A Brother's Price

Chapter 8

The hackney cab jostled and swayed through town, and climbed the cliff road. At the palace gate, Raven leaned out to have them passed through. All the while, Jerin found himself pressing his hand to his mouth, feeling again and again the kiss of the stranger on his lips. What was wrong with him? Why did he let a stranger kiss him? True, he had not expected the kiss, but still, once it started, once he was aware it was happening, he should have stopped it. Was he in truth a slut, unable to resist any woman’s advances?

Certainly, prior to Ren, he never had to resist a woman; his sisters kept all comers at bay. Ren certainly hadn’t taught him anything in the way of resistance.

All this time he thought-actually, he still believed- he was in love with Ren. If he loved her, why had he let that woman kiss him? Gods above, he didn’t even know the woman’s name!

Eldest finally noticed his silence, the hand pressed to his mouth. “Are you sick?”

Sick? Well, mental illness would explain his actions. “Perhaps.”

“Should we stop and let you throw up in the gardens?” Eldest asked. “It would be better than spilling your accounts in the palace proper.”

“If he goes, I go.” Summer looked slightly green from the jostling.

“Ah, Whistlers at their finest hour.” Corelle earned a cuff from Eldest.

“I’ll be fine,” Jerin muttered, blushing. Certainly with his family pressed so close, he would be able to resist the next woman who tried to kiss him.

The cab came to a stop before the palace in a vast paved courtyard and they spilled hastily out into the fresh air. Women in the livery of the Queens unloaded the wagon as Raven paid the cab driver. The servants were of similar coloring and height, making Jerin suspect they were sisters.

“This is the Queens’ majordomo, Barnes.” Raven indicated the woman supervising the others, polished in dress, face passive, but eyes deeply curious.

“I’m at your service,” Barnes said in greeting, giving a half bow. “The Queen Mother Elder wishes to meet you immediately. I must insist, however, that no weapons be kept in the palace. Anything you surrender will be returned to you at the end of your stay.”

“There are rifles in our luggage,” Eldest stated, undoing her gun belt.

Jerin froze, unsure what to do. His mothers always stressed that he should never go unarmed among strangers.

Summer carried only the six-shooter but had three knives. Corelle wore two six-shooters and a derringer, but no knives. Eldest matched Summer with knives, Corelle for guns, and then added two pairs of brass knuckles and a wire garrote. Barnes and Raven took the weapons without comment or surprise. Jerin was amazed Eldest surrendered all her stash weapons, but apparently she judged the risk of being caught with them in the presence of the Queens too high to warrant keeping them on her.

Which probably meant he should give up his weapons. He gave Eldest a questioning look, and she nodded. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his derringer.

Barnes startled visibly. “Holy Mothers above.”

Raven raised one eyebrow and accepted it. “You know how to use this?”

Jerin nodded, blushing at the thought of taking his knife off. Eldest rescued him by kneeling at his feet, reaching under the hem of his walking robe, and undoing the shin sheath. She made no move, thankfully, to retrieve his lock picks; if she had, he would have discovered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

Raven accepted the knife with a slight, unexpected smile.

Barnes gave Raven an unreadable look, then turned to the Whistlers. “Thank you for your cooperation.

Come this way.”

Barnes led them through a portcullis and down a graveled path to a deep porch overlooking the gardens.

Wicker chairs sat in a loose circle, facing one another. A tall stately woman sat waiting for them. She wore a green silk shirt, high-collared with long, narrow sleeves that matched her deep green eyes. A gold circlet over her short, gray-tinged red hair proclaimed her as Queen Mother Elder. Besides the green eyes and red hair, she shared her daughters’ deceivingly delicate features and fair skin.

Barnes announced them, waited until the Queen Elder dismissed her with a wave of fingers, and bowed out.

Queen Elder considered Jerin with a cock of her head and slightly pursed lips. After long minutes of study, she indicated that they should sit. A servant moved forward to pour tea, then faded into the background.

