The Winter King
Page 179
Khamsin ignored her brother and continued addressing the Calbernan. “So you see, Sealord, I will be queen of Wintercraig for much more than a year. Thus, I cannot and will not surrender myself, my husband’s child, or my kingdom. Not even to a very handsome and clearly powerful foreign prince, whom I fear has been steered far off course by the counsel of a poor navigator. But I am not an ungenerous woman. Join me to defeat the Ice King, and I will not send you away empty-handed. You shall have wood enough to build twenty ships, and two thousand of Wintercraig’s best furs to trade.”
“Tsk. Tsk.” The Calbernan clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Falcon, you never told me what a treasure this sister was.” He inclined his head towards Khamsin. “Such an offer is indeed tempting, myerina, but I did not lead my people to this land seeking merely ships and riches to trade. Your brother promised me wealth, it is true. But he also promised me an unbreakable alliance, bound by blood, and a treasure of treasures to grace the House of Merimydion.”
“He promised you a Season of Summerlea, did he?”
The golden eyes gleamed. “Calbernan blood rules the sea. A liana with power over weather is worth more to me than two hundred ships and ten thousand furs. I am of age and have earned my right to claim a liana, and the Seasons are known to be as gifted as they are beautiful.”
The promised bride was for him, which meant he must be the prince of House Merimydion, the royal house of Calberna. What was his name? Kham racked her memory for names of foreign leaders Tildy had drilled into her head. Dilys? “You are Dilys Merimydion?”
The Calbernan inclined his head.
“You are aware, Sealord Merimydion, that the weathergifts of my family do not pass outside Summerlea’s direct royal line. Even with a Season for a wife, it’s unlikely your children will inherit the gift—or pass it on, if they do.”
“Such is my understanding although your brother made no mention of it.” She could see her honesty had earned her a measure of respect. “This does not concern me. Any child of mine will have formidable gifts of his own.”
Khamsin’s mind raced. As princesses of a still-independent Summerlea, her sisters had never expected a future that did not include being married off to the royal scions of other lands for the benefit of Summerlea. As the daughters of a deposed, enemy king, their future could easily be much less comfortable. They lived at the pleasure of Wynter Atrialan, and they knew it. Still, Khamsin had been given into marriage to a stranger, and she would not force her sisters into the same situation.
“Calbernans hold their wives in great esteem, do they not?”
“The highest of esteem, myerina.”
“Did Falcon promise wives for your men as well?” Only one of every hundred Calbernan children were female. As a result, the renowned seafarers frequently bought their wives from the slave markets in Lukerne or raided weaker lands across the sea and took women captive to be their brides. She had hoped her first bribe would be tempting enough on its own. So much wealth and so many ships would buy many wives.
“He promised them their pick from the whole of Wintercraig.”
Of course, he had.
“That is not going to happen,” she told the Calbernan king bluntly. “But, the war between Summerlea and Wintercraig has left many women widowed, their children fatherless. I am sure there are many among them who would look favorably on the offer a union with a man of the Isles if the union offered security for themselves and their children.
“So here, then, is my offer, Dilys Merimydion, Prince of Calberna: If you and your men join me now to fight the Ice King, Wintercraig will provide you wood enough for fifty ships and five thousand of Wintercraig’s best furs to trade. You and every Calbernan in this army will also be invited to return, in peace, to the royal palace in Konumarr next summer. There, you, Sealord Merimydion, will have three months to court the Seasons of Summerlea and convince one of them to be your bride. I will also invite any woman of Summerlea or Wintercraig willing to take a Calbernan husband to come to Konumarr as well, and your men will have the same three months to win wives of their own.”
The Sealord smiled. “This offer is most generous, myerina, to be sure, but why would I or my men sacrifice the certainty of a liana now for the possibility of a liana later?”
“Trust me, none of you would want an unwilling Summerlea or Wintercraig wife.”
“Ah, but any liana of a Calbernan would not be unwilling for long.” The way he said it sent an unmistakably erotic shiver up Khamsin’s body. If she weren’t irrevocably in love with her own Winterman, she might actually have considered throwing down her sword and taking Merimydion up on his offer.
Instead, she gave him a sweet smile, and said, “In that case, my lord, three months should be ample time for you and your men to win the consent of your chosen brides. Or,” she added when he didn’t immediately accept, “I can call upon the deadly power of this sword, and we can all die today in a blaze of Sunfire. And there will be no children and no future for any of us.”
