Lady Warhawk (20 page)

"I haven't been able to fall asleep," the young prince admitted. His smile twisted and he
cocked his head to one side. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"In this light... I remember your grandfather with the same expression. You even sound
like him. He would be proud of you. I wish the two of you could have known each other."

"That's what Father says." He shrugged. "I have a problem."

"Of course. What else could keep you awake after a feast?" Mrillis leaned back against
the wall and crossed his arms. "The argument about star-metal, or--"

"Lady Indreseen. What?" he demanded, when Mrillis muffled laughter with his hand
over his mouth. "It's not funny. We promised we would wait for each other, but five Valors claim
they're almost betrothed to her."

"They
claim
. What does your sweetheart say about them? And why is this the
first time you've said anything about promises to each other?" Mrillis said a silent apology to
Meghianna, for doubting her sense of trouble.

He had felt some relief to see the knot of young men vying for Indreseen's favor. The
girl had bloomed into a delicate, sweet-tempered, if simple-minded maiden. Markas trusted her
to stay out of trouble, and Lyriel said the girl didn't show any preference among the men who
competed for her favor. Mrillis wondered if this newly revealed promise between Athrar and the
maiden was the reason why Indreseen had a reputation of being unattainable--she had already
given her heart.

"I didn't notice her giving anyone any encouragement. I did see her giving you a few
wounded looks," Mrillis added.

"You did?" The hope that lit Athrar's face was almost comical.

"Have you spoken to her since you arrived?"

"No." His expression darkened into despair. "I couldn't get through the crowds and...
Did I just ruin everything?"

"Hmm, well, honesty won't work this time. You don't want to admit you thought she
forgot her promises to you." Mrillis played with the idea of encouraging this romance to die.
Then he thought of his misery all those years when he had convinced himself Ceera didn't love
him as anything but a brother. "You need to act before she comes to the same conclusion you
mistakenly did, and encourages her suitors."

"How?" the prince nearly wailed. "If this was a battle, I would know what to do."

"Treat this as a battle. And half the battle is simply establishing yourself at her side and
discouraging all suitors. That will show her you're serious." He stepped back and crossed his
arms, studying Athrar. The young man was certainly miserable, but light was dawning. "If you
found out she preferred someone else, would you step back and let them be together, and not
press your suit, not hold her to her promises?"

"I--I wouldn't want to. But it would be the honorable thing to do, wouldn't it?"

"Weren't you standing back, trying to determine how she felt about all those young men
flocking around her?" Mrillis knew Meghianna would slap him for putting words in Athrar's
mouth and ideas in his mind. Still, he pitied the young prince.

"Yes. I guess." Athrar nodded. "I'll tell her that it's been so long, and I wouldn't blame
her if she got impatient with me, and I wanted to be sure she would be happy with someone else.
What do I do if she agrees with me?" he blurted, his words almost tripping over each other.

"Tell her she has wounded you, but that you wish her well, and you love her too much to
make her a prisoner of vows made by children."

"Nobody talks that way," he said, his voice thick with scorn.

"Phrase it any way you want, but make sure she knows her happiness is important to
you, and you are being an adult about the whole thing. You were still children who didn't know
anything about the real world when you vowed to each other." Mrillis silently groaned. Guiding
the boy through his first heartache was no easy task. Wasn't this Efrin's duty?

With a few more words of encouragement, he sent Athrar back to bed. In the morning,
he would have to speak with Markas, to apprise him of the situation as the girl's guardian. They
would have to include Lyriel in the discussion, because Indreseen would confide in a woman
many things she could never tell any man.

The next morning, that discussion had barely begun when Markas' Valors brought
Athrar and two young local men to the king's study. All three bore the marks of a nasty fistfight.
The guilty, startled look Athrar gave Mrillis and Markas gave a good indication just what the
battle had been about.

Markas snorted and glanced at Mrillis, fighting a grin. Clearly the king of Welcairn had
come to the same conclusion.

"Well, little brother, that's a tactic more than a few men have tried in the past," Markas
said. "Two at one time. Your choice, or theirs?"