The Queen Elder addressed Eldest. “I was one of seventeen sisters. There are only five of us left. Illness, war, childbirth, and assassins have weeded us down. We had twenty daughters, which are now ten. It matters much to us that the count is not nine. We are indebted that you put a brother to risk providing aid to our daughter.”

“We merely followed the law,” Eldest said quietly, choosing to ignore the fact she hadn’t been present to consult on the matter. The law usually held the entire family responsible for one sister’s action. A family could otherwise engage in wanton lawbreaking, sacrificing one sister to save the rest if they were caught.

The inverse, Jerin decided, must be that they were held accountable for good deeds too.

“Unfortunately,” the Queen Elder said, “when it comes to men, our people tend not to be law-abiding.

Finding a stranger on their land, most women would have let their fear for their menfolk rule their actions.

In part, by rewarding you, I lift you up as an example. If we’re to stand against our neighboring nations, we cannot be fighting so between ourselves. This was why the husband raids were outlawed. This was why blood feuds are forbidden. This is why the traveler’s-aid law was created. Our people must be made to understand that their neighbors are their sisters.”

The Queen Elder sipped her tea and they sat in silence, unsure what to say.

Eldest finally cleared her throat and said into the silence, “My grandmothers were line soldiers before they were knighted. We are just landed gentry. We’re aware of the benefits from bringing Jerin out with your sponsorship-but we’re not sure what this all entails.”

“Wisely said.” The Queen Elder smiled. “In the next three months there will be nightly social events to attend. Actually there will be several on any given night; one picks and chooses-and one is picked and chosen, as they are all by invitation only. Normally, landed gentry such as yourself would field only invitations from the lower strata of the Peerage. With the sponsorship of the Queens, all who wish to curry our favor will invite you. There are dances, musicales, dinners, and picnics- window dressing for the true event-bringing Eldests together with brothers in tow. Offers are made, negotiations follow, and hopefully, by the end of the season all will be happily married.”

“It sounds like extended fairs.”

“I’m sure the Season grew out of fairs. Unfortunately, in my view, things have gotten out of hand. I’m afraid that members of the Peerage put too much importance on dress. It is a sign of how rich they are that they can sink so much money into an outfit, then never wear it again. We have not invited you here to bankrupt your family by keeping up appearances, nor to be humiliated unfairly because you’re wise not to waste your resources. As our guests, we intend to provide a modest wardrobe to your family.”

“The costs are truly prohibitive?” Eldest asked.

“Fifty crowns.” She gave a number that made Eldest startle, and then added, “For each outfit.”

“Each?” Eldest asked.

“Each.”

Jerin blanched. One hundred for Eldest and himself to be made a single set of outfits. Two hundred if Summer and Corelle were included. Multiply that by three or four. The numbers staggered him. His entire brother’s price could be swallowed by the cost of the clothes.

His sisters exchanged a look.

“We will have to depend on your generosity,” Eldest murmured.

“Good,” the Queen Mother Elder said. “The best tailors in Mayfair were put on notice. A runner has been sent to their shop with news of your arrival. You will see them this afternoon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Eldest said, bowing her head.

The answer pleased the Queen for some reason. She offered cakes and they accepted, using their best manners to negotiate getting the rich flaky pastry from the delicate china plates to their mouths using only the silver dessert forks. Jerin remembered without prompting that he was the senior ranked male at the table, and thus responsible for refills. He filled everyone’s cup without spilling a drop or trailing his sleeves in the liquid, all the while grateful that their grandfather had drilled table manners into the family.

They even managed polite small talk, answering questions on the trip down and the health of the sisters and mothers they’d left behind.

“Your family seems blessed with strong, healthy, beautiful children. Any birth defects?”

“None,” Eldest said proudly. “Our family has always kept itself clean of inbreeding. If a family can’t pin down a male from the time the first daughter is born until the last daughter hits menopause, some forty or fifty years, then the family shouldn’t reproduce in the first place.”

The Queen Elder laughed for a moment, then sobered. “There is much to do, and time is growing shorter. Barnes will show you to your apartment.”

Barnes led them up a curving flight of stairs and down a long carpeted hall to a set of double doors.

