Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (22 page)

 
          
"A
wife?" Hart echoed.

 
          
"Not
now
," Blythe told Jennet.
"Settling a marriage is something done by adults, and
you
have yet to prove you are anything more than a child. Go, and
take your sister."

 
          
Brief
rebellion from quieter Cluna. "But he might choose
me
."

 
          
Blythe
pointedly opened the door. "He might even choose Dulcie."

 
          
Two
mouths dropped open. Two voices chorused, "But Dulcie is only a
baby
."

 
          
"All
the better," Blythe told them briskly. "Babies are easier to
train." She smiled at Aidan, then motioned her sisters out. Eventually,
they went.

 
          
"A
wife?" Hart repeated. "But Brennan has said nothing of that in any of
his letters."

 
          
His
father and Hart corresponded often, Aidan knew, trying to compensate for the
separation. Too distant even for the
lir
-link,
the twin-born princes took what solace they could from parchment.

 
          
Aidan
shook his head. "It came up of a sudden. They discovered,
jehan
and
jehana
, that I was twenty-three… apparently there is some
significance attached to the age." He smiled at Blythe, not so much
younger than he. "It must be a family custom than no man or woman be
allowed to reach twenty-four without having married."

 
          
Blythe's
color darkened. She turned jerkily to her father. "Perhaps I should go…
perhaps I should accompany Cluna and Jennet—"

 
          
"Cluna
and Jennet will do very well without you." Hart waved her back, then
glanced across at the table. "No, Tevis—sit down. There is no need for you
to go."

 
          
"But—my
lord—" The young man was standing. He was tall, dark-haired, handsome,
filling out leather and velvet with an elegance edged with power. Aidan
recalled Cluna and Jennet were quite enamored of him. "If you truly intend
to discuss a royal marriage—"

 
          
"Not
now," Hart declared. "By the gods, not now. I am a man with four
daughters… there will be time aplenty for that. And time aplenty to speak of
family matters." He kicked another stool over toward the table, looking
expectantly at Aidan. "Do you play?"

 
          
"Not
that. I have heard of Bezat; I thought it best to avoid it. It carries—consequences."

 
          
"
All
games carry consequences." Hart
reseated himself. "If you mean my missing hand, that had little to do with
Bezat. It had to do with being a great fool… since then, I have learned
better." He motioned impatiently. "Sit down, Aidan. Talk of marriages
can wait… there is a game to learn!"

 
          
Aidan
hesitated. "I was warned about you."

 
          
"All
true," Hart agreed cheerfully. "Shall we add to the stories?"

 
          
"
Jehan
," Blythe said warningly.
"You know what
jehana
will say
if you stay up all night again."

 
          
"Your
jehana
, at the moment, has more to
concern herself with than what time I come to bed. She would more likely prefer
me
out
of it…" Hart's eyes were
bright as he grinned at Aidan. "Sit you down,
harani
. How best do we meet one another save over wine and a
game?"

 
          
The
gaming continued until dawn. Tevis, yawning, gave up at last and excused
himself, pushing all of his coin across the table to Hart. His bloodshot eyes
were red-rimmed.

 
          
"No
more," he murmured sleepily. "You have all my wits and now my coin… I
am for bed, my lord. You promised me one last night."

 
          
Hart
leaned back on his stool, rolling a stiffened neck. Black hair touched his
shoulders; the silver was in his forelock. "There is always a bed for you…
if I refused, all four of my daughters would ply my name with curses." He
grinned, working shoulders. "Even Dulcie adores you."

 
          
"She
has excellent taste." Tevis rose, rubbing absently at thick hair. It was
so brown as to verge on black, cut closely to his head. Equally dark brows
arched smoothly over ale-brown eyes, defining the bone of the forehead.
"Of course, at all of two, her allegiance is easily won." He yawned,
stretched briefly, looked down at Aidan. "My lord. If you yet have the
wits to think, you might consider ending this travesty. He will have all of
your
coin, too."

 
          
Aidan
grunted and reached for wine, then thought better of it. "I am a careful
man."

 
          
"So
was I, once." Tevis bowed briefly in Hart's direction, then headed for the
door.

 
          
Hart
waited until it was closed. "He is here to marry Blythe."

 
          
Wandering
wits snapped back at once. Aidan blinked. "Ah."

 
          
"Of
course, nothing has yet been settled—nothing has been
said
… but it is why he came." Hart rose and walked stiffly to
the nearest casement and shoved the shutter open to let in pale pink dawn.
"He is of one of the oldest and finest families of Solinde… a
jehan
, prince or no, could ask for no
better match."

 
          
Aidan
recalled Blythe's subtle intimacies, the expression in Tevis' eyes when the
subject of marriage had come up. He had suspected as much, though he wished it
were otherwise. "You must do what is best,
su'fali
."

 
          
"No."
Hart strode to another casement, pushed open another shutter. "No, I must
do as my daughter desires." Aidan watched in startled silence as Hart
opened shutters at two more casements, then swung to face his audience of one.
"
You
should understand the
need."

