The Complete Empire Trilogy (133 page)

Mara set down her wine to hide the slight shake in her hands. She knew, oh, she knew what he was leading up to, and the feelings that warred inside her were too wild a tangle to sort out. Lamely she said, ‘What do you mean?’

Hokanu read her confusion as plainly as if she had shouted. He leaned forward on his cushion, for emphasis. ‘My brother was lost upon the other side of the rift, and I am left to assume Rulership from my father someday.’

Mara nodded, her own emotions twisted tighter by the grief she sensed inside him, left over from Kasumi’s sudden loss. The boys had been raised as brothers, and Hokanu’s pain ran deep.

‘When I first met you …’ Hokanu overcame his inner sorrow, and his lips curled wryly in a smile. ‘I will confess, Lady, I felt regret when I first saw you.’

Startled into the release of sudden laughter, Mara said, ‘You have an odd manner of making a compliment, Hokanu.’

His smile broadened, and his eyes lit in shared pleasure as he saw the flush on her face. ‘I should rephrase that, lovely Lady. My regret was particularly fierce because the occasion happened to be your wedding.’

Mara’s expression changed to bittersweet reflection. ‘There was a great deal of regret involved with that marriage, Hokanu.’ And the thrill happened again, with the unspoken knowledge that he knew, without her needing to explain.

‘Mara,’ he said, the word as gentle as a caress. ‘We both owe a duty to our ancestors. I grew up knowing that my lot lay in improving the relationships of my family through marriage. I always assumed my father would match me with the daughter of some Lord or another. But now …’

Mara finished his thought. ‘Now you are heir to the Rulership of an honoured house.’

Hokanu’s relief was palpable. ‘And other considerations are at play.’

Mara knew a surge of hope mingled with aching disappointment, that perhaps she had misread him after all. He did care for her, and he knew how his presence affected her,
and he was kindly, carefully trying to disengage his attention without hurting her feelings. ‘I know that political considerations might interfere with the interests of your heart,’ she offered back in an attempt to smooth his difficulty.

‘Mara, before, when I came to call upon you, I cherished the hope that you might petition my father, asking for me as a consort.’ His hesitancy cleared like clouds before sunlight, and the mischief in his eyes made him radiant. ‘The role of Ruling Lady and second son forced that silence upon me. Now, as heir, I can propose a different arrangement.’

Mara’s smile faded. He was not going to tell her politely that he could no longer pay her court! Instead, he was leading up to a proposal. Panicked, caught where she was vulnerable, and shoved hard against the thornier issue of how to resolve her future with Kevin, she fought for presence and poise. ‘What have you in mind?’

Hokanu hesitated, which was very unlike him. He sensed her confusion and was puzzled as to its cause. That necessitated a change in wording, and his hand braced instinctively against the table edge, as though he expected a blow. ‘I ask this informally, for if you say no, I would not wish a public rejection. But if you wish, I shall have my father’s First Adviser pay a formal call upon your First Adviser, to make arrangements for our meeting….’ He almost laughed, and his strong, direct nature reasserted itself. ‘I ramble. Marry me, Mara. Someday Ayaki will be Lord of the Acoma, and your second son – our son – could wear the mantle of the Shinzawai. I should like nothing better than to have you by my side as Lady, and know that two ancient houses will one day be ruled by brothers!’

Mara shut her eyes against a tide of confusion. As well as she knew Hokanu, as powerfully as she was drawn by his charm, the idea of marriage churned up her feelings like a storm. She had sensed that this moment was inevitable, and
had falsely sought shelter behind a belief that Hokanu’s elevation to heirship might spare her, as political considerations forced him to seek a match with better connections. No amount of rational thought had prepared her for this reality.

She felt Hokanu’s eyes on her face, felt his unspoken sharing of the turbulence his words had aroused. And in that graceful way that unerringly shattered her defences, he came to her rescue.

‘I’ve surprised you.’ Apology coloured his tone. ‘You must not feel discomforted. Let me withdraw and allow you time to think.’ He arose in consideration of her, every inch of him lordly. ‘Lady, whatever you decide, do not fear for my feelings in the matter. I love you with all honour, but I also love you for yourself. I would cherish no minute that did not bring pleasure in my company. Seek your own happiness, Lady Mara. I am man enough to find my own.’

