Title: Lonely at the Top Ch 6/?
Author: Kate,
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.
Rating: PG
Ch 6
Kalasin lay on the bed, rigid and silent. She scarcely breathed, afraid that the movement of her chest would cause cloth on her body or the bed to rustle and wake her husband. It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. The Emperor and Empress were sleeping in a bed in the home of his mother, the Princess Fazia.
That night Fazia had sponsored her yearly party for the Imperial University mages and scholars. Kaddar, a scholar at heart, loved these evenings when he could chat with former teachers with relative freedom and debate the finer points of philosophy. Kalasin enjoyed the company as well, truth be told. She could converse intelligently about healing spells, some aspects of the Gift and magical theory. But when the conversations turned to obscure and arcane philosophers, historical figures and Carthaki geology, she always felt vaguely self-conscious and aware of her foreign born status.
Invitations were extended to Buri and Lianne, but the two women had politely declined, citing the fact that neither possessed the Gift, and that they spent quite enough time with mages in Tortall. Though they did not say it, they were both sick of parties. They'd been in Carthak for a solid month, but the time was a blur of finery and food and faces and titles.
Buri and Lianne had developed deeper and more profound respect for Kalasin's professional life. She had lived through four years of the constant parties and heat without collapsing. She had only wavered in performing the social side of her duties once, yet her reign had not been limited to pleasantries with nobles. She was reforming the practices of slavery, the conditions of prisoners, the widespread illiteracy and ignorance of the commoners in her realm.
After a week of it, Buri had decided that it was no wonder that Kalasin had suffered a collapse after her miscarriage. The pace of parties and decisions and unraveling what mattered and what didn't was inhuman and impossible to maintain. After a month, Buri and Lianne were grateful for a night off to sit in their suite and write letters home and compare observations of the glittering Southern Lands.
So Kalasin and Kaddar had attended his mother's party alone. Because they expected it to go late, they planned to sleep over at his mother's house. Kalasin always made an effort to be a good guest and enjoy the company, but at seven months pregnant it was getting harder and harder to enjoy any activity that required standing for long periods of time.
Then again, tonight she had caused a stir among ladies who noticed such things by wearing soft, flat-heeled cushioned slippers and a thin, cool embroidered silk gown and only two items of jewelry. A seemingly dainty magicked girdle/belt protected her from the sendings of lesser mages while the silver and sapphire brooch did double duty as a poison neutralizer and clasp for the front of her dress. Due to the pregnancy, her modest bosom had grown. She had always had an attractive figure, but her natural build was slender. She now possessed voluptuous curves and a rounded belly. Tonight, she had eschewed rings, necklaces, crowns, earrings, bracelets, anklets and bangles.
True, her buttons were black opal and served as reserves where she stored magical power, should an ambush occur, but the buttons were nearly weightless. She had worn her hair simply in an upsweep that exposed and emphasized her pale neck and cleavage. For a formal occasion, her dress was shockingly casual. It looked beautiful and there was no way to deny it, but for a party at her mother-in-law's such garb was unheard of.
The maid who helped Kalasin get dressed thought that the midnight blue gown was a shift, not the actual dress. She had become worried when Kalasin simply pinned up the long ebony tresses instead of using hot irons and papers to curl and dress the hair. By the time Kalasin was supposed to descend the stair and enter the party, the maid was hysterical. The Empress still hadn't sent for jewels or a brocaded dress. In her costume, there was no mark to distinguish her from any common merchant's woman! When the maid had finally found her tongue and reminded Kalasin that such things were not done in the Empire, she had almost lost it when the Empress leveled a cool stare at her. "What am I doing that is so shocking, Klyta?"
At any other time, the maid would have wondered how the Empress of Carthak knew the name of a simple lady's maid. But at that moment, Klyta simply said, "It's not decent for a nobility like yourself to dress like just anybody. I mistook your ball gown for a dressing gown, rich as the silk is. And even peasants wear rings and beads to show their status." The maid cringed, but since she had started, she may as well finish.
"Only slaves wear no jewelry, saving iron shackles. Women wear their husbands' wealth to show their good position. A husband who values his wife tells the world by rewarding her with gold and silver and gems. Only slaves or those who are too mean or cheap to care for their women properly let them run around without even a nose button. And the Empress of Carthak shouldn't run around like a slave, if my lady will pardon my saying it."
