A Brother's Price

Chapter 11

On the morning of the Season’s opening ball, a hip bathtub and buckets of warm, scented water were delivered to the suite. After the Whistlers had bathed, dried off, dressed, and eaten a light brunch, a horde of women descended on the suite.

A manicurist family arrived first, corralling all the Whistlers into having the dirt scraped out from under their nails and their ragged edges trimmed and filed. Eldest, Corelle, and Summer got off with a quick ten-digit service. Jerin found himself propped in a semire-clined position, each limb in the command of a separate plump-cheeked woman. They trimmed, shaped, and ran a pencil of white chalk underneath his finger- and toe-nails to give them a lasting “freshly bathed” appearance. The manicurists voiced dismay that he had gone barefoot when he was younger, leaving ghost calluses on the bottom of his feet. They also tsked over the condition of his hands, and discussed at length the benefits of full-length gloves.

Eldest vetoed the suggestion of gloves, looking disgusted at the fuss over Jerin’s feet, and chased them out. The hairdressers, however, were waiting in the hall. Since his sisters trimmed their military-style short hair every morning, Eldest elected to retreat with Summer, leaving Corelle to watch over Jerin’s suffering.

The hairdressers undid his braid, combed out his long hair, trimmed it to an even length, and then washed it.

Normally his hair took hours to dry. The hairdressers blotted individually coiled sections, again and again, working through a stack of forty or fifty towels. It left his hair slightly damp to the touch. He was reclined once more, his hair carefully arranged on a drying rack, and the hairdresser sisters blew air down over the hair via a crank-driven machine with teardrop-shaped revolving blades. It made him nervous and slightly dizzy to stare up at the spinning blades, and the sound was thunderous.

It took an hour of cranking the machine before his hair was dry. He had to admit, as they combed it out, that it had never lain so silky straight before. They braided it then, in loose coils woven through with ribbons, strings of small glass beads, and tiny blue flowers.

He was allowed tea. Apparently noblemen ran toward being heavyset-and considering how little activity they were allowed, it was small wonder. Perhaps with this in mind, someone had tried to change what had become Jerin’s normal tea to just dry muffins. Corelle sent a youngest Barnes off for a true tea with sandwiches made of chicken and a sweet pickle relish, and little cakes of sweet cream topped with fresh raspberries.

Lastly came the tailors with his formal ball clothes. At all the fittings, they had allowed him to wear undergarments. He was dismayed when they explained that the clothes were to be worn without underclothes.

“It’s the fashion,” the tailor murmured, carefully keeping her face averted as she held out the leggings.

“With underwear on, you won’t… settle… properly into the codpiece. Just slip off your underwear, and into the leggings, and we’ll sew them shut.”

Jerin balked. “I’ll feel naked. I’ll look naked.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but women like to see what they’re buying. You’ll be fine. All the other men will be wearing leggings just like these. I should know-we’ve made a goodly quarter of them.”

Corelle scolded him impatiently. “Oh, Jerin, don’t be a crybaby.”

Jerin supposed this was what Captain Tern had meant when she said their success was riding on his conduct. If he refused to wear the most fashionable clothing, it would be unlikely he’d catch the eye of a well-to-do family.

I wish 1 could marry Ren.

He bit his lip on that thought. No one would want to look at a boy with eyes full of tears. So he stripped out of his underwear, stepped into the leggings, and tried not to pout as they explained how to tuck himself into the codpiece’s pouch, and then sewed the fabric shut. The shirt had padded shoulders, curiously shaped sleeves that managed to leave his forearms bare while draping fabric almost to the floor, and a collar open to midchest. At least they let him wear riding boots, with cuffs that faired up around the knee.

A slight gasp made him look up. Eldest stood in the doorway, looking stunned.

“Holy Mothers,” Eldest finally murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Jerin ducked his head at the praise. “I feel like a midwinter tree with beaded strings and glittering ornaments. All that’s missing are the gingerbread angels.”

“Jerin!” Eldest came across the room and gave him a quick hug, careful not to muss his hair or crinkle his shirt. “Don’t be a ninny.”

“I’ve got bells on,” he said, taking a few steps to illustrate his point. The tiny bells sewn into the long sleeves rang as he walked, a faint shimmering sound.

Eldest shook her head. “I don’t know if I should let you out of this room dressed like that.”

“I look silly.”

“You look sensual, beautiful, and erotic. We’ll be beating women off of you.”

He blushed and went back to the mirror to consider his image. His reflection barely seemed to be him, but did look like someone who could command a brother’s price of four thousand crowns.

He had been prepared for a fair: women in work clothes, men clustered together for the rare chance to talk to someone of their own sex, children moving like schools of minnows, all contained in a meeting hall, a tent, or a rough dance floor under the stars. Potluck dishes. Amateur musicians mostly playing together.

He thought it would be like a country fair, just on a grander scale.

They came down a dim hallway and out a side door to the brightly lit foyer. Stairs cascaded down in vivid red velvet into a ballroom, a shifting sea of the most beautifully dressed people he could imagine.

Great crystal chandeliers hung overhead, thousands of candles setting fire to the glittering glass prisms.

Every person was arrayed in silks and satins, diamonds and rubies.

There were no children. There was no food in evidence. The few men were scattered and closely guarded. Music came from a small orchestra, in tune and on beat.

