The Duke's Decision

Back in the sitting room on the second floor of the inner keep, Avery propped his feet up on a low cushioned stool with a sigh. “So. Where do we stand after the ball?”

Maude chuckled, taking a sip of tea in a well-worn beige chair that conformed perfectly to her proportions. “You're supposed to be telling us that. Have you made up your mind yet and picked a bride?”

Avery shook his head. “Not really. I decided to scratch half a dozen or so names off the list now that I've talked to them, but I wanted your insight on some of the others. Marcus will send those families a note in the morning saying that their audience has been… canceled or rescheduled or something. I left it up to him to figure out how to word it without causing bad blood.”

“Have you decided to strike Sabine off the list? There's been bad blood between us and Lancaster recently,” Maude said. “They backed Richard. And all those little disputes over land boundaries and hunting rights between some of our border barons and theirs.”

“That's one of the things that has me hesitating. Now that I've talked with her, I think I can trust her personally. But I still don't think marrying her will make her immediate family into our allies,” Avery said. “Much less the Duke of Lancaster himself.”

Maude sipped from her cup again. “Then why didn’t you just tell her that she should give up and leave?”

Avery frowned down into his own teacup. “Because I could be wrong about that,” he said. “It’s a complicated decision, and I would be a fool to put her out of the running just because I hadn’t asked her father if he would be willing to stand with us. I've been thinking about all of this lately. The old duke's… perhaps I should say Duchess Jennifer's… unconventional arrangement. Chancy childbirth. Heirs that might look like me or not. Gaining allies. Testing for loyalty. Trying to account for the families that come attached to the women. So my plan for tomorrow is that I will give all of them a chance – put them all to the test.”

Maude raised an eyebrow. “That sounds cryptic, but I trust your judgement,” she said. Avery winced at the lie; she didn’t notice and continued. “Tell me what sort of contest you have in mind.”

“You know the old duke's crystal sword? His special truth sword?” Avery asked.

Maude nodded. “My father said he made that out of a perfectly ordinary metal sword. Dad always said he didn't think the sword really did anything even after the old duke worked on it, it was just his way of deflecting blame. If the old duke disintegrated someone for lying, it was murder. If the sacred Sword of Truth did it, well, that was just a natural force acting in the world.”

Avery frowned. “Maybe so,” he said. “I plan to ask for an oath of loyalty right there in front of the sword. For the woman who marries me and for the head of her family. The heir, too.”

“What if the sword doesn't work?” Maude asked.

“I can hear lies. Like the old duke.” Avery looked at Maude. “Like when you said you trusted my judgement.”

Maude flushed. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize. But what if more than one woman is willing? Are you just going to go down the list in order of rank?”

Avery shrugged. “Why not marry all of them?”

Maude’s hand froze with surprise, and the delicate handle of her teacup slipped through her fingers. It shattered loudly on the floor, splashing hot liquid across her skirt. Her eyes went wide, but she kept the rest of her face calm. She blinked once, twice, then three times, then spoke very carefully.

“I suppose there's some political sense in it. It's not customary, but the old duke didn't explicitly disallow it and imperial law doesn't touch the subject. It certainly makes it easier to get multiple heirs in a short time without worrying about the health of the mother.” She absently rubbed her abdomen, and then continued.

“If you can swear multiple families to yourself in the bargain… I can see what you're thinking about from the political side. But it hardly seems a fair arrangement, and it dilutes what you have to offer. I think the best women will want a loving husband all to themselves, too. I doubt someone like Sabine would be willing to be merely one out of several duchesses.”

Avery sighed. “I thought of that. It's why I'm not sure. I worry that the more I try to grasp, the more will slip through my fingers. Maybe I'll just ask for the oath by itself and use that to get down to a shorter list.”

“An oath of direct fealty merely for the chance to marry your daughter to the duke?” Maude sighed. “You’ll have to offer something in the bargain, though I suppose the old style of direct fealty does cut both ways. You’re taking on responsibilities when you accept fealty. Have you talked to anyone else about your plan?”

“Not yet,” Avery said. “Partly because I’m still not sure of it myself, partly because I don’t want word to leak out. I think it will work better if the offer reaches everyone at once, and while I’m confident you can keep a secret…” Avery shook his head. “I’ve only told you. James might know anyway. He has his ways.”

Maude smiled. “I never suspected you of learning subtlety. Will you talk to Isolde about this idea? A young woman’s perspective might be useful in general, and she’s friends with many of your prospective brides in particular.”

“I might ask why you didn’t give her the list,” Avery said, looking expectantly at Maude.

“Because I left some of her best friends off it,” Maude said. The gray-haired half-elven woman frowned, lines of worry appearing on her inhumanly youthful face as she considered her daughter. “I didn’t want to have that argument with her.”

Avery nodded. “Exactly. I don’t, either. She was upset enough that I snubbed the d’Ivry sisters tonight. I’m also worried about her discretion.”

“Isolde wouldn’t betray your secrets,” Maude argued. “She loves you like a brother. She wants the best for you, just as I do. We’re family.”

