Blood & Bond Read online

  Soren’s stomach rolled. “That’s the Count of Bailaha, Mother. Commander Shianan Becknam.”

  She did not move. “Is it? I didn’t know him.” She hesitated. “I have not seen him since... He must have been three, perhaps four. Four, I think.”

  “Mother...”

  “Oh, Soren, don’t be a fool. I’m not going to scream or faint or embarrass anyone.” Her fingers shifted on the stone. “Do you know him?”

  “A little.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “I—I think he’s an interesting man.”

  She gave him a critical look. “Safely spoken.”

  Below them, Ethan had nearly reached the commander, who turned and addressed a passerby, probably some military associate. Ethan hesitated, unable to interrupt their conversation, and glanced apologetically toward the landing. Soren shook his head; it was irrelevant now.

  The corners of the queen’s mouth quirked upwards. “You really were afraid of me seeing him, weren’t you?”

  Soren shifted. “You have been very careful to avoid him.”

  “Yes.”

  She stood very still, only her eyes moving as she watched the count. Soren’s stomach clenched as her mouth pinched.

  “Soren,” she said, “please call back Ethan for me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHIANAN SMILED, MADE a polite comment, and watched as Escher moved away through the crowd, leaving him alone again. This was miserable, he should never have come...

  “Shianan!”

  He whirled, his ears burning, and Ariana leaned toward him to be heard over the music and chatter, her face bright with exertion and excitement. “I did not know you were here! I’ve been trying to see you for days—but how smart you look! This really suits you.”

  She was in a gown of deep red, her dark hair arranged high and cascading down her back. Above her left breast was a gauzy black scarf twisted into a perfect circle and pinned into place, denoting her honored position. Her eyes ran over Shianan, possibly admiring his extravagant clothing or possibly looking for evidence of his beatings.

  “I—er—thank you,” Shianan stammered.

  She laughed. “You needn’t say it like that. I did mean it. You never believe a compliment, do you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not really myself at the moment.” He shifted inside the prickling collar. “Welcome back. Welcome home.”

  She sobered. “Yes. Thank you. I’m glad I had the chance, before the shield was recreated.”

  He caught his breath. Did she know? Did she know what he had done to save her?

  But she smiled and continued, “At least I had the chance to participate this time.”

  No. No, she did not know.

  He stood there, absolutely still in the whirling crowd, uncertain of what he could say. Her eyes shifted, looking over his shoulder to some excitement beyond him, and in sudden panic he sallied, “So we’re safe, then? No more Ryuven?”

  This somehow seemed to sadden her. “No more Ryuven,” she repeated. “We’re safe. No more war.”

  “Most think that a good thing,” he answered, trying to tease back her cheerful expression. “No more war with the Ryuven, no more massacres, no more fighting or starving.”

  She nodded, still a little wan. “That’s right. No more soldiers dedicating their lives to danger and dying to protect us. You can live a normal life.”

  Ice lanced through Shianan. No more soldiers... But that was all he was. He could not have a normal life, not the bastard. Every honor, every recognition, every scrap of praise had been hard-won by military accomplishment. Without the war...

  “You can all live normal lives,” Ariana said with determined relief. She tipped up her chin. “Do you dance, Shianan Becknam?”

  He blinked. “I...”

  “It’s a simple enough question. Do you dance?”

  “Not well.”

  “Good,” she declared. “Then I won’t feel too ill-suited for you. Come with me?” She grasped his arm and pulled him into the maelstrom of music.

  Shianan had little time to consider refusal, and they were promptly surrounded by swaying couples barring his escape. She transferred her grip to his hand and began to pace with the others, giving him an encouraging smile. Shianan moved haltingly, stiff with uncertainty and hot with embarrassment. But Ariana kept hold of his hand and matched his pace, and gradually he began to move more freely. She twirled and came to face him, her hands resting on his forearms, her face lifting toward his as she laughed at her own play, and he caught his breath. She was so near, and so joyous, and they were both alive.

  “You’re not doing so badly,” she told him.

