Hokanu’s other hand moved and closed gently over hers. His expression shifted subtly, toward not anger, or pain, but rather, deep interest. ‘Go on.’
‘If we lived in a place’ – she hesitated, unsure how to phrase a concept largely inspired by Kevin — ‘where law ruled in deed as well as word, where politics did not countenance murder . . .’ She paused, and realized on the moment that his silence was a reflection of her own; that the hand upon her hand had tightened with shared resentment against the ingrained flaws in their culture she herself had reluctantly come to recognize. The easy rapport disturbed her, and to set it at a distance, she focused dnly on words, if we lived at a time when we knew our children could grow without knives behind every door, then, Hokanu of the Shinzawai, I would be deeply honoured to become your wife. There is no man in the Empire I would rather have as the father of my next child.’ She looked away from him, fearful that his presence would tempt her to further breaches in protocol. ‘But until the council is more settled, and things as we know them are different, a union between us would bring risk to both of our houses.’
Hokanu was silent. He caressed her hand as he released her, and said nothing until she turned back to him, that he might face her squarely. ‘You are wise beyond your years, Lady Mara. I cannot pretend I am not disappointed. I can only admire your staunchness.’ He tilted his head fractionally to one side. ‘Your rare strength makes you all the more to be cherished.’
Mara found moisture in her eyes. ‘Hokanu, some daughter of another house will be a lucky woman.’
Hokanu bowed at the compliment. ‘Such a daughter must be more than lucky before she could displace my feelings for you. Before I go, may I at least know that you look favourably upon friendship with the Shinzawai?’
‘Assuredly,’ she said, giddy with relief that he had not been angry or let her rebuff displace courtesy. More than she realized, she had been afraid her refusal might turn him against her. ‘I would cherish that as a privilege.’
‘Count it a gift,’ Hokanu said. ‘One you are worthy of.’ He sipped the last swallow of his wine, then smoothly prepared to take his leave.
Mara forestalled him, as much to delay the unhappy moment of his leaving. ‘If you would allow, I would beg a favour.’
He paused, balanced in the instant of rising. His dark eyes searched her, honestly, without suspicion that she might use his weakness for her to gain her own ends, but in an intense desire to fathom her motives. Mara read his look and knew, at heart, how alike they were: both of them had an instinct for the Great Game, and the will to play the stakes fully.
Hokanu said, ‘What would you ask, Lady Mara?’
She strove to lighten her manner, while weighing how to broach an awkward subject. ‘It is my understanding that a Great One calls frequently at your home.’
Hokanu nodded, his face now expressionless. ‘This is true.’
Across a pained stillness, Mara added, ‘I very much desire to have an informal talk with such a personage. If you could facilitate a meeting, I would count myself in your debt.’
Hokanu’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not voice his curiosity about Mara’s motives. ‘I shall see what I can do.’
Then he did rise, briskly, and gave her a formal bow in farewell, along with graceful phrases. Mara rose also, saddened that the mood of intimacy had been broken. His charm was all on the surface now, and try though she might, she could not read deeper. When he was gone, she sat in the light of the paper lanterns, turning and turning her wineglass in her hands. She could not recall his last words, but only that he had masked his emotions all too well.
The cushions across the table seemed something more than empty, and the night a bit more than dark.
In time, Nacoya came, as Mara expected she might. The old woman’s instincts were unerring. After a look at her mistress, the old woman sat down at her side. ‘Daughter of my heart, you look troubled.’
Mara leaned against the older woman, allowing herself to be hugged as if she were a girl once again. ‘Nacoya, I did as I must, rejecting Hokanu’s suit. But I am disturbed by a sadness that has no cause. I would not have thought I could love Kevin as deeply as I do, yet feel sorrow at declining Hokanu’s proposal.’
Nacoya raised a hand and gently stroked Mara’s cheek as she had through painful years of growing. ‘Daughter, the heart can hold more than one. Each of these men has his place in it.’
Mara sighed, allowing herself a moment of comfort in the old woman’s arms. Then she smiled ruefully. ‘You always warned me that love was a tangle. I never understood until now just how much of one, and how many were the thorns.’