Jerin froze at the top of the stairs, wanting to turn and escape back to their rooms.

Eldest checked at the sight of the whirling dancers, then, hooking her arm with his, led him down the stairs, murmuring, “We’ve got the blood of Queens in us. We’re just as good as they are.”

Corelle and Summer trailed wordlessly behind, Summer wide-eyed and Corelle looking sour, as if it all was putting a bad taste in her mouth.

Behind them, Barnes announced loudly, “Miss Eldest Whistler, Master Jerin Whistler, Misses Summer and Corelle Whistler.”

A handful of women turned at the announcement, glancing up at the Whistlers as they descended the stairs. The women’s gazes flicked over Eldest, then settled on Jerin and stayed. In ones and twos, others glanced their direction and didn’t look away, until dozens of eyes were focused on him.

“They’re staring,” Jerin whispered.

Eldest tightened her grip on him. “Of course they are. You’re beautiful. Smile. It’s not like they’re going to eat you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ll rip the heart out of anyone that lifts a fork to you,” Eldest said so only he could hear, all the while giving a tight smile to those looking in their direction.

“Holy Mothers!” Summer gasped. “Cullen!”

Jerin missed Cullen at first, expecting to see the boy that climbed in through his window. After a minute of futilely scanning the crowd, he realized that the young man standing demurely behind Eldest Moorland was Cullen. His muddy blond hair had been dyed to a deep rich honey, interwoven with strands of gem-encrusted gold threads, and gathered in loose falls by green silk bows. Eyes down, head slightly bowed, hands clasped before him, his clothes falling in elegant unwrinkled lines, it seemed as if all of what was Cullen had been stripped away and a soulless doll stood in his place.

Then Cullen lifted his head slightly to peep around, noticed Eldest Moorland was distracted, and saw them watching. He made a face, sticking out his tongue and rolling his eyes, then ducked his head again.

His fingers, though, wiggled, indicating that they should join him.

“Scamp,” Eldest Whistler’s tight grin relaxed into a true smile. “Let’s rescue him from his family.”

“Ah, a husband raid,” Jerin whispered. “What us Whistlers do best.”

Eldest Moorland greeted them with a nod. “Whistler.”

Cullen flashed a grin at them and then returned to his demure mask.

“Moorland.” Eldest Whistler started the social dance. It had been explained to them that by protocol, any woman that wanted to speak to a man had to talk first to his sister. Cullen and Lylia had gone over the accept-able topics for the conversation, and the length needed prior to addressing the brother.

Luckily, there were no limits set on conversation between men.

“What happened to you?” Jerin whispered to Cullen.

“Eldest heard about our walk in the garden and gave me a blistering with her tongue.” Cullen whispered back. “She called me a Dru Hightower. Ha!”

“A what?”

Cullen risked glancing up to scan the room, then pointed out an elegant-looking young man, slightly older than the two of them. “In the east corner, in white-as if wrapping dirt up in clean linen could save face.”

“He was caught kissing a girl?”

“Worse. He was caught tumbling his betrothed wives’ servants during the betrothal period. It was a huge scandal-not that anyone really blamed him. His betrothed are all bloated toads, warts and all, but his betrothal contract had been signed, his brother’s price paid, so his betrothed had possession of him and everything. All the deal needed was the wedding-and a massive one had been planned. His betrothed hauled him back to his sisters and demanded a repayment.”

“Did they get it?”

“Of course. Damaged goods! No way to prove he was clean before the betrothal, and certainly they didn’t want to risk infecting the whole family. They say that one of the servants had been to a crib and caught something other than a baby. They say on his first night with one of his actual betrothed, his Eldest wife discovered sores all over his you-know-what.”

“Really?”

Cullen shrugged. “Who knows? People start making stuff up after a while.”

“I didn’t know wives could demand a repayment.”

“Happens all the time.”

Eldest Whistler turned to Cullen. “Your sister has given me permission for this dance.” She held out her hand, palm up. Cullen brightened and reached out to rest his fingertips on hers. They went out onto the dance floor, where other couples were gathering. How odd that the only time a woman and a man could be completely alone was in front of so many watchful eyes.

“Jerin,” a woman’s voice said, making him turn. Kij Porter stood beside him, smiling. She indicated Summer with her chin as she extended her hand. “Your sister has given me permission for this dance.”

He glanced to Summer, surprised. Summer gave him a helpless look, as if the older, politically savvy woman had outmaneuvered her. Corelle was nowhere in sight, apparently scouting out the rest of the men.

Jerin rested his hand on Kij’s warm fingertips and allowed himself be led out onto the dance floor. She took him to the opposite end from where Eldest Whistler waited with Cullen for the music to start. They were deep in conversation, and didn’t notice him joining the dancers.

“Do you remember your grandfather Prince Alan-non?” Kij asked.

“Yes.” Out of habit, he avoided giving out too much family information.

Kij seemed annoyed by the evasive answer. “He lived to be very old?”

“Nearly seventy.” Jerin reminded himself this wasn’t a country fair; it would be safe to discuss family here. “He was fifteen when my grandmothers…” He swallowed the word “kidnapped.” With the Queens’ coaching, they had come up with a “sweeter” version of his family’s history. He substituted in the word “… found him. We lost him to a fever three years ago.”

