“Go away. Leave me alone.”
“Wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to solve your problems,” Aedan replied. “Our problems.”
“Our problems are primarily of my own making,” Michael said.
“I have no doubt Arwyn would agree with you,” said Aedan. “If you’d had the sense to abdicate in his favor, doubtless this war would have been unnecessary. No war is ever necessary, so long as one side surrenders.
So is that what you want, to surrender? If so, let me know, and I will send messengers to Arwyn with a flag of truce to negotiate the terms.
Then he can become emperor, and you’ll have no further worries. Unless, of course, he decides to kill you. After all, you have been impersonating the emperor all these years. But then you wouldn’t have to worry about the fate of all the people of the empire and all those men you led into the field who would have died for nothing.”
“Damn you.”
“No, damn you, for sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself and wallowing in guilt! What gives you the right?”
Michael stared at him. “What gives me the right?”
“That’s right, you heard me. You are the Emperor of Anuire, for Haelyn’s sake! You have neither the luxury nor the time for guilt.
Your first duty is to
your people, especially in time of war. I have known you practically from the moment of your birth, Michael, and you’ve always been a self-indulgent bastard. When this war started, you talked of fighting for your birthright. Well, fighting alone is not enough. You must live up to it, as well. You must think about the living and leave the dead to rest.”
“They died because of me,” said Michael.
“That’s right, they died because of you,” said Aedan. “Because they believed in you. But they also believed in an idea. They believed in order and in law. That is what you represented to them. That is your birthright, not this palace or your throne or your crown. Those are merely things. And people do not die for things.”
Michael sat silent for a moment. Then he picked up his bottle, stared at it briefly, and suddenly flung it against the wall with all his might, making Aedan start with surprise.
“You are absolutely right,” said Michael clearly, swaying only slightly on his feet.
Aedan stared at him and wondered, how much has he had to drink? He never drinks, but here he’s been drinking for three days straight, apparently, and he just shrugs it off. He saw the slight frown of concentration on Michael’s face, the intensity in his eyes, and he thought, of course. Iron will. Another of his bloodline attributes.
And he suddenly realized it must have been what kept him going all this time.
The strain must have been tremendous, and finally he had slipped.
After all that had happened, who could blame him?
“Thank you, old friend,” Michael said. “Thank you for reminding me who I’m supposed to be. I had
forgotten.” He sighed deeply. “And now, if you will excuse me, I must bathe and dress, then get something to eat.” He glanced toward the splintered door to his chambers, lying on the floor. “And call a carpenter.”
It was with a great deal of relief that Aedan returned to his chambers that night. Relief not only that the emperor was himself again, but that his own duties for the day were done. After the long campaign, many important matters pertaining to the business of the empire had accumulated and required his attention. He had to meet with his staff and discuss them all, receive petitions for the emperor, review reports of the army quartermaster and city council, endless stultifying detail.
He was looking forward to a good night’s rest.
He was so preoccupied that he did not notice her at first. She had been sitting quietly on a bench by the window and had said nothing when he came in.
It was only when he took off his robes and started to unfasten the belt around his tunic that she cleared her throat slightly, and he started, glancing up with surprise.
“Ariel!”
She stood. She was wearing a dark green velvet gown and matching slippers, her long blonde hair twisted into a single, thick braid. An image came suddenly to him from eight years earlier, when she had come to him while he was working in the stables to tell him she had spoken with his father to tell him that she had knocked him senseless, so it was all her
fault that Michael had been injured during play. She had worn green velvet on that day, as well. In other ways, however, Ariel had changed.
The awkward, coltish girl that she had been back then was gone, replaced by a grown woman, slender and curvaceous, no longer the tomboy, but feminine and every inch the lady. She had not grown into a beauty, but her rather plain face was set with green eyes, her most striking and appealing feature. There was an earnest directness in their gaze, an inviting innocence and total lack of guile. He had not seen her much in the intervening years, what with his duties and all that time spent with the troops out on the march, but her father, Lord Devan, was minister of the exchequer, so she lived with her family in the palace and spent most of her time with Michael’s younger unmarried sisters.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She took a deep breath, gathering herself, and gazed at him directly.
“Do you love her?”
“What? Who?”
“You know very well who,” she replied. “The elf.
Sylvanna. Do you love her?”
He tensed and hesitated. Too long. “What are you talking about?”
“You know perfectly well. She may not have told you, but it was I who asked her to go after you when you went into the city the night you returned from the campaign. I was concerned about you. I had never seen you so dispirited before. I stayed awake all night, waiting for you to return, so I know when you came home. I saw you. With her.”
“Well, just because we stayed out all night, two comrades in arms, drinking-“
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t treat me like a fool, Aedan. just answer my question.”
“Your question is presumptuous, my lady,” he said, retreating into formality. “As is your presence here at this late hour. It is most unseemly. You must consider your reputation-“
“My reputation be damned,” she said, shocking him into astonished silence. “Answer my question.
