by Dara Joy
"D'anbere offered to lend me the funds to see it through. I foolishly accepted. Now she is calling in the note in full. It is an affair of honor. Green."
"There is no honor with that woman! Don't you see that she was probably the one responsible for your troubles in the first place? She set you up as she did me—only for different reasons. Nonetheless, there are ways to stop her—as I have discovered."
"It matters not. She is coming tomorrow for the signing of the contracts."
"Does she offer a fastening bid?"
"The price she offers is clearing the debt I owe in exchange for my grandson."
"How much do you owe her?"
"Four hundred thousand plat-coins. Green, it is a fortune."
It was a fortune. Yet nowhere near what Jorlan might have brought in on open bid. Not only had Claudine created the Duchene's problems, she had neatly found a way to acquire her grandson for a fraction of his true bed price. Green acknowledged it was a fiendishly clever plot, if abhorrent.
She took a deep breath. "I will treble the amount. She will have to accept that amount as payment in full."
Anya gasped. "What are you saying? No one has that kind of money available."
"I can get it."
"It will bankrupt you!"
"Let me worry about that." She reached into her pouch and withdrew a small locked box. Taking a key from her chatelaine, she unlocked her ancestral chest and withdrew a rolled parchment, which bore the names of all of her ancestresses since the NEOFEM. By tradition, a mother must place her son's name on the familial scroll of the name-giver, along with her seal.
Once etched there, the contract was irrevocable. "Give Jorlan to me, Anya."
The Duchene looked at her, stunned. "You want him? But—but I thought you were opposed to taking a name-bearer."
"Not anymore. I want him."
A tear fell from Anya's eye. "I am so sorry; I have given my word, Green. I cannot. Had I only known... "
Green drew herself up, gathering her courage for the final plea. This would be her only chance to save him. "Anya, Claudine is a cruel, twisted woman in ways you cannot even fathom. Surely you would not want to deliver Jorlan to someone like this?"
Anya began to sob. Green got up and came around the desk to hug her. "I will cherish him. You will never need worry for his welfare. Sign the contract, Anya. For his sake."
"She will never allow it."
"The fastening price I offer will be sufficient to satisfy honor in the Septibunal's eyes. Claudine will not be able to refuse it and she will know it. You will have bested her but made a powerful enemy."
Anya steadied herself, the color coming back to her face. Clever, wonderful girl! "So be it, then. If the Tamryn name protects Jorlan, then I am not afraid of anything Claudine D'anbere might try to do to me." She picked up the Tamryn gold pen and scrawled Jorlan's name onto the Tamryn ancestral line with a flourish. Then she took her seal and placed her mark.
Green released her pent-up breath. Jorlan was safe. "There is one thing I ask of you, Anya." "You may ask anything of me. I will forever owe you a debt of gratitude for saving him; I am aware what has happened to her other name-bearers, though nothing has ever been proven."
"Did Jorlan know about this matter with D'anbere?"
"No. I thought it best to keep it from him for as long as possible."
"Good. Then I ask you not to tell him at all."
"But why? Surely he will be as grateful to you as I am."
"No. He must only know that I have contracted for him because I desire him. He must never doubt that I want him. If he learns of the role Claudine had in this, he will always doubt my reasons. You see, Anya, I had already decided to bid for him before I learned of this."
Anya smiled wanly. "That is the first thing I have heard that has made me happy in two days."
Green returned her smile. "I truly want him, Anya. I meant it when I said I would cherish him."
"You cannot know how grateful I am to hear that. I had always hoped it would be so."
"Really?"
"Yes, since you must know. Perhaps in the long run D'anbere did us a favor."
Green chuckled and shook her head. "Somehow it is hard to think of Claudine and favor in one sentence. You realize Jorlan is going to be furious with us both."
"Perhaps now he will abandon these foolish notions he has about male equality. Honestly, I don't know where he gets these ideas of his—certainly not from my side! Can you imagine men standing in the House of She-Lords? The next thing you'd know we'd be at war with everyone!" Anya shook her head, clucking under her tongue.
"I don't know, Anya, perhaps it wouldn't be quite as bad as that." Green winked at her.
"Hmf! It's just not natural. Men belong in the home raising the children and that's that! At any rate, I'll leave the soothing of him up to you. I can guarantee you will have your time of it."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that."
"You are staying the night, aren't you?" Anya rose and walked around the desk. "I can't let you leave in the condition you're in, dear girl. You look ready to drop. Imagine, braving an arc storm for a fastening contract! Quite the story to tell your children."
Green winced. "Ah, let's keep that between us, shall we? I do not want to look too much like passion's fool."
Anya looped her arm through hers as they walked into the foyer and up the stairs. "Sometimes it's good to look the fool, especially when it is for those we hold dear."
Green patted her hand. "I'll face D'anbere with you in the morning."
"Somehow I knew you would."
Upstairs, the translucent eyes of Jorlan Reynard stared seemingly at nothing as the storm spoke to him in the language of endless rhythm. Then, as the wind abated, they drifted shut again, taking him deeper into sleep.
"What do you mean, the bid is off!" Claudine D'anbere hissed at the Duchene. "Might I remind you that you have already accepted my terms?"