Kalasin had smiled at the girl. It took a great deal of courage for one of her class to stand up to one of Kalasin's status. Though the girl could just be mad or hysterical, maybe Kalasin's informality with her own servants was starting to rub off. "I wear my royalty and my husband's regard for all to see." Kalasin stood, and she did look rather regal in her midnight blue silk gown. "The buttons on this dress are black opal, and the brooch was a gift from my lord. The embroidery along the hem is our crest." She caressed her child through the gown. "And I need not mention the other way his regard is shown to the world." Kalasin smiled at the girl. "This child who sleeps in my skin is worth more than any jewel for showing how my husband loves me. Though I thank you for your explanation of the custom. Now, I must go to my lord." Kalasin pressed a coin into Klyta's palm in payment for her service. She left the maid shaking in wonder at her own boldness. No one would ever believe that the maid had spoken to her Empress as she would speak to one of her sisters-in-law and lived.
Though Kalasin had made a fine speech, the truth was that she was simply too hot and tired to bother with the elaborate rituals of preparation. The empress had decided that since Fazia was going to treat her daughter-in-law as a northern barbarian even when said daughter-in-law wore Carthaki clothes, Kalasin might as well be comfortable while she was subjected to such treatment. And she had been comfortable. She had enjoyed this party more than any other in recent memory. She drank only the sweet fruit juice that she knew she liked, since Varice was not there with some elaborate new concoction for the Empress to try. She nibbled lightly on the crackers and fruits scattered around. She sat when she was tired and because she was not the hostess she didn't keep a wary eye on how full drinks were or how often they were refilled. In short, she enjoyed the company and the physical comfort of shoes that didn't pinch.
In remembering her speech to the maid, Kalasin cringed. The story had been heard and repeated throughout the gathering, and though the context was lost in its first telling, Kalasin was quite sure that everyone in the palace had heard that the Empress valued her child and her husband's regard above gold and diamonds. (Though Kalasin had no way of knowing it, a version of the story would survive thousands of years and inspire painters and playwrights to show the beautiful lady of Carthak as a paragon of female virtue, who valued her children more than her jewels.)
But in the meanwhile, Kalasin lay in an unfamiliar bed, uncomfortably aware of the pressure her pregnancy put on her bladder. The night was steaming and she missed the artificial chill of her usual bedchamber. She needed to visit the privy, but she couldn't remember exactly where it was. And if she moved, then Kaddar would awake and there would be awkward moments as she tried to find a delicate way to explain that the Empress needed to relieve herself. He had already teased her for being crude enough to reference the act of creating a child as a sign of his regard. Though they had laughed over it together, Kalasin was still embarrassed to admit to her husband that pregnancy greatly increased her awareness of herself as a physical being. Though she was too well mannered to discuss bodily functions with her husband, good manners didn't not banish basic human needs.
The baby and extra matter on her front crushed her like a weight. Her lungs labored to breathe the cloying humid air. At last, she could no longer stand the discomfort. Moving smoothly and nearly silently, she slid out of the side of the bed and put her feet on the cool marble. She resolved to watch her step—in the heat, the marble was sweating minutely. Kalasin stripped off her sweat-soaked shift and pulled a clean one over her head. She grabbed a robe and ghosted through the halls till she found the privy.
Leaving the room, she instantly felt better. Kalasin located the kitchen, which was silent and haunted with the remains of the party. She poured a small glass of fruit juice and chased the taste of sleep from her mouth with the tart sweetness of the liquid. Kalasin left the drinking vessel with the other dirty dishes and trailed back to the privy once more. She drifted silently through the halls, hoping not to wake any of the servants or party guests. Given the number of empty wine skins in the kitchen, she doubted that the guests would be aware of much, but Buri had instilled caution in all the Conté children.
The door to the bedchamber she and Kaddar were sharing did not squeak as she eased it back on its hinges. She slid the robe off her shoulders and hung it on a peg, sighing in relief. Safe. She turned to the bed, and saw Kaddar sitting up, observing her by light called to his palm by his Gift. "Where were you?" His sleepy voice made the question a reproach rather than an accusation. "I woke and you were gone."
"I got some juice." She blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"I don't mind." He yawned. "Come back to bed. Do you need anything else?" He ruffled the sheet, as if he would get up.
"Nothing you could have done for me." She smiled a little. "It's sweet of you to worry so, but I promise that I'm fine." She crossed the room and sat on the mattress. She leaned her back against the headboard and drew her legs up to the bed. He extinguished the light in his palm. She breathed for a few moments to settle herself. "I can't sleep anyway. It's so hot and the baby's kicking like mad."
Kaddar rolled over to face her and propped himself up on his side. "Can I feel?"
