by Kirby Crow
Scarlet kicked at an errant bit of hay on the flagstones. “I don’t want her as an enemy. I don’t want any enemies. I just want to be with Liall for as long as I can. I want some measure of peace and happiness for us. We’ve damn well earned it.”
“Ah, child,” Nevoi said sadly. He slid his arm around Scarlet’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. “Did no one ever tell you? There is no peace for kings.”
***
It was very late when Liall returned for sleep. He crept around their bed chamber, obviously trying to be silent as he undressed and pulled off his boots, but Scarlet was wide awake. Someone would have told Liall about the stable and the horses, of course, and about Jarad Hallin and what he had said.
Scarlet could have spoken out and told Liall there was no need for quiet, that he couldn’t sleep, but then Liall would have come and tried to soothe him, tried to speak to him, and he wanted that least of all.
The bed dipped as Liall’s weight settled in beside him. Scarlet lay there with his back turned to his lover, his will focused on remaining perfectly still. The fire had died down and it was warm enough that no one had come to stoke it again. The smoldering embers were the only light in the room, giving the walls a sullen glow.
“I know you’re awake,” Liall said quietly into the gloom. “I can tell by your breathing.”
Scarlet did not move. “Is it true?” he whispered into his pillow.
Liall hesitated, and Scarlet’s heart leapt.
“No,” Liall said at last. “I’ve given them no answer, but neither have I refused.”
“Are you sending those horses back?” Scarlet murmured, as if telling a secret. He was afraid if he let his voice rise above a whisper that he might start shouting, and then he might just get up and start breaking things. His anger was like a leashed wolf inside him, but he couldn’t turn it on Liall. It wasn’t Liall’s fault.
“I cannot,” Liall said haltingly. “It would be a grave insult to the baron, and I’ve just asked him for something rather important.”
“Important to you?”
“To the realm. If I offend him, he may refuse. That would be disastrous, for I would have to respond to his refusal with steel and blood. A new king with a precarious crown can’t afford to look weak. I also can’t afford to alienate Tebet. Please try to understand. I would never—”
“Hurt me,” Scarlet finished for him. “So you’ve said. Good night, Liall.”
“Scarlet...”
“Good night.”
Liall rolled heavily onto his back and sighed deeply. “May I please ask you one thing, at least? I’ve spoken to Tesk... what happened at the hunt? Tesk said you didn’t move when the cat leapt. You’re so fast, Scarlet. I’ve seen how fast you can be. Why didn’t you move?”
Scarlet had wondered about that himself. “I don’t know,” he answered. Liall was tensely quiet, and Scarlet thought he understood the root of his lover’s fear. “No, I didn’t deliberately not move. I don’t have a death wish, and I won’t throw myself off a cliff if you marry Ressilka.” He punched his pillow. “I may throw her off one, though.”
Liall touched his shoulder gently. “We should talk.”
Scarlet pressed his cheek hard to his pillow. “I don’t want to talk to the bloody King of Rshan right now. I’m tired. Good night.”
Liall did not argue, but he kept his hand on Scarlet’s shoulder until he fell asleep. When Scarlet woke up the next morning, Liall had left and his side of the bed was cold.
***
“No,” Scarlet said stubbornly, his arms crossed. He sat in the room he would forever think of as the queen’s solarium, no matter that there was no queen now, just a king.
And how long will that last, he thought sourly.
Two weeks had passed since Ressilka’s gift of horseflesh had arrived, a span in which he barely saw Liall and in which it had become painfully obvious to Scarlet that the matter of Ressilka was not simply going to go away. Her gifts were in the stables. Her servants were in the palace kitchens. Her emissaries and messengers were constantly present in the inner tier, waiting to pounce on Liall for an audience. Jarad Hallin seemed to be lurking in every hall that Scarlet visited, always with that scornful, knowing smirk stamped in the middle of his beard. Scarlet had even begun to fancy that his own servants—Nenos, Chos, and Dvi—were looking at him with skeptical eyes. You are not enough, those eyes seemed to say. You cannot give the king what he needs most. Only a woman can do that, and there is one waiting.