 
          
"I?"

 
          
"Of
course." Hart's nostalgic smile was lopsided. "Aileen and Brennan
married out of duty, and out of honor for a betrothal made without their
consent. Before they were born."

 
          
"Ah,"
Aidan said.

 
          
"I
was the middle son, the son whose disposition was not so important as Brennan's…
no one linked me to anyone, Ilsa and I married for the sake of Solinde, but by
then the point was moot. We were already bound." Hart leaned against the
sill, folding arms across his chest.
Lir
-bands
gleamed. "Given the choice, Aileen never would have married Brennan. She
wanted Corin. But he left for Atvia, so Brennan got his
cheysula
." Hart's expression was blank, his tone carefully
bland. "I will give my daughter the choice."

 
          
Aidan
sighed, staring blankly at the bowl of bone-colored stones. "A man come to
sell his horse would list its obvious assets. I am to be Mujhar, one day…"
Aidan lifted his head. "But that makes no difference, does it? Not to you.
The stories I have heard say you were always the least impressed by titles and
rank."

 
          
Hart
shrugged. "The only thing that impressed me was a man's willingness to
wager." But he said it without smiling. Wearily, he threaded the fingers
of his remaining hand through fallen hair and scooped it back from his brow.
The gesture displayed a dual circlet of lines graven deeply into the flesh. Age
sat lightly on him, as lightly as on Aidan's father, but nonetheless it
encroached. "You have my permission to ask her, if you choose—that much I
can give you… but it will be Blythe's decision."

 
          
Aidan
lifted one shoulder in self-conscious concession; they both knew what she would
say.

 
          
Hart's
voice was neutral. "If it is kin you want, to keep the bloodlines whole—I
have three other daughters."

 
          
Aidan
shrugged again. "By now, the blood is everything we need to fulfill the
prophecy, except…" He let it trail off; the ending was implicit.

 
          
Hart
said it anyway. "Except Ihlini." He sighed and rubbed absently at the
flesh of his left forearm where the leather cuff bound the stump. "Aye,
there is that… but who of us will take on the distasteful task?" Black
brows arched curiously. "You are the likeliest one."

 
          
Aidan
shook his head. "Not I,
su'fali
.
I am not my
jehan
."

 
          
Hart's
expression stilled. "Brennan was tricked."

 
          
He did not like being reminded. He protects
my jehan as much as jehan protects him. Even now
. Aidan made his tone
light. "Aye, so he was; I do not hate him for it, or think him due less
respect. He was not the first… it happened even to Ian."

 
          
"And
Ian still pays the price… I think my
rujho
does, too." Hart stopped kneading his arm, changing the topic abruptly.
"There are the other girls. Young, I know… but such things are not
uncommon when House marries House."

 
          
Aidan
thought of Cluna and Jennet. Thirteen-year-old hellions. The other was Dulcie,
age two. He was a man who wanted a woman, not a child to raise. Not girls who
thought they were grown, not knowing what else was expected. While it was true
he would not inherit the Lion for many years yet, he wanted those years spent
properly, not waiting for a girl-wife to discover she was a woman.

 
          
There is one last thing
… He rubbed
gritty eyes. "You have no son," he said softly. "What will you
do for an heir?"

 
          
Hart
did not smile. "Are you promising me one in exchange for persuading
Blythe?"

 
          
Aidan
sighed. "No."

 
          
Hart
pressed himself off the sill and came to the table. He poured himself fresh
wine, lifted his cup and sipped. Then set down the cup again. "Ilsa is in
bed because she is very near to term. In a week, possibly two, I may yet have
an heir."

 
          
The
words rose unbidden: "
Ru'shalla-tu,
su'fali. Tahlmorra lujhalla mei wiccan, cheysu
."

 
          
"You
sound like a
shar tahl
." Hart
smiled. "
Leijhana tu'sai, harani
.
I, too, hope it is so."

 
          
"So."
Aidan rose, kicking back his stool. "There is yet a princess left—an
older
princess—Keely's daughter, Shona.
She is—nineteen? Twenty? Perhaps I should go at once, to set Blythe's mind at
ease. She knows why I am here, as does Tevis. It would discomfit them to think
I mean to come between them."

 
          
"Stay,"
Hart said. "There is no need to go in such haste. If Blythe and Tevis
cannot survive your presence, they cannot survive a marriage. Stay at least
until the birth. You can give the kinsman's blessing."

 
          
Aidan
grinned. "And keep the hellions busy?"

 
          
"They
will keep
you
busy." Hart eyed
him consideringly. "Are you awake enough to ride?"

 
          
Aidan
blinked. "Now?"

 
          
"Dawn
is my favorite time, and Rael will be glad of flight. Will you come with
me?"

 
          
He
had been thinking of bed. But the morning air would refresh him after a night
spent in a game, so he agreed readily. Teel would approve, also.

 
          
"Good.
Mounts are always waiting; the privilege of rank." Hart swung open the
door. "I will show you Lestra as Lestra should be seen."