“She loves her friends, too,” Avery said. “Even if she didn’t mean to, she might let something slip.”

The door to the sitting room creaked open. “I can keep a secret,” Isolde said, hands on her hips. “So, tell me about this list. Avery already let slip that it exists, I may as well know what’s on it.”

Avery and Maude exchanged coded glances, and an awkward silence hung over the room for a moment as the two of them tried to wordlessly communicate. Unfortunately, Maude had long proven impervious to telepathic communication, and Avery had no choice but to speak aloud and hope that his aunt would follow his lead.

“Maude, she’s right, we may as well tell her about the list,” Avery said. “The list of suitable suitors. The one that you, Marcus, and James have talked about.”

“Yes,” Maude said, then proceeded to tell a series of lies that made Avery flinch involuntarily. “That’s the secret we were talking about. We should trust you with the list, I’m sure you can keep such matters in close confidence.”

Isolde’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. After closing the door, she walked carefully around the broken shards of ceramic next to her mother’s chair and over a couch. She flopped onto the couch, kicking off her slippers and propping them up on an armrest. “Fine. Let’s go through who is and isn’t on this list.”

Maude hesitated, looking over at her foster son. “Avery and I were talking about the dance, and there are maybe half a dozen women he danced with that he decided to cross off the list, though he hasn’t told me which ones. Perhaps he should go through those first.”

“Ivette? Are you crossing off Ivette?” Isolde turned to Avery. “I know she probably wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but she was really nervous.” Turning her head to face her mother, Isolde continued. “And if it’s that you think her dress was too risque, that dress was picked out by her stepmother, don’t punish her just because of her stepmother’s fashion sense.”

Avery cleared his throat. “We’re not crossing Ivette off the list,” he said. “Or your new friend Fiona.”

“Fiona’s on the list?” Isolde pulled her feet off the arm of the couch and sat up. “I’d hardly count her a friend yet, she’s barely an acquaintance. And she’s not got any noble blood in her at all. Her real parents abandoned her and her master adopted her out of a garrison barracks somewhere in Cheshire.” She glared at her mother. “You told me I couldn’t be seen dancing with Jonathan Taylor because his breeding wasn’t good enough. He’s third-generation wizard gentry and his mother was the daughter of a landed knight. Fiona is a foundling. She grew up with foundlings and orphans, and whatever her master has taught her since, it hasn’t been proper noble etiquette. She even rode astride on the hunt!”

Maude’s eyes had widened several times during her daughter’s description. “Avery, maybe-”

Avery made a curt gesture. “Adopted or not, her father is an archmage. There isn’t a single wizard living in York who ranks him on that scale. She’s a skilled wizard herself, brave enough to grab a werewolf by the tail, and…” He hesitated. “She’s neither uncomely in appearance nor unpleasant in personality. I danced with her twice last night, and after that, I’m confident… that I would enjoy her continued company.”

“Well, if she’s your favorite, maybe she should be your decision, humbly-born or not,” Maude said, raising her hands in a placating manner. “I told you not to dance with any woman twice at tonight’s ball, but I’m sure you must have found her quite appealing if you ignored my advice on the subject.”

Isolde cleared her throat. “I, um, asked him to dance with her a second time.”

“Really? You told him to do that? Were you trying to stir up jealousy?” Maude rubbed her temples, exasperation entering her voice.

“No, and stop trying to change the topic. This list and who’s on it. I want to know what’s wrong with the d’Ivry sisters.” Isolde frowned. “I think Laudine would rate as a journeyman if she were a working wizard, I’m pretty sure of that. How is some common-born journeyman wizard more suitable than the equally skilled granddaughter of one of York’s wealthiest barons?”

“The breeding of the d’Ivry sisters isn’t in question,” Maude said. “Their future fertility is what I would question. The aristocratic disease has riddled the d’Ivry bloodline and may yet conclude it in another generation or two. It’s too much of a risk.”

Avery raised a finger, trying to politely inject himself back into the conversation.

“Oh, not this again,” Isolde said. “I don’t think Laudine or Emeline have vampirism.”

“Maybe not yet, but it’s likely in their futures. Their brother Osric hasn’t been seen in daylight for three months. And you can’t dispute that vampires rarely if ever bear children once they start shunning the daylight.” Maude crossed her arms. “A duke needs heirs, and there are plenty of suitable women from families that have stayed clean of the aristocratic disease.”

Avery cleared his throat loudly.

“But Osric is good enough for me to dance with?” Isolde flopped back down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling and putting her feet back on the arm of the couch. “Should I be glad that you haven’t banned me from dancing with anyone suspected of carrying the aristocratic disease, or angry that my own mother cares more about my cousin than me?”

“What an insolent mouth you wear!” Maude stood up from the chair. “I-”

“Enough!” Avery’s deep shout filled the room. After a moment of silence, he continued at a more normal volume. “I can see the two of you have a great deal to discuss between yourselves, but it is quite late and I find I am tired. Gregor will be here shortly. He can fill you in on my changes to the list and my notes from the ball while I go up to my chambers and try to get some sleep before the morrow.”