"Markas, it wasn't..." Athrar sighed and seemed to collapse into himself, even though he
still stood steady on his feet. "I suppose it was childish."

"Does Indreseen know?" Lyriel asked. She muffled a chuckle when all three young men
gave each other wide-eyed looks of panic. "Let me guess. You thought to impress her by fighting
over her, and she called you all filthy brutes and ran away crying. Yes?"

"Somewhat," the red-haired, husky, taller youth said. He tried to straighten his
shoulders, winced, and rubbed at his left shoulder.

The story, when the three finally admitted their parts in it, made Mrillis feel dizzy, even
as he tried not to laugh aloud. He supposed the situation could have been far worse, if the three
young men had engaged in battle with weapons, in a highly public venue. The spectacle would
have embarrassed Indreseen enough to reject all three suitors. A fistfight in a secluded corner of
Lyriel's garden was just about right, in tone and heat.

Indreseen had been walking in the garden with the redhead, Syrus, son of an Encindi
noble who had sworn loyalty to the Warhawk when Efrin was newly crowned. The second young
man, Wellan, the son of a Noveni pureblood noble family, saw them and ordered Syrus to give
up on Indreseen, because she was too high-ranked to ever consider marriage with a 'filthy'
Encindi.

Athrar encountered them just before the argument got loud enough to explode into
physical battle. He calmly announced that Syrus' father had proven his loyalty, and honor had
nothing to do with bloodlines. The choice was up to Indreseen and Markas. Then he ruined the
tentative peace by announcing that he had first claim on Indreseen, and they would have to wait
until she dismissed him before they fought over who would win her heart.

Indreseen had been stunned speechless by his words--which Athrar admitted now were
brutish and ill-chosen--and while she sputtered and paled, the other two had argued that rank
meant nothing when it came to winning a maiden's love. None of them were quite sure who had
thrown the first punch, but each had given and received almost equal bruising.

Mrillis decided Athrar at least had the talent for avoiding the most damage to his
face.

A tapping at the door interrupted Markas while he paced in front of the three offenders,
frowning and rubbing his bearded chin and making a show of considering the testimony. Mrillis
made a silent wager with himself just how long the king would drag this out to torment the three
young men. He and Lyriel exchanged glances, and the queen of Welcairn visibly struggled to
hide her amusement.

The tapping was so light, Mrillis almost didn't hear it over the sound of Markas' boots on
the flagstone floor. He glanced toward the door to see it open. The guard who stood outside
looked in. Indreseen peered past him. Her eyes were red with crying and her face was pale,
except for two dark splotches in her cheeks. Lyriel saw her and gestured for her to come in. She
met the girl halfway across the floor.

The three young men exchanged worried glances. Mrillis fought not to burst out
laughing.

"I'm sorry," Athrar blurted, before Indreseen and Lyriel could sit down. "I was stupid. I
thought you found someone you liked better than me. I heard others talking about how you had
so many sweethearts and I didn't want to accuse you of breaking your promise and--" He
shrugged. "Indreseen... I love you. I don't know what to do to prove it."

"I think he just did," Markas muttered, leaning close so only Mrillis could hear him.
"Women know when a man admits he's been a fool and he means it. I can't figure out why it
moves them so much."

"Because we're rarely alert enough to realize it?" Mrillis offered, just as quietly. He
wasn't quite sure what he felt when Indreseen burst into tears and held out her hands to Athrar,
and he went down on one knee in front of her chair and held her hands. Relief that the prince's
heart wouldn't be broken, proud that he had been man enough to admit his faults, certainly. But
Meghianna didn't approve of the match. Even though she couldn't find definite reasons for not
liking Indreseen, she was Queen of Snows, and her instincts were to be trusted.

Eventually, only Mrillis and Markas were left alone in the king's study. The two rejected
suitors went away, sulking. Lyriel led Indreseen and Athrar away to tend to his bruises.