It was an important breeding point that none of his family had died of a weak heart, stroke, or other inherited illness. Only disease and accident had winnowed their ranks.

“I see,” Kij said. “Why didn’t he ever try to contact the Queens?”

“‘After the public executions of his mothers and sisters, he didn’t see any point.”

“Ah. Yet you saved Princess Odelia’s life. Wasn’t that a betrayal to his loss?”

Jerin blinked in surprise. “Betrayai? No.”

“He was said to be trained in the ways of k’lamour” Kij said.

Jerin blushed and ducked his head.

“You know what that means?” Kij asked.

“It’s not really a proper thing to talk about,” Jerin murmured, glancing to see where Eldest was in the shifting couples.

“He passed this to you?” Kij pressed.

“The paths of pleasure?” Jerin whispered, to quiet her. The music was coming to an end, and he didn’t want be overheard. “Yes, he and my father told me. Please, talking about sexual union isn’t the proper thing to do.”

“On the contrary. A woman should know what she’s getting.” Kij all but purred, taking firmer hold of his hand.

The dance, though, ended with bows. He spotted Co-relle coming toward them to claim him back. He gave Kij a false smile, tugged free his hand, and met Corelle halfway. Kij, infuriatingly, trailed alongside him.

“I would dance with Jerin again,” Kij stated, putting out her hand to him.

Corelle took Jerin’s right hand with her own, blocking any move to claim him. “I’m sorry, but we need to spend Jerin’s time wisely. A second dance would be impossible.”

“I don’t know if you realize, little mushroom, how important my family is and how much you would gain by courting us.”

“Your family of old controlled the portage over Hera’s Step,” Corelle said in a bored tone. “Your grandmothers bankrupted your family building the lock to replace the portage when it was destroyed by sabotage during the war. Through marriage and other means, you’ve reclaimed a controlling interest in the lock. Second to the royal family, you are the oldest recorded family, noted when a brother was married to the second generation of the royal princesses. You are not considered, however, the oldest noble family, as you gained your title through service to the crown-lending money-and not by marriage. In fact, you are one of the few noble families that never married a royal prince.“ Corelle flashed a grin. ”Unlike ours. Good day.“

With that, Corelle turned Jerin away from Kij and led him across the room.

“That was rude,” Jerin whispered after he got over his shock.

Corelle still smiled smugly. “Perhaps. I’me not going to have any sisters-in-law looking down their noses at us. They’ll see as equals, or not at all.”

“We’re not going to get four thousand crowns if you insult everyone that dances with me.”

“Perhaps.”

“How did you know all that, anyhow?”

“Her sister Alissa told me most of it. She went on and on like I cared. Eldest and I asked around to dig out the dirt.”

“It was still rude,” Jerin bowed his head in embarassment.

“Yes, but I thought you might want to dance with someone else,” Corelle came to a stop, loosing her hold on Jerin’s hand. “Your Highness, you asked for a dance?” Jerin looked up in surprise at Ren’s smiling face.

“Your sister has given me permission for this dance.” Ren said.

Jerin ducked his head again, this time to hide the grin that bloomed uncontrollably across his face. He slipped his hand into the princess’s, and she squeezed it slightly before leading him out onto the floor, where Summer was partnered with Cullen.

There would be, Jerin reflected, a profound lack of things to do in his new life. True, they had slept in after a late night dancing, but after brunch, as rain started to drizzle down, there was nothing to do. No dishes to clean up. No dinner to get ready. No clothes to wash. No knitting or mending to be done. No children to keep entertained.

The suite had several musical instruments, none of which they played. It was also devoid of reading materials, except the newspaper and a score of books on profoundly dry subjects such as Land Improvement via Introduction of Fertilizer, and Primer of Livestock Breeding Practices. Either the royal family didn’t know about the existence of novels, or had formed an undeservedly high opinion of the Whistlers’ intelligence level.

The siblings took turns swapping newspaper pages between them, occasionally murmuring, “Did you see here that it says…?” and getting their fingers black from the ink. One by one, they finished the newspaper and then hunted through the loose pages, hoping for something they’d missed, something more to read.

Jerin was beginning to understand why Cullen had been so bored.

They had hunted out writing paper to play code breaker, devising quick cryptograms and handing them off to the next person to break. Corelle had just won the first round, as usual, when a knock at the door provided a welcome distraction. It proved even more welcome when it turned out to be Cullen and Lylia.

“We’re bored,” Jerin told them. “We just read the Herald to death.”

“Yes, yes, that’s a dead newspaper.” Lylia nudged a rumpled page aside with her foot. “You can read?

How wonderful. I’ve tried to teach Cullen in the past, but he refuses to learn.”

“You’re a lousy teacher.” Cullen pouted. “Besides, what’s the point? My wives probably won’t let me read.”

“Why not?” Eldest asked. “Whistler men all read- doesn’t make them cross-eyed or sterile or anything.”

Lylia shrugged. “I guess it’s like the poor who don’t want their daughters going to school. The girls make more money by working alongside their mothers.”

“Oh, like you see noblemen out weeding fields every day,” Cullen said.

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Lylia murmured, tweaking him gently with her thumb and forefinger. She turned back to the Whistlers and gave them a bright smile. “How about a tour of the palace?”

