Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

Rhapsody sat down in the chair opposite her and took another sip. “I’m thinking of marrying him. Oh—he sends you his best, by the way.”

Oelendra looked her up and down a moment. “Why?”

“Probably because he likes you.”

Oelendra snorted. “Why are you thinking of marrying him?”

“To get rid of these incessant, stupid suitors, to put an end to the threat they bring. For all the reasons we’ve discussed before, Oelendra. Why not? Is there something wrong with Anborn?”

Oelendra put down her mug, leaned forward and regarded Rhapsody seriously. “There is a rather obvious reason, I would think.”

“I can’t think of any.”

“Don’t be coy, Rhapsody; it doesn’t suit you,” Oelendra retorted, her tone of voice becoming terse.

Rhapsody’s tone matched her own. “I’m not being coy,” she said, looking over at Oelendra with a look in her eyes that the warrior didn’t recognize. “Unless you have something about him of which I ought to be aware, I am thinking of finalizing the arrangements after the Cymrian Council.”

Oelendra watched her a moment longer, then drained the rest of her drink and put the mug down, her glance resting on the queen once more. “What about Gwydion?” she finally asked, reluctant to have been the first to give ground.

Rhapsody regarded her levelly. “What about him, Oelendra? He’s married—doesn’t that mean something to you? It certainly does to me.”

“So your response is to in turn marry his uncle? That’s healthy. I don’t care about Gwydion,” Oelendra replied, trying to make her vocal quality less intense. “ ’Tis you that has me worried. You are as you were when you first came here—ungrieved, unwept. You are carrying him in your heart, Rhapsody. There is no room there for anyone else yet, especially Anborn.”

“And it will be so for the rest of my days, Oelendra; so what of it? Anborn understands where he fits into my life, and I into his—if anything he may respect my right not to care for him more than you do. This is a marriage of convenience, and we both know that. So what do you want of me? Am I supposed to mourn my life away, staying untrothed, and watch our soldiers meet and rebuff challenges for an alliance with their blood, their lives? How could you expect me to be so selfish, Oelendra? If anyone, I would think you would understand.” Her words became choked; she stopped speaking and glared at her mentor.

Oelendra rose and came to her, crouching on her heels before Rhapsody the way she did with children. With her hand she stroked Rhapsody’s face.

“I do understand, darling, probably better than you do,” she said gently. “You’re wounded and in pain, and you’re looking for a place to hide. Run to me, Rhapsody. I can protect you until you are healed.”

Rhapsody pushed her hand away. “No, Oelendra, I can take care of myself. Gods, if I can’t by now I should pack up and head back to Ylorc. Besides, you know as well as I do this nonsense isn’t going to stop until something happens.”

Oelendra tried a different tack. “So this is a marriage of convenience, and Anborn agrees?”

“Yes.”

“Then will you really live as man and wife? Alliance marriages aren’t official until they’re consummated.” She watched Rhapsody’s face closely for signs of color as she usually saw during allusions to sex, but she saw none.

“Of course,” Rhapsody replied simply. “I offered Anborn the choice, and he chose that one.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really.”

“And that’s all right with you? You are going to let him make love to you?”

“Yes. It’s part of the bargain.”

Oelendra shook her head sadly. “I have lived too long. I would never have believed that I would hear you talk like this. Rhapsody, please consider what you are saying. You are going to sell yourself in marriage to a man you don’t love, and defy the true feelings of your heart.” She stopped. The look on Rhapsody’s face frightened her.

The queen was trembling with anger, or something like it; her eyes burned with green fire. “I hate to disillusion you, Oelendra, but it won’t be the first time. At least this time the reason is better—rather than just selling myself to survive, I will be selling myself so that Lirin soldiers will. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?

“I have been telling you all along that I didn’t measure up to this position, but you wouldn’t listen. So it shouldn’t surprise you that water has found its own level again, and my reaction is to do the common thing—to resort to whoring as the path of least resistance. It’s the only way I know, Oelendra. It’s what I am. I guess you can crown a slut with ancient diadems and clothe her in as many silken gowns as you want, but blood will out, you see; she’ll still lie on her back rather than stand and fight.

“And don’t you dare throw Ashe up to me. He, at least, understood this. He, at least, knew me for what I was and accepted it. He didn’t try to foist me off as someone worthy of respect, of leadership. He found someone he felt was worthy. He did the kingly thing, and I respect him for it. So please, don’t pester me. Help me, Oelendra; this is hard enough for me as it is without you saying the things my mother would have. Thank Fate for taking her before she could live to see her daughter as the poorest excuse for a ruler the Lirin have ever had. Thank Fate she died without knowing me for the whore that I am.”

Before the last words had left her lips Rhapsody’s head snapped sideways from a stinging slap delivered squarely across her face. She blinked, trying to absorb the physical and mental shock. As blood welled beneath her skin from the blow, she looked into Oelendra’s silvery eyes and saw seething anger masked behind a calm facade.

“You have just insulted the honor of my queen, and more importantly, my friend,” Oelendra said in a cold, low voice. “If you were anyone else, I would kill you where you stand for what you just said.”

Weary sympathy began to temper her fury. “You may have mastered the sword, Rhapsody, but you are forgetting the more important lessons you learned here. I do not care what you were, or how you survived; we all do what we must when our backs are to the wall. I love you for who you are, and for what you can become.”

Rhapsody lowered her eyes as if ashamed. “I’m sorry, Oelendra,” she said meekly. “I can’t help it; I know what I have to do, but it hurts so much that I’m afraid it’s going to kill me. It’s Anborn or Achmed; they are the only mates powerful enough to keep the others at bay. And I don’t want to give Achmed access to Tyrian except in alliance. I love him, but I don’t have any illusions about what he might do. Please help me do what I need to do, Oelendra. I can’t bear to see anyone else die defending me. Please, Oelendra. I need your strength. If you love me, help me.”

Oelendra took her queen into her arms and held her as she began to weep. “Listen, darling, we all need shoulders to cry on, and you are welcome to mine anytime. But you don’t need my strength; you need to listen to what I’ve already told you, and heed your own heart.”

“No, I can’t, Oelendra,” Rhapsody sobbed. “My heart is selfish, and it can’t have what it wants this time; that belongs to someone else now. So I have to listen to my gut, and it tells me that if any blood is shed defending my honor, which is a travesty anyway, that my soul will die.” Her tears subsided, and she fought to return to a state of calm. “Help me, Oelendra. If anyone should understand, you should. You’ve stayed here, in this life, all[...]

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[...]script was unmistakable, the approximated spelling of the Firbolg language couched in their ancient code. The queen read the document as quickly as she could decipher it, then sat down on the couch before the fire.