"It's a good match," Markas said. "Marrying Indreseen would make his throne more
solid." He grinned and offered with a gesture to pour from a pitcher for Mrillis, who nodded his
thanks. "Indreseen is related to practically every noble family on Moerta. With her as the
Warhawk's queen, the Noveni would feel a stronger tie to the Warhawk. More certain that he will
consider their interests. Efrin is aware that having the Warhawk's fortress so far inland in
Lygroes has always been a sticking point. The Noveni pureblood faction fear it is a sign that the
Warhawk will eventually be thoroughly Rey'kil in blood and in loyalty."

"The fact that the heir's mother is from Moerta doesn't help them?" Mrillis sipped and
was relieved to taste spiced cider, thickened with honey.

"Athrar says he has talked with Efrin about building a new fortress, a castle that will be
the focus of all the world, in Quenlaque. As the port with the most direct access to Moerta, the
shortest trip by ship, the Noveni nobles will feel... I don't know. Safer? More secure?"

"They want more visible effort on Moerta's behalf. This tour is to encourage the Noveni
nobles that the Warhawk does not save all his efforts for Lygroes, even though Lygroes still
bears the brunt of the battle against the Encindi. No one seems to realize that nearly all magical
forays against us take place on Lygroes, not Moerta."

"Actually, they do." Markas rubbed at the back of his neck, and Mrillis realized the king
felt uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "They blame the star-metal."

"When don't the Noveni blame star-metal for their ills? Isn't it enough for them that all
star-metal now falls solely on Lygroes, and Moerta is safe from star-showers?" Mrillis shook his
head, deciding to laugh at the blindness and arrogance of Noveni nobles. It did no good to let
them frustrate him. The Noveni would never be satisfied with the efforts on their behalf, no
matter how many Rey'kil suffered and died for them.

"They realize all too clearly. I was planning on coming to speak privately with Efrin
about this." Markas took a long gulp of cider and set the mug down on the table with a thud.
"Now, the complaint is that the Rey'kil keep all the star-metal for themselves. Some say Lygroes
draws all the star-showers down on itself to keep Noveni from using star-metal."

"Fools," Mrillis whispered. He felt suddenly too tired to laugh. He doubted he could,
even if he had the strength. A sick, thick feeling in his throat threatened to choke him.

"Some resent the fact that anyone with
imbrose
has to travel to Lygroes to 'beg'
for star-metal to enhance it. They believe Lygroes deprives them of their rightful inheritance
from the Estall." Markas shrugged and sank back in his chair, as if the news he passed on drained
him.

"Two generations ago, they believed the Rey'kil and Lygroes refused to
protect
them from that inheritance. They will never be happy until Lygroes vanishes into the sea."
Mrillis caught his breath as a ghostly image flickered through his mind, of a shining dome
around Lygroes that cut it off from the rest of the world. He tucked the memory far in the back of
his mind, to discuss with Meghianna much later.

"No one will be happy, no matter what we do. Meghianna explained to me how the
quantities of star-metal stored in the Stronghold and on Wynystrys attract all star-metal showers
to fall on Lygroes. Short of moving enormous quantities of refined star-metal to Moerta--and
who would get the honor of guarding it, without causing feuds and raids among the minor kings
and nobles--what could we do?"

"It is as you said before. Indreseen is a good match for Athrar. Thank the Estall, neither
one will feel they are being sacrificed for the sake of politics."

"Thank the Estall they are in love."

"No, they are not in love. They are infatuated, too young to know what real love is."
Mrillis chuckled wearily. "But they will grow into real love, if they are given a chance."

* * * *

The story of Athrar's fistfight with Indreseen's suitors reached Fenliss, the next stop on
the tour of Moerta, before the traveling party did. Mrillis braced himself for disapproval, for
mockery, and for arrogant young men to challenge Athrar to battle them over Indreseen, too.

Instead, the prince became a hero to most of the women. King Esckin and his sons
approved of Athrar's tactics, but something in their attitude worried Mrillis. Why did they
approve the fact that Athrar used his fists, like a grubby child fighting in a mud hole?

Ten days later, when their party moved on to the next minor kingdom, Mrillis put
together enough clues to understand. Esckin was of the pureblood Noveni faction. Athrar's
fistfight proved to him that the Warhawk's heir was not hobbled by dependence on magic.