The palace proved to be more rambling than Jerin had imagined. The tour ended in a suite of rooms that his youngest sisters would kill for. Called the nursery, it held a room of fanciful beds, a well-stocked schoolroom, and a playroom. One wall of the playroom contained windows, and the rest of the walls had shelves to the high ceiling, filled with toys. Baby toys were put up, and the floor was now littered with toy soldiers. Tiny cannons, a fleet of warships on a blue painted river, even supply wagons, accompanied the soldiers to war. The five red-haired, youngest princesses, Zelie, Quin, Selina, Nora, and Mira, were just settling down to battle.

Lylia introduced Jerin to the five, and then went off to chaperone Cullen in the schoolroom with Jerin’s sisters.

Zelie was the leader of the youngest princesses. With a regality that fitted her position, she announced,

“We’re reenacting the battle of Nettle’s Run.”

Jerin smiled. The soldiers might be tin instead of wood, the cannons might articulate and fire, but it was one of the same battles his sisters engaged in on long winter afternoons. He glanced over the troops.

“Where’s Peatfield?”

“What do you know about playing with soldiers?” Mira, the obvious baby of the sisters, asked.

“My grandmothers were under Wellsbury,” Jerin explained, pointing to the mounted general flanked by her younger sisters. “My sisters and I have re-created this battle, just like this.”

“But you’re a boy,”‘ Princess Zelie said with puzzlement tinged with contempt.

“Yes. I find it depressing sometimes,” Jerin admitted.

“Why?” Quin, or perhaps Nora, asked. The two looked very similar and all the girls had shifted since he’d been introduced to them.

“There’s lots of things I would like to do that I’m not allowed,” Jerin said.

“Do you want to play?” the other of the two asked.

“We’ve already picked troops,” Zelie reminded the others.

“You don’t have Peatfield,” Jerin pointed out. “She was held in reserve for most of the battle. I could play her troops.”

They consented after a quick check with their history books to confirm Peatfield’s existence and the strength of her troops. Almost seventy-five thousand women clashed in the woods alongside the Bright River, leaving nearly ten thousand dead or wounded. It was attributed as a brilliant win for Wellsbury. but luck had played a large part in the victory-Smythe’s misunderstanding her orders and withdrawing just as Wellsbury attacked, for instance. Though in truth, the garbled message she received hadn’t been the true orders issued. Peatfield’s orders too had been waylaid, and thus her reserve troops never entered the battle.

When played without the sleet, the exhaustion, the lack of food, the poor visibility, the sniper attacks, and the Whistlers confusing enemy orders, the outcome favored the False Eldest’s forces. It surprised him, thus, that the royal sisters kept to the same attacks and retreats of the original battle.

After watching for several minutes, he faked a retreat up Granny Creek, crossed over Blue Knob, and took out the overextended left flank of Wellsbury’s force. Zelie shrieked with dismay and literally had the army fly to protect her tin general.

“No, no, no, you can’t do that.” Jerin laughed as he caught a tin soldier that was flying miles across the landscape to land in his path.

“Yes, I can.‘” Zelie pushed his hand away to thump the soldier down. “I just did!”

“No. you can’t.” Jerin struggled to stop laughing. “That’s against the rules.”

“You can’t talk to me that way!”

“Good heavens, why not?”

“I am a princess of the realm,” Zelie explained in perfect princess tones.

Jerin covered his mouth to hold in a crow of laughter. She was so delightful using the adult deadpan.

“Your Highness, the point of the rules is to mimic battle, so you can learn how to fight one without getting everyone killed on your first charge. Your tin soldiers can only do what real soldiers do, because you must learn what your real armies can do. If you cheat, then you’re not only cheating on me; you’re cheating yourself out of a chance to learn, and you’re risking the life of every woman you’ll ever command.”

“But you cheated!” Zelie cried.

“Oh, there is cheating and then there’s cheating. What I did, real soldiers could do, that is, pretend to run away and then attack elsewhere. Real soldiers, however, cannot fly across the battle, willy-nilly.”

Five serious faces considered him. “So it’s all right to cheat sometimes?”

Oh, dear, Ren probably wouldn’t be happy if he perverted her youngest sisters. Still, Whistlers never found a little cheating to be harmful.

“My mothers always said,” Jerin said carefully, “that those who are completely forthright are often at the disadvantage of those who are corrupt. Here.” He picked up three of the earthen cups that held the cannonballs, passed the cannonballs out to the princesses, and turned the cups upside down. He picked up a marble and showed it to them. “‘We’re going to pretend your cannonballs are coins. I’m going to put this marble under one of the cups, and shuffle them around. You bet your ’coins’ on which cup that you think the marble is under. If the marble is under the cup, then I’ll match the number of ”coins’ you bet. If the marble isn’t under the cup, then I get to keep the ‘coins’ you bet.“

He made a show of placing the marble, palmed it, and allowed them to win the first pass by palming it under the cup they chose. After that, he left the marble pocketed and began winning all their cannonballs.

Eventually, one of them remembered what had started the game.

“Wait!” Selina squealed with surprise and dismay. “You’re cheating! Aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes. See?” He overturned all the cups. “The marble isn’t under any of them. There’s no way you can win.”

“How did you do that?” Zelie asked, chewing on one long lock of hair. “We saw you put it under one of them.”

So he showed how he could palm the marble, using misdirection and sleight of hand. “The point is, you could have lost all your money, because you thought I was being honest, and you were playing fair. The more you know how people can cheat you, the less likely you’ll be cheated.”

