Daughter of the Flames (15 page)

“What about the Rua casadors who’ve allied themselves with Abheron?”

“What about them?” I almost wailed.

“What would you do to them if you became reia?”

“I’d strip them of lands and titles and execute or exile them,” I said flatly.

“Then give
their
lands to the Sedorne who earn them by working with us against Abheron. Let the lands held by the Sedorne who stand with Abheron against us go back to their original Rua owners once they’ve been exiled,” he said with seemingly boundless confidence. “That’s if those Rua owners are still in the country. Many fled and left their people to their fate. I know several men – good men – who are lord over lands that have no rightful casador. Unless you’d let those cowards return and take up their titles again?”

“I wouldn’t, no. But—”

“What I propose is a union of equals, Zahira. You and I would rule together, share power equally. We would repeal Abheron’s laws, stop the persecution of the Rua and begin anew. No more force or intimidation. A second chance for Ruan. For Sedorne and Rua to live as one people.”

I put my head down in my hands, cradling my forehead as if I thought I could quieten its mad buzzing with the touch of my fingers. He makes it sound so real, so right. He makes it sound easy, but it isn’t. I can’t believe I’m considering this. But … I am…

If what he was proposing actually worked, the dreams we had all cherished all our lives would come true. There would be a reia on the throne again, and peace, safety. Surya would have been right. But how could I possibly marry him?

“What about you and me?” I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Look at me.” His voice sounded a fraction deeper than normal.

I peeked between my fingers. His face was utterly serious as he spoke.

“We have respect and affection between us, Zahira. We can be friends, which is more than many a wedded couple are. In time … perhaps there will be more.”

“But – if this is to work – it must be
real
. We must have heirs…” My voice went horribly high on the last word, and I cringed.

“Yes.” He tilted his head, trying to make out my expression behind my hands. “Zahira?”

“You said there were different types of trust,” I whispered.

“I did. That would be an important one.”

Slowly, I forced my hands away from my face and sat up to look at him properly. “You think … you know me?” I asked, the words quavering.

“Yes. I do.” He held out his hand. I took it, and held on hard. “Do you know me?”

“I think … I think I do,” I said.

We sat for a moment, hanging on to each other’s fingers. I felt warmth spreading through me, replacing the terrible chill that had seized me earlier. We could do this. We could really do it. We could make everything worth it, all the pain and the loss. We could make a dream real.

I said, “All right. I’ll marry you.”

Of course, Mira and Deo – as my unofficial second in command – had to be told first. I sat them down in Sorin’s bright study, with jasmine tea and sticky pastries – the pastries were Sorin’s idea – and I explained, very seriously, what we had decided. Sorin, at my request, made himself busy elsewhere.

With shaking hands and desperate enthusiasm I poured out all my reasons, all my ideas. Sorin and I had sat up through the night in the temple, discussing our plans in minute detail, and I explained it all. How a united Rua and Sedorne force had the only true chance of defeating Abheron. How we would redistribute wealth and lands fairly. How we intended to draw up a new charter of equal rights and fairness.

When I finished, there was a minute of shocked stillness. Then Mira got up from her seat and came to kneel at my feet, clutching at my hands.

“I don’t understand.” Her eyes were filled with tears, and she brushed them away impatiently to hold my fingers again. “You don’t have to do this. No one could ask it, Zira – Zahira. Reia. There are other ways!”

I looked at Deo. He said, firmly, “Lord Mesgao has been good to us; he has our thanks for that. But he’s not one of us, Zahira. To ask us now to entrust our people, our nation – you – to a stranger… No. This isn’t right.”

“Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? This is our chance, Deo. Mira, you said yourself you trusted Sorin. Can’t you see this is the only way?”

“No!” Deo’s voice burst out of him and his hand thudded down on the arm of his chair hard enough to make a cloud of dust rise from the upholstery. “He’s Sedorne! He’s not one of us!”

I felt something cold and horrible stir inside me. I pushed Mira’s hands away. “Deo … I’m not one of you either.”

Mira choked on a sob. Without another word Deo rose and helped her to her feet, and together they left the room. I sat where they had left me, frozen with anguish. I could not believe what had just happened.