Everywhere Scarlet turned, there she was. The very walls seemed to whisper of her, and of endings. He felt harried by that presence, and his temper had grown frayed.
Liall had brought him to the solarium when they first came to Rshan, because he was unaccustomed to the cold, dark months and had begun to sicken from lack of light, suffering from headaches, dizziness, and sudden flares of temper.
I feel sick now. I’m sun-sick. With the light comes a new queen. I could almost wish for winter again, if it meant we could go back to the way things were. I have to tell him. I have to remind him. Like me, he forgot, but we can’t live inside a dream.
“I’ve sat here enough,” Scarlet said. He tried to rise and Liall pushed him back down.
“No, you have not,” Liall said. “You’re snapping at everyone, even Nenos. You need some light.”
“I need some peace!” Scarlet flung his hand toward the door. “And the sun has returned, you know. I don’t need to come in here anymore.”
“You do if you refuse to go outside.”
Scarlet wanted to. He wanted to hunt and ride, but to do that he needed his horse. Jarad Hallin or one of the Tebet people were always in the stables, pampering Ressilka’s white horses, never passing up an opportunity to make some remark that set Scarlet’s blood to boiling. He had taken to holing up in his rooms, drinking wine, looking at books he could not read, and staring into the fire as if it held answers.
“I’m happy where I am,” he muttered.
“Like hell you are. You’re sulking.”
“And you’re an ass. Now go away and do whatever kings do. Stop vexin’ me.”
Liall sighed deeply. “You’re avoiding me and it can’t go on. I’ve never known you to run from a fight, my t’aishka. You’re not a coward to hide from pain. You never were and never will be.” He was calm, his voice rational, the same infuriating tone he’d been using for days. “I think I must do this thing,” he said regretfully. “Or at least agree to do it at some point.”
Scarlet was beginning to think there was no end to the kinds of suffering they had in Rshan. “No,” he repeated unhappily.
The solarium was tiled in pale green glass, with a curved ceiling where false light filtered in brightly as moving patterns across the floor and walls. Beyond the first wall of glass, a second wall of mirrors amplified the illumination from the ceiling reflector, giving the greenish light the appearance of sun-dappled leaves. The only decorations were the elaborate wicker chair where Scarlet sat and several potted plants scattered about the floor.
Liall went down on one knee beside the throne-like chair. He would not have knelt if there were anyone else to witness, not even as a joke. A king knelt to no one.
“My sweet love,” he murmured, taking Scarlet’s hand in his own.
Scarlet sighed. “That’s not going to work.”
“I’m not trying to wheedle you into anything,” Liall said. Then, at Scarlet’s look: “Very well. I am. But, Scarlet... love...”
“I can’t do it and I want you to stop asking,” Scarlet interrupted. His hand tightened around Liall’s larger one. “I know what they want of you, and I know you have to give them an answer, but you’ve answered them before and they’re never satisfied with it. They press you and you turn around and press me. Well, I’m fucking tired of being pushed, Liall! If I could do this for you, I would, but I can’t.” His words fell one upon the other like a rockslide, and he could not stop them. “We’ve been over this a dozen times. Wha
t must I say and how must I say it before it sinks in? Do you want me to write you a letter?”
“I cannot vouch for the translation if you do.” Liall smiled faintly.
Jochi had been teaching Scarlet to read and even to pen a little bit in Sinha, though it was a child’s scrawl still and it would be several years yet before he learned the Rshani language.
“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” he muttered.
“Scarlet, if there were another way—any other way—you know I would take it.”
“Making a child is not like building one of your magic engines,” Scarlet retorted. “There’s more than one road to get to Rusa, as they say. I’ve given you a map to several. If you need an heir that badly, I’m sure she’d be willing to mother it, but mother is not wife.”