  His hands ached to slip about her waist, but this was a different style of dance, and that might be too forward. He tightened his fingers about her arms and leaned nearer to her. “My lady mage...”

  The music ended with a pipe trill and the dancers about them paused to breathe, laughing and speaking. Ariana hesitated a moment in his grasp, looking at him, and then she drew away with a quick, shy smile. “That was a fine dance, once you began. Thank you for partnering me.” She plucked at her skirt.

  Shianan swallowed. “My lady mage, you—you’re beautiful,” he blurted. Horror swept him. “I mean, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” That was hardly better. “I mean...”

  “Your lordship.” A voice came from behind him.

  Shianan tightened his fingers on Ariana. “Yes?” he asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

  But it was Mage Hazelrig who smiled disarmingly back at him. “Only a moment.” He held out two decorated cups. “I thought the two of you might want something to drink after that.”

  “Er, thank you,” Shianan accepted awkwardly. He took the cup which Hazelrig offered and drank. Chilled watered ale, safe enough.

  He looked again at the older mage, dressed in a doublet of rich midnight blue. It made a stark contrast with the white scarf pinned to his chest, twisted in an exact circle.

  “Your scarves are too perfect,” Shianan commented. “Mere cloth shouldn’t be able to hold that shape. Are they magicked?”

  Ariana laughed aloud. “No, no. They’re wrapped about a metal ring. See?”

  Hazelrig was amused. “We needn’t use magic for everything. That would be both difficult and wasteful.”

  Shianan chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.” He took another sip. “Thank you for the drinks.”

  Ariana nodded and looked about. “Linner was asking me to dance,” she said in a lower voice, “but I don’t see him now. Which is just as well, because I’m hoping someone else will ask me for the next one.” She tossed a pointed glance toward Shianan. “After all, I issued the last invitation.”

  Shianan caught his breath and glanced toward Hazelrig, but the mage only smiled at his daughter. Shianan looked from the White Mage, unconcerned about the bastard, to Ariana, sipping her watered ale to hide a grin, and for just one moment life was perfect.

  “Excuse me, your lordship,” cut in a polite voice. “One moment?”

  Shianan turned to a bowing slave.

  “If you please, your lordship, I am instructed to bring you.”

  The slave straightened, his eyes respectfully below the commander’s, and Shianan’s brief joy shattered into icy crystals. This was Prince Soren’s personal servant—Allan, or Efren, or Ethan, yes. Had the prince seen him dancing with Ariana? What did he want?

  “My lord?”

  Shianan gulped. “I—yes. I’ll come.” He turned to the two mages, who looked concerned. He must not have guarded his expression well. “Please excuse me.”

  Ariana reached for his arm. “My—Shianan,” she began, her voice quiet and urgent, “is it the king?”

  “Prince Soren has sent for me.” Beside him, the servant gave a small cough.

  “Will you—will you come afterward? To dance?”

  ’Soats, she saw right through him. She was worried for him.

  He forced himself to sm
ile. “I’ll come when I may. Enjoy yourself.” He bowed to the two of them and turned to follow the waiting slave.

  Ethan led him through the crowd and out a heavy, carved door. They would be meeting in private, then. They made two turns in the corridors and Ethan paused to knock at another carved door before opening it. He bowed and gestured Shianan inside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHIANAN’S FIRST THOUGHT as he entered was that someone had moved the great portrait from its prominent palace corridor. Then he saw she was no portrait, and he realized he had entered the wrong room. He fell into a bow and retreated a step, hoping for quick escape, but Ethan was already closing the door behind him.

  No, he had been brought deliberately to this. He collapsed more than knelt and dropped his head low over his knee.

  “Good evening, Bailaha.”

  “Your Majesty,” he forced.

  “Thank you, you may rise. I want to see you.”

  He did so, keeping his eyes on her feet. Silently he cursed. How had he come here? How had he even received an invitation when the queen would be present? He drew in a breath, awaiting the worst.

  Ethan was gone. Shianan was alone before the queen.

