War Maid's Choice-ARC (39 page)

“So I’ve heard,” Hanatha said with a smile of her own. “But even the hardiest of warriors can occasionally use an ally, and Doram could be a very useful one. No one’s ever dared to denigrate you openly in front of your father or me, but I’m pretty sure quite a few people who might have done just that—your Aunt Gayarla comes to mind—have refrained only because they felt we would have defended you out of mushy-minded love, no matter what you’d done. Oh, admittedly becoming a war maid wasn’t a minor social faux pas like, say,
murder
,” her smile flashed suddenly into a grin, “but it was undoubtedly the same thing. Just a pair of parents unable to accept what a totally self-centered, spoiled ingrate of a child they’d raised. But Doram has a rather different perspective on you and the family, and anyone who knows him knows he’s about as stubborn and independent minded as they come. He could go a long way toward defanging some of the resentment and anger I know a great many in Balthar feel where you’re concerned. Of course, quite a few of those people are going to be extremely reluctant to admit they’ve been wrong for the last half dozen years or so, so they probably won’t. It’s much more comfortable to cling to your bigotry than it is to admit you’ve been wrong to feel it in the first place, you know.”

“I do know. You only have to look at how some of them still feel about hradani,” Leeana agreed and snorted just a bit more harshly than she’d intended to.

“True.”

Hanatha sat back in her chair, regarding her daughter thoughtfully, then cocked her head.

“Odd you should mention hradani, love,” she said.

“Odd?” Leeana’s tone sounded a bit forced to her own ear. “Odd how, Mother?”

“Well, it’s just that the only
other
person no one ever dared to denigrate you in front of—I mean, aside from your father and I, who love you, of course—was Prince Bahzell.”

“Oh?” Leeana swore with silent, vicious venom as her voice cracked on the single syllable, and her mother smiled again, with an odd gentleness this time.

“Yes. Well, I imagine that would only be to be expected, now that I think about it. He
is
a champion of Tomanāk, after all. He recognizes justice—and injustice—when he sees it, and he did know the true reason you’d run away. And on top of all that, there are those scandalous liberties the hradani allow their own womenfolk, so naturally he’d be more blind than a proper Sothōii to how the war maids violate every conceivable canon of respectable female behavior. No doubt that’s why he was always so quick to defend you.”

“He was?” The question was forced out of Leeana against her will, and her mother’s smile grew broader.

“Actually, now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the way in which he sprang to your defense as the way he simply
looked
at whoever might have made the unfortunate comment. It’s most entertaining to see a strong man’s knees quiver under a mere glance, you know. No,” her tone turned thoughtful, “I don’t believe he ever actually had to
say
a single word.”

“He...always seemed to understand,” Leeana said slowly. “Before I ran away, I mean. He...gave me some very good advice.” She smiled at her mother a bit mistily. “If I’d listened to him, I never would’ve run.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Hanatha agreed. “And that would have been a very wonderful thing...from my perspective. But from yours?” She shook her head. “Your father is one Sothōii noble in a thousand, Leeana. You would have grown up freer, less confined, than any other young woman of your station in the Kingdom. And you would never have become all you can be, because there still would have been limits, barriers, not even he could have removed for you. And”—Hanatha Bowmaster’s eyes stabbed suddenly into her daughter’s—“you would never truly have been free to follow your heart wherever it leads you.”

Silence hovered, so still the buzzing of a bee in the flowers of the open window’s planter box could be clearly heard. Then Leeana very carefully and precisely set down her glass and looked at her mother.

“You’ve guessed?” Her tone made the question a statement, and Hanatha nodded gently.

“I told you, you’ve never really been able to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart. I guessed long ago, before you ever fled to Kalatha, in fact. For that matter, I’ve always suspected it might have been one of the reasons you ran.”

“I...” Leeana inhaled deeply. “I think, perhaps, it was. At least a little,” she admitted.