These she opened to reveal a spacious parlor, done in pale yellow damask-velvet wallpaper and cheery yellow silk drapes and matching settees. On the left-hand wall, two doors led to bedrooms. Jerin’s wedding chest sat untouched in the small corner bedroom with a large four-poster bed. Barnes called this bedroom the men’s quarters. His sisters’ luggage had been unpacked into the richly carved mahogany wardrobes of the much larger bedroom, which contained six elegant sleigh beds.

“Will you be wanting baths?” Barnes asked Eldest.

“If it can be arranged,” Eldest said.

Barnes signaled a younger woman with a family resemblance to her standing at the parlor door. “Two hip baths, hot water, and towels will be brought up. It will be removed while you are at dinner.”

She showed them how the double parlor doors could be barred at night. She went on to quietly point out that the parlor and women’s room isolated Jerin’s bedroom from the rest of the palace. She demonstrated how one of the parlor settees could be wheeled to block his bedroom door and used as a bed. Surely even the most paranoid of sisters would feel safe with their brother in this apartment.

Jerin recalled that in his sisters’ adventure novels, there were always secret passages to the men’s quarters. The daring heroines used them to save their true loves from heartless mothers, cruel sisters, abusive wives, and vile kidnappers. He sighed over the banks of windows, evidence that no secret passage could open into his bedroom; Ren wouldn’t be visiting him late at night.

A squad of servants, obviously younger sisters of the majordomo, brought up two copper bathtubs.

They set one in his bedroom, the other in his sisters’ room to share, and poured buckets of steaming water into them. All the while, the women sent curious glances his way. It made Jerin blush-these strangers preparing a place that he’d step naked into.

“The Queens have commissioned tailors for you,” Barnes was saying. “They’ll be here in an hour.” The tub filled, the servants filed out. Barnes followed them to the door, then turned, indicating a length of tapestry fabric hanging from a loop in the ceiling. “This is the bellpull here. Ring if you need anything.”

Jerin glanced to his sister and saw the slight frown Eldest wore when irritated. Was she as baffled as he was but too proud to ask? Summer and Corelle studiously ignored Barnes, which probably meant they were also ignorant. Luckily men were expected to be naive. He cleared his throat and asked quietly, “I don’t understand. Ring what?”

Barnes looked surprised. “The bellpull. You pull on this, and it rings one of the bells down in the kitchens to let us know you want something.”

“Really?” Summer exclaimed. “How does it do that?”

“There are cables on small pulleys run through the walls, going down to a rack of numbered bells. You pull here, and your bell in the kitchen rings. If you want anything, just ring.”

Jerin nodded, wondering what “anything” constituted. With a tub, towels, and chamber pot at hand, he could not guess what more they could want.

“The Queens keep country hours, so dressing gong is at six and dinner gong is at seven,” Barnes continued.

“Dressing gong?” Jerin asked.

Again the startled look from Barnes. “It’s like a bell sound, deep and not so sweet. Brassy, one could say, kind of like hitting a slipper against a big kettle lid.”

“What’s it for?” Jerin pressed on.

“So you know it’s time to dress for dinner,” Barnes said.

“You expect us to take that long to bathe?” Summer half laughed, nervous that things were vastly different with the nobility.

Barnes worked her mouth, considering words carefully before saying, “Dress in one’s dinner clothes as opposed to one’s daily wear.”

That stunned all the Whistlers speechless.

“Will that be all?” Barnes asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Eldest murmured finally. “Thank you.”

Barnes backed out of the room, apparently a habit from serving royalty, and closed the door. The Whistlers stared at the shut door in silence.

“Dinner clothes.” Eldest crossed to bar the door. “They have clothes just for eating?”

“Apparently,” Corelle said.

“Daily clothes. Dinner clothes. Party clothes.” Eldest counted on her fingers, squinting. “1 think we should have asked for the reward in money and stayed home. We could have bought the store and a husband for the cost of these clothes.”

“A good husband is worth it,” Summer murmured. “Besides, we can resell the clothes in our new store later for at least half their cost.”

Jerin glanced at his wedding chest, thinking of the clothes within. What would he wear for dinner?

