Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

When the meal was finished she leaned forward, fixing him with as direct a look as he had ever seen.

“I was wondering if we might discuss something with the understanding that it’s theoretical; that I’m proffering ideas to gauge your thoughts, but that neither of us is bound in any way by the discussion.”

Anborn wiped his mouth with the linen napkin and laid it, folded, beside his plate. “Of course. What do you want to discuss?” He was intrigued by the look in her eyes; in previous meetings he had been struck by the remarkable openness of her face. Now her expression was guarded, and her bearing was even and cool, almost detached. Though her earlier beauty was enhanced by the excitement and mirth that shone in those eyes, there was an elegance and distance to her now that he found even more interesting.

“I was wondering if you ever contemplated marrying again,” she asked, looking at him levelly.

“No,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, if it is a possibility open for discussion, I would like to talk about it.”

Anborn leaned back in his chair, intrigued. “I’m willing to talk about anything you’d like, m’lady,” he said, smiling slightly. “Please, by all means tell me what’s on your mind.”

“If it’s not too unpleasant a concept to you, I wonder if you would consider marriage to me,” she said, still watching him keenly.

A small laugh escaped him, and he coughed into his hand as he sat forward. “Sorry; I was just hearing the deafening sound of millions of hearts breaking all over the world. Did I hear you correctly? Are you proposing to me?”

“Not yet,” Rhapsody said calmly. “As I said, I am gauging your interest. If you recall, we are discussing this openly with no obligations, right?”

“Right, of course,” Anborn replied, settling back in his chair. “Well, on first consideration, let’s say I’m intrigued. What would this entail? Why would you want to marry me?”

Rhapsody moved her plate out of the way and rested her arms, crossed, on the table before her. “Well, I suppose the answer to that comes in two parts; why do I want to marry, and why you. First, why do I want to marry: I don’t, actually. I would prefer not to, but then I would prefer not to be Queen of the Lirin, either. I don’t seem to have much choice in either matter.” Anborn nodded, pleased by her candor.

“Unfortunately, since this has taken place I have been besieged by requests from the rulers of other lands seeking to parlay about a marriage of state. I have no desire to expand the lands of Tyrian, nor do I wish to be involved in the politics that would entail. I am also aware, however, that to remain a female ruler alone would be to invite constant testing of my resolve and the strength of my reign. I don’t have the patience for that, nor the willingness to let anyone be injured or killed defending my honor for such a stupid reason. Therefore, I am resigned to the fact that I have to marry.”

A fragment of a smile crept into the considered expression Anborn was wearing. “Somehow that doesn’t seem like you, my dear,” he said dryly. “I would have wagered a considerable sum that you would make a lioness’s stand to the end against such threats.”

“You would be a far poorer man, then.” All traces of pleasantry disappeared from Rhapsody’s face. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting off the memory of the wyrm that slept within the bowels of the Earth. The vast tunnel wall she had once leaned against had been but a scale in its immense skin, its flesh a substantial part of the Earth’s mass now. When she had banished the thought she opened her eyes again and looked directly at Anborn once more.

“Let us not mince words, General. We both know that war is coming; it draws closer with every passing moment. And while you have seen war firsthand, I have seen the adversary—or at least one of them. We will need everything we have, everything , to merely survive its awakening, let alone defeat it. I will waste neither the blood nor the time of the Lirin fending off a martial challenge over something so stupid as my betrothal. A marriage of convenience is an insignificant price to pay to keep Tyrian safe and at peace for as long as possible. We will need every living soul when the time comes. You once asked me if I was sworn to Llauron. I am sworn to the Lirin—I will do whatever I have to do to keep them safe, no matter how much it costs me.”

Anborn spun the stem of his wine goblet between his fingers, then nodded as his smile broadened. He raised the glass in a silent toast, drank quickly, then nodded as he set it down again.

“Pray continue.”

“Now, why might I ask you to be the one: you don’t love me, and I don’t want you to. I doubt that you ever will. I hope you won’t be offended when I say that while I feel affectionately toward you, and might someday even be deeply fond of you, I don’t think I could fall in love with you, either. That makes a marriage between us practical, and free from many of the problems that normally accompany the state.

“There is very little that I would ask of you: that you not embarrass me, or try to harm me or the Lirin people. Other than that, I make no demands. I don’t expect you to be faithful to me, although I would appreciate your discretion. Of course, I would expect to have your loyalty in other matters. You would be free to come and go as you please.”

“Interesting,” said Anborn.

“Now, to the benefits. For me, aside from the beforementioned freedom from pursuit, I would have a husband I respect and like and whose reputation would frighten off potential problems. For you, I can’t say what the benefits are. The Lirin army would be available in times of your need, though I would not commit them for unethical actions. There is some wealth and social stature to be had, even though obviously you are not without your own.

“Perhaps the reasons for you are not as strong as they are for me, and it might come down to doing me a favor. But you’d always have a place to come home to where you are welcome, honored, and appreciated. I would do the best I could to be good company and not to make demands of you. Anyway, that’s what I am thinking. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Several.”

“By all means, please ask.”

“Well, let’s see, what first—are children an expectation of yours?”

“No. Are they for you?”

“No. Actually, I prefer not.”

“I might, in fact, adopt one from time to time, but I think that would be seen as my child only, not yours. The Lirin are very understanding of this kind of thing.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“Very well. What else?”

“What about, er, conjugal relations? Is that a part of this agreement?” Rhapsody didn’t blink, and her face remained serene. “That would be your decision,” she said. “If it is an expectation of yours, it would be met. If not, that would be fine as well.” She smiled, and a hint of her old humor sparkled in her eyes. “I believe you have seen enough to make an informed decision about this.”

Anborn shook his head and smiled in amazement. “This is fascinating,” he said, an amused tone in his voice. “I am sitting across from the most comely female that I have ever seen, a woman that has the male world prostrate at her feet, and she is discussing the possibility of our union with the same enthusiasm with which she might negotiate a land treaty or codification of technical law. It is almost surreal, Rhapsody. May I ask you one more question?”

“Certainly.”

“What happened to you? You are definitely not the girl I almost ran down on the road some time past.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed.

His voice became uncharacteristically gentle. “Was it whatever happened with the gladiator?”