In Her Shadow (3 page)

He smiled as he looked down on them from above – a smile of false paternity that struck Britta in every way insincere. He came down the stairs towards them, arms wide. The priestesses parted as he approached the Abbess of Night. "Ah, Abbess, my dear." The two embraced and he gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. "It's been too long. You should visit more. What brings you out this late?"

"You know why we've come, Governor, to introduce bride and groom."

"He only arrived at dusk. How did you find out he was in town so quickly?"

The Abbess of Night lifted an eyebrow.

"Of course, you know everything that happens in this city. It's almost as if you think you still run it."

The priestesses gasped, even Britta. A smile passed across the Abbess's face. "Which is why I thought it best to hurry along. We mustn't put off concluding the last bit of business in our treaty. Fifteen years is a long time to wait for a permanent peace."

"Oh, I agree, but surely it could have waited. Allow my son a couple days to adjust to his new home before–"

"No, I don't think so."

The Governor stared at her like a man unused to being cut off.

"I've heard the young man is a Disciple of the Sun Triumphant," said the Abbess. "Surely he'd relish the chance to get to business straight away, prove a move from one end of the empire to the other isn't enough to disturb his. . . What do they call it, Weboshi?"

"'Solar Resolve.'"

"Oh yes, 'Solar Resolve.'"

The Governor cleared his throat. "Alright then," he said. "No use putting it off, I suppose. Of course, my cooks didn't know you were coming, so they've not prepared a meal for such a large party. You're welcome to eat with my family tonight, Abbess of Night, but I'm afraid the rest of your priestesses–"

"Not me," she said. The Abbess reached behind her and yanked Britta forward, face to face with the Governor. "Her. The New Moon. She will eat with you."

"Uh–" The Governor narrowed his eyes as he looked Britta up and down. She blushed, unable to raise her gaze from the floor. Why was that? She'd never been shy before. Of course, she'd never been so plainly ogled before. Was that the word? It wasn't as if he were leering at her in a salacious way; more like a man inspecting a piece of fruit as he considered buying it. "She doesn't look at me," he said. "We don't care for them docile where I'm from."

"I – I'm not docile," said Britta, though the stuttering, wavering sound in her voice made her wonder if that were entirely true.

"What was that?" he asked. "I can't hear you."

Britta lifted her gaze to meet his, locking eyes and furrowing brow. "I'm not docile," she said.

The Governor's expression remain unchanged. "Ah."

A fog of tension settled on the group. Britta's sisters shifted foot to foot behind her; their robes rustled against their cloaks, but Britta didn't look away from her future father-in-law. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and said, "Very well then. Let's go. The rest of you can leave. I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"If that's what you think," said the Abbess of Night. The strange phrasing wasn't lost on Britta, and she doubted it was lost on the Governor either. He had no power to get Britta home safely. She wore the black cloak. She could walk down the streets in nothing but it and a sack of gold strapped to her waist, and no one would dare harm her – if not for her status as a member of the abbey, but the wrath of its Abbess. In fact, she was probably safer out in the roughest back-alley than here in the Governor's manse.

A chill ran down her spine as the Governor's fingers wrapped around her arm. "Come along to the dining room," he said, and gently pulled her away. Britta glanced over her shoulder at her sisters as they disappeared through the front entrance into the night.

"Dux Lucius?"

Lucius leaned back from his desk and rubbed his eyes. He'd been so absorbed in his reading, he hadn't heard anyone approach. "Yes?" he said to the guard poking his head through the cracked door.

"The Governor requests your presence at supper tonight."

Lucius repressed the frown that worked to worm its way across his face. He took a moment to make sure frustration wouldn't creep into his voice before saying, "Tell the Governor the situation hasn't changed from earlier. It's been a long voyage, and I'd like to rest before making any public appearances."

"He said this was important. A guest has arrived."

Of course there was a guest. There were always guests. The Governor was a very busy man. Still, his father had agreed to honor Lucius's request to be left alone for a couple of days before taking up public life. So why the change?

"Who's the guest?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what her name is. A priestess from the local abbey," he said.