“We’ve got an hour before the tailors come,” Eldest said. “Let’s hurry with the baths.”

The tailors were a family of at least seven women, with a goodly chance of many more not in attendance.

The eldest was a small, bird-boned woman with sharp features and a bright chirpy voice. Her salt-and-pepper hair was twirled up into a bun by way of a charcoal pencil, joined by a hemming guide and a pattern roller. A flock of younger sisters followed in her wake, carrying colorful ribbons and swatches of fabric. It was obvious by the way they migrated about the room, emitting pleased twitters over the rich appointments, that it was the first time the younger sisters visited the palace.

“My, my, my, what a pretty little brother you have here.” The eldest tailor circled Jerin. “Certainly makes my job more pleasant. Nothing is worse than trying to make an ugly toad of a boy into something someone would want in their bed.”

“Someone bedded their mothers,” Eldest said.

“Fathers are bought, not mothers.” The tailor grinned at her own wit. “I’ll enjoy making this one radiant.

I could even use him to set the next rage.”

“Rage?” Eldest asked.

“The most popular fashion at the moment,” the tailor explained. “They’re started by the powerful or the beautiful. The rage this season is to dress the family in a theme, say a dark blue silk.” She snapped her fingers. One of the younger sisters thumbed through her stack of fabric swatches to select out several shimmering blues. “A shirt for the boy, a vest for the Eldest, trousers for the Mother Elder-that sort of thing. In a glance, you can see who belongs to who.”

“If this season is just starting,” Summer asked, “how do you know what is the rage?”

A chorus of twittering laughter broke out from the flock of younger tailors, silenced by a look from their eldest. “Oh, orders for clothes start as early as the end of last season.” She took the blue silks, and examined each carefully in turn. “Normally a rage starts the last week or so of a season and hits full force at the beginning weeks of the next season. The ladies of Avonar started the family-theme rage the last season while courting for a husband, and one could not have asked for a better starter of a rage.

Powerful and beautiful in one package.”

“You recommend a blue?” Eldest asked.

“This one would be perfect.” The tailor held a swatch of cobalt-blue silk stamped with a shimmering design to Jerin’s chest. The intimate touch of a complete stranger made him blush, especially with so many people watching. “To bring out his eyes, not that they don’t jump out and grab you already.

Landed gentry you might be, but I think you’ll find no end to offers.”

Eldest also seemed bothered by the tailor’s encroachment. She rested a hand on Jerin’s back. Jerin more felt than saw the gaze his older sister directed over his shoulder at the tailor.

Summer drifted closer. “Are there ever brothers stolen?”

“Oh, yes.” The tailor backed off unhurriedly, perhaps well used to possessive sisters. “Not out from under the Queens’ eyes, I would think, but a number of boys are snatched each season. Oh, it’s not the peers you have to watch; they aren’t the desperate ones. It’s those poor of resources: street vendors, house guards, maids-”

“Tailors,” Summer added to the list.

The tailor laughed, unembarrassed. “Yes, there was at least one case of such.” She sobered then, and looked levelly at Eldest. “Some boys end up in a crib, whored out to father children for the desperate.

Disease runs rampant in those houses; there’s a reason the gods forbid us from sharing our husband with the less fortunate. Even if you find the boy and free him, most families won’t run the risk of a disease taking out wives and children in the future. Guard this little sweetie well.”

“We always have.” Eldest glowered at the tailor.

“Well”-the tailor turned away-“there is much to do, so let us start. It will take several days to prepare a wardrobe for your family: until then, you will need something suitable. Princess Odelia advised us on your build, and we’ve brought some clothes that should fit with some alterations. The peers of the realm-” She shook her head. “They order clothes and then change their mind, usually after they see the bill. Funny thing is, money is never the reason for them. No, no, the color is wrong, or the cut, or the fit; they’re always too proud to say they cannot afford our clothes.”

Raven waited for Ren at the palace stable.

Ren swung down off her horse, and threw her reins to her groom as a grin bloomed on her face. He’s here! Jerin’s finally here!

“I wish I could believe that smile was for me.” Raven nodded in greeting to Ren.