She blushed again. He had never before asked to touch the baby, though she sometimes took his hand and let him feel the kicking. She nodded and guided his hand to the site of the activity. An expression of wonder crossed Kaddar's face. His wife smiled. "It was a nice party tonight, wasn't it?"
He agreed, now sitting to concentrate on the swells of movement under Kalasin's taut heated skin. She smiled as he moved his hand to her side and lowered his ear to her covered belly, as though he could hear the baby's heart. Kalasin's cradled his head between her palms in a rare caress. Kaddar turned his face and kissed the baby through her gown and skin. "Does it hurt?" He lifted his face to meet her eyes. The fears of fathers through the ages were on his face. The guilt and the curiosity mixed so that his face reflected a universal male attitude towards the miracle of life. He was reverent as his hands touched her body.
"Not the baby moving, usually." She answered. "That feels strange, but wonderful too. My favorite is when he runs his hand around the edges of his world. It's not hard enough to hurt me; it's just so strange and wonderful to feel a hand touching me from the inside. I could live without the swollen ankles and joints and the stretched skin and the exhaustion and overheating and cramping." She laughed a little, but he withdrew his hand. He lay down again, on his right side, facing her. She eased down and laid on her left side to look at him. "I've been told that eating oranges and drinking more milk will help with the cramps. It's all worth it though. So worth it whenever he kicks me or I imagine holding him." Kalasin smiled, and a contented expression crossed her face.
"You think we're having a boy?" Kaddar asked.
She nodded. "Just a feeling, but we should talk about names. There are only two months left, and I'm not going to call him "the baby" until his naming ceremony, no matter what tradition says."
Kaddar nodded eagerly. "Never too early to start."
"Especially since every citizen, slave, priest and free man in the Empire is going to hear the name and comment on it." She groaned. "If we pick a Tortallan name, then they'll accuse you of bowing to your foreign wife. If we choose a name from an old Thak word, then we favor scholars over nobles. A traditional Chelogu name and we value your father's home more than your mother's. No matter what name we give him, someone will find a reason to be offended by it."
Kaddar shushed her, almost amused to hear the cool, thoughtful Kalasin babble in frustration. "Stop. He is our son. We will choose a name with all due tact and reason, and the world can get over it. My money says it's a topic of discussion for ten minutes, less important than the latest hairstyle or who won the horse races at Festival."
Kalasin nodded a little. "What names do you like?" She asked.
"Are there any you like?" He fished.
In the dark she laughed. "Lianne was right, how silly we are. Married four years and we still haven't learned to talk directly to one another. The truth is, I got out of bed because I had to pee, and the truth is you have at least a few names in your mind, but we both dance around just saying what we mean."
Surprised by the accusation, he stilled for a second, until the humor of the situation caught up to him. "We are quite a pair. So polite to one another that we're afraid to talk. Why is that, do you suppose?" Kaddar asked.
Kalasin honestly thought about it, and slumped. "All my life, I feared Carthak. When I was eight, your uncle sent ships and men and Stormwings to pound Pirate's Swoop. Then, I had to learn how to live here. Refugees from Carthak filled me full of stories of atrocities—or sometimes, they would say "It's too horrible for words," and then my imagination had to fill in the blanks. My imagination is very vivid." She chewed her lip. "I learned and practiced proper forms of address for different ranks of people till my head hurt. I was taught that when in doubt, formality could save me. When I'm frightened or out of my element, I stiffen up and slip into that formality." She shrugged one shoulder. "I do like you. I hope you know that. It's just that sometimes I feel I don't know you very well. I hope you don't think I'm out of line." Kalasin was grateful for the dark, because it covered her blush. She couldn't have said any of these things in the light of day or even looking in his face. But whispering in the dark lent everything a surreal air that allowed her to speak freely.
"Not at all. Every word of it is true." Kaddar sighed. "I didn't make as much effort as I should've in the beginning. I was overwhelmed with the stress of ruling a country. You were seventeen, just a year older than I was when I became the Emperor, but I expected a little girl who would be no help, rather than the mature but naïve young woman you were. You just fit so well here. You did and do everything I asked or the realm needed and you do it so efficiently I came to take it for granted and now I forget you might feel homesick and lonely from time to time."
"Maybe when my confinement begins we can spend more time getting to know one another instead of just each others' politics." She said shyly. "Strange, isn't it? To talk about getting to know your husband."
"No stranger than getting to know your wife." Kaddar assured her. "You looked beautiful tonight."