Lucius choked down the frustration that threatened to upset his practiced calm. Probably the Abbess of the Night, Lucius thought. That made sense, about the only person in the city the Governor would break his promise to leave Lucius alone for. And that was fine, he wasn't concerned for himself. His request for a few days to relax was for Ava's sake, not his. Personally, Lucius was ready to get to work. Anything to keep him from sitting around ruminating.

"Tell the Governor I'll be down in a moment," he said.

The guard left without so much as a salute. Lucius went to the corner of the room where Ava slept in her little bed. A funny way too, like none he'd ever seen. Arms at her side, face planted on the pillow towards him, her knees tucked under her stomach so her butt stuck up in the air; how she could be comfortable baffled him. The limberness of youth, maybe. He didn't know whether to wake her or let her sleep. Ideally, he didn't want to leave her at all – not yet.

Lucius remembered what it was like waking in a strange land to find his parents gone, what it was like to stumble through the terrifying dark, desperate for human contact, seeking protection from the monsters that haunted therein. To this day, Lucius couldn't stand the night. Veteran that he was, it wasn't a child's fear, but something more. His dislike was philosophical, mystical, religious. The dark hid secrets, dangers, and lies. Only the light of day could part the veil of shadow and shade. The sun, unconquered and unconquerable, always rose in its battle against the forces of literal darkness. Triumphant, orderly, eternal, Lucius sought to emulate it, take from it lessons that would make his life bearable since Shavana's death.

Dux Lucius wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow. The candles in the room made it hot, and his nearness to the little bundle of heat snoring softly on the bed didn't help. He bent over and kissed her forehead. She stirred and mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake.

He'd leave her, he thought, to do his business as his father bid, but he wouldn't blow out the lights, in case she woke during his absence.

***

How long would she have to wait? The Governor had brought her into the dining room. Not so large as the communal dining room for the sisters in the abbey, but certainly much more well appointed, with silver spoons and finely glazed plates and cups set out shining and glittering under the candle chandeliers. Her eyes hurt from the brightness. It was big and empty. Every movement she made echoed from the walls emphasizing the loneliness of her situation. She was a pawn in someone else's game. Why hadn't the Abbess argued to stay? Why had Britta been left alone to deal with such a precarious political situation? She was the New Moon: vestal, virginal bride-to-be – not a politician. Thrust into the position of diplomat, Britta realized how poor her education as future leader of the abbey had been. Goddess, she thought, Weboshi was right: I'm being set up to fail. She'd been abandoned by the sisters who supposedly loved her most. It stabbed at her chest in a way she wouldn't have expected until it actually happened.

What was it about her that made people want to leave her behind? Britta barely had enough time to let the idea settle before the door to the dining room swung open and in stepped the Governor with a young man she assumed was her groom-to-be in tow.

On the tall side of average, he stood with a straight military bearing that made him look even taller. Like the men of his culture, he wore a light linen tunic that exposed the tight muscles of his legs and arms. Dark, short cropped hair above eyes of sharp green, framed a square face, its handsomeness only marred by the sternness of his expression. Or was it sternness? Perhaps it was a blank passivity. Perhaps it was nothing at all, but it struck Britta as cold, contrasting with the handsomeness of his features that, in and of themselves, would have left her breathless otherwise.

It's just nerves, she told herself as she rose.

The Governor swung his arm to the man behind him. "My son, Dux Lucius. Dux Lucius, this is your intended. Uh. . ."

"Britta," she said.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, I didn't quite catch it earlier. Please, everyone have a seat."

Dux Lucius did not react, his face as stern as it had been when he entered the room. And when they all sat down at the table, it remained stern.

"It should only be a minute before the staff brings our supper," said the Governor, halfway through unfurling his silverware. He looked like he was ready to say something else when a guard burst into the room. He glanced around for half a breath before he went to the Governor and whispered something in his ear. The Governor sat his silverware down on his plate and sighed. "If you two will excuse me," he said. "I've a bit of business to attend to. Please, Britta, enjoy your meal and the company of Dux Lucius. Dux Lucius, this might take a while. Make sure she gets home alright." And with that, he and the soldier vanished.