Speechless, gripping her hands together in a misery of pent-up emotion, Mara raised her eyes to find him gone. She had not heard his steps as he went. She had to look twice to make certain the sitting room was empty. She reached out with trembling fingers, caught up her wineglass, and drained it. Then she stared at the empty goblet and the untouched plates of light lunch. Kevin’s face mingled with Hokanu’s in her memory, until she wanted to howl her frustration at the walls.

There was no choosing between them, none, and the quandary of love and honourable political necessity ripped at her like thorns.

‘Dear gods, what a tangle,’ she murmured, and only belatedly realized she was no longer alone. In true and gallant solicitude, Hokanu had sent her adviser to comfort and steer her through the awkwardness of the moment.

Still weak after her illness, Nacoya shook her head, indicating Mara should hold off speech. ‘Come,’ the old
woman said brusquely. ‘Let’s get you back to your private quarters and out of those formal robes. When you are more comfortable and settled, we can talk.’

Mara allowed herself to be shepherded to her feet. She followed Nacoya’s lead down corridors without seeing where she was going or noticing the floor beneath her feet. ‘Someone has seen to Hokanu’s needs?’ she said in a voice that sounded limp.

‘Saric has done so. Lujan will be organizing some contests at arms among the warriors.’ Nacoya whipped open the screen to Mara’s chambers, and rallied half a score of maids and servants. ‘Bath water,’ she rapped out. ‘And something light and comfortable for the mistress to put on afterwards.’

Mara stood with her arms woodenly outstretched as her attendants unfastened the wood-peg and cord-loop fasteners of her formal robe. ‘This is impossible!’ she exclaimed. ‘The time is all wrong.’

Nacoya clicked her tongue. ‘The Shinzawai are an ancient family,” with honours to equal most, but their part in the aborted attempt to force peace upon the Empire …’

Bemused by this switch to hardcore politics, Mara stepped out of the heavy robe. She moved mechanically into the cool bath prepared by her servants, and sat shivering in reaction as two maids sponged her back. ‘What’s the matter with me? Why can’t I just tell him no and put the issue from my mind?’

Nacoya answered obliquely. ‘Daughter, there is no sure way to rule the heart.’

‘My heart is not in this!’ Mara fired back, with a sharpness that itself was a contradiction. ‘What is Hokanu to me but a means to an end?’

The First Adviser seated herself on a cushion and wrapped gnarled fingers around her knees. She said nothing, while Mara endured a bath she did not enjoy. She arose at the appropriate moment and stepped out of the water, and stood with a scowl while her maids towelled her dry.

Nacoya did not break silence until another maid arrived with a light lounging robe. ‘Mistress, the Shinzawai have been among the most honourable families in the Empire in my memory and the memory of my father. The old Lord, Shatai, Kamatsu’s father, was Warchief of the Kanazawai when a Keda Lord last sat upon the Warlord’s throne. And no one has ever heard of either Shinzawai Lord breaking a bond. Their honour is unquestioned.’

Mara knew all this. As the maids tied her robe, she regarded her former nurse with bitten-back exasperation. ‘But their position at the moment is questionable.’

‘Many resentments linger since the failed peace and the Night of the Bloody Swords,’ Nacoya agreed. ‘Many of the families left grieving insist that murder would never have happened had the Blue Wheel and, especially, the Shinzawai not been at the heart of the Emperor’s plottings.’

But Mara did not need reminding that it was only because so many were injured and everyone was being cautious that no one had sought retribution upon the Shinzawai. To bind her family to them through a marriage would be to add names to her list of dangerous enemies.

No, Mara decided, as Nacoya’s obvious reasoning led her from mixed emotions to clear thought. The heart of the matter was another thing altogether. Hokanu was attractive enough; her deep involvement with Kevin added painful confusion, yet she had never fooled herself into the false hope that love could replace a slave with a husband. Her turmoil stemmed from another truth: that she was loath to yield control of her life to any Ruling Lord. Buntokapi’s brief tenure had left only ugly memories, but that was not all.

Mara sighed and stared through the opened screen into the garden. The day was drawing on, and long shadows striped the path between the akasi rows. The rich green land that had been her father’s, and her ancestors’ before his, had
prospered well over the years since a young girl came into an inheritance beyond her years and experience. In the light of her successes, Mara examined a deeper truth, altogether less tangled than any conflict in her life, past or present. After a long minute she said to Nacoya, ‘Thank you for your counsel. You may go now.’

As the old woman bowed and departed, Mara reflected. So many events in her life were the result of her being Ruling Lady. Yet the duties, the awesome responsibility, even the danger that came her way – these things were not the fearful burden they had appeared on the day she had left Lashima’s temple. Since she had assumed the Acoma mantle, she had come to enjoy her power, to revel in pitting her wits against the machinations of the Great Game. These things gave her freedom to pursue new ideas. What would it be like to leave the decisions to others? she wondered. Could she be as content collecting li birds, ornamenting sitting rooms, or matchmaking as other ladies were? Women held power in their own right, sometimes with impressive result. Could she do as Isashani of the Xacatecas, and take as much satisfaction in byplay behind the scenes as she did now in the seat of unquestioned command?

Mara sighed again.

That moment a shadow fell across the screen that led from the garden. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ A familiar voice intruded from beyond.

Mara glanced up to find Kevin watching her, a wry grin on his face.

He voiced an opinion as he always did, without waiting for her invitation. ‘You’re wondering what it would be like to take a rest and let this young warrior of the Shinzawai run things.’

Startled to laughter, Mara said, ‘You … monster!’

Kevin threw himself down next to her, flung back red-gold hair that was in sore need of trimming, and paused with his mouth inches away from hers. ‘I’m right?’

She kissed him. Hokanu’s charms she could resist, but this man was a poison in her blood. ‘Yes, damn you.’

‘I’ll tell you exactly what it would be like. Dull.’ Kevin made a sweeping gesture that wound up catching her into an embrace. He kissed her back. ‘You love being in command.’

‘I never wished for the Acoma mantle,’ she responded in warning sharpness.

‘I know,’ he said easily, not rising to her challenge. ‘That doesn’t change the fact that you love it.’

Mara allowed herself a self-indulgent grimace. ‘Nobody asked your opinion.’

She had not denied his statement. To Kevin, that was as good as an admission he was right. As she leaned back, contented, against his shoulder, he pursued his conclusion ruthlessly. ‘The man you court is no weakling. Once he was husband, he’d be in command, and unless I misunderstand Tsurani tradition, you’d be forever denied rulership.’ Grinning evilly, Kevin asked, ‘So, are you going to marry him?’

Mara reached up, grabbed two fistfuls of red beard, and pulled teasingly. ‘Fool!’ Before he could howl, she released him, half-laughing. ‘I might.’ When his eyes widened, she added, ‘But not yet. The political timing is wrong, and there remain a few things to attend first.’

‘Like what?’ asked Kevin in sudden, humourless concern.

Only partially aware that his banter had masked a gnawing uncertainty, Mara’s face turned grim. ‘Like the destruction of Tasaio of the Minwanabi.’

The table was festive. Paper lanterns shed arrows of light through pierced patterns, and raised rich ruby highlights in the wine the servants had left with the meal. The plates and cutlery were the finest the closets could offer, yet neither Mara nor her guest cared to finish the last of the sweet cakes and sauce. Hokanu sat at ease on his cushions, but his attitude of relaxation was feigned. ‘I understand, of course.’

His tone was mild, unsurprised, and utterly clean of resentment. Yet Mara knew him well enough to see the small, quiet interval he had taken to muster his poise in the moment that followed her refusal, for political considerations, of his informal offer of marriage. He was not distressed – at least not with the enraged bitterness Jiro had shown when she chose his brother, nor the kicked-dog hurt Kevin exhibited in his dark moods – but he felt a genuine pain at being rejected.

Not unexpectedly, his sadness made her ache. ‘Please,’ she added, with less impassivity than she intended. ‘You must know my heart.’