Do you love her?”
He exhaled heavily and looked down at the floor.
‘Yes.
She seemed to collapse inwardly. She stared at him with a stricken expression, then sat back down on the bench and closed her eyes.
Laera’s mocking voice came back to him, echoing in his mind. “She loves you loves you … loves you “Ariel “Be quiet,” she said, not looking at him. “Just be quiet and listen. Laera knows. I don’t know how she knows, but she knows. You realize what that means, of course.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant, but he could not accept it. How could she know? How could Laera possibly know?
“I know what happened between the two of you at Seaharrow, all those years ago,” said Ariel. “You and Laera.”
“But … how?”
She looked at him with exasperation. “Do you think I’m blind? You think I didn’t see the looks that passed between you? It was as plain as day that you were lovers. I was so frightened for you, it nearly drove me mad. I was afraid Arwyn would kill you if he found out. I do not know what passed between you when it ended, but I can guess, for she has nursed a hatred for you ever since. That, too, is clear to anyone who cares to notice. She looks at you with venom in her eyes. And now you have given her a weapon with which she can destroy you.”
“But how could she know?”
“Are you that naive? Besides, what difference does it make? She knows.
She probably has half the servants in the palace reporting to her. And she has begun to pass the word. She has not done it herself, of course, for she is far too clever for that, but rest assured it came from her.
Already, tong
ues are wagging, and you know how quickly gossip travels in the court.”
“What do I care about idle gossip? I have nothing of which to be ashamed.”
“I did not say you did,” she replied. “But instead of professing so much concern over how my coming to your rooms at night affects my reputation, you should give some thought to your own. Having elves among our troops was cause enough for controversy in itself, at least in the beginning. Since then, they have proven themselves our allies and been accepted as such, but this is something else entirely. If she were an ordinary, unblooded commoner, it would be bad enough, considering your position, but Sylvanna is not even human.”
“Why should that make any difference?”
Ariel rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Don’t be an idiot. I hold no prejudice toward her because she is an elf, but you know perfectly well that many people look upon race mixing as perversion. Even if she were human and a commoner, it would still be cause for scandal. Oh, I know that many of the noblemen have such liaisons, but you are not just any nobleman. You are the lord high chamberlain, second only to the emperor. Your honor and reputation must be beyond reproach. If nothing else, it calls your judgment into question, and as the emperor’s first minister and advisor, your judgment must always be considered sound. It is not only yourself that you are undermining, but the emperor, as well.”
Aedan could think of no reply to that, for she was absolutely right.
He stared down at the floor, morosely. “I suppose I could resign my post….”
“And leave the emperor to choose a new high chamberlain in time of war?
He depends upon your friendship and your counsel. You have been trained for this from birth, Aedan. Who would replace you?
In time, perhaps, an adequate successor could be found from among the nobles of the court, but if you resigned while Anuire is threatened, you would not only be utterly disgraced, but you would also weaken and demoralize the emperor at a time when he needs most to be strong and confident. You cannot afford to make the noble sacrifice, Aedan. You don’t have that luxury. You don’t have the right.”
Ironically, he thought, she had used the same words he had spoken to the emperor earlier that day.
And they were no less true applied to him than they had been when applied to Michael. He sighed and sat down heavily on his bed.
“You’re right, of course,” he said. “But what am I to do? I suppose I could deny it, but the damage will have already been done.
I knew Laera was spiteful, but I never suspected she would go so far.”
“There is one thing that can be done, before the story spreads farther than it has. I am loath to suggest it, but I can think of nothing else that would serve to quell the gossip before it can erupt into a scandal.
You must take a wife.”
“A wife!” He thought quickly. Yes, that could work. And it would add further plausibility to the story that he and Sylvanna had merely stayed out drinking all night, comrades in arms unwinding after a long and difficult campaign. It would be a lie, of course, but a lie that people would find easier to accept with his being betrothed. His father had died before he could arrange a marriage for him, and what with the war, there had been no time for him to give any thought to marriage, even if he’d had the inclination. And even if people still suspected the liaison with Sylvanna, they would be unlikely to bring it up if he were married. Not without proof.
Ariel was right. If he married, it would deflect Laera’s plan for revenge, but that still left him with a difficult situation. Quite aside from the problem of finding a wife, he would have to marry someone he did not love. The marriage would be a lie. And how could he bring himself to do that to some innocent girl?
As if she could read his mind, Ariel said, “I will marry you.”
He glanced up at her sharply. “No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Ariel, I could not possibly ask you to sacrifice-“
“What sacrifice?”
she asked in a faintly bitter tone.
“I have always loved you, ever since I was a child.
And if I cannot have you, I do not want anybody else. I would almost rather die than marry you
under such circumstances, for I know you do not love me, but good marriages have been made without love before. We are of the noble class. Such things are a way of life with us. A marriage based on love is rare among the nobility, and I have not yet been promised by my father. Nothing would please him more than to have you ask him for my hand.”