"On the contrary, She-Count," Green said, strolling into the sitting room. "She has accepted mine."
Claudine was stunned to see Marquelle Tamryn. She blinked rapidly, trying to digest what was happening. It must have been difficult considering the amount of brew she had consumed the night before.
Indeed, her eyes were red-rimmed and bleary from a night of debauchery.
"What fantasy is this?" She sniggered crudely. "Surely you do not expect me to believe that you have the bid on him?"
Green did not answer; she simply stared at Claudine with a steady, confident look.
Claudine sucked in her breath with a hiss. "This is not legal! You have agreed to my fasten bid, Duchene!"
"But I have trebled it." Green took a seat by the tall window.
"Trebled it?"
"I think all will agree that more than meets your terms for the note to the Duchene Reynard."
"I should say not!" Claudine flung back. "There is the question of her grandson, whom she has given—"
"As collateral to the note. The note is now paid back to you in full." Green nodded to Billings, who handed the She-Count a Tamryn account chit. "Twelve hundred thousand plat-coins. In turn, my accepted bid price on Jorlan. I'm sure the Septibunal will agree all parties are satisfied."
Claudine stared at the chit in disbelief. "You do not have the funds to cover this."
Green raised an eyebrow. "If I did not, I would not have written it."
Claudine's temper flared. "Do you think I will not have him? As far as I am concerned, this pays the monetary debt of the Reynards only."
"Then you better think again." Green removed her ancestral scroll from her pouch and opened it. Slowly she turned the scroll around to face the She-Count. Jorlan's name along with Anya's crest was plainly entered on her family line. Once a son's name was entered on the scroll, the act was irreversible. "He is already mine."
Furious, Claudine flung the scroll aside. "You may get his veil, but you will never keep him. That I promise you!" She faced the Duchene with a sneer. "
And you, Duchene Reynard, have made an enemy this day. Be forewarned."
The old woman drew herself up with the dignity of centuries of Reynards. "Are you threatening me, She-Count?"
"Take it as you will." With that she stormed from the house, slamming the door behind her.
It took several moments for the reverberations to settle down.
In the sudden silence the Duchene turned to Green. "Well, I thought that went rather well."
A bark of laughter came from Green. "Oh, splendidly!"
"Do you think she'll cause much trouble?"
"Does Forus revolve around Arkeus?"
"Hmf. We shall take her on together, then."
Green got up and walked across the room to hug the elderly Duchene. "No, Anya. I will take her on. Alone."
"But I—"
"Shhh. No objections to this, now. It is up to me; surely you see this? I know her ways."
"Are you saying I am no match for that screech wing?" She raised a haughty noble eyebrow.
"In mind you are more than a match for her, but this might go beyond that."
Anya's shoulders sagged. "You are right. I have confidence in you, my girl. Always have. I will aid you in any way you need."
"I know. And by the same token, I am counting on you to tell me if she bothers you in any way."
"Done."
"Good." Green straightened and bit her lip as she realized what came next.
"What is it?"
"Now I must tell Jorlan." She did not appear particularly thrilled with the task.
Anya chuckled at her expression. "Hmm. If you think Claudine was difficult... "
"I can handle Claudine. Your grandson is another story altogether."
Anya laughed. "Come now, I've seen you take on the entire House of She-Lords single-handed and win."
"As I said, your grandson is another thing altogether." Anya's chuckle followed her out the door as she went in search of her soon-to-be name-bearer. Otherwise known as the blaze-dragon.
She wondered if the arc storm was going to turn out to be the lesser of the two challenges.
She was soon to find out it was not going to be even a close second.
Chapter Five
Green found him dismounting his Klee by the water fountains in the back of the house.
Anya had told her that he often rode his Klee, Sabir, in the morning. She had taken the time to bathe and change into some clean clothes Billings had procured. At least she didn't have to face him in half-burnt, smoky clothing.
Jorlan alighted, clearly surprised to see her at the Reynard estate so early in the day. There was no way for him to know she had actually arrived in the middle of the night.
He wiped the sweat from his brow before patting his still-winded Klee.
He had ridden Sabir hard. Jorlan's reckless, wild rides were a favorite topic of the Slice. The man took unseemly risks that most thought of as bordering on indecent. Yet the words of chastisement were often laced with sighs of longing.
"Marquelle... Green, it is good to see you here." He gave her a broad smile of greeting, his perfect white teeth flashing in the daylight. One naughty dimple curved his cheek, making him altogether too alluring a sight for such an early hour.
He won't be smiling much longer. Green thought. He stripped off his shirt and hung it over his Klee's saddle. Bending over the fountain, he ducked his head under the spray. He flung his head back as he straightened, letting the droplets slide down his neck and chest. Then he turned to her as he ran his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. Water glistened off of his lashes; the black crescents framing the pale azure color of his eyes.
Green had never seen such natural beauty in her life. And it was now hers.
"I must speak with you about something, Jorlan. May we go somewhere out of the view of the servants?"
Jorlan arched his brow, giving her a sensual look from beneath his jet-black lashes. "Of course," he whispered.