Britta glanced across the table at Lucius, hoping to get some sense of him. He stared at his plate. Did he blink? This wasn't normal behavior for a person. He hadn't even greeted her when introduced. Was he happy or unhappy with their arranged marriage? Britta had met the previous Dux once. Charming, jolly and oozing corruption, he had been the exact opposite of the rigid man sitting across from her. It worried her.

Before her thoughts could go any further, the wait staff came in carrying steaming plates of fish and vegetable. Mussels piled upon clams. Lobsters with crab legs. A cornucopia of the sea, one she was long used to – perhaps not in such large proportions. She chuckled to herself as they set the food down between them.

"What?" Dux Lucius said, his voice firm and even.

Britta glanced from the food to him. He stared at her, face impassive. She, however, was wide eyed. By this point, she'd expected to spend the meal in uncomfortable silence. "It's – uh." Britta shook her head. "It's silly. For some reason, I had it in my head that if I were in a Regnal household eating supper, I'd be eating Regnal food. Not the food I've grown up with my entire life."

"Ah," said Lucius, his face unchanged as he picked out the vegetables buried beneath the seafood and piled them on his plate.

"You don't like fish?" she asked.

He didn't respond at first, shoveling a fork full of kale into his mouth. Had there been a flicker of a frown when he tasted it? Britta wasn't sure. If so, she couldn't blame him. Surely the kale had absorbed the flavor of both the sea and its salt.

"I neither like nor dislike it," he said after he swallowed it down, but did not elaborate, focusing again on his food.

Britta pushed hers around on her plate. Why did she feel more alone now than she had when she'd actually been alone? "We should talk," she said.

Lucius didn't look up. "About what?"

"We're getting married."

"Yes, I know."

"That's something we should discuss."

"Why? It's happening. There's nothing either of us can do but accept it. Why talk about it?"

Britta set her fork down on her plate as gently as she could, afraid dropping it or slamming it might give the wrong impression. "It sounds like it bothers you–"

"It doesn't. I'm neither for nor against it."

"That sounds like a man who is angry."

His eyes flickered up from his plate and his gaze met hers. "Does it? I don't mean it to be. It's a good thing for us to get married, to help secure the peace between our two peoples."

"Okay," she said. "Peace between our two peoples. But what about us? We're going to have to live with this the rest of our lives. We should have some sort of discussion about how this affects us."

"Should we?"

Britta grit her teeth. What was his problem? "Yes, we should."

Dux Lucius wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back in his chair. "Alright then," he said. "Talk."

"Well. . ." Britta pushed her plate away as she turned her words over in her mind. She hadn't expected to be in this position, so she hadn't thought over what to say. What challenges might present themselves to two strangers forced into marriage? She'd been a fool not to have given this thought a long time before.

"Well?" he said and went back to eating.

"Children."

Lucius's didn't answer right away, his mouth full of kale again. He chewed slowly, excruciatingly, as if giving himself time to think it over. Maybe. Maybe he was just a slow chewer. His expression was, as it had been throughout, inscrutable. "One," he said.

"One? Only one? I thought you'd want more."

For the first time, Lucius's expression broke, if only for a second: his brow furrowed like he'd smelled something unpleasant. "I have one child." He went back to picking at the leafy greens on his plate. "I thought that's what you were asking."

"You do? I didn't know. That's the thing. I don't know anything about you. You don't know anything about me. We're going to have to find a way to make this work or we'll hate each other."

"No we won't."

Britta frowned. A strange thing to say. "We won't?"

"Not each other. I won't hate you."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You're from Ankshara, City of Night, the Wicked City. You know nothing of our people or our ways."

"I know you're conquerors."

A second break in his expression, lips pursed and forehead creased. "Conquerors?"

"You conquered us, didn't you? Laid siege to this city, starved out its people – my people – took them as slaves–"

"And we were supposed to keep letting your pirates raid our merchant fleet?"

"Pirates?"

Before she could ask what he meant, Dux Lucius shoved back from the table and stood. "It's been nice meeting you," he said, voice cool and filled with military sternness. "I look forward to seeing you again on our wedding day. I'm sure it will be very pleasant."

"Wait. . ."

"What?"

"Your father, the Governor, said to see me home."

Dux Lucius's face remained impassive. "So he did. Excuse me, I'll just go get my sword."