She laughed throatily. "Daine and Varice warned me that you were charming. I didn't realize that they meant you were a liar. I look like the girl who swallowed the seed and birthed the moon." She referenced an ancient legend.
"My secret's been discovered at last. I wondered how long it would take you to realize that I'm a hopeless liar, always playing one off the other to keep my nobles in line." Kaddar toyed with a curl. "You are lovely though."
Kalasin made a face, as the moon passed through a rare cloud break to illuminate her face. Her husband was startled into laughter. "I think I should commission a Court painter to immortalize that expression."
Kalasin squeaked with outraged laughter. "Maybe we could hang it in the gallery." She rolled to lie on her back, because her side was sore. "Or we could use it to mint the new coins! Maybe the bards who have never seen me would stop writing ridiculous tropes about marble skin and sapphire eyes and night black hair."
Kaddar laughed. "I think you're stuck with a reputation as the world's most beautiful woman."
"At least in Carthak." Kalasin giggled. "But really, what names do you like?"
"You must have thought about this." He countered.
"I know more names I don't like than names I do." She confessed. "Ozorne is out, as is Roger." She turned on her side to look at him again. The moon had gone behind a cloud, so they were comfortably ensconced in darkness.
He chuckled at her small joke, but refused to let her off the hook. "There must be at least one name that you like."
She sobered, and quiet fell between them. Finally, she said, "Emry, maybe. Not for this child, because Emperor Emry sounds terrible. Plus, it's a Tortallan name, inappropriate for the heir to the Empire. But for our next son."
"Emry." Kaddar tested the name. "That's the name of a military strategist from Tortall, right? From the days of your great-grandfather."
"Yes, Emry of Haryse served Old King Jasson as a general. But I was thinking of his grandson, Sir Emry of Queenscove. He was the son of the finest healer in Tortall, Duke Baird. Emry died in the Immortals War. He saved my brother and me. I'll never forget it." She was troubled as she picked at the weave of the bedclothes. "He asked me for a favor the night before the battle that killed him. He asked me to name one of my sons for him. In Tortall, it's bad luck to name a baby for a living person, though it honors the dead. So in that way, he told me he probably wouldn't live out the night."
"You admired him." Kaddar observed, not entirely without envy.
"I did admire Emry." His wife murmured, without adding further explanations. Sir Emry had been a newly made knight, proud to fight for king and country beside his older brother and cousin and the King's Own in a battle to preserve the heir and the eldest princess. Though he insisted that his younger brother Neal, who labored at University was the romantic of the family, he too had been vulnerable to flights of fancy.
Kally had been eleven and she had adored the kind young man with green eyes and a healing touch who helped her calm the soldiers and victims as she tended them. She had cried when she could not heal him, but her husband didn't need to hear such talk.
Kaddar noticed her unwillingness to go further with this talk, and changed the subject. "But if it's bad luck, then why is Sir Gareth named for his father, Duke Gareth?"
"There are a couple of theories about why the Duchess named her son after her husband." Kalasin said. "One, Gary was born while Uncle was away in a battle, and the Duchess didn't think he was coming home. Two, the Duchess hoped to confuse the Black God by having two men with the same name, so he could not take either. It's generally bad luck to have the same name as a living person, though. That's why Lord Alan named his son Thom, and his daughter Alanna. He wanted to continue the name, but he didn't want to invite bad luck." She shrugged.
"So, you want a Carthaki name for this child?"
"Yes." Kalasin said immediately. "Yes, that's only fitting."
"We could name him Gazanoi, for my father."
"Isn't that the name your sister gave to her oldest, who died of fever last year?" Kalasin asked, forbearing an unkind word about naming a child for a grandparent.
Kaddar grimaced. "That's right. It might be in poor taste to give our little one the same name." He thought. "Let's avoid the problem altogether. Let's not saddle the child with a name that belonged to a relative or friend so we don't have to worry about who we're offending or excluding."
Kalasin agreed. "And we don't have to give him the burden of expecting him to live up to the name of a man who either lived or died in some grand fashion that'll turn into a legend he can't possibly live up to." She said, a trifle more bitterly than she intended. She and Roald had always felt a little strange about having the names of grandparents who had committed suicide. Thayet had told her mother's story with pride, till Kally knew the story of the Queen's dramatic song, the K'Miri plight and the heroic defense offered by the Tourakams as well as she knew her own name.