“I do not fathom how you can care nothing if I fuck the woman—”
“Oh, I care,” Scarlet broke in. “I care a lot, but I’m not stupid. A kingdom does need an heir and children don’t grow on apple trees. Do what you must and then set her aside.”
Liall shook his head. “I knew it was more than just simple jealousy. You were never that petty. But, love, I can’t just bed her and claim the child is my heir. I have to marry her for that. You don’t understand how their minds work.”
“You mean Rshani minds.”
Liall hesitated, then nodded.
Scarlet pushed him away and rose, heading for the door.
“Scarlet, wait!”
Liall caught him and grabbed his arm gently. Liall, so much larger than he, was always so careful not to hurt him.
Except now. Except like this.
“Please wait,” Liall begged. “We can’t keep dancing around this matter and sniping at each other. It’s making us both miserable. There must be a solution.”
“There is,” Scarlet said lowly, his face averted. “Send me home.” I have to tell him.
“You are home.” Liall’s hand slid under Scarlet’s jaw, tenderly tipping his head back to brush his black hair out of his eyes. “You’re with me, where you belong. I will never send you away, or allow you to be parted from me. I could not bear it. You know this.” Ice-blue eyes stared down at Scarlet, adoring as always, compelling as always. “You know it, redbird.”
Scarlet twisted to get away, but Liall pulled him close and held him. He relented and pressed his face against the material of Liall’s shirt, smelling Rshani spices and musky cologne. His arms went around Liall’s broad back and gripped tight.
“If I could do this...” he whispered, his voice muffled.
“We may have no choice, t’aishka,” Liall said, brushing his mouth against Scarlet’s hair. “A king is less free than anyone.”
Scarlet’s breath caught. Those were Cestimir’s words. Vladei had murdered Cestimir, dragged him into a temple ruin and beheaded him, all because Cestimir was the prince and another wanted his throne. Liall was only king because Cestimir was dead.
“They can’t force you,” Scarlet murmured.
“Not literally, no. That would be a sight, wouldn’t it? But they can do other things—many other things—that would make my life and yours immensely more complicated and unpleasant. We might wind up wishing that we had taken the easier road. If I married her, at least I would have some measure of control. I would still be king, after all, and master of my own house. Any wife of mine must obey me as her husband and as her king. I would not allow you to be pushed aside.”
“So you say now.”
“I will swear by anything you like.”
“I don’t want promises.” Scarlet pulled away slowly and rubbed his face. He felt himself giving in. But Deva, it was hard; it was so hard to agree! He wasn’t ready to do that yet, not by far.
He was seized again with an urge to flee, to run and run until he there was no more road to travel on, anything to get away from the truth that gnawed at him, devouring him by inches. In desperation, his gaze went to the water clock stationed by a green-fronded palm, a tall and complicated affair of hollow brass cylinders filled with water that dripped at a steady, predictable rate. A small silver bird was mounted on a plunger atop the largest of the cylinders. The bird’s beak pointed to marks on a sliding scale as the water emptied.
“Is that the right hour?”
Liall glanced at the water clock. “Yes. Please listen. Can we at least—”
“I’m late.” Scarlet ducked past Liall’s arm for the door.
“Scarlet, we haven’t finished!”
“I’m late!” Scarlet called back, hurrying in case Liall came after him again. “Jochi expected me an hour ago. I’ll see you at dinner!” He rushed out of the solarium and up the steps into the pale stone heart of the great palace, his chest pounding.
One more day. I’ve put it off another day, but it’s not enough. I need years yet and he’s not going to give them to me. They won’t let him...
There were so many doors in this part of the palace, so many salons and courts and bedrooms and unused halls with no apparent function. Scarlet ducked into the alcove and hid in the deep shadows, waiting for Liall’s heavy step to pass him by.
When the sound of boots had faded, he slumped down and hid his face in his hands.
I have to tell him, but not today. Please, gods, not today. Not yet. I just need a little more time.