Obviously, he had completely misinterpreted her request as her desire for them to experiment some more. And he was not opposed to it in the least, she noted, taking some comfort from the reaction.
She hoped she had the strength to guide him in the ways he needed.
"We can go over to the mesh-pond again. Come." He took her hand in a natural gesture and led her through the gardens. Green marveled at how warm his grip was, how sure. His large hand completely surrounded her smaller one, but the hold was not overbearing. It was comforting and right.
He brought her to the same bench they shared the other day and sat them both down.
"Now, what is it that is so important that you need to speak to me about?" He leaned forward, getting closer to her.
A droplet of the cool water fell on her mouth. His pupils flared as he noticed it. Slowly he reached up to let his fingertip glide across her lower lip, wiping it away. "Excuse me," he murmured in a raw voice.
Green's hand captured his wrist, stopping his action. "I have something to show you."
His mouth lifted at the edges. "Really?"
"Yes." She reached into her pouch and retrieved the scroll. His brow furrowed in confusion as he watched her.
Unwinding the ancient pattern, she showed him his name next to Anya's seal.
At first he did nothing but stare silently at the parchment.
Then he raised his eyes to hers. He tried to hide the hurt shadowing them, but could not. "Why?" He spoke hoarsely. "Why did you do this?"
She observed him coolly, shielding the truth from him. "Because I can. And because I want you."
Jorlan flinched as if slapped.
"And because I want you, this is the only way I can have you." She finished succinctly.
He clenched his jaw. "I made it plain to you that I did not want to be bid on! I ask you again: Why did you do this?"
"You knew it was only a matter of time. Your grandmother had to accept a bid for you eventually. Surely you realize this? You are the last of the Reynard line. You have a responsibility not just to your family but to our community. Your ancestress was the Captain. Your line must continue."
"No! It was to be my choice—not hers! I never wanted this, Green. You must release the bind. It is not that I don't... care for you; it is simply not the path I see for my life."
"I'm sorry, Jorlan, I cannot. You know as well as I that once the scroll is signed, it is irrevocable for you." She placed her hand on his arm in a gesture of compassion. "Perhaps in time you will see this is for the best."
"I will never see it that way, Marquelle Tamryn." He yanked his arm away from her hand.
"Think again. There will be much you can gain from this alliance. My name will protect you always and, in some ways, you will have much more freedom than you do now to pursue your pastimes. I am not as conventional as your grandmother. We already know that we are compatible in other ways. I can promise you will have great pleasure in my bed."
Jorlan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He gazed pensively into the mesh-pond. Green gave him some time.
"What if I tell you I know of this pleasure already?" he spoke quietly.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Green blanched.
He nodded silently as he stared over the flower-strewn lattice.
Green trembled and turned from him to gather her thoughts. A man without a veil could not go through the Ritual of Proof! The aristocracy held great store by the Ritual. It was the only way to know that his seed was a name-giver's alone. Such a thing became crucial in matters of inheritance. One never wanted an unscrolled child in one's household, making claim to a line. It just wasn't done.
Green's thoughts tumbled over one another as she sought a solution to this dilemma.
Regardless of what transpired, Jorlan was in grave danger from Claudine D'anbere.
"So you see," he spoke softly, "you must cast me aside and have me stricken from the scroll. I'm sorry, Green."
Green paused in her frantic thoughts and glanced at
him out of the corner of her eye. What if he is misleading me so I will revoke the contract? She viewed his features carefully as he stared straight at the pond.
A tiny, tiny muscle twitched in his jaw.
I don't believe it. There was no way he could feign his innocent response to her touch; to her instructions. Am I willing to gamble my house on him?
Yes, she was.
In fact, she already had. The price she had paid to save him had almost emptied her coffers.
Nevertheless, even if she had read him wrong, she would still take a chance on him. She could never live with herself if she let him fall into Claudine's hands, which is exactly what would happen if she revoked the contract. She had promised the Duchene that she would take care of him. And she would.
If what he said was true, there would be no future for him in the Select Quarter. He would be ostracized from polite company. Even though Jorlan thought he wanted that. Green did not think that he realized what such a life entailed. He was condemning himself to loneliness and sorrow.
After Anya was gone, he would be open game for every unscrupulous social climber looking to secure the hefty Reynard estate. Since he was the last of his line, conceivably the estate might come under the jurisdiction of the Septibunal to govern for him in his behalf. They would not hesitate either to control him, order him to fasten, or send him to the monkery.
Jorlan's passionate, sensitive nature would not fare well in a monkery.
Despite his opposition to the idea of the binding, he wanted her. Every intuition she had told her so.
Once he secured her name, he would never have to worry about those things, regardless of what happened to her. She would make the proper provisions for him.
"Your grandmother will be ruined by this; you do realize that?"
Jorlan inhaled deeply, and stared unblinking at the mesh-pond. The corner of his eye moistened, but he held firm. Green couldn't help but admire the strength of his beliefs. It was unusual in a man. He was unusual. Most men were led by other things.
It made her decision all the easier.
"It changes nothing, Jorlan. The fastening will occur as contracted."
He sucked in his breath. "You will let me shame you at the Ritual of Proof?"