“That made me very angry with him, for a while,” Hanatha said in the tone of someone making an admission in return. “I thought how silly it was—how
stupid
—for me to have lost my only daughter over a schoolroom miss’s infatuation. How ridiculous it was for you to have ruined your life at fourteen for something that could never happen. But I don’t know if
he
ever realized it at all.” She paused, frowning, then shook her head. “No, that’s not really quite right. I don’t know if he ever
allowed
himself to realize it at all. You’re very young, you know,” she smiled faintly, “and you were considerably younger then.”

“Maybe I’m not as much of a war maid as I thought I was.” Leeana’s voice was a mixture of wry admission, frustration, and anxiety. “Somehow I never really envisioned us having this particular conversation, Mother. And...and I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” Hanatha asked gently. “
My
daughter, afraid? Ridiculous. A slight case of nerves I’ll allow, but not fear. Not in someone who will always be a daughter of the House of Bowmaster, whatever that silly war maid charter may say!”

Leeana surprised herself with a gurgle of laughter, and her mother leaned forward, reaching across the table to stretch out an index finger and wipe away the single tear Leeana hadn’t realized had trickled down her cheek.

“Better!” Hanatha said.

“Maybe so, Mother, but it doesn’t get me any closer to a solution to my problem, now does it?”

“Leeana Hanathafressa, are you going to sit there and tell me—as your
father’s
daughter, as well as mine—that you came all the way home to Hill Guard for your
twenty-first
birthday, without a plan of campaign? Please! I know you far better than that.”

“But, you really wouldn’t...I mean, you and Father won’t...?”

“Six and a half years ago, possibly I would have,” Hanatha admitted. “For that matter,
four
years ago I might have. But now? Today? Today you’ve earned the right in my heart, as well as under the law, to make this decision without deferring to anyone except your
own
heart. I’d love you and accept and respect any decision you might make, even if I felt it was a mistake which would bring you more heartache than you could possibly imagine. Fortunately, I don’t think you are making a mistake, and I’ve had every one of those years you were away to watch him any time your name was mentioned.”

“Then you truly won’t be distressed?”

“Have you become hard of hearing as a war maid, dear?”

“No! No, I haven’t,” Leeana assured her with another, freer laugh.

“Good, because I was beginning to think you must have!”

The two of them sat in silence for the better part of two minutes, then Hanatha picked up her own glass of lemonade, sipped, and set it back down once more.

“I trust you do have a plan of campaign,” she told her daughter with a composed expression, “because I’m quite sure he’s spent the last seven years going over every reason it would be totally unsuitable, unacceptable, wrong, and diplomatically disastrous. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised by now if he’s managed, with that excess of nobility I’ve noticed he tries very hard to hide, to decide he never actually felt any of those things in the first place. In fact, he’s probably done almost as good a job of it—no, maybe even a
better
job of it—than Trianal’s done where Sharlassa is concerned.”

“Trianal and
Sharlassa?
” Leeana’s eyes widened.

“Of course, Leeana!” Hanatha shook her head. “She’s a dear, sweet child, but that isn’t the only reason I’ve been so happy to have her staying here at Hill Guard while we polish her education in all those things
you
managed to run away from. And she, of course, thinks she’s far too poorly born to be a suitable match for Trianal, while he thinks she’s too young—Lillinara, all of seven years younger than him!—for him to be thinking about ‘robbing the cradle’ or using his position as your father’s heir to ‘pressure’ her into accepting his advances.” The baroness rolled her eyes. “There are times I feel surrounded by nothing but noble, selfless, utterly frustrating blockheads.”

“Oh, my!” Leeana laughed, leaning back in her own chair. “It really would be a perfect match, wouldn’t it? And it would take all of the traditional political alliance-building out of the equation when it comes time to find Trianal a wife. Even better, no one on the Council could possibly object if father and Sir Jahsak both approve of it. And you
know
Sir Jahsak would always support Trianal as his father-in-law!”

“You see? You truly are your father’s daughter. Leaving aside the undoubted political and tactical advantages, however,
I
think it would be a good idea because whether they realize it yet or not, they’re both in love with each other. Which, oddly enough, brings me back to you, my dear.”

“It does? How?” Leeana’s voice was wary, and her mother snorted.