“So it’s all right to cheat?” Mira asked slowly, obviously struggling with the concept.

He shook his head. “Lying and cheating is like playing with guns. When it’s real, it’s very dangerous.

You have to be very careful, but we Whistlers always thought it was a good thing to know how to do it well, and more importantly, how to tell when someone else is doing it.”

Jerin realized that someone else was in the room. He glanced up to meet the gaze of a young woman leaning against the door, watching them. Judging by her auburn hair, fair skin, and delicate features, she could be none other than the mysterious Princess Trini. Her look was a mix of amusement and dismay.

Lylia wandered back into the room. “Trini, there you are! You haven’t met the Whistlers yet. This is Jerin.”

Princess Trini straightened up with a scowl at her younger sister. “Well met. Master Whistler, but if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than to play with toy soldiers.”

The others, minus Eldest Whistler, returned to the playroom. Barnes, they said, had fetched Eldest to meet with a visitor. The Whistlers showed off their skills at sleight of hand for the youngest princesses, making coins and balls disappear and reappear. The children and Cul-len picked up most of the basic moves, but Lylia, laughing at her own fumble-fingeredness, couldn’t get it.

“Finally,” Cullen gloated, “something I can do that you can’t!”

The young princesses’ tutor arrived, announced playtime was over, and shooed the visitors away. The group decided to troop back to the Whistler suite for tea. They reversed their normal marching order, with Lylia and Jerin leading, while Summer and Corelle, flanking Cullen, trailed behind.

Reaching the suite first, Lylia opened the door and halted.

Eldest Whistler and Kij Porter stood in the room, the tension almost visible between them. If Kij and Eldest Whistler had been armed, surely both would have hands resting on their weapons. Seeing them standing thus, it struck Jerin for the first time that the Porters were built much like his sisters-tall, lean, and broad in the shoulders.

“You’ll have to give us time to decide.” Eldest’s voice was carefully flat, void of any emotion. “I won’t be pressured into a snap decision.”

“I don’t see what there is to decide,‘’ Kij said lightly. though her eyes were narrowed in something that might be anger. “We’re willing to offer twice the amount you’d get from commoners. We’re a powerful family with ancient noble lines. There isn’t a family greater than ours in all of Queensland.”

Jerin’s heart quaked in his chest. Offer? The Porters?

The two women realized that he stood in the doorway. They turned toward him, Eldest with a flash of irritation, Kij Porter with a look close to greed.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Eldest stated firmly; it was unclear if she spoke to Kij or Jerin.

“Jerin!” Kij came to claim his hands, squeezing them possessively. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.”

“It’s the clothes,” he murmured, ducking his head shyly, but then glancing up to study her. Did he want Kij as a wife? Kij and her sisters were handsome women- stronger in features than the delicate royal princesses, which some would say was a bonus. Certainly they did not tend toward freckling like Lylia.

Kij’s eyes were the hard blue of sapphires.

Jerin could not find a single spark of warmth for Kij. Was it because he had given his heart totally to Ren already? Was it just a lack of knowing Kij?

She leaned toward him. A month ago, he would have missed the warning signs. Thanks to his experience with the royal princesses, however, he realized she was going to try to kiss him. He stepped backward with no conscious thought in the action, not even aware he’d avoided her until she straightened with a slight frown.

“Come, what’s the harm in a simple kiss? A sample of what I’m buying?”

“My brother is not a horse, nor a whore.” Eldest’s voice was toneless with her controlled anger. “We’ll need a contract and brother’s price in hand, a secure betrothal, before anyone can try for a sample.”

Not counting royal princesses, of course. Jerin studied his feet as his face burned. Hopefully that comment won’t blow up in our face.

Kij didn’t seem put off in the least. She chuckled softly and murmured, “Ah, I do enjoy taming a spirited colt before mounting and riding.”

“Good day, Porter,” Eldest snapped.

Kij nodded to them and went out.

“I don’t like her. Eldest,” Corelle muttered.

“You said he wasn’t a horse,” Summer growled.

“Corelle. Summer,” Eldest snapped. “We don’t discuss family business in public.”

Lylia and Cullen! Jerin turned around and found the two hovering by the door, looking paler than any of his sisters.

“This is not a good time,” Lylia said, blinking rapidly. “We’ll leave you to discuss this.”

She went without seeing if Cullen followed. Cullen opened his mouth, closed it again, and hurried after his cousin. The Whistlers stood in silence, the younger siblings waiting out of habit for Eldest to speak.

“Well?” Corelle finally asked. “What do we do?”

“We wait,” Eldest stated firmly, leaving no room for discussion. “This is only our first offer. We have time. We wait.”

Ren was in her office in town when Lylia came in like a firestorm.

“Where is she? Barnes said she came to the offices, and her office said she mentioned she was coming here! Was she here?”

“She, who?”

“Trim!” Lylia shouted. “That cold, self-centered bitch of our sister!”

“Lylia!” Ren snapped. “You will not use that language when speaking about one of our family.”

“Kij offered for Jerin!” Lylia wailed. “And that- that-Trini refused even to meet him!”

Ren sat. She had no choice as her legs wouldn’t support her. “Whistler didn’t accept?”

