Leslie Moore - Griffin's Shadow

“I’m not trying to say anything, Brother, other than I wish my daughter to be prepared for any eventuality,” he said at last, turning from the window to face Raidan. “Both of us will necessarily have to risk our lives on the battlefield when the time comes, as will your son Raidu. It may come to pass that Jelena will be the only one of our blood left who can carry on. I want her to be ready.”

Raidan felt the heat of anger rise within him, but he ruthlessly quelled it. As much as he hated to admit it, Keizo was right. He remembered Taya’s admonition that he do nothing, even if Keizo took the unthinkable step and proclaimed Jelena his Heir. There were larger forces at work, and Raidan had to give them time to play their part.

“Keizo, I want to go talk to my sons, tell ‘em they’re heading home and what they’re to do when they get there…If I have your leave?” Sakehera asked. Despite their lifelong friendship and the familiarity that came with it, Sakehera never forgot that Keizo was his sovereign first and foremost.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Keizo consented. “And when you see my daughter, please tell her to come to me as soon as is convenient. I’ll be in my study.”

“I will. Raidan,” Sakehera said, nodding his head in farewell. He rose from his chair and departed.

“Brother, I know you too well,” Keizo said after Sakehera had left the room. He returned to his chair and poured himself another cup of tea before continuing. Raidan remained silent, waiting. “I’ve known since the day our brother Okame died, when I ascended the throne and you became my Heir, that you’ve desired the crown for yourself, or if not for you, then for Raidu.”

“I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise,” Raidan replied. “But I have always stood behind you and supported you as a brother should. I’ve never allowed my ambition to cloud my judgment.”

“True enough. I rely on and trust you most of all, but I suspect that if I try to set my daughter above you, you will fight me, even to the point of open rebellion.”

Raidan’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Keizo, who stared back at him with eyes as hard and cold as glacial ice. He chose his next words with great care. “Brother, when have I ever given you cause to question my loyalty? I hold the good of our people before all else, just as you do, Keizo. The last thing I want is a civil war, which is what will surely happen if you try to name Jelena as your Heir.”

“Is that a threat?” Keizo asked in a conversational tone, but Raidan could see tightly controlled anger in the rigid lines of his brother’s body.

“No! It is merely a statement of fact. I happen to know over half the Council would oppose you, and in the ensuing fight, factions will inevitably form among the lesser nobility, further weakening us at a time when we need to be strong and united. And let us not forget the people!” Raidan stabbed the air with a forefinger, for emphasis. “Most, if not all okui will refuse to accept her as Heir, whereas the hikui will embrace her; in fact, they already have! Jelena would serve as a very potent symbol for them and encourage them to demand equal legal status.”

“Don’t you think the people will accept my daughter because she is mine? She is a true Onjara; the White Griffin proved it!” Keizo replied heatedly.

“Keizo, you should have married and gotten yourself a legitimate heir!” Raidan shouted. “I don’t know why you never did, because if you had done so, we wouldn’t be in this situation now! I would have gladly stepped aside for a legal child of yours, but for a bastard hikui …” He stopped and closed his eyes, unable to continue as his anger threatened to boil over and consume him.

“You dare speak to me thus?” Keizo asked in a low voice.

Raidan’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s stop right now before I…before we take this too far.” He leaned forward, his face close enough for Keizo to strike if he so chose. “Zin… Brother! I don’t wish to fight you, but…I beg of you. Don’t do anything that all of us will regret. At least hold off making any decision until after we settle things with the Soldarans.”

Keizo’s jaw worked, as if dangerous words fought to free themselves from the confines of his mouth. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and for one tense moment, Raidan thought his brother would punch him in the face after all. He prepared to dodge the blow, but it never came. Keizo sat back in his chair with a grunt and turned his face away. He rested his chin in his hand.

Raidan sighed with relief. “Keizo, I…” he began, but the king interrupted him.

“Leave me. I need to think.” He refused to meet Raidan’s eyes.

Without another word, Raidan got up and departed.

"You did very well with the sword today, love,” Ashinji said. “Your cousin Magnes would be proud.”

“I know you held back, Ashi, even though I’ve asked you not to,” Jelena replied with mock irritation. “You won’t hurt the baby. The swords are dull and besides, you aren’t aiming anywhere near my belly.”

The two of them had spent the morning in the king’s private sparring yard; after a quick bath, they had returned to the Sakehera family quarters for a lunch of cold meat, cheese, and bread. After helping themselves, they settled into their favorite window seat overlooking a small garden courtyard directly below the tower apartment.

Jelena’s weapons training now kept Ashinji busy most mornings. Within the short period of time he had been schooling her, she had made rapid progress. He felt Jelena pushed herself out of fear of the near future, but also from her desire to master some basic skills before her body grew too ungainly.

“I can’t help worrying, but…” he raised a hand to forestall her protest, “it doesn’t mean I don’t think you should learn how to defend yourself.” His undeniable need to protect her had to coexist with his desire to help her become strong and self-confident. Sometimes, he found it difficult to balance the two.

Five months into her pregnancy, Jelena glowed with robust health. The nausea that had plagued her early on had subsided; her appetite had increased to the point where she now ate more than he did. Ashinji gazed into his wife’s face and noted how it had grown rounder, softer. Even with her mouth full of food, he found her irresistible.

Jelena is carrying our child, he thought, smiling. She stared back at him quizzically.

“What? Do I have sauce on my nose?” She reached up to wipe her face.

“No, love. I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Jelena laid her hand on her swollen midsection. “I’m the lucky one,” she replied.

They continued their meal in companionable silence; ever attuned to her mood, Ashinji gradually became aware of a subtle change in his wife’s demeanor.

“Something’s troubling you. What is it?” he asked.

Jelena sighed and took a sip of wine from her tankard before answering.

“I visited Sateyuka yesterday,” she said.

“Your friend the weaver.” Ashinji had yet to meet Jelena’s new friend, but he approved of their acquaintance.

“Yes. Going down to Jokimichi, remembering what happened to Sateyuka and her family…it made me angry all over again, Ashi.”

“Have you spoken to your father about how you feel?”

Jelena shook her head. “No. Until now, I felt I didn’t know him well enough to speak to him about such things. But we have grown much closer in the last few weeks. My father is a good man and a good king, but I think he ignores the plight of the hikui…not because he’s uncaring, but because to change the laws would mean going against tradition.”