“You
have
been listening to me for the last, oh, half hour or so, haven’t you? Trianal and Sharlassa? You and...someone else? You wouldn’t happen to see any parallels emerging here, would you?”

“Well, yes, actually,” Leeana admitted.

“Well then. Do you want my advice or not?”

“Of course I do,” Leeana said, mostly honestly, and Hanatha smiled.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be direct, love,” she said. “Possibly
very
direct, because I think you can trust him to come up with at least a thousand perfectly plausible reasons why it would all be a dreadful mistake and somehow a betrayal of your father’s hospitality and friendship. Not to mention a political disaster.” She cocked her head thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. “Actually, the ‘political disaster’ idea is probably his best argument against it, so if I were you, I’d take steps to avoid or neutralize it as early as possible. I understand war maids can be shamelessly forward in matters like this. Is that true, my dear?”

“I’ve...heard it said, yes, Mother,” Leeana replied primly.

“Good. A frontal attack, that’s the ticket. A surprise assault,” Hanatha’s eyes gleamed with what Leeana realized was genuine humor, possibly even delight. “An ambush, before he can get his defenses erected.” She gave her daughter another very direct look. “Was that approximately what you had in mind?”

“Something very much along those lines, actually, Mother,” Leeana admitted, feeling the blush heating her cheekbones.

Her mother considered her for several moments, then smiled.

“Good,” she said again. “And now that that’s settled, my dear, would you care for a little more lemonade?”

Chapter Eighteen

<
No, she
hasn’t
told me why she’s here
.> Walsharno’s long-suffering mental voice didn’t sound particularly surprised, Bahzell noted. <
She
never
tells me why she does things. Why should she? I’m only her older brother. Only a champion of Tomanāk. Why in the world should she worry about telling
me
why she does things? I can tell you
this
much, though—she’s got some kind of secret that has her just absolutely
delighted
with herself!
>

“Well,” Bahzell replied, his own tone rather more pacific and consoling than his companion’s as Walsharno moved smoothly up the approach road towards Hill Guard, “I’m not so very surprised as all that, I suppose. I’m thinking there’s never a sister been born as didn’t think her brother was after poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Not a one of
mine
ever did, any road.”

<
I’m a courser,
> Walsharno pointed out. <
We’re
supposed
to poke our noses into each other’s business! It’s one of the traits we share with the lesser cousins
.>

“And mighty handy I’m sure you find that when it’s time to be pestering Gayrfressa,” Bahzell observed shrewdly. “And not so much when it’s time for her to be pestering you.”

<
You’re supposed to be on
my
side, you know, Brother
.>

“Ah, but himself wouldn’t be so very pleased if I were to take it into my head to be starting to lie just because the truth’s one as you’re not so very fond of.”

“My mother,” Brandark remarked to no one in particular from where he rode at Bahzell’s side, “always told me it was impolite to have a conversation in which not everyone present had the opportunity to participate.”

“Did she, now?” Bahzell looked down at the Bloody Sword with a smile.

“Yes, she did.” Brandark tilted his head back to look back up at his towering companion. “Of course, now that I think about it, I believe she also mentioned something about Horse Stealers’ ideas about politeness and manners in general being just a little backward.”

<
Tell him I’d be perfectly willing to include him in the conversation if I could only figure out how to hammer a thought into his brain,
> Walsharno said tartly. <
Of course, first I’d have to
find
it!
>

“Now, that I won’t,” Bahzell told his companion, smiling at Walsharno’s mobile ears. “If it’s an insult you’re mindful to give him, then I’m thinking you should figure out how to do it yourself and not be dragging me into it. I’ve insults enough for him of my very own.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Brandark’s eyes glinted. “Well, I’ve got some for you that I’d considered trotting out, but I thought better of it.”

“
You
thought better of it?” Bahzell flattened his ears, regarding the Bloody Sword incredulously.

“Yes, I did,” Brandark said virtuously. “I was inspired by something Vaijon pointed out to me before he left with Yurokhas, actually.”

“Aye?” Bahzell’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what would that have been?”