I’m not a child, and she hasn’t hurt me. Far from it. She’s actually rather set my mind at ease about what’s to come. She doesn’t want this marriage any more than I do, you know.”
“Could have fooled me, the way she was sniffing around you all through the Faire.”
“That was an act,” Jaire said, and went on to explain what he’d learned.
When he’d finished pouring out Lady Bria’s story, Garrik’s expression had softened considerably. “Poor woman. No wonder she was acting so desperate. These arranged marriages are one practice I won’t be sorry to see the end of. So, you want the contract worded in such a way that she could bring Wyndra here.”
“Yes. That was my thought. Maybe… maybe Wyndra could have a position with the guards? She was weapon master at Erilind.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? That your wife — the mother of your child — would be… dallying with her lover right here, under your nose? They’ll talk, you know. In Court.”
Jaire shot his brother a scowl. “They already talk, and I know of what they think of me. She can hardly make it worse. Anyway, she’s promised to be discreet. And so have I.”
“Oh?” Garrik raised an eyebrow. “Who’s caught your eye, then?”
Jaire’s face heated. “N-no one. I’m just… trying to leave
my options open.”
Garrik didn’t look as if he believed him. A tiny smile danced about the corners of his mouth as he regarded his brother. “Well then. I shall have a word with Master Ristan and see what might be done. He’ll be drawing up the documents, and I shall be sure to make him aware of your requirements.”
“Thank you, Garrik. And… I’m sure Lady Bria thanks you, too. Or she will, when we bring Wyndra here with the rest of her household.”
“Don’t thank me until the documents are signed. Even if we slip something in, Ord or one of his advisors might well catch it and strike it from the agreement.”
“Master Ristan is very clever,” Jaire said, grinning. “Devious, even, if I might say so. If you make it clear to him what we want and why we want it, I’m certain he’s up to the task.”
As he closed the door quietly behind him, Jaire heard Garrik chuckling quietly to himself.
“That was rather underhanded,” Vayne said as Jaire headed back toward his own suite.
“Does it bother you?” Jaire asked, giving him a sidelong look.
Vayne laughed. “Not at all. It’s not as if I have any say in any of it. My time is long past. I just like the way you think, is all.”
Jaire found himself blushing. “I… er. Well. What’s the point in having done all that studying if I can’t use it to help someone?”
“You realize you’re using it to help your future wife make you look like a fool?”
“I don’t much care what the Court thinks,” Jaire said dismissively. “They’ve got far worse secrets than I’ve ever had. Anyway, sneaking things into the terms of the betrothal is hardly new. If Ord doesn’t catch it, then he doesn’t deserve that crown he’s so proud of.”
“Well said!” Vayne laughed again, and Jaire joined in.
“Your Highness?”
Jaire froze as Master Ilya rounded the corner and stopped, peering about. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine, Ilya.”
“Because I thought I heard—”
“Yes, I know what you thought,” Jaire said with a sigh. “Honestly, I do wish everyone would find something better to do than worry about my health. It’s not as if I’m important for anything, other than stud services.” He strode down the hall toward his suite, leaving Ilya to stare after him.
* * *
Jaire was late for breakfast. Fortunately, it was family breakfast with just Garrik and Ilya, who were so deep in conversation, neither even looked up when he slipped in.
He knew something was wrong the moment he entered the room. Garrik’s tension pounded relentlessly at his defenses, leaving Jaire not choice but to tighten up his shielding pattern. On the sideboard were platters of eggs, sausages, and potatoes, and Jaire listened to Garrik and Ilya while he piled his plate high.
“…wants to start down in the village, which gives us a day or so,” Garrik was saying, “but someone’s going to have to go out to Aeyr’s Grove and warn them.”
“Warn who about what?” Jaire asked, sliding into the chair opposite Ilya.
Garrik studied his brother closely before answering. “Wytch Master Faah wants to start his tour of the kingdom today. He plans to spend the day testing the children here at the castle and down in the village, but tomorrow or the day after, he’s setting out for Aeyr’s Grove.”
Jaire’s stomach clenched, the reason for Garrik’s tension suddenly becoming clear.
“I’ve no idea if he would recognize Ambris,” Ilya said, “but he would know Kian on sight. And since both Kian and Ambris are supposed to have perished when Blackfrost burned to the ground, any meeting would cast suspicion upon Garrik for sheltering them.” He frowned and addressed Garrik. “Faah has already made it clear he expects my presence here, and you are tied up with Ord and the betrothal negotiations.” His pale eyes settled upon Jaire. “But we could certainly send Jaire to warn them. If he’s willing, that is.”
“Me?” Jaire perked up at the prospect of seeing Kian and Ambris, even if it was only for a brief time.
“Ai,” Garrik said with a smile. “Of the handful of people I trust to carry the message, you’re the only one who can be spared at the moment. Jorin and Patra both have their hands full, with both Faah and the Irilan delegation here. Would you be amenable to making the journey to Aeyr’s Grove to let Kian and Ambris know they must go into hiding until Faah has passed through the village?”
