“Yes,” Kitai said in a very small voice.
Tavi blinked, then seized both her hands in his. “Not between you and me, Kitai. This doesn’t change that.”
She searched his eyes, blinked twice, and a tear rolled down each cheek before she remembered her watercrafting and closed her eyes.
Tavi suddenly drew her hard against him so that he could put his arms around her. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t you dare think you need to hide them from me.”
She turned her face against his chest, and her slender arms suddenly tightened on him. He was abruptly reminded that she was very nearly as strong as he was, despite the difference in their sizes. And she was wearing chain mail. Very chilly chain mail. Tavi winced but didn’t move.
Kitai left her face against his chest for a time, and her tears, warmer than his ever were, made his skin damp.
“I did not know what you would do,” she said a few moments later, her arms never loosening. “What you would think. We didn’t do things in the right order.”
Tavi was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “You were worried about our child being thought of as a bastard?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ve seen Maximus’s scars. I saw how mad Phrygiar Navaris became. I’ve seen others who are… who are outsiders. Abused. Because they are not legitimate. As if simply by being born they are guilty of a crime. I did not know what to do.”
Tavi was quiet for a time and stroked her hair with one hand. Then he said, “There are two things we could do.”
She made a sniffling sound and listened.
“We could arrange things so that the child was not thought of as a bastard,” he said.
“How?”
“Oh, we lie, of course. We get married at once and simply say nothing else, and when the child is born we marvel that he—”
“Or she,” Kitai interjected.
“Or she must have come early.”
“Will that not be found out? A truthfinder would realize that was a story immediately.”
“Oh,” Tavi said, “everyone would realize it was a story. But no one would say anything about it. It’s what is called a ‘polite fiction’ among people who care about such things. Oh, there might be some sniggering, some remarks made behind our backs, but it wouldn’t be seriously challenged.”
“Truly?”
“Happens all the time,” Tavi said.
“But… but it would still be used against the child. Laughed at behind his back. Used to taunt him—”
“Or her,” Tavi interjected.
“Or her,” Kitai said. “It will forever be a weakness that someone else will be able to exploit.”
“That’s up to the child, I daresay,” Tavi said.
Kitai considered that for a moment. Then she said, “What other thing might we do?”
Tavi gently tilted her head up to look at him. “We do as we please,” he said calmly, “and dare anyone to disagree. We give our child all of our love and support, ignore the law where it could hurt him, and we challenge to the juris macto anyone who tries to do us harm over the issue. We do something for all the bastard children of the Realm, starting with our own.”
Kitai’s eyes flashed a brighter shade of green as something fierce kindled to life in them. “We can do this?”
“I don’t see why not,” Tavi said. “I’m going to be the First Lord, after all. Anyone who is going to turn against me will do it regardless of what excuse they use. Anyone who supports me will do so regardless of what order we did things in.”
Kitai frowned at him. “Chala,” she said quietly, “I do not care about other Alerans. I care about what you will think.”
He took her hands between hers, and said, “I am told that a Marat woman’s custom is to offer a potential mate a trial by contest before The One.”
She smiled slowly. “You’ve been asking about it?”
“The professor who gave me the assignment was most insistent,” he said drily. “I have drawn a few conclusions from this fact.”
“Yes?” Kitai asked.
“That since the woman chooses the contest, she has ample opportunity to reject her suitor. If she doesn’t care for him, she simply selects a contest at which he is unlikely to prevail. Say, a young woman of Horse doesn’t care for the attentions of a Wolf suitor, she challenges him to a horseback race.”
Kitai’s eyes danced, but her tone and expression were both serious. “The One witnesses the contest. The Marat most worthy prevails. This is known, Aleran.”
“Of course,” Tavi said. “I doubt that The One cares for his children to be forced to mate with those whom they do not desire.”
“Many young Marat males would disagree with you quite loudly. But in this, you are very nearly as wise as a Marat woman,” Kitai said solemnly. “Not quite. But very nearly.”
“I seem to recall a trial by contest between a certain beautiful young Marat woman and a foolish Aleran youth. It was quite a number of years ago, and the trial was held in the Wax Forest near the Calderon Valley. Dimly though I recall such an ancient time, I seem to remember that the young man was victorious.”
Kitai opened her mouth to reply hotly, then seemed to think better of it. She let out a rueful chuckle. “Only because the young woman willed it so.”
“How is that any different from any other young Marat woman who wishes to accept a young man as a mate?”
Kitai arched an eyebrow at him. “It…” She tilted her head. “It… is not.”
“Well, then,” he said. “According to the laws and customs of your people, for which I have the deepest respect, we have been married for a number of years. The child is perfectly legitimate.”
Kitai narrowed her eyes, and a smile haunted her lips. “We are not wed. That was not a proper mating trial.”
“Why not?” Tavi asked.
“Because it was not intended as such!” Kitai said.
Tavi waved a hand airily. “Intentions count for far less than the consequences of the actions born from them. You are my wife.”
“I think not,” Kitai said.
“I know,” Tavi said solemnly. “But in this, you are less wise than an Aleran male. Still, one must tolerate occasional fits of irrational passion from one’s wife. So in your judgment, what needs to happen to make this a proper mating?”
“A proper challenge!” she replied. “You cannot dare think that…” Her voice trailed off, and she said, “Oh.”
Tavi arched an eyebrow at her this time and waited.
“You…” She looked down. “You truly think the child is… that this is all right?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” he replied quietly. He dropped the playful, bantering tone. “Kitai, what does it matter what excuse we use to accept the child? So long as the child is welcomed and loved? Isn’t that the important thing?”
“Yes,” she said simply. She closed her eyes, and said, “Thank you, Aleran.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said. Then he touched her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “If our child is to be born, Kitai,” he said, in little more than a whisper, “I’ve got to do everything in my power to protect it. I’ve got to. I can’t do anything else. It is who I am. Do you understand?”
“I understand that you mean to leave me behind,” she said softly. “To go into this war alone.”
“I must,” he said. “Kitai, it would kill me if I lost you. But now, it would kill someone else, too.”
She shook her head slowly, never blinking. “I will not stay behind, Aleran.”
“Why not?”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then she said, “Do you remember when I said that the vord could do nothing to us?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you know why I said it?”
“No,” he said.
She put her hands on his face, and whispered, “Death is nothing to me, chala. Not if we are together. Death is not to be feared.” She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, very gently. Then she rested her forehead against his. “Being taken from one another. That terrifies me. It terrifies me. I will go to any wasted wilderness, to any horrible city, into any nightmare to keep you at my side, chala, and never flinch. I never have. But do not ask me to leave you. To send you into danger alone. That, I cannot do. That is who I am. And that is why I did not tell you. Because I knew who you were.”