To them, Sorin was Sedorne, and that was that. Even after what he had done for us, there was no possible meeting point. All my bright, warm confidence had gone. I had said all I could. They had listened, but not understood. For the first time in my life, my gift had failed me. My dearest friends thought I had lost my mind. I agreed with them almost. It was madness. Complete insanity. The fact that I had told a Sedorne – a lord – who we were was bad enough. To wish to marry him? After knowing him for such a brief time? It was inconceivable. Yet I had agreed to it.

Against all reason, I believed in it.

Sorin’s words had lit a fire inside Zira and Zahira. From the moment I had left the House of God, I had been desperately seeking answers. Struggling each day, trying to understand why I had been saved, what I was supposed to do. Now I thought I knew. This was the reason. This was my purpose. Something to fight for; something to believe in; something real, and wonderful. Perhaps, with my fractured mind and mixed-up memories, I was the last person anyone would imagine to save Ruan. Perhaps I would never really know how to accept that I was the reia. Yet I believed what Sorin spoke of, could be.

The fire inside me was hope. I had to keep it alive. But how could I do that if I couldn’t convince anyone – not even my friends – to help?

After a while I left the room and wandered down into the main courtyard. The area was more or less deserted. A few people moved in the shadows under the arches, and I could hear voices from the mezzanine above my head, but no one I recognized. I didn’t want to see anyone at the moment, especially not Sorin.

I removed the rather fancy embroidered jacket I was wearing and rolled up the sleeves of the linen shirt. I took off the soft leather boots and fine stockings, and let my toes wriggle on the smooth marble flagstones. Then I eased myself into a balanced stance, and began to go through a series of warming-up exercises, stretching the neglected muscles in my arms, back, shoulders and legs. I had had no interest in practice during our journey – and Deo had left me be for the first time in my life – but as my body fell back into the familiar rhythms of movement I realized how much I had missed it.

With my right leg I began a sequence of side kicks, low, higher, highest, and was dismayed at the stiff pull of the ligaments. I swapped sides and went through the drill again with my left leg. Next came side punches, fist and palm, both sides. Then spinning kicks. Then punches. When my body was warm and glowing from the exercise, I started practising flips and jumps, throwing myself backwards, sideways, spinning and cartwheeling. Blood surged through my veins like thunder; sweat ran along my arms and back and legs and broke out on my face. I could feel my lips stretching into a fierce grin. I executed a perfect triple backflip and landed with my arms spread and my face turned up to the sky.

The grin slid off my face. Deo stood in the darkness of the arch opposite me, arms folded.

“I’ve let you get overconfident, Reia,” he said, voice flat and expressionless. “It’s time to show you how far you have to go.”

“What?” I let out a ragged sigh. “Deo—”

“Don’t talk. Fight.” He erupted out of the shadows, his right foot lashing towards my face. I dodged sideways and deflected his fist with my forearm as it flashed out.

“I don’t want to fight, Deo!” I panted.

He responded with a roundhouse kick that caught my side like a hammer. I lost all my breath with a whimper and stumbled to my knees, arms falling from their defensive positions to clutch at the injury.

Deo stepped back. “Is that the best you’ve got, Your Highness?”

I forced my hands away from the throbbing bruise, and rose to my feet. We stared at each other for a moment.

“Very well.” I barely recognized my own voice. It was like a razor. “We’ll fight.”

I went forward and he came to meet me.

Deflecting another punch, I seized his extended forearm, turned my hip into his body as I yanked his elbow past my collarbone, and threw him over my shoulder. He landed hard, rolled and came up fast but slightly off balance. I twisted sideways, curling my left leg up into my chest and lashing out with a powerful kick to his stomach.

He dodged back, but the blow landed with enough force to send his breath huffing out. He turned the backward movement into a spin and went at me with another roundhouse. I slid underneath it and went down, sweeping out my own leg to hit the back of his knee and send him crashing back again. I heard something crack sharply as he fell. I refused to wince. This wasn’t the soft dirt of the training ring, but he had chosen the battleground and he had started the fight. I got up and waited.

Deo rolled over with a muffled groan, but didn’t get up. His hands had gone to the back of his head and his eyes were closed, white teeth biting down on his lower lip.