“I’m glad to see you too.” Ren swatted at Raven. “How is he?”

“He’s fine. The trip went well. No attempted kidnappings and only one offer to stud him out-which was politely but firmly refused. You might be interested to know that they’re planning to hold out for four thousand crowns.”

Ren paused. “They know we’re going to offer?”

“Actually, I don’t think they have a clue. Sometimes they’re refreshingly naive about the whole thing.

They reason if they can get two thousand out of landed gentry, they should be able to get four thousand out of nobility.”

Ren shrugged, said, “Not unreasonable,” and headed for the palace in long strides. The city clocks had rung five o’clock during her ride up-she had missed the dressing gong, and dinner would be soon. “I’m willing to pay four thousand. He’s worth it.”

“More the point of their plan,” Raven said, falling in step with her, “is that it lets them afford a husband of good breeding, and the mercantile at Heron Landing.”

“The one run by those tiny old ladies? What was the name? Picker?”

“The same.”

Ren started to strip off her sweat-stained clothes as soon as she entered her bedroom. Raven leaned against the mantel, looking entirely pleased with herself.

“So what do you think of him,” Ren asked, “now that you’ve had a chance to spend time with him?”

It was Raven’s turn to shrug. “Keep in mind that I have known only three men in my life. Your father, Keifer, and your cousin Cullen.”

Interesting, she doesn’t consider Keifer as my husband, Ren thought, washing off dirt and sweat.

“Of the three,” Raven continued, “I would say Jerin is most like your father, but only in the way apples are like oranges.”

“What does that mean?”

Raven looked annoyed at her own analogy. “Forget I said that.”

“Tell me.” Ren toweled dry. A middle Barnes sister had laid out her dinner clothes, knowing Ren liked privacy for discussing matters with Raven before dinner.

“Jerin is stronger of character than your father. I don’t think Jerin would have let Keifer rule the roost like your father did. He certainly wouldn’t have let what happened to Trini occur in the next bedroom.”

Ren froze in the act of reaching for her shirt. “Don’t say that.”

“Keifer was poison for your family. Worse yet, Eldest and the others took it willingly. No one would put their foot down, so he got away with everything.”

Ren forced herself to continue dressing, her fingers suddenly seeming too thick to deal with the buttons.

“True, but that’s over; Keifer is dead, and Jerin’s nothing like him.”

Raven considered, her eyes distant. “The more time I spend with Mr. Whistler, the more I like him,” she finally admitted. “I think he’s a good man, but I could be wrong. I’ve only known three men in my life, Ren, and only one of them was a responsible, reasonable human being. If I am wrong, Jerin could be far more dangerous than Keifer.”

“Meaning?” Ren tried not to let panic in. It was her captain’s job to be paranoid, to seek danger where it might not be found.

Raven reached into her coat and took out a small pistol that she sat on the mantel beside her. A long slim knife joined the pistol. “Keifer was never this well armed, and certainly never trained by thieves, spies, and assassins.”

Ren sighed, thinking not of how dangerous Jerin might be, but of how her mothers would react to such news. “Does anyone else know he was armed?”

“Barnes.”

Which meant her mothers knew. She cursed softly. “Have any of my mothers met the Whistlers yet, or will dinner be their first exposure to them?”

“Queen Mother Elder gave them a private audience. She wanted to appraise their social skills-to see if tutors would need to be hired prior to them meeting polite society. I’m told it went well. Your sisters-in-law dine with the family tonight, as will the Whistlers.”

Out with the old and in with the new.

Ren pulled on fresh boots as she considered how to put a positive face on the situation. Nothing came to mind until she went to comb her hair in the mirror. “Raven, drop a tale into Barnes’s ear. Tell her about finding Egan Wainwright raped and killed. Stress the fact that the Whistlers witnessed it all, knowing that Jerin had been alone less than a mile from these rapist killers.”

“And you’ll tell the same to your mothers?”

“Not at dinner, but as soon as I can.”

The dinner gong sounded, muffled by the floors between it and them. Ren shrugged into her dinner coat, realizing belatedly she had spent the entire briefing on Jerin without a word said about the cannons.

