She held out her hand, and Howan Fai rose, the sound of his feet loud in the deafening stillness as he crossed to the dais. He made himself walk slowly, calmly, and mounted the steps, bowing to Emperor Zindel as he reached the top, still wrapped in the electric cocoon of the Conclave’s astonished stillness. Then he bowed again, even more deeply, to Andrin, stepped up beside her, and took her hand in his.
They turned to face the Conclave together, and its silence shattered. The sudden, surging thunder of cheers as the Conclave’s members came to their feet was deafening, rolling up like the sea, pressing against Howan Fai’s face, and Andrin’s, like a powerful wind. It was a storm, a tempest whose like he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams, and Finena on Andrin’s shoulder added her own piecing war cries to the tumultuous cheering.
The response from Emperor Chava was absolute silence.
* * *
Andrin looked across at Howan Fai, her prince-about to become her husband-and breathed a deep sigh of relief. The secret had held!
Chava Busar, three rows back, and cosseted all around by his Uromathian courtiers, had earlier taken a seat with his sons rather than at the higher place his imperial precedence ranked. Now those other, unchosen princes stood frozen in the tumult of the cheering nobles. Rage and envy marked some of their faces, but the dominant emotion was fear, perhaps even terror, and every one of their sidelong glances tracked towards their father.
The Emperor of Uromathia, however, wore a calm, pleasant expression. He simply waited while the wild cheering spent its strength, the Conclave members seated themselves once more, and something like silence returned, then rose from his own chair, standing to seek recognition from the Conclave’s Speaker.
Shamir Taje stepped back to the podium and tapped his gavel once, sharply.
“The Chair recognizes the Emperor of Uromathia,” he said calmly, and a fresh, even tauter tension gripped the great hall.
Andrin more than half expected a screaming rant to disrupt the Conclave-expected him to denounce her choice, demand she wed one of his sons, whatever the exact language of the treaty-but he simply nodded courteously at Taje’s response, and his voice was as calm as his expression when he spoke.
“I crave the Conclave’s indulgence,” he said then, “but I would seek a point of clarification.” His smile was just a bit tighter, showed just a bit more tooth, than the rest of his expression, but he had himself well in hand and his control was formidable. “No one disputes Her Imperial Highness’ right to choose any husband she wishes from the list of appropriate candidates, yet it was my understanding that the treaty provided that this wedding was to be between the royal houses of Ternathia and Uromathia.”
He raised his eyebrows calmly and politely, and Taje nodded gravely.
“The House of Fai is a royal house of Uromathia, Your Majesty,” he replied. “If you will review the actual language of the treaty, you will find it specifies a marriage between the heir to the Winged Crown and a princess-or, in this case, a prince-of Uromathia. Her Imperial Highness was presented with a list of all royal princes of Uromathia and, after much thought and serious reflection, made her choice.”
“I see.”
Andrin braced herself afresh for the inevitable denunciation, but Chava only stood for a moment, head slightly cocked, like a man considering a new, unexpected, and mildly interesting insight. Then he nodded to Taje.
“I see, indeed,” he repeated. “Clearly”-despite his calm voice, his brief smile was colder than a dagger’s blade-“I was operating under a misapprehension, and I thank the Speaker for the clarification.”
The silence was deafening as he resumed his seat, and Andrin heaved a huge mental sigh of relief. She could hardly believe it, even now, but Taje and her father had been right. Chava Busar was as calculating as he was ambitious. The Conclave’s thunderous response showed only too clearly how the rest of its members would respond to any tirade in his part, and the letter of the treaty was against him. It said exactly what Taje had just said it did. If he protested now, tried to set aside her choice, it would only make him look ridiculous and petulant. Worse, it would make him look incompetent by simply emphasizing his failure to recognize the ambiguity of the language he himself had insisted be inserted into the treaty. And, worse yet, it was entirely probable that that treaty’s other signatories would not hesitate to enforce it anyway-by force of arms, if necessary-and his empire could never stand against an entire world united against it.
No, he’d been outmaneuvered-for now, at any rate-and the Emperor of Uromathia would not allow the fury consuming him behind that calm facade to betray him into a disastrous false step. He’d make no political moves until he’d had time to think, time to find a response which benefited him. But he’d remember this moment-not simply as a political defeat but as a personal, unforgivable insult to his dignity-forever. She shivered at the thought and looked away from him, searching for King Junni, her soon to be father-in-law.
The short, stocky king of Eniath rewarded her with a brilliant smile. Good! He did understand what was going on, and even better, he approved! The white jade ring was missing from his finger, but Finena chose that moment to leap from Andrin’s shoulder and fly to King Junni.
The Eniathian king lifted his forearm to grant the imperial falcon a perch, which, wonder of wonders, the bird accepted. Finena might shred that fine overrobe with a brush of her beak or an injudicious talon scratch, but the sheen of King Junni’s sleeve looked like he’d come prepared.
Howan Fai’s warm hand squeezed hers.
“Sister of White Fire, your falcon has a new admirer.”
“Yes. Your father’s been sending her jewelry.” She returned the squeeze. “It was a lovely gesture. I’m glad the guards were fast enough getting to you. Emperor Chava’s retinue made a fuss, and I thought we’d been found out too early.”
Howan Fai lifted her hand to his lips. “Not found out. Only Prince Weeva saw, and he didn’t know what he’d seen. So he came to make threats rather than telling his father.”
“Threats that should concern us?” Andrin tensed.
“No. Not any more. The emperor, his father, won’t let him act. We’ll face more intelligent enemies now.”
“What was it he threatened?”
“Finena.” Howan Fai gave a minute headshake. “Prince Weeva’s a fool. White Fire would eat out his eyes before he could even unsheathe a meat cleaver for the game roast he threatened.”
Andrin’s falcon stretched wide her wings at the sound of her name, but stayed settled on King Junni’s arm.
There’d been no arrangement made for a translator, and she’d just stolen Howan Fai who usually performed those duties at the Conclave, but King Junni made small hand motions encouraging her to move along to stand in front of the priests and begin the wedding ceremony.
Andrin locked fingers with Howan Fai, and they took their places at the center of the dais. Acolytes summoned from the Temple of Saint Taiyr marched braziers of incense up and down the aisles of dignitaries. Devotees of Vothan, Shalana, and Marnilay, originally present to bless the assembly came forward, and followers of Tryganath, Marthea, and Sekharan were sent for to serve as the gods’ witnesses for each of the six members of the Twofold Triad.
“We need a Uromathian priest, as well.” Howan Fai spoke in her ear, and while his lips never even twitched, his dark eyes smiled as he nodded to an elaborate tapestry of Bergahl the Just in his incarnation as Vindicator.
“Of course,” Andrin said, then caught her father’s eye and inclined her head towards a familiar round figure. Who better to serve as senior officiant than the highest priest in Tajvana-the Seneschal for the Order of Bergahl?