“Deo?” My hot blood chilled. What had cracked in that fall? “Deo? What is it?” I kneeled down next to him and put out my hand.

His eyes flicked open. I pulled back a second too late. He grabbed my wrist, jerked me sideways and rolled until he was kneeling on my chest, elbow lodged against my throat.

“You are not invulnerable,” he ground out, voice barely above a whisper. “You are not always right. You have a soft, stupid heart and it will trip you up every time. Do you understand?”

I couldn’t move my head to nod. I couldn’t even breathe. I blinked, and he eased his elbow away, shifting until he kneeled over me instead of on me.

“You cheated,” I said hoarsely, coughing.

“Your enemies will cheat, Reia. They’ll break any promise, chance any deception, to bring you down. If you don’t learn that, you will be dead.”

I sat up cautiously, feeling all the bruises, scrapes and bumps I had gained clamouring for my attention. “But that’s why I need you.”

He bowed his head. “Reia.”

“No, Deo!” I leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder. “I don’t need you to be my subject; I need you to be my friend. Please trust me. Please help me. Please be my friend again.”

I heard him sigh. Then his big, brawny arms were around me, squeezing hard enough to crack a rib. “All right, girl. I’ll go along with you and your crazy scheme. God knows where we’re going, but I’ll go along with you. To the end.”

I hugged him back. “Thank you.”

“And no more neglecting your practice. That sideways kick was pathetic.”

I snorted and let my head fall down on his shoulder. “Yes, namoa.”

“That’s my girl.”

I stood at the narrow window and looked down into the courtyard below. In the gathering darkness people were still laughing and dancing, if rather unsteadily after all the wine and ale they’d consumed. Someone was singing a Rua wedding song, not solemnly and beautifully as it had been sung earlier today, but bawdily, stumbling over half the words. I realized that it had to be a Sedorne singing it – the flat, slurred pronunciation could not possibly belong to a Rua. I leaned forward to try to see who it was, but the shadows and the slenderness of the window opening defeated me.

Deo and Mira had participated in the ceremony at my request. It couldn’t have taken place without two Rua witnesses to sing the appropriate songs, and I would have been hard pressed to find anyone else to agree. But I had seen Mira’s eyes begging me to reconsider until the very last moment, and Deo’s unhappy resignation. The temple people and other namoa did not know what to think. Some of them quite clearly believed I was being forced into the marriage, and had to be persuaded not to object forcibly. Others just looked lost and miserable. The boisterous enthusiasm of Sorin’s people hadn’t helped.

The first part of the plan Sorin and I had agreed to was complete. I knew we would have to undertake separate Sedorne and Rua wedding ceremonies in order for the marriage to be recognized by everyone, and since Sedorne weddings were horribly elaborate and took almost a whole day, we had agreed to have the Rua wedding as soon as possible, for everyone in the fort to celebrate and enjoy. Ha. The impressive Sedorne ritual was being saved for later, when all our potential allies were here to be impressed.

Looking down into the courtyard again, I just hoped the people below remembered that the reason for this celebration had to be kept secret. Since I had no idea if there was still a spy in Mesgao town, the truth had to be kept within the walls of the fort for as long as possible, until we could arrange for everyone we needed to convince – Rua resistance and Sedorne lords – to arrive here and begin negotiating.

I leaned my head wearily against the rough, pale stone of the wall, unable to distract myself any longer.

I was married.

Every trace of the certainty and confidence I had felt when I ordered this wedding was gone. It had evaporated when the gaggle of laughing women – made up of both Rua and Sedorne – had surrounded me downstairs and dragged me into this room. Sorin’s room. When they had produced the lacy white nightgown they expected me to wear. The moment, the very instant, I had seen one of them sprinkling flower petals on the bed.

Sorin’s bed. My bed. Our bed.

Dear God, what had I thought I was doing? He was Sedorne.

What have I done?

The nightgown lay on the edge of the bed, untouched. I was still fully clothed in the trousers and over-robe I had worn for the wedding, the silky green fabric embroidered at hems and neckline with a pattern of peacock feathers. The emerald-encrusted tortoiseshell combs Sorin had given me for a wedding gift still gripped my hair. Zira wasn’t lacy nightclothes and jewelled combs. And Zahira had never even kissed a boy.