  “I did not expect to see you here tonight,” she said neutrally.

  “I—I did not know Your Majesty would be attending. I offer my deepest apology—‍”

  She rose from her chair and started toward him. Her movement silenced him, although it should not have.

  Shianan straightened and clenched his jaw as when he’d awaited an eviscerating scolding from his captain, as when he’d been verbally flayed by the king. At least if he was to be scorned and humiliated now, there was no one else to see it.

  She stepped to one side and tipped her head to regard him. “You would not have come tonight had you known of my presence?”

  He stared stiffly at the chair she’d vacated. “I would not have troubled Your Majesty.”

  “Troubled?”

  Offended, then! he thought madly. Why did she torment him? “I know Your Majesty would not be—pleased to see me.” He blinked and hoped she would not see fit to correct his understatement. Not pleased? I hate your odious form.

  “No,” she agreed, “I was not. But you were a boy when I saw you last. Before you were sent away.”

  “I was, Your Majesty,” he answered the chair.

  She sighed. “Am I so fearsome as that? You needn’t look so—so military. I’m not one of your generals. I wanted to speak with you, not hear monosyllabic agreement.”

  He did not know how to respond to that. He glanced momentarily at her, a fleeting impression of Prince Soren’s eyes, and then looked forward at the chair again.

  She sighed again. “I suppose that outpost or wherever left its mark. Very well. What are you now?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Tell me something about yourself. I want to know something about you.”

  “I...” Shianan faltered. How could he answer, when every promotion he’d earned, every position he’d held was an affront to her?

  She waited a moment, watching him, and then she turned back toward her chair. “I think I believed you would be like Lucien. He was never acknowledged, but we inside knew it. The duchess’s extra son. He was an insufferable little pustule.” She stopped and looked at Shianan again. “He, at least, would not have been utterly tongued-tied when asked to speak of himself.”

  “Oh, Bailaha can speak, my lady mother,” Soren offered as he entered by the far door. “He can wax quite eloquent on the subject of ugly pigherds, for example.” He came to stand beside the queen as Shianan bowed. “But I never knew old Baron Lucien was illegitimate.”

  “You weren’t meant to know,” she answered. “And you probably believe he died in battle, too. Well, that much is true, at least, but we don’t know for certain whether the guilty blade was theirs or ours.”

  Soren was visibly startled. “He was killed? For his birth?”

  “It’s possible, though I rather think it was for for his wretched personality.” She seated herself again and gave Soren a significant glance. “For example, he was often inserting himself where he wasn’t wanted.”

  Soren acknowledged the reprimand with a chagrined expression. “I only thought to drop in and see how you were getting along. After you borrowed Ethan—‍”

  “I am quite capable of managing without you. You have guests. Go see to them.”

  Soren made her a bow before retreating. The queen looked after him curiously and then glanced at Bailaha. “Well, he did say he found you an interesting man.”

  Shianan did not know what she meant by this, but he felt somehow more vulnerable now that the prince had departed.

  Queen Azalie put two fingers thoughtfully to her chin and regarded Shianan as if he were a portrait to be approved. He stood utterly still, almost without breathing, wishing he were anywhere, anywhere at all but here.

  “Shianan Becknam,” she said finally. “That is it, isn’t it? Your own name?”

  He opened his mouth and found his voice had fled. He nodded.

  “Commander Shianan Becknam, Count of Bailaha.” She blew out her breath. “I must admit, I was furious when he ennobled you. I raged in Kalifi.” She quirked her mouth. “I overreacted.”

  If there were a way that he could flee, without flagrantly disregarding all conventions of respect and obedience... If only there were an attack on Alham that required his defense—if the Ryuven were to besiege the Naziar Palace—if Pairvyn ni’Ai himself were to burst into the room—

  “Shianan Becknam,” said the queen, “I have something to say to you.”

  Shianan’s knees obeyed before he could think. He knelt and bowed his head, awaiting her scorn or her orders or her warning.

