Aedan stopped his pacing back and forth across the room. He looked at her, taken aback, then chuckled and shook his head. “You women always think that marriage will settle a man. Nothing short of another explosion like the one on Deismaar all those years ago will settle Michael, and even then, I’m not so sure.”
“Now who is thinking in overly simplistic terms?” she asked. “Or has it not occurred to you that a wife may influence her husband in ways his friends and advisors cannot? Aside from which, have you considered asking the emperor what will become of all his efforts if he does not produce an heir? Right now, he has nothing else to occupy his attention save his plans for the future of the empire. What about the future of his line? Has he stopped to consider that?
“And it wouldn’t do for him to marry just anyone,” she added. “The selection of a suitable bride for the emperor would take time and effort, much of which he would doubtless delegate to you, but his consultation would certainly be required, and that would give him something else to think about. Then there is the matter of reaching a decision. He would have to meet his potential bride and get to know her. I could not see the emperor blindly accepting an arranged match. He would naturally insist on forming his own opinion and making his own choice.
“Then there would be the matter of the marriage itself, of course, with all the necessary arrangements,” she continued. “That, too, would take some time and effort. And following the marriage, there would be the customary period for consummation, after which a certain amount of his attention would be occupied by the production of an heir. If we could find the right sort of woman for him, one who is as intelligent as she is beautiful, one whom he could fall in love with and respect and not dominate completely, then it is doubtful he would spend every waking hour thinking about new campaigns. If a marriage would not settle him, as you say, then at the very least it would slow him down.”
Aedan rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “You know, you’re absolutely right,” he said. “It would be the perfect solution. I cannot imagine why I did not think of it myself.”
“I can,” Ariel said softly. “Considering the circumstances of our match, I would not expect you to think of marriage as a desirable solution to anything.”
Aedan compressed his lips into a tight grimace. He sighed heavily. “Have I been so inconsiderate a husband?”
Ariel shook her head. “No,” she said. “You have been most considerate and kind and gentle. I could not ask for a more doting father for our daughter, nor a husband more attentive to my needs. I can complain of nothing. I know you have come to care for me over the past four years, but I also know that had you been able to choose freely, I would not have been the one you would have chosen for a wife.”
Aedan sat down on the bed and took her hand. “It is true that I loved Sylvanna, but I have no regrets for the way things turned out. A marriage with Sylvanna would have been impossible, for all the reasons you gave me at the time. She knew that as well, which was why she left the way she did, along with all the others. We shared a brief moment of happiness, but we could not have made a marriage. I knew that even then. We were from two different worlds, and fate brought us together. We fought shoulder-to-shoulder throughout the war, facing death countless times, and when a man and woman—even a human and an elf—are together in such circumstances for so long, I suppose it is inevitable that such feelings should develop.”
“I wish I could have gone on the campaigns with you,” said Ariel wistfully. “I am strong, and I can fight as well as most men, and better than some. I pleaded with my father to let me go, but he said it was not a woman’s place to take up arms in battle, especially a lady of the court.”
“Be grateful you were spared the horror,” Aedan said. “I would not wish for you to share the nightmares that still plague me.”
“I would share anything with you,” she said.
“You have made me very happy, Ariel. You have become the nearest and dearest person in my life, more important to me even than the emperor, whom I have known and loved as a friend and sovereign since my childhood, and whom duty demands I place above all else. I could never have given Sylvanna what she truly needed, nor could she have done the same for me. You, on the other hand, have fulfilled all my needs and more.”
“Had things been otherwise,” she said, “and had you the opportunity to choose between us now …” She stopped. “No, I will not ask that. It is unfair and pointless. And I don’t think I really want to know.”
“But I did choose you,” said Aedan. “And I have never had cause to regret my choice.”
They blew out the candles and went to bed, but Aedan couldn’t sleep for a long time.
2
The birth of Aerin of Boeruine was the occasion of great rejoicing at Seaharrow. Derwyn had declared a festival to celebrate the birth of his heir, and the bells of the town tolled to commemorate the event. The wine cellars of Seaharrow were opened, and barrels sent out to the town, placed, in the squares so that the people could join the duke in a celebratory libation, and a dispatch rider was sent to Anuire to inform the emperor of the happy news that he had become an uncle. A feast was held in the great hall of the castle, and Derwyn had spared no expense to make sure the celebration was every bit as lavish as those held at the emperor’s court. All present had remarked that they had never seen him happier.
For Laera, it was an occasion of immense relief. She had loathed carrying the child. She was grateful to be free of the sickness in the mornings, of the immense discomfort that had only continued to increase as the child grew, of the pain in her back and the swelling in her ankles and the twisting and turning and kicking of the infant as it lay within her womb. She had known that birth was painful and precarious, but she had still been unprepared for the agony she felt as Aerin made his way into the world. It had felt as if she were being torn apart.
She had screamed and cursed Derwyn’s name in terms so crude and vehement that even the midwives had been shocked, and she was later grateful her husband had not been present to hear how she abused him. It would have certainly conflicted with the new image of herself that she had worked so hard to build up in his mind.
Derwyn had obtained a wet-nurse for her, as was customary, for which Laera was profoundly grateful. She had suffered long enough in carrying the child. She had no wish to be burdened further by needing to care for it. That was why women of the common classes aged so quickly, she thought. Their children suck the life right out of them.
As it was, she had to bear pain in her bosoms for at least a week or more past the delivery and the discomfort of the compression bandage wound around her chest each day to catch the leaks and inhibit milk production. She knew that it would not be long before Derwyn wanted her to bear him a second son, and she was not looking forward to the experience. She would postpone it for as long as possible. She did not even want to allow him in her bed, and in this, fortunately, she had the support of the midwives, who had explained to Derwyn that she was weak and needed time to recover from the birth.
She thanked the gods the child hadn’t been a daughter. She hoped the next one wouldn’t be. That would mean she would have to suffer through the entire process yet a third time, or even more, if another daughter came. She still had a small supply of her special potion left, but she would soon run out and have to find a source for more. She would have to find and cultivate some young woman of the Court of Seaharrow she could trust. A servant wouldn’t do. She had learned her lesson. Servants could betray her. She would need to find a girl of some position who had a lot to lose.
For all that she had suffered, the birth of Aerin had now made possible the next stage of her plan. She had already begun working on it. As before, it would be a slow process that would involve the gradual manipulation of her husband, but she had already laid the groundwork. Derwyn had intended to be her lord and master, but by now, it was she who held control. It had been such a simple matter to convince him that he had made her fall in love with him and that it was his prowess as a lover, and not the subtle skills she had learned over the years, that brought out the best in her and made sex so pleasurable. She would now use it as a weapon to get her way.