“Leagh?”
She jumped, startled from her thoughts. Askam had entered her chamber, and now walked towards her. “You wanted to see me, sister?”
“Yes.” Leagh stood up and smiled. “I trust I have not disturbed you from important council?”
Askam waved a hand for her to sit back down, and took a seat across the table. “Nothing that cannot wait, Leagh.”
His tone turned brisk, belying his words. “What is it I can do for you?”
Leagh kept her own voice light, not wanting to antagonise her brother any more than she had to. “Askam, it is many weeks since you have made any mention of my marriage –”
Askam’s face tightened and he looked away.
“– to Zared.” Leagh shifted slightly, impatiently. “Askam, time passes, and neither Zared nor myself grow any younger! I long to be by his side, and –”
“Leagh, be still. You are noble born and raised, and you understand the negotiations that must be endured for such a marriage to be agreed to.”
“Negotiations that have been going on for five years!”
Askam looked back at his sister, his eyes narrowed and unreadable. “And for that you can only thank yourself for choosing such a marriage partner. Dammit, Leagh, could you not have chosen another man? Three nobles from the West have asked for your hand. Why not choose one of them? They cannot all be covered with warts and possessed of foul breath!”
“I love Zared,” Leagh said quietly. “I choose Zared.”
Askam’s face, so like his father’s with its mop of fine brown hair and hazel eyes, closed over at the mention of love. “Love has no place in the choosing of a noble marriage partner, Leagh. Forget love. Think instead of a marriage with a man which would keep the West intact and independent.”
He paused, let vent an exasperated sigh, then smiled, trying to take the tension out of their conversation. “Leagh, listen to me, and listen to reason, for the gods’ sakes. I wish you only happiness in life, but I must temper that wish with knowing that I, as you,” his tone hardened slightly, “must always do what is best for our people, not what is best for our hearts.”
Leagh did not reply, but held her brother’s gaze with determined eyes.
Askam let another minute slide by before he resumed speaking. “Leagh, it is time you knew that the yea or nay to this marriage has been taken from my hands.”
“What? By whom?” But even as she asked, Leagh knew.
“Caelum. He is as disturbed as I by the implications of a union between you and Zared. Last week I received word from him to delay a decision until he could meet with me personally to –”
“And yet he does not wish to speak to me, or to Zared?”
“Caelum sits the Throne of the Stars, Leagh. He has heavier responsibilities than you can imagine.”
Leagh bridled at her brother’s school-masterish tone, but held her tongue.
“Caelum knows well that the continued well-being of Tencendor matters before the wishes of any single person. Leagh, you are a Princess of Tencendor. As such you enjoy rights and privileges beyond those enjoyed by other Tencendorians. But these rights and privileges mean you also carry more responsibility. You simply can not live your life to the dictates of your heart, only to the dictates of Tencendor. I have tried these past five years to discourage you from choosing Zared, but you have not listened. Now, perhaps, you will listen to Caelum.”
Both his words and his tone told Leagh everything she needed to know. Caelum would not assent to the marriage either.
As Askam rose and left the room, Leagh finally gave in to her heartache and let tears slide down her cheeks. The very worst thing to bear was that she understood everything that stood in the way of her marriage. Why couldn’t she have accepted the hand of a nobleman from the West? It would be so much easier, so much more acceptable for the current balance of power. But what she understood intellectually didn’t matter when she’d totally given her heart to Zared. All she wanted in life was the man she loved.
Far to the north Zared straightened his back, refusing to let weariness slump his shoulders. He’d spent an entire week clambering over the ruins of Hsingard with several of his engineers to see if there was any point in trying to rebuild the town, only to come to the conclusion that the Skraelings had so destroyed the buildings that all Hsingard could be used for was as a stone quarry. Now he’d spent ten days riding hard for Severin, and even though he was lean and fit, the week at Hsingard and the arduous ride home had exhausted him.
But now Severin rose before Zared and, in spite of his tiredness, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was a beautiful town, built not only with sandstone and red brick to withstand the harsh winters of the north, but also with skill and imagination, so that the structural strength of each building was perfectly married with grace of line and beauty of feature. Severin was a town built to satisfy the spirits as much as it was to harbour the bodies of those who lived within.
Thank the gods for my parents’ foresight, he thought. Rivkah and Magariz had lived out the final twenty-five years of their lives in the town they’d had built, and had loved it almost as much as they had loved each other and the son they’d made between them. His parents had not only laid the foundation stones of Severin, but also of the territory Zared had inherited from them. The North had been the most severely ravaged region of Tencendor during the wars between Axis SunSoar and his brothers Borneheld and Gorgrael. Once it had crawled with ice, and worse – IceWorms, Skraelings, and Gryphon. Now fields ripened and cattle fattened, and any man, woman or child could travel from the Fortress Ranges to the coast of the Andeis Sea and encounter nothing more dangerous than the chill of a northern breeze.
Zared pulled his horse in slightly, waiting for his escort to catch up with him. He was a tall, spare but striking man with his father’s dark good looks and his mother’s light grey eyes. Even though he was now in early middle-age, Zared was as agile as most young men, and could still best any swordsman in the country. He had been bred in an age of war, and his father had spent many years training him in the arts of war, although for what, Zared was not sure. For forty years, since Axis had finally bested Gorgrael, Tencendor had lain peaceful and largely prosperous in the sun. Axis had ruled well and wisely – a glib enough statement, but true. And since, nine years ago, Axis had handed over control of Tencendor to his eldest son, Caelum had continued to lead Tencendor with the integrity that was the hallmark of the House of the Stars. And yet … and yet Zared would rest the easier once Caelum had proved his worth in true crisis.
His escort now directly behind him, Zared rode his horse through the gates in the town walls, returning the salutes of the guards standing to either side. For an instant the walls blocked out the noon-day sun and, as their shadow settled over Zared, so his mind turned to the one shadow in his own life – Askam.
He drove the thought from his mind almost as soon as it had surfaced, reining back his horse to a walk in the crowded streets. It was too warm a day to let thoughts of Askam cloud it over.
Zared’s path back to his palace on the hill overlooking the town was slowed, not only by the crowds, but by the individuals who called out greetings and, occasionally, stopped him for a quick word. Zared had never been a distant prince, not only holding open court in his palace every Thursday afternoon when he was in residence so that any citizen of the North had the chance to gain his ear, but making sure that he did not ride the streets of Severin