Roald's story had been harder to ferret out, but a vicious conservative who hated their mother had told them the story, rubbing their faces in Roald's "hunting accident" so soon after the death of his beloved. Roald and Kalasin had gone to Jonathan together, hoping for the truth. Roald had been almost tearful, begging to be told that his name did not belong to a coward. Their father had not lied to his son, but he had tried to tell the story from a different angle. Nevertheless, after that day, Roald was unable to act without imagining what was whispered behind his back and if he were being compared to his grandfather, who had taken the coward's path rather than having the courage to live in the face of terrible pain.
Every bard who came to the palace to see the great hall of Kings where the mighty battle had occurred sang Liam's stories. Kalasin's younger brother took up the knight's path, and it seemed to his older siblings that he did so without the same trepidation they lived with every day. He did not ask if he, a humble page, was he to be measured against the Shang Dragon. Roald envied the Liam, because the younger brother treated his name as though it had never belonged to anyone else.
Lianne lived her early years mistakenly believing that she was named after her older brother, Liam. She was vaguely aware that there used to be a Queen Lianne, but with childish innocence, she disregarded it. In any case, she was Lia to her family and friends, which helped her feel that her name belonged to her.
Jasson knew that there was an Old King Jasson who was connected to him in some shadowy way, but with the self-importance of a child, the prince assumed that the old King was named after him, instead of the other way around. One of the great disappointments of his young life was discovering that the contrary was true. Of the Conte children, only Nora had a name that didn't first belong to someone else. Her siblings had envied her, while she felt like a disconnected outsider among them.
"But if we rule out all of the family names, how do we pick one? Do we refuse to consider a name we like because we happen to know someone called by that word? Do we just look at a list and assign the first we don't recognize?" Hormones making her more easily frustrated, she rolled over to a more comfortable position and felt overwhelmed.
Kaddar raised himself on his elbow. "No, that's not what I'm suggesting. Let's go by meaning."
"Meaning?" Kalasin cocked her head.
"In the language of this country, every name has meaning. A lot of them correspond to virtues instead of just being a sound."
"What does Kaddar mean, then?"
"Powerful."
"Fitting." Kalasin smiled. "Some names are like that in Tortall also. Though they don't always fit, you understand."
"What do you mean?" He asked, studying the way her unbound hair spread on the pillow and the sheen of sweat on her face.
"Alanna means serene and peaceful." Kalasin sighed and rubbed at her side, as an elbow or a knee moved under the skin. "The Lioness is rather volatile, in case you didn't notice when you met her."
"I always knew that you had a gift for understatement." Of their own accord, his fingers began to massage a little circle on her body.
She smiled a little more and relaxed into his touch. "Myles means soldier, but Sir Myles of Olau is a desk knight and scholar to the heart. Gareth means gentle, but as much as I love the Duke and my Uncle Gary, neither of them are gentle. They're both sharp as a sword's point."
"So maybe naming him after a quality we hope he'll possess isn't the way to go." Kaddar murmured. "I've always liked the name Karimah, which means "generous one" but you could be right about a name being pressure."
Kalasin nodded up at him. "What about the name Kamil? It was your grandfather's second name, right? What does that mean?"
Her husband laughed, and the rich sound bubbled through their room. "It means 'perfect one.' Talk about pressure—we'd be breaking three of our own rules; 1) Family Names 2) Pressure and 3) Qualities we don't know he'll possess."
"I don't know. A name that means 'perfect' is more a description of how we feel about him and a vote of confidence than a burden."
"In our minds." Kaddar agreed. "But think about what that name would feel like to him."
Kalasin nodded. "You're right."
He lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, which featured a mosaic of geometric patterns. "My mother had a few suggestions to make tonight."
"I'm sure she did." Kalasin groaned.
Kaddar took the opportunity to ask a question that had been niggling at him for a long time. "Is my mother 'the trial of your life'?" He quoted Buri.
"What?" She asked, startled into laughter.
"You heard me."
"No, she isn't that bad. I just wonder what I ever did to her sometimes, that's all."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing." She shied away. "We were having a lovely talk. Let's leave this topic for another night, hmm?" She didn't wait for him to acquiesce. "Now, what names does she like?"
"Kyan and Kimoni."
Kalasin repeated them. "What do they mean?"
"Kyan means 'little king.'" Kaddar smirked.
"Descriptive." Kalasin conceded. "What about Kimoni?"
"Great man." He said.
She groaned. "This poor child is going to be called 'the baby' until he's old enough to pick his own name." Kaddar laughed, but a thoughtful expression darted across Kalasin's face. "That's how we'll choose!" She exclaimed eagerly.
"Kalasin, I think we can make a choice before he's old enough to