  “I have been a foolish woman. It is not the first time I have been, and it is not the first time that my foolishness has cost another.” She paused. “What are you doing on your knees again?”

  His throat worked frantically. “Your Majesty...”

  “Get up, man. You cannot kneel to hear my apology, that’s hardly fitting. Stand and listen to me.” She watched him get to his feet.

  His thoughts whirled. For decades he had been trained to avoid the queen, and he could not navigate these waters.

  “Shianan Becknam, I once hated you. I hated you because you were not a person, in my mind. I never thought of you as a person. You were a living sin, a name, nothing more.”

  Shianan swallowed against the stone in his throat.

  “But you did not have a part in your birth, and now I see you for yourself.” She looked at him with cool eyes. “I do not pretend that I know you and like you. I do not pretend we shall be friends. I only know that while I hated the concept of you, you were in fact only a boy, a young man, a soldier, a courtier, and I have wasted myself in spite.” She shook her head. “Part of it is hearing his bragging, of course. It’s cruel to praise a bastard to the mother of your children, isn’t it? But that is another of his crimes, not yours.”

  Shianan stared at her in disbelief. “Your Majesty...?”

  “And Soren likes you, so that says something for you as well. I didn’t know; he’s never spoken of you. Perhaps he was worried for my reaction. Regardless, I hold his opinion in high esteem, so there must be something worthwhile about you.”

  Shianan’s knees were weak. He could not speak.

  “Bailaha?”

  “I—I never meant to offend you—I never wanted...”

  She gave him a small, grim smile. “It was never a matter of what you intended. But it seems you are determined to prosper here regardless of my favor, so I might as well grow accustomed to the idea. Perhaps you’re not the horror that I thought.”

  Shianan bowed low. “I shall try not to be, Your Majesty.”

  “Good. Now go out that door, but slowly. It won’t do for the prince-heir to be caught listening at keyholes.”

  Shianan could not think of a safe answer for this, and so he b
owed again and backed to the escape of the door.

  As he closed it safely behind him, he saw Soren waiting a dozen paces down the corridor. “I’m sorry,” Soren said immediately. “I’m sorry. I had no idea she would be here. I tried to keep her from noting you...”

  Shianan shook his head, confused and alarmed at the prince’s consternation. “No, no—my lord, Your Highness, it is my fault for coming here.”

  “No,” Soren said firmly. “It is not your fault. You were invited, weren’t you? Then you should have come.” He looked down. “It’s all right. I’ll talk with her later. I’ll tell her something.” He glanced at Shianan, almost nervously. “Was she—did she challenge your invitation?”

  Shianan shook his head. “No, my lord.” In fact, he was stunned at how—indifferent she had been. He’d never thought to meet the queen face to face and walk away intact.

  Soren relaxed a little. “Still, I’m sorry for that.”

  Shianan didn’t understand why the prince would apologize for such a thing. “No, it’s all right.” He hesitated. “If it pleases Your Highness...”

  “What? Oh, certainly. Go back to the ball.” Soren gestured up the corridor. “Good evening.”

  Shianan bowed. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  He was nearly at the hall when he heard Ariana’s voice. “Thank you, but again, no. I’m waiting—‍”

  “Yes, darling, I heard, but you’re still here. He can’t be worthy of you if he makes you wait so long. Come dance with me.”

  “No, thank you, I will wait.”

  Ariana. Shianan’s spine elongated and his shoulders squared as he exited the corridor. Ariana and a young baron glanced at him.

  Shianan pointedly ignored the young man. “I beg your pardon, my lady mage,” he pronounced as he bowed to Ariana. “I was detained, and I apologize.”

  “Oh, you’re nearly forgiven, your lordship,” she answered smoothly. “Linner did not leave me alone.”

  Linner squinted as he tried to work out if he’d been insulted or complimented. Shianan straightened and put an arm casually against the wall over Ariana’s shoulder, leaning near her. “How thoughtful of him.” He looked at the baron for the first time. “Then he’ll be glad of the chance to return to his other friends.”