“She said they would need time to think, thank gods. It worked just like I planned. I got Jerin and Trini both to the playroom, and just as Odelia predicted, he was terrific with the youngest-I’ve never seen them so good. But all she did was stand at the door and sulk. Then- then!-to top everything off, she insulted him!”

“She didn’t!” Ren suddenly felt like calling Trini a few choice names herself. “What did she say?”

“Oh, nothing really bad. Just that she had better things to do with her time than play with soldiers.” Lylia deflated slightly at a look from Ren. “Oh, okay, it wasn’t really an insult. It just seemed like a slap in the face to me, after Jerin was so nice. He’s such a sweetie. He can do magic!”

“Magic?” Ren could think of only one thing magiclike that Jerin did-and she hoped that he hadn’t done it in front of the youngest.

“He can make coins and little balls disappear. He’s so clever with his hands.”

Ren recalled Jerin being clever with his hands and her body pulsed with a sudden need to be with him again. Had he done magic on Lylia too? The kiss she interrupted seemed mild compared with the embraces she had shared with Jerin.

“What do we do?” Lylia asked, drawing Ren out of her air dreams.

“I’ll order Trini to spend time with Jerin, let her get to know him, and then push the issue. We’ve got to get married, and we want our husband to be Jerin.”

Eldest Whistler was waiting for Ren in the princess’s study at the palace.

“I’ve heard,” Ren said.

“No you haven’t.” Eldest held up an envelope addressed in thin spidery writing. “Eldest Picker has died.

Meg is now head of the Picker family. Someone ap-proached her with a better offer. She’s going to hold us strictly to the terms of our contract. Payment for the store will have to be on the contracted date, or she’ll sell it to the other party.”

“I thought you had an exclusive contract.”

“We do, until Jerin’s birthday, which we were assuming would be his betrothal day. We had hoped for some traveling time beyond that, but Meg Picker’s disallowed it. We need to be back to Heron Landing by that date. If we don’t hand the Picker sisters their money on that day, then we owe them the penalty and they are free to sell to the other buyer.”

Ren did the math. Once Eldest accepted an offer, she would need four or five days for the betrothal contract to be written, all prenuptial tests run on Jerin, and then the actual signing. Add another five days for traveling, and the Whistlers actually needed to accept an offer two weeks prior to Jerin’s birthday.

“So you only have thirty days or so to decide.”

Eldest nodded. “Have you heard from your sister?”

Ren shook her head. Raven’s people had found no trace of Halley.

“If it was a straight choice between you and the Porters,” Eldest said, “it would be a simple pick. Jerin’s happiness matters much to me, and any fool could see that my brother is in love with you. If I was sure that your family would eventually come around to favoring the match, we could wait financially. We have different options, but they’re not as simple to access as the brother’s price on Jerin, and not without risks.” Eldest looked at Ren with frank honesty. “But I’m not sure. Princess Halley may show up and want nothing to do with us. Or she might not show, and yet your mothers could continue to deny the match. Much as I love my brother, I have to do what is best for my sisters. I can give you until thirty days, and then I must accept Kij’s offer.”

“I understand.”

Ren would face Trini and make her see the facts. If four of the five elder sisters agreed on Jerin, perhaps her mothers would allow the marriage without Halley’s presence.

Trini managed to mostly avoid Ren for a week. Their duties precluded her from avoiding Ren completely, but she slipped into court minutes before the first case was called, and then darted out the moment the last case was settled. Unwilling to estrange Trini from Jerin completely, Ren settled on giving a rare command as Eldest, ordering Trini to eat with the family. It was almost comical to see Trini try to avoid Ren, Odelia, Lylia, and Jerin at dinner.

Aware of the days slipping by, Ren finally cornered Trini deadheading her prize roses. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” Trini snipped viciously at the innocent flowers. “I know what Lylia tried to pull. I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not going to be roped into marriage again so soon. We’re young. We can wait.”

“No, we can’t!” Ren snapped. “Do you want it to end here, with us? After twenty generations, our family ends with us? The entire country thrown into the same chaos of Wakecliff’s estate, with no clear heirs?”

“You’re being melodramatic, Ren.”

“I am not. We’re only ten in number. If something happened to any one of us, our daughters could be even fewer. We have to marry and start having children.”

“Why not this violent outcry last year? Or the year before? Or any time in the last six years?”

“Halley hadn’t gone missing last year. Odelia hadn’t been attacked last year. I hadn’t had a few narrow calls myself. And yes, this opportunity hadn’t presented itself.”

“Opportunity? Let’s call things as they are. You’ve met a pretty boy and you want to be serviced like a cat in heat. This is no different than with Eldest and Keifer.”

“Jerin is nothing like Keifer. This isn’t like our first marriage. The Porters poured a fortune into Keifer’s dress; they kept him under our elder sisters’ nose, and gave full liberties to him prior to the wedding.”

“And this differs how from the Whistlers? It seems he’s here, under our noses, well dressed, and, from what Barnes tells me, well tousled.”

“If Odelia and I hadn’t gone north, we would have never met them. I caught Jerin alone at night and seduced him. I brought the Whistlers here. And if I hadn’t begged Eldest Whistler to wait for our offer, they would have already accepted Kij Porter’s generous offer a week ago and left.”

Trini whirled around. “What? No one’s told the Whistlers what a monster Keifer was?”