The Calbernan Sealord began to laugh again, slowly at first, then with increasing gusto. There was a pleasing, honest sound to his laugh. The kind of sound that said he was a man who lived life to its fullest and enjoyed every unpredictable moment of it. She knew then that she had won. And she knew that her sisters could do worse than to be courted by such a man.
“Well, Sealord, do we have an agreement?”
“Tsk. Tsk.” The Calbernan clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Falcon, you never told me what a treasure this sister was.” He inclined his head towards Khamsin. “Such an offer is indeed tempting, myerina, but I did not lead my people to this land seeking merely ships and riches to trade. Your brother promised me wealth, it is true. But he also promised me an unbreakable alliance, bound by blood, and a treasure of treasures to grace the House of Merimydion.”
“He promised you a Season of Summerlea, did he?”
The golden eyes gleamed. “Calbernan blood rules the sea. A liana with power over weather is worth more to me than two hundred ships and ten thousand furs. I am of age and have earned my right to claim a liana, and the Seasons are known to be as gifted as they are beautiful.”
The promised bride was for him, which meant he must be the prince of House Merimydion, the royal house of Calberna. What was his name? Kham racked her memory for names of foreign leaders Tildy had drilled into her head. Dilys? “You are Dilys Merimydion?”
The Calbernan inclined his head.
“You are aware, Sealord Merimydion, that the weathergifts of my family do not pass outside Summerlea’s direct royal line. Even with a Season for a wife, it’s unlikely your children will inherit the gift—or pass it on, if they do.”
“Such is my understanding although your brother made no mention of it.” She could see her honesty had earned her a measure of respect. “This does not concern me. Any child of mine will have formidable gifts of his own.”
Khamsin’s mind raced. As princesses of a still-independent Summerlea, her sisters had never expected a future that did not include being married off to the royal scions of other lands for the benefit of Summerlea. As the daughters of a deposed, enemy king, their future could easily be much less comfortable. They lived at the pleasure of Wynter Atrialan, and they knew it. Still, Khamsin had been given into marriage to a stranger, and she would not force her sisters into the same situation.
“Calbernans hold their wives in great esteem, do they not?”
“The highest of esteem, myerina.”
“Did Falcon promise wives for your men as well?” Only one of every hundred Calbernan children were female. As a result, the renowned seafarers frequently bought their wives from the slave markets in Lukerne or raided weaker lands across the sea and took women captive to be their brides. She had hoped her first bribe would be tempting enough on its own. So much wealth and so many ships would buy many wives.
“He promised them their pick from the whole of Wintercraig.”
Of course, he had.
“That is not going to happen,” she told the Calbernan king bluntly. “But, the war between Summerlea and Wintercraig has left many women widowed, their children fatherless. I am sure there are many among them who would look favorably on the offer a union with a man of the Isles if the union offered security for themselves and their children.
“So here, then, is my offer, Dilys Merimydion, Prince of Calberna: If you and your men join me now to fight the Ice King, Wintercraig will provide you wood enough for fifty ships and five thousand of Wintercraig’s best furs to trade. You and every Calbernan in this army will also be invited to return, in peace, to the royal palace in Konumarr next summer. There, you, Sealord Merimydion, will have three months to court the Seasons of Summerlea and convince one of them to be your bride. I will also invite any woman of Summerlea or Wintercraig willing to take a Calbernan husband to come to Konumarr as well, and your men will have the same three months to win wives of their own.”
The Sealord smiled. “This offer is most generous, myerina, to be sure, but why would I or my men sacrifice the certainty of a liana now for the possibility of a liana later?”
“Trust me, none of you would want an unwilling Summerlea or Wintercraig wife.”
“Ah, but any liana of a Calbernan would not be unwilling for long.” The way he said it sent an unmistakably erotic shiver up Khamsin’s body. If she weren’t irrevocably in love with her own Winterman, she might actually have considered throwing down her sword and taking Merimydion up on his offer.
Instead, she gave him a sweet smile, and said, “In that case, my lord, three months should be ample time for you and your men to win the consent of your chosen brides. Or,” she added when he didn’t immediately accept, “I can call upon the deadly power of this sword, and we can all die today in a blaze of Sunfire. And there will be no children and no future for any of us.”
The Calbernan Sealord began to laugh again, slowly at first, then with increasing gusto. There was a pleasing, honest sound to his laugh. The kind of sound that said he was a man who lived life to its fullest and enjoyed every unpredictable moment of it. She knew then that she had won. And she knew that her sisters could do worse than to be courted by such a man.
“Well, Sealord, do we have an agreement?”
