“Have you forgotten? You’re to be wed to the daughter of Old Wusong.” He smiles cruelly.
“Miranda,” I whisper.
I remember the day that Edgaard was named heir, and I was promised to the emperor’s daughter.
“You’re betrothed.” Edric grins wolfishly.
“In order to secure the fortune and power of House Wusong for you. There is one problem, Father,” I add with venom. “I’m not your heir. The emperor may have betrothed me to Lady Miranda that day, but you also disinherited me from my birthright. I’m your second illegitimate son. Is that not right?”
Edric tilts his head in acknowledgment.
“Old Wusong,” I say, “is a feeble old man. He no longer even attends councils of the High Synod. You’ve assumed his seat and power. Change the rules. Make Edgaard, your true son, claim the honors that go with the title you gave him.”
Edric grins dryly. “If Edgaard could take this burden, he would. He knows the responsibilities of family outweigh his personal desires, unlike you. The whole of Tao saw Old Wusong accept only you as consort to his daughter for reasons that pass my understanding. Even I cannot change this outcome, much as I would like, son.” The word is an epithet on his lips.
Why would Old Wusong demand that it be me that marry his daughter? Most probably the withered old prune enjoys tormenting his paladin.
“Wait until Old Wusong is dead,” I suggest, “then do whatever you like with his daughter and your son. Problem solved for us both. See? I do think of our family.”
“Do you?” he asks sardonically.
“Of course. I think of my true family here on Bone,” I add.
That was stupid, Edmon, I think. You’re facing the monster. Is it necessary to risk his wrath because you wish to cut him?
Edric grits his teeth and continues. “Wusong is old but very much alive. He has demanded that his daughter marry before the turn of the yearly cycle so that he may still be present to see it done. So return with us and take your vows to Lady Miranda. Afterward, I don’t care to think what will become of you.”
“You’d wish me to return to the isle?” I ask with suspicion. I make it a point not to say let me return to the isle. I want it known that he doesn’t let me do anything.
“When you acknowledge the rule of House Wusong-Leontes, you may return.”
Can I trust him? His offer makes sense for him. I don’t have to play actual husband to this Miranda Wusong, this stranger. Perhaps, in time, I may annul our union through the College of Electors. I’ll be absolved of all responsibilities as son of Edric Leontes, but only after this duty is executed. I’ll return to the island, but Bone will not ever be sovereign; my father is clear that I do not govern here. Perhaps Edgaard or maybe one of my hapless sisters will be overseer of affairs here. That’s as good as it is going to get.
Perhaps it’s fair. I can still live a quiet life here with Nadia and my child. I turn to my mother, who stares straight ahead, glassy-eyed. Do I see a stirring behind her gaze? A simmer of defiance? I turn to Nadia. Her dark eyes are as beautiful as ever, strong and proud. I survey the room. Gorham, Maestro Bertinelli, and the rest of them look on with a fire of determination.
I know what I must do.
“That will not be possible,” I say calmly. “I’m already promised to another.” I reach my hand out and feel Nadia’s cool, slender fingers grip my own. We aren’t married by the laws of Meridian, but what I’ve said is true enough. She’s mine, and I’m hers.
“I see.” My father’s lips purse tightly. The room goes silent. I feel the screws being twisted in the backs of both our brains.
Who will break first?
Edric exhales and says resignedly, “This certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”
He pauses. Everyone holds their breaths . . .
“Let us then put this behind us. If you’re indeed already married, Old Wusong will no longer see you fit to marry his daughter. He must accept another. Perhaps Edgaard. I see no reason why we shouldn’t then leave each other in peace, once and for all.”
The crowd smiles nervously in response. Is he sincere? Can I trust him?
“There’s still the matter to be settled of governance,” I say firmly, not quite believing this turn of events.
“In due time, we shall discuss plans for the isle’s future,” Edric says calmly. “First, though, it’s been a long trip. I ask that my company be allowed to rest, break bread, and enjoy the sunlight we’ve long been without.”
My father sounds, for the first time in all the aquagraphics I’ve ever seen of him, beaten, tired, and unwilling to fight. I nod. I am uneasy, but it is finally over—the enmity, the fighting. I will be disinherited and forever forgotten and will remain here on the island with my true family. It would be foolish to let my guard down, but if he’s making a genuine offer, time will bear it out.
“Agreed. See the guests situated. Prepare for the Eventide feast,” I call out. The islanders raise their voices with a cheer.
I turn to Nadia, who meets my gaze with a solemn smile. She leans and whispers in my ear, “Is that how you plan on proposing to me, Little Lord? If you’re asking to get married,” she teases, “you’re going to have to do much better than that if you want me to say yes.”
The rhythm of the drums pulses through our bodies. I pull her close to me. Our eyes connect. I spin her away. The crowd surrounding us on the dance floor whoops in excitement. Nadia runs toward me. I lift her off the ground as the song reaches climax. The crowd applauds. I gently lower her to the floor where she steps on tiptoes to meet my lips.
“They aren’t dancing,” she whispers.
Her eyes flick to the Nightsiders—Edric, Alberich, and Edgaard sitting in chairs at the head of a feast table. Alberich is stern with his arms folded across his barrel chest. Edgaard tentatively smiles as someone fills his cup. My father, however, sits with a large grin on his face, looking as if he actually enjoys the festivities. It is unsettling.
“They don’t dance in Meridian,” I whisper back. “This is unfamiliar. That’s all.” She looks at me skeptically. “I haven’t forgotten the day of my brother’s christening or what he did to my mother,” I whisper solemnly. My trust has not been gained. The islanders don’t know what kind of danger they are in from the military might of the Pantheon. My father could wipe us out if he wanted. We’d fight back to lose just the same.
I need to make sure this pact is real.
I raise my hands, signaling for the music to cease. I stand center before where my father is seated. I grab a glass filled with ale that the islanders have fermented from kelp and toast. “To our honored guests from House Wusong-Leontes, welcome.”
The crowd claps in response.