“Amenable?” Jaire said. “I’d be delighted. I can leave immediately and be there by tonight.”
“I’ll send word to Jorin to assign you an escort,” Garrik said.
Jaire made a face. “You didn’t make me take an escort last time.”
“You weren’t about to be betrothed last time,” Garrik retorted. “And you had Ambris with you.”
“I think it would be very good for you to get away from the castle for a bit, Jaire,” Ilya added. “In fact, if Garrik is in agreement, perhaps you should go with Kian and Ambris, spend a few days in the mountains with them. I can come and fetch you when Faah has passed through the village and it’s safe for them to return.”
Jaire turned to Garrik, making his eyes go big and wide. “Could I, Garrik?”
Garrik gave his brother an indulgent grin. “Of course you can. Have I ever been able to deny you anything when you look at me like that?”
“Never,” Jaire said with a smile. Then he remembered the negotiations and frowned. “Oh, but… what about the betrothal? Aren’t I supposed to be present for the reading and the signing?”
“At the rate we’re going, it’ll be days before we get to that point,” Garrik said, rolling his eyes. “And even if we do, there’s still the Northern Alliance to discuss. Aeyr’s Grove only has a handful of youngsters of an age that would interest Faah. I should think he’d be finished in an afternoon. Anyway, even if you’re still in hiding with them, it’s only a short flight for me. It would be no trouble for me to come and fetch you if you’re needed. Now eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Eager to be on his way, Jaire polished off his breakfast quickly, and excused himself to go and pack long before Garrik and Ilya had finished.
* * *
“Shouldn’t you have a valet to do that for you?” Vayne asked. Jaire was half-buried in his wardrobe as he sought suitable clothing for a mountain hike, and Vayne was lounging, full length, upon the dressing table, which Jaire seemed to find endlessly amusing.
“Probably.” Jaire emerged from the closet and dumped a pile of clothing upon the bed. “Garrik’s valet comes in every day and lays things out for me for Court, but that’s all I allow. I’ve never liked people coming into my rooms, going through my things. They come in to clean when I’m gone, but they have orders not to touch any of my books or papers, or to bother me unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He glanced at Vayne with a small, rueful smile. “I don’t suppose that will last, though. Not once I’m married.”
“I imagine a lot of things will change once you’re married. Will you be living here or moving to Castle Irila?”
“We’ll live here,” Jaire said firmly. “I’m much higher ranked than Lady Bria. She’s Ord’s niece, and cousin to Prince Danyel, but our son will be Garrik’s heir, so he’ll be raised here.” Jaire’s cheeks flushed, and he stared down at the pack, fiddling with the straps. Vayne thought the pink stain on his cheeks rather attractive, what with that pale hair and those big, grey eyes.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re wearing my amulet,” Vayne said, thinking to change the subject.
The color on Jaire’s cheeks deepened. “Well… yes. I didn’t think anyone would miss it. It was hidden in a secret compartment all those years, after all. So even if the negotiations fall through and they take back the gifts, they won’t know it’s gone. Oh… unless you want to go back with them? But… well. I don’t imagine there’s much chance of that now.”
The thought of going back to Castle Irila, where no one could see him, was almost more than Vayne could bear. �
�No, I’d very much like to stay here with you. If you can stand my company. Although… it might make things awkward for you. You’ll have to be very careful about not letting anyone hear you speaking to thin air.”
Jaire smiled at that. “They all think I’m half mad, anyway. I don’t suppose it will make any difference at all.” He pressed a hand to the amulet. “I thought… I thought you might like to come with me. To Aeyr’s Grove, I mean. It would be somewhere different for you to see. And… and I’d feel horrible, leaving you here alone, knowing you had no one to talk to. I’d never do that to a friend.”
Vayne smiled, and if he could have hugged the prince, he would have. It had been so very long since he’d had anyone to take his feelings into consideration. “I’d love to come. I’m flattered that you would even think about how I would feel about it. And that you would consider me a friend. It’s been a very long time since I had a friend, and I never had many to begin with.”
Jaire’s teeth brushed over his lower lip. “I haven’t had very many friends, either. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… we’re a lot alike, and I’d very much like to know you better, if… if you don’t mind.” He glanced up shyly, then looked away again.
“Mind?” Vayne said incredulously. “Why would I mind? I’ve had no one to talk to for far too long.”
Before Jaire could respond, there was a knock on his bedroom door. “Just a moment!” he called, and hurried to open it.
The small, dark-haired woman Vayne remembered from the kitchen stood there, a parcel in her hands. She dropped a quick curtsy. “Sorry to bother, Your Highness, but His Majesty said it would be all right to put together a parcel for Lord Ambris, and Melli wanted to send a few bits and pieces for Kian, as well.”
Jaire accepted the parcel. “Thank you, Mistress Patra. I shall be certain to deliver it to them. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”