***
Scarlet loved the library, loved its soaring, vaulted ceiling and the bookcases that were taller than two men. He loved the padded wooden chairs that were big enough to sleep in, with armrests carved in the shape of wolves, and he loved the rich scents of leather and spices and colognes lingering in the air from a thousand Rshani visitors. It reminded him of Masdren’s leather shop, the way it smelled in the middle of the Ankar night, with the aromas of the busy souk drifting past. The library was one of the few places in the Nauhinir he found peaceful.
It was empty except for Jochi, who was waiting for him.
Scarlet’s boot-heels hit the wooden floor like drums and echoed against thick walls that were lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves and shelves of books. The book spines were mostly leather, but some were parchment, wood, linen, even shell and precious stones. There were so many colors that it seemed as if the walls were papered with butterfly wings.
Liall’s silver and blue banner dominated half of one wall. Other banners of Rshani noble houses were hung about the hall, and Scarlet could recognize several. There was the green, blue and gold banner of Jadizek with its pattern of grain, and there was the black banner of Uzna with its red sickle moon and white star, and closest to Liall’s banner was the white standard of Sul with its compass rose below a gold sun.
So many houses, so much history. He felt quite small beneath them. Funny, he had never felt small in Byzantur, even though nearly everyone outside of Lysia had been bigger than him.
Jochi smiled as he rose from his chair and bowed. His hair was unbound, a fall of ice hanging to his waist.
“I’m sorry,” Scarlet said at once. “I was with Liall and I didn’t realize it was so late, and then—”
Jochi held up his hand to stop him. “Ser Keriss, please. The king does not apologize if he keeps me waiting. His time is more valuable than mine. The king’s t’aishka does not need to apologize for keeping one of the king’s retainers waiting, either.” His voice was mild. “Save the king, there is no one in the Nauhinir with a rank higher than yours. Why must I keep reminding you of this fact?”
Scarlet looked away uncomfortably and found a seat. “You don’t. I understand. I don’t have to like it, though, all this natter about rank and such. We didn’t have to bother with that so much when Liall was just a prince.”
Jochi wore a brown virca trimmed in gold, but the sleeves were very short. Scarlet supposed that was a summer fashion. Unlike the common rooms and great halls in the warming days of spring, the library hearth was filled with a roaring fire. He guessed it was to preserve the books, for it had begun to feel damp in some places of the palace. Most of the rooms were heate
d with wood fires or by strange metal tanks that Liall said were furnaces. They burned a kind of black oil and were hotter than fireplaces. It kept the castle comfortable enough for him, if he dressed warmly.
Jochi chose a book from a case of yellow oak and began to page through it. “King Nazheradei was never ‘just’ anything. He has always been a most impressive man. And you complained then, too.”
Scarlet felt like being a little mean. He leaned back in the deep chair and propped his elbow on the armrest. “He isn’t here to hear you, you know.”
Jochi’s eyebrows went up. “Aye, ser, I know. Does something trouble you?”
Scarlet’s eyebrows drew together. “No more than something every day for the last fortnight.”
“Ah.” Jochi shut the book with a snap and took a seat opposite him. “You mean since Tebet sent their betrothal gift.”
“Tebet, or Ressilka?”
“Unless I ask the Lady herself, I can’t know. Likely, it was not her idea, nor would she act without Ressanda’s approval. The baron is the one pressing for a marriage. Ressilka is only obeying her father, though I can say with certainty that Hallin was obeying Ressanda alone.”
Scarlet winced. “You heard about that?”
“Of course.”
Scarlet looked down at the engraved wood of the chair, tracing the patterns. “Everyone else knows, why not you?”
“It’s my business to know, ser, even if I’ve been removed from my post. I’m still a Setna. The king speaks the truth when he says he cannot refuse Ressanda outright. Not now. Not when the realm needs Tebet’s support. The king did make a promise, once.”
“He promised that Ressilka would marry Cestimir or no man. Tell me how that figures into Liall taking a knee for her? Imagination, I should think.” Scarlet rose and began pacing the room. He did not seem to be able to keep still. “Why is he doing this to me? Does he hate me?”