She swallowed hard, and tears came to her eyes as she spoke. “I will make you a good wife, Aedan.
Who knows, perhaps, in time, you might even come to love me a little, but if not, I will understand and turn a blind eye to any liaisons you may care to have. Just don’t flaunt them is all I ask. Let me keep some shred of pride. And one more thing. My father must never, ever know the truth of this.”
“Of course,” said Aedan. He got up and came over to her, then got down on one knee. He took her hand. “Ariel-“
“Don’t,” she said, shaking him off and getting up.
“Let us not make a mockery of this. It is purely a political arrangement,” she added stiffly, “between friends. Speak to my father in the morning. He will joyfully give his consent, and we will announce it to the court tomorrow. It would be best for the marriage to take place as soon as possible. The war provides an excellent excuse.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” said Aedan woodenly.
“Ariel, I-“
“And for Haelyn’s sake, don’t thank me. Please.”
He looked down and nodded. He moistened his lips. “I must … tell Sylvanna. It would not be right for her to hear of this only when our betrothal is announced.”
“No,” said Ariel firmly. “You must not see her now. It would only add fuel to the fire. I will go to her tonight and tell her myself. I will explain the situation fully and make her understand the necessity for this.” She took a deep breath, and her voice broke slightly as she said, “And as I know you are too well mannered to ask it of me, I will also tell her that you love her. And I will try hard not to cry. Good night, Aedan.”
She turned and ran out of the room.
**chapter Three**
The wedding took place in the great hall of the Imperial Cairn, with the entire court in attendance.
The floors had all been swept clean, white bunting hung from all the galleries, jasmine incense added to the coals burning in the braziers.
The emperor himself officiated. Aedan looked strikingly handsome in his family colors, with black hose, a black tunic, and a vertically divided black and white tabard emblazoned with the Dosiere crest.
Ariel looked stunning in a pure white gown and matching satin slippers with a girdle made of fine gold chain around her waist and a garland of white and yellow wildflowers in her long blonde hair. But had anyone looked very closely, they would have seen a trace of sadness on her face, about the eyes.
Women of the court whispered to one another about what a beautiful couple they made, and the men all nodded in approval of the lord high chamberlain’s making a good match. A marriage between the daughter of the minister of exchequer and the lord high chamberlain would only serve to strengthen the internal unity of the emperor’s council, and in a time of war, that was only to the good.
Gylvain and Sylvanna had both been invited to the wedding, and those few who’d heard the rumors circulating watched Sylvanna carefully, but saw no sign of anything except happiness for her comrad-in-arms as she stood next to her wizard brother. The married couple seemed very happy, and those few who mentioned it at all whispered that the rumors must have been nothing more than spurious, malicious gossip that deserved no credence.
Only Princess Laera seemed a little out of sorts. A number of the wedding guests commented upon her stiff posture, the lines of tension at the mouth, and what seemed like an uncommonly resentful look in her eyes, though she took pains to hide whatever it was th
at seemed to be troubling her. The theory was advanced and generally accepted that undoubtedly the wedding of the lord high chamberlain and Lady Ariel reminded her too painfully of her own thwarted wedding plans. She had, after all, once been betrothed to Arwyn of Boeruine, and that was a marriage that could obviously never take place now.
And what with the war and the awkwardness of her situation, there had been no other suitors. None that would have been acceptable to a woman of her rank, in any case. Clearly, it was impossible for her to attend the wedding without being reminded of her own plans gone awry, and that was surely the reason for her seeming discomfort.
If the wedding seemed a trifle hasty, without an adequate period of betrothal, no one thought the worse of it. There was a war on, after all, and the young couple could not afford to waste any time. It went unspoken, though clearly understood, that circumstances could easily result in Lady Ariel’s soon being a widow, and if the lord high chamberlain should fall in battle, it was important that he leave behind an heir to carry on his name and be raised to assume his duties for the future emperor. Aside from that, the word went around that Lady Ariel and Lord Aedan’s parents had often spoken of a match between their children, but it had never been officially arranged because the war, and later Lord Tieran’s death, had intervened.
The circumstances of a court wedding at a time of war also occasioned considerable talk about when the emperor would marry. It was dangerous for the empire to go without an heir when the emperor himself led his troops into battle. There was a great deal of discussion on this topic, and many young noblewomen’s names were advanced as possible candidates, in many cases by their fathers, who knew an opportunity to maneuver for political advancement when they saw one.
When the wedding was concluded, the happy couple kissed, then turned and were cheered by the assemblage, after which they invited all their guests to sup with them at the banquet tables in the hall.
The servants carried out platter after platter of roast venison and pheasant and baked fish of varying
sorts, candied hummingbirds’ wings and jellied lamb and roast boar and barrels of wine and mead.
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