“Kij is not her brother.” Ren waved it tiredly aside. “Besides, it would seem as if we were just poisoning the well to keep the water for ourselves.”

“All bad apples come from apple trees.”

“You can’t say Keifer is a fair representation of his sisters, any more than Cullen is like his sisters.”

“I find Cullen exactly like his sisters-intelligent, fair-minded, openhearted, charming, and headstrong. I wouldn’t mind marrying Cullen.”

“Cullen is too close in blood.” Ren rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “I like him too. He would be a safe choice; we know him well and there’d be no surprises. but we can’t marry him.”

“I know. I know.”

“Trini, do you remember how Keifer was with you and Lylia? He could barely be civil even with Eldest watching. I’ve seen Jerin with his youngest sisters while trying to cook for forty people. There’s no way he could have faked being so patient, gentle, and caring with them.”

“I’ve seen Jerin with Zelie and the youngest,” Trini admitted. “He seemed very good with them, but it could have been an act. All of it could be an act.”

“If you don’t trust him, at least trust me to know the difference between genuine goodness and fake. I’ve resisted a second marriage this long because Keifer hurt me too. Of all the men paraded before us, Jerin’s the only one I’ve trusted.”

Trini stared out over the rosebushes for several minutes. “And if we don’t take Jerin, Kij gets him?”

“Most likely.”

“I wouldn’t give a dog to the Porters,” Trini growled.

Was it too soon to ask for her support? Ren hesitated, afraid that Trini might construe the next question as her being bullied into a decision. But it made no sense to avoid the issue after pushing it to a head.

“Can I tell Mother Elder that you support a marriage to Jerin?”

Several minutes passed, and then, quietly, Trini murmured, “Yes.”

Ren went to her Mother Elder. “The Porters have offered for Jerin. Let me make an offer too.”

“Have you spoken with your sisters about this?” Mother Elder asked quietly.

“Odelia and Lylia are eager for the marriage. Trini has agreed.”

“And Halley?”

Ren bit down on a bolt of anger. She mustn’t lose her temper. “There hasn’t been any word from Halley. Mother. I am beginning to doubt she is alive; I would have expected her to surface when the Herald reported the attack on Odelia. In that light, I do not think it’s reasonable to wait for her. We have a majority.”

“With another man. a brother of a well-established noble house, I would agree with you. While Jerin is a charming man, there will be many objections to him fathering the next generation of rulers. We are the daughters of the Holy Mothers, unsullied by common blood for twenty generations.”

“All the noble houses were commoners at one time, from the Keepers on down.”

“With the exception of the Porters, the nobles have all taken royal princes as husbands.”

“If the Porters were acceptable, why not the Whistlers? They at least married a royal prince. In fact, in many ways, they are more noble than all the noble houses, since their royal blood has been less diluted by successive generations.”

“Truly, Ren, how can you compare the Porters, landowners for twenty generations, to thieves fathered out of cribs?”

“Landowners? The Porters were not much more than river pirates cutting the throats of those who failed to pay for portage around the falls. They claimed to be neutral during the War of the False Eldest, but everyone knew they played both sides, and yet we married them. ”

“This is not about the Porters; it’s about the Whistlers.”

Ren realized that her mother was going to hold to her impossible demand. “If you hadn’t planned on giving your permission all along, why did you allow me to hope? You’ve made losing him all the more bitter now.”

Her mother shook her head. “I told you that you shouldn’t engage your heart.”

Ren stood, feeling hollow, betrayed.

Her mother reached out and took her hand. “Ren, I was willing to allow the marriage if Halley agreed to it. In such an unequal marriage, you’re asking your sisters to take a huge risk, a risk a normal marriage wouldn’t entail. If you wished to marry the brother of a noble family, a majority would be enough. This isn’t the case. You must all be willing to take Jerin as husband.”

“Halley is dead!” Ren snapped. “Dead! She went out and got herself quietly killed!”

Her mother slapped her hard. “Shut your mouth! Until her body is buried in the family crypt, she is alive!

The answer is no. You cannot marry without Halley’s agreement. That was the case from the very start.

Do not whine, child. It does not become you.”

“I am not whining. I believe your grief has made you unreasonable. Even if Halley is alive, she’s passed all responsibilities of her duties to us. her sisters. Choosing a husband is just one more duty she’s neglecting. We • have not stopped the courts. We have not stopped the balls. We will not stop choosing a husband.”

“You will! I am still the Queen Mother Elder. You are my subject. I say you will not marry Jerin Whistler without your sister’s approval. Push me any further Ren, and I will refuse the marriage totally.”

Ren clenched her teeth together, balling her hands into fists, trying to keep her anger in. Her mother meant it. It had been years since she’d heard such a decree, since she had lost favorite toys and been barred from outings as a child with such rulings.

“I’m sorry you’ve set your heart on this boy,” her mother said in a softer tone. “But our line can ill afford discord between husband and wife again. Trini tried to block the marriage to Keifer, and no one listened.

This time, we will listen to everyone.”

Eldest Moorland cracked the door to Ren’s study and peered in. “Have you seen Cullen?”

Ren waved her in. “He’s usually either with Lylia or Jerin.”

Ren’s cousin sat, shaking her head and sighing. “The younger Whistlers are in the billiard room with Lylia and Odelia. Eldest Whistler is apparently trying to track me down, so I assume it’s safe to say that he’s not with her.”