“Did you learn anything about the thieves?” Ren asked as Raven followed her out into the hall.

“Not yet, but Jerin gave me an interesting idea. So far the thieves have killed everyone that might be witness to them, including that cruelty to Egan Wainwright. I have my staff checking to see if any ship on our list recently had part or all of its crew killed off. I should have a report by tomorrow.”

“Jerin?”

“He’s a man of surprising intelligence.”

A Barnes sister directed Ren to the blue salon, where she found her in-laws, the ladies of Avonar, and her mothers gathered. Her youngest sisters still hadn’t graduated to formal dining parties. Odelia was late, as usual. Trini was absent and sent a sketchy apology, complaining of a migraine; truth was, she refused to deal with their in-laws. Lylia, Ren was informed, had gone to escort their cousins, the Moorlands, upriver. The Whistlers were the only ones unaccounted for.

Ren poured herself a brandy and then sought Barnes out.

“The tailors only finished altering the premade clothes a short while ago,” Barnes said in reply to her questioning. “A youngest sister will be guiding them down as soon as they are dressed.”

As Barnes bowed off, Kij Porter drifted to Ren’s side. “Did I hear Barnes mention newly arrived palace houseguests? Who rates that special honor? Your cousins?”

Ren covered her wince by taking a sip of her brandy; the Porters were not the ones she would have chosen as first contact for Jerin’s family. As close a friend as Kij was, “pompous ass” still defined the Porter family as a whole. Families of old blood tended to be that way, due, perhaps, to inbreeding. She suspected that the Porters were among the worst because, along with their name, thev retained the taint of common blood. “The Whis-tiers. They’re the ones that saved Odelia from drowning upland. My mothers are sponsoring their brother this season.”

Kij made the polite noise of understanding. “A charity case?”

I’m going to marry him. Ren restrained the impulse to say it aloud: she didn’t want Jerin hurt if she couldn’t clear all the hurdles between them. She nodded slightly, giving a tight smile over the rim of her glass.

“How very kind of your-” Kij paused, her eyes focusing over Ren’s shoulder. “Well, I see that the task will not be an odious one.”

Jerin! Ren turned, locking down on a smile that wanted to blaze across her face. At the sight of him, only that control kept her jaw from clicking open. They had swathed him in layers of silk: a short-sleeved under-tunic of deep blue that showed off his tanned, muscular forearms; fashionably snug britches of the same shade; and a richly embroidered waistcoat that came to mid-thigh to make the britches more modest, and yet accentuated his wide shoulders. His silken raven hair was gathered into graceful falls and small loose braids woven through with ribbons.

His sisters wore deep blue, high-collared silk shirts, and black silk dining jackets and slacks. Clean, carefully groomed, and formally dressed, the women were nearly as striking as Jerin. Eldest Whistler led, Jerin on her arm, the younger sisters trailing behind in flanking positions. The Whistler family entered the room with the feral grace of hunting wolves.

“They don’t look like farmers to me,” Kij murmured as Eldest correctly approached Queen Mother Elder first to pay respects.

“Their grandmothers were knights,” Ren told her simply. The less said about what else the Whistlers’ grandmothers had been, the better. “The title reverted after their deaths, of course, but the family remains gentry.”

•‘Just barely,“ Kij murmured. ”Too bad-he’s quite pretty. I’m sure someone who doesn’t mind adding a little common stock into the line will be quick to snap him up.“

Pompous ass.

Ren knew that the Whistlers had never been before royalty, and doubted that they had ever been to a formal dinner, yet she watched with awe as they greeted each of her mothers with regal calm. After bowing to Ren’s youngest mother, Milain. the Whistler party turned, and Jerin saw her for the first time.

His smile was warm, shy-and stunning as a blow from a giant mallet.

Kij drifted off, no doubt to warn her sisters that the pretty stranger wasn’t up to the Porter level of breeding. Ren crossed to the Whistlers. Her mothers, bless them all, hung back so she had their visitors to herself.

