discipline two errant dukes? And if Emperor Han suspects I'm not strong enough to do this…”
“Han,” he spat, and turned away. “I don't trust him. I don't trust his witch-men. I am not a pious man and even I see there is the stench of unsavoury practice upon them.”
“It's true,” Rhian said after a moment. “The witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai aren't…comfortable. They dabble in things we don't understand. But I have to trust there's a purpose to their presence, Alasdair. I have to trust I can trust Tzhung's emperor, at least for now.”
“And I think you place too much trust in trust,” he retorted, turning back. “And not enough in the world we see and touch without miracles.”
“Alasdair…” Rhian folded her arms, growing impatient. “I'm not talking of miracles now. I'm talking of cold hard reality, of consequences that will follow if I don't face the truth. A horde of brutal warriors is poised to sweep across Ethrea – and after Ethrea, the rest of the world. Perhaps Arbenia and Harbisland and the others already suspect trouble stirs in the east, or it could be that Han and I are the only rulers who know. But even if we are, Mijak won't stay secret forever. And when the trading nations' ambassadors learn the truth, they must believe I can stand against the coming darkness. If they don't, if they see me weak against two mere dukes, I fear they'll join together and wrest Ethrea from my grasp, all in the name of self-preservation.”
“I understand that,” he said, his throat tight. “What I don't understand is why you must be the one to risk your life against Damwin and Kyrin. I'm your king consort, Rhian. There's no shame in sending me against them in your stead. Not even Emperor Han fights with his own blade. He has warriors who shed blood in his name. Let me be your warrior. Don't risk Ethrea for your pride.”
“Alasdair, Alasdair…” Again Rhian approached him. “That's unfair. When was I ever a prideful woman?”
He couldn't help it: he laughed. “Rhian!”
“All right,” she conceded with a reluctant smile. “I'm proud, but not in that way. This has nothing to do with wanting to prove myself a dashing hero, it's about proving myself more than an upstart miss. And—”
“What?” he said, when she didn't finish the thought. “Rhian, what?”
She laid a palm flat to his velvet-covered chest, frowning. “I'll prick your pride if I say it,” she murmured. “Haven't we enough strife between us?”
She didn't have to say more. He knew what she meant. “You think I can't defeat the dukes, where you can.”
“Alasdair…” She sighed. “If it were a public jousting, a play to entertain and amuse, with blunted swords and padding aplenty I have no doubt you'd trounce the pair of them handily. No doubt. But this bout will be to the death.”
“And I've never drawn a sword in anger, or in the need to defend my life.” I've never killed. “Still, neither have the dukes, Rhian. They and I are evenly matched on that score.”
“Perhaps. But they've had more years to play with swords than you,” she said. “And I know for a fact both Damwin and Kyrin take their swordplay most serious. Papa could never best them in the annual joustings. But even if you're right and you're their equal, and more than their equal, here's the bitter truth. You and Damwin and Kyrin have had fencing masters to school you. Your form may be perfect, your touch with a blade a thing of beauty…but you only ever danced for show. Whereas I have had a warrior train me, a man steeped in blood from the moment of his birth. Every time I dance with him it is to make of myself a better killing queen. And if I'm to win the ambassadors to my cause I must show them my cold, killing face. Mine, Alasdair. For it's my lead they must follow in the fight against Mijak.”
Her eyes were devoid of light and warmth and even the smallest hint of love. She was gone far away from him, to a dark place he didn't envy,
“Han,” he spat, and turned away. “I don't trust him. I don't trust his witch-men. I am not a pious man and even I see there is the stench of unsavoury practice upon them.”
“It's true,” Rhian said after a moment. “The witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai aren't…comfortable. They dabble in things we don't understand. But I have to trust there's a purpose to their presence, Alasdair. I have to trust I can trust Tzhung's emperor, at least for now.”
“And I think you place too much trust in trust,” he retorted, turning back. “And not enough in the world we see and touch without miracles.”
“Alasdair…” Rhian folded her arms, growing impatient. “I'm not talking of miracles now. I'm talking of cold hard reality, of consequences that will follow if I don't face the truth. A horde of brutal warriors is poised to sweep across Ethrea – and after Ethrea, the rest of the world. Perhaps Arbenia and Harbisland and the others already suspect trouble stirs in the east, or it could be that Han and I are the only rulers who know. But even if we are, Mijak won't stay secret forever. And when the trading nations' ambassadors learn the truth, they must believe I can stand against the coming darkness. If they don't, if they see me weak against two mere dukes, I fear they'll join together and wrest Ethrea from my grasp, all in the name of self-preservation.”
“I understand that,” he said, his throat tight. “What I don't understand is why you must be the one to risk your life against Damwin and Kyrin. I'm your king consort, Rhian. There's no shame in sending me against them in your stead. Not even Emperor Han fights with his own blade. He has warriors who shed blood in his name. Let me be your warrior. Don't risk Ethrea for your pride.”
“Alasdair, Alasdair…” Again Rhian approached him. “That's unfair. When was I ever a prideful woman?”
He couldn't help it: he laughed. “Rhian!”
“All right,” she conceded with a reluctant smile. “I'm proud, but not in that way. This has nothing to do with wanting to prove myself a dashing hero, it's about proving myself more than an upstart miss. And—”
“What?” he said, when she didn't finish the thought. “Rhian, what?”
She laid a palm flat to his velvet-covered chest, frowning. “I'll prick your pride if I say it,” she murmured. “Haven't we enough strife between us?”
She didn't have to say more. He knew what she meant. “You think I can't defeat the dukes, where you can.”
“Alasdair…” She sighed. “If it were a public jousting, a play to entertain and amuse, with blunted swords and padding aplenty I have no doubt you'd trounce the pair of them handily. No doubt. But this bout will be to the death.”
“And I've never drawn a sword in anger, or in the need to defend my life.” I've never killed. “Still, neither have the dukes, Rhian. They and I are evenly matched on that score.”
“Perhaps. But they've had more years to play with swords than you,” she said. “And I know for a fact both Damwin and Kyrin take their swordplay most serious. Papa could never best them in the annual joustings. But even if you're right and you're their equal, and more than their equal, here's the bitter truth. You and Damwin and Kyrin have had fencing masters to school you. Your form may be perfect, your touch with a blade a thing of beauty…but you only ever danced for show. Whereas I have had a warrior train me, a man steeped in blood from the moment of his birth. Every time I dance with him it is to make of myself a better killing queen. And if I'm to win the ambassadors to my cause I must show them my cold, killing face. Mine, Alasdair. For it's my lead they must follow in the fight against Mijak.”
Her eyes were devoid of light and warmth and even the smallest hint of love. She was gone far away from him, to a dark place he didn't envy,
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