An unmarried Eldest sister looking for the Eldest sister of a marriageable man-it wasn’t difficult to guess what Whistler wanted. “What are you going to say?”

Moorland sighed again. “Are you going to offer for Jerin? It makes a difference for us.”

In other words, would the Whistlers continue to be poor landed gentry or would they be sisters-in-law to the princesses? Commoners might sell their brothers to the highest monetary bidder, but noble brothers went to the most powerful political tie.

Ren sighed. She owed it to her cousin to be truthful on the matter. In sketchy details, she told Moorland where negotiations stood. “Not a word of this, though, should leave this room. I don’t want to raise Jerin’s hopes, only to disappoint him. If he has to marry someone else, I would rather he be ignorant that we love him.”

“So that’s the way the wind blows? Well, yes, let him start with his wives with a clean slate, so to speak.”

Ren flinched at the idea of another family being Jerin’s wives. A knock at the door saved her from having to reply. “Yes?”

Eldest Whistler opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Eldest Moorland, I would like to speak with you.”

Moorland made a gesture to indicate that now was as good a time as any. “It would spare me having to repeat it all to my cousin anyhow.”

“We wish to marry Cullen.”

There was a shout from behind the heavy drapes and Cullen tumbled out from his velvet hiding spot. He gave another whoop of delight and flung himself into Eldest Whistler’s arms. Whistler shook her head, smiling indulgently, and was soundly kissed. Ren had never thought of Cullen as a sexual creature-in that moment of frank passion, she realized he was as mature in that matter as Jerin. Her heart went out to Eldest Whistler and Cullen.

“Cullen!” Moorland growled. “We haven’t accepted. We haven’t even heard terms.”

“I want to marry them! Things will work out for Ren. I know they will. It’s not like any of those other fusspots would ever offer for me, anyhow. They want a biddable, beautiful man.”

“You are beautiful.” Whistler didn’t address biddable, but Ren had no doubt that Eldest Whistler could keep

Cullen in line. “But Moorland is right. We need to discuss terms. We’re not nobles with deep pockets.

We might not be able to afford your brother’s price.”

Cullen clung to Whistler, throwing his sister a tragic, pleading look. “I want to marry them. They would be good to me; I’ve seen them with Jerin. They have little brothers; I’d have other men around. They would teach me how to ri-” Cullen broke off at the word “ride” before it escaped completely, and changed it to “-write and read.”

“We can only afford two thousand crowns for the scamp,” Eldest Whistler said. “Payable on Jerin’s betrothal. We might be able to work up more, but we’ll have to take futures out on our little brothers. It would take time to raise more money.”

Moorland looked from Cullen to Eldest Whistler and then to Ren. The woman who loved her brother warred with the woman responsible for her family’s best interests. Ren could offer nothing, and waited, sure that Cullen would lose out.

Amazingly, though, Moorland said, “You won’t have to work up more. We’ll settle on the two thousand. It doesn’t pay to beggar your sisters-in-law.”

Whistler had been braced for a no and looked as stunned as Ren felt. Shouting, Cullen leaped to hug his sister, then mauled Ren in a hasty, exuberant hug, kissed Eldest Whistler again, and dragged her off in search of Lylia, Jerin, and the others to break the news.

The office seemed bare after they were gone, like someone had plucked the sun from the sky. leaving vast emptiness behind.

“Why did you say yes?” Ren asked Moorland. “You know it’s unlikely we’ll be able to marry Jerin.”

“Mother calls your father her sacrificial lamb sometimes. He bought us a lot of power, at the cost of being poisoned at the age of thirty-five. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with the same guilt my mother carries.”

Ren woke the next morning from another night of horrific dreams. The worst nightmare started in the garden, where she talked to Trini as her sister deadheaded the roses. Ren realized suddenly that the wilted flowers had Halley’s face, and the cut stems seeped blood. Ren pulled up the rosebushes to find Halley buried underneath, but then her mothers wouldn’t come to the garden to see the body. Every time she gripped their hands, they would slide away like a bar of wet soap. She woke in the dark, crying in frustration and fear. Other dreams plagued her after she went back to sleep, none as vivid, but all filled with pain and the sense of loss.

She was still in bed when Raven came in.

“I received this via regular post.” Raven held out a battered envelope.

Ren took it. It was addressed to “R. Tern” at Raven’s town house address; the captain had torn the canceled stamps in opening the envelope. Inside was a common sheet of foolscap, folded once. Ren pulled it free, and the word “Eldest” in Halley’s bold script made her catch her breath.

So you’ve lost your heart to the son of landed gentry? Well done. No need for a formal meeting for me. I approve your choice. Proceed with the wedding plans. I’ll be there. Now, call off the dogs!

Your little sister.

Ren turned the paper, knowing that there was no more, but feeling as if there should be. “Where is she?

How does she know about Jerin? Why hasn’t she put any names on this? Why address it to you?”

“She sent it to me so only you and I would see it, instead of the whole palace staff. By the amount of the postage, I’d say she’s close by, though.”

“And no names so if someone was to see it, they’d be none the wiser of who it was from and who it was for.”

“Aye,” Raven said.

Ren sighed, and then, as reality dawned on her. smiled. “She’s approved of Jerin! We can make an offer! She’s approved!”