“Whistler.” She nodded to Eldest. There was a dark look that wasn’t there before. Drat, they know what I did with their little brother!

With that in mind, she cooled her greeting to Jerin to all that was proper. It was almost maddening, though, to be so close as to feel the heat of his body, be able to catch his light scent, and yet be unable to touch him.

She scrambled to find a neutral subject to talk about, finally settling on, “I hope you had a good trip.”

“Uneventful, which is always good,” Eldest said.

Queen Mother Elder called for attention. “Our esteemed daughters-in-law, ladies of Avonar, welcome again to our dinner table. May we introduce you to our guests in our home this summer, the family Whistler.”

As her Mother Elder named members of each family, Ren wondered if this was in some way a subtle cut on her mothers’ part. The Porters had been almost shameless in their pursuit of a royal marriage, making sure Keifer was always in Princess Eldest’s eye, and allowing Eldest to take discreet liberties with their brother. The Porters succeeded in their campaign, and reaped the re-wards of being in-laws to the crown, but Keifer had been a bitter disappointment. If Ren had her way, the Porters would soon lose their coveted position.

Queen Mother Elder had finished explaining the Whistlers’ tie to Prince Alannon and his royal bloodline when Odelia appeared in the doorway. She smiled brilliantly at Jerin and hurried to his side.

“Whistler.” Odelia gave a quick nod to Eldest, and then she caught Jerin’s free hand in hers. “Jerin! It’s good to see you here!”

“You look well.” Jerin reached out to brush back Odelia’s bangs, away from where she had been struck. “Hardly a scar. No one could ever tell.”

“Thanks to you.” Odelia beamed, looking more radiant than Ren had ever seen her. “Come, they’re sitting for dinner.” She swept him away without a glance at his sisters. “I’m sure no one will mind if you sit beside me.”

As Ren gazed after Odelia in stunned amazement, Corelle whispered overloud to her sister, “I don’t know, Eldest-I think we better find some mighty big sticks, and soon.”

“Yup,” Eldest Whistler murmured low enough so only Ren and her sisters could hear, and made a motion with her hand. The younger Whistlers nodded to their Eldest and hurried after Odelia and Jerin.

Corelle cut off a middle Porter sister to claim the chair beside Jerin, and Summer flanked Odelia.

Ren suspected if their guests had been anyone but the Porters, her mothers would have set the sitting arrangements back to the original plan. Since the Porters were their in-laws, however, the dinner could be considered “only family.” Whatever the reason, their mothers made no move to correct things.

Perhaps Odelia had even counted on that; Ren could never understand the inner workings of Odelia’s mind.

Ren took advantage of the change and sat Eldest Whistler beside her, wanting a chance to mend their friendship. They were, hopefully, going to be sisters-in-law.

Kij Porter took the chair to Ren’s other side. As the first remove made its rounds, Kij leaned close and whispered, “Is it true? Their grandmothers married Alannon?”

“Go look at his portrait upstairs after dinner and compare.”

Kij made a noise of disgust. “That proves nothing.”

“There’s a paper trail. Do you think we wouldn’t check? Besides, it’s not as if they came forward with the claim. Our paths happened to cross when Odelia was attacked, and the story came out.”

Kij gazed down the table at Jerin. “He is certainly a pretty one. We were thinking of offering for Dirich Dunwood, but maybe we’ll go for royal blood instead.”

Ren covered her dismay. She’d forgotten that her sisters-in-law had been quietly searching for a husband. She shot a glance at her Mother Elder. Were the Porters here not as a subtle dig at them, but to provide a way to marry Jerin off before Ren could get her sisters’ approval?

After dinner they retired to the blue salon. There, Odelia and the Porter sisters vied for Jerin’s affection.

Ren did not have the heart to press him, so she stood back and watched as Jerin flustered under the close attention. He flashed shy smiles at their compliments and witty remarks, but grew quieter and quieter.

“Jerin’s had a long day,” Ren finally murmured to Eldest Whistler. “And he’s not used to this mobbing.

Why not send him up to your suite?”

“I’ll take him up.”

Ren rested a hand on Eldest Whistler’s shoulder to keep her from going. “I’d like to talk to you. Have- can Summer and Corelle take care of him?”

Eldest studied her with ice-blue calm, then nodded. “We should talk.”

Good-nights were said, the younger Whistlers went off to their rooms, and Ren led Eldest to her study.

Ren poured out brandy, offered good cigars, and then said, “You seem angry at me.”

Eldest Whistler spoke slowly, obviously choosing her words carefully. “Shall I say that I was disappointed when I learned what liberties you had taken with my brother?”

“Corelle saw us, then,” Ren guessed.

Eldest nodded. “And told the first moment it was useful to her to do so.”

“I’m sorry,” Ren murmured.

“This sponsoring of Jerin. It’s your idea, to make amends?”

“In part.” Ren considered and decided. “I love Jerin. It would make me happy to marry him. If I had been born Eldest to another family, I wouldn’t have left your farm without a marriage contract.”

“But we’re too far beneath the princesses of the realm,” Eldest said bitterly, almost spitting the word

“princesses.”

“Except for a quick dalliance.”

“Perhaps not.”

Eldest looked up sharply, and then frowned. “You toy with me.”

“No. My first husband was politically a good choice. Keifer was also a spoiled, self-centered, manipulative brat. He played my sisters against one another to get his way. He threw fits, threw food, threw dishes, pouted, cried, and withheld sexual services. The public appearance at the theater was typical of his refusal to listen to common sense.”

“1 would have spanked him,” Eldest murmured.

“I wished my sister had, often. Perhaps she would be alive today.” Ren sighed. “Keifer was everything that Jerin is not, including a bloodline that traced back twenty generations. I have asked my mothers to allow a marriage between our families. To be frank, without Prince Alannon’s blood, they would have never agreed to consider Jerin. I don’t know if it’s enough, though, for them to decide in favor of a marriage.”

“I see,” Eldest Whistler said, face controlled against any emotion that she might have been feeling. A soldier’s face. How many generations before that military stamp would breed out?

“My mothers thought it would be unfair to raise your hopes for a royal match,” Ren said. “I thought you should know, so you can keep it in mind when the offers for Jerin come in.”

A trace of a smile flitted across Eldest’s face. “You don’t want us to accept any offer before you can make yours.”

“Yes.”

Eldest stood swirling the brandy in her glass, considering, and finally sighed. “And how long must we wait?”

Ren hesitated before saying, truthfully, “I don’t know. I know your family made a good first impression.

I know that my mothers are now convinced of your royal bloodline. I know that I love Jerin. and that Odelia is most likely favorable to a match. Lylia is just old enough to marry, and anxious for her wedding night. She’ll be swayed by Jerin’s beauty alone, I think. Trini suffered at Keifer’s hands, and will probably not endorse any man, which my mothers well know. Halley-if she’s to be found, if she’s alive-she’ll be the difficult one to sway; she was not happy with our first marriage.”

“So the rumors are true; Princess Halley is missing.”

“For months.” Ren sighed. “She has never dealt well with the murder of my sisters. At midwinter she said not to worry about her, that she’d be gone for a while, then vanished.”

“Can you make an offer without her?”

Ren shook her head. “I don’t think I can. Halley is much better Eldest material than I, and so her word carries much weight with my mothers. They might decide to wait for her to reappear.”

Eldest Whistler sighed, and was long silent. “We will let you know of any offers we receive, and give you a chance to counter them, but we can’t wait forever. We need Jerin’s brother’s price a week after his birthday. We’ve made arrangements to buy the mercantile at Heron Landing from the Picker sisters, and they’ve given us only until then to buy it, else we pay a penalty.”

Two months. Ren nodded, feeling sick. Halley had been gone for eight months. Sixty spare days did not seem enough time.

“Excuse me,” Eldest murmured, “but I should go and tend my family. They’re still unsettled, this being a new place and all.”

“Of course,” Ren said. “Good night, Whistler.”

“Your Highness.” And Eldest Whistler left with a bow that was hardly more than a nod.

“Gods above, Halley.” Ren murmured to the fire. “Where are you? Are you even still alive?”