“This I know.” He paused. “I have one for Nikkolaz, too. These gifts will show my trust in you.”
He held it up for her to take, and Sage nearly snatched the sword from him, so eager was she to have it. She held her breath as she drew the blade out. The song of it sliding from the scabbard fell to a whisper once it was free. Banneth gently took the belt from her left hand and stepped back as she swung the harish experimentally. Its blade was so smooth and sharp that the air seemed to part in front of it visibly, like fabric. The balance was perfect.
“Oh,” she breathed.
The golden glow of the lamps reflecting off the blade made it look like it was crafted of light itself. She admired it from several angles, dimly aware of Banneth removing her belt and wrapping the new one around her waist. The difference in weight drew her attention back, and her left hand felt for where her daggers usually sat. Notches in the leather assured her there were places for them as well. She smiled shyly at Banneth. “Shall we try her out tomorrow in the arena?”
The expression he returned was serious. “There is something I would ask you, Mistress Saizsch.”
“Yes?” Sage said, distracted by the sword again.
“When the Demorans depart, will you consider staying?”
She lowered the sword, Banneth’s words striking a strange chord within her. “You wish me to stay as ambassador?”
“No, Saizsch,” he whispered. “I would have you stay as my queen.”
89
HE DID NOT pressure her to accept, merely stated his reasons for proposing marriage: it would protect her and make a statement to his people that the Demorans were to be welcomed, he felt she had the knowledge and wisdom to use the position wisely, and—most importantly—it would create a union between Demora and Casmun neither nation’s councils could ignore.
His last words, however, shook her most.
“I do not love you,” Banneth said softly. “And I know you do not love me.” He looked down. “I know, too, about Ah’lecks, and how your heart is broken. My heart was once broken the same way.”
He had loved Queen Tamosa, but she hadn’t loved him. Sage took a step backward, clutching the sword against her chest. “And yet My King asks.”
His gaze came up again to meet hers. “I dare to think you might not wish to return to Demora, as your Ah’lecks is not there, and you can see the goodness that can come from staying.”
Alex wasn’t the only person she cared about in Demora—there was Clare and the queen and the princesses, and even Darnessa and the extended family she’d left behind in Crescera. Yet in a way she’d lost them, too. King Raymond and Ambassador Gramwell would depend on her in future negotiations, not only in language, but in the friendships she’d built. By the time Sage returned to Demora, everyone else’s lives would’ve moved on, including Clare’s, and there would be no place for her. It would never feel like home again.
“And what of your feelings, Palandret?” she managed to say. “Can you enter a second marriage without love?”
Banneth smiled tentatively. “I admire and respect you, and I am easy in your company. I hope someday we might find affection. If nothing else, I believe we can be content with each other.”
Sage could almost hear the matchmaker’s voice in her ear, whispering the same. She would say this kind of match—one where many people had a vested interest in its success—often had better chances of happiness than ones made for love or passion.
“I—I will have to think,” she stammered.
He nodded. “It is not a decision to be made lightly, but if you accept, we should proceed at once.” He blushed a little. “I have two heirs, as well as Lani, so we need not have children unless you wish to. You may stay in these rooms.”
“After the first night,” she whispered hoarsely. “After it is permanent.”
It was only ever supposed to be Alex.
Banneth’s flush deepened. “Yes.”
Sage looked down at the weapon in her hands, suddenly afraid it bore a personal mark. The king stepped closer and pointed to a place on the hilt. It was blank, like the place on her dagger for the Q that would never be there.
“I will carve my name here, but not until you agree,” he said. “If you do not, it is still yours to keep.”
She trembled all over. “I will consider all you have said.”
Banneth reached up to her face, framing it with his warm hands. “As my queen, there is nothing I would not give you, should you ask for it,” he said.
Still no words would come, but the king seemed to understand.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Saizsch Fahler.”
Sage stood unmoving for several minutes after Banneth left.
He wanted her to be his queen.
He didn’t love her, which was a relief, but she couldn’t ignore what else he’d said.
By all standards, it was a good match with tremendous potential. They’d enter the marriage fully knowing it might never grow to love, but they were compatible as friends, and children were not necessary. Even Darnessa, who pulled the strings of power in marriages all across Demora, could not have plotted a better political match.
Sage shut her eyes and held the harish to her chest. Even having arranged several successful marriages during her time with the matchmaker, she’d never considered marrying a man she didn’t love, and she didn’t love Banneth.
Yet she was considering this.
Alex, forgive me.
And what kind of life would this be? Surely not terrible. Banneth would never misuse or mistreat her.
But Alex.
She would be Lani’s sister and Reza’s mother. She could have children of her own and raise them alongside Lani’s, but that would be her choice.
But Alex.
Soldiers sacrificed their comfort, their time with family, and sometimes their very lives for the good of many thousands of strangers. She might not have the skills to fight for peace on the battlefield, but this she could do.
Alex. Alex. Alex.
Alex was dead.
He had died for her. How could she even consider betraying him like this?
When I say over and over how I want you to be mine, it is only because I am already completely yours.
She could never love anyone like she loved him, but Alex wouldn’t have wanted her to waste away, mourning and missing him so much she might as well have died, too.
He had died so she could live.
Her hands tightened around the hilt of the sword.
Alex.
I’m yours.
I am.
I always will be.
The textured grip pressed painfully into her palms as she choked back a sob.
But you’re gone.
90
SAGE FORCED NICHOLAS to attend tashaivar lessons the next afternoon, not wanting to be alone with Lani, who apparently had been the brains behind Banneth’s proposal. She hadn’t decided what to do, but with perhaps only three days left before the Demorans arrived, there wasn’t much time left to give him an answer.
“Isn’t this a girl’s way of fighting?” Nicholas complained, looking at Sage, Lani, and Princess Reza standing with their instructor, a gray-haired woman Sage had learned to fear a little bit.
“Just because women learn it does not mean it is only for them,” said a familiar voice.
Sage turned to find Darit and the king joining them, dressed to spar. It had been only a few days since Sage had seen Darit, though it felt much longer, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed him. He smiled warmly as he clasped her right shoulder, and she returned the gesture.
“It is well to see you again, Darit.”
He smiled. “And you, Saizsch. Your language is much improved.” Darit gestured to the arena. “I have come to see what else you have learned.”
Banneth had brought the sword he’d spoken of for Nicholas and worked mostly with him, keeping a respectful distance from Sage, but not avoiding her, either. She doubted he’d speak of last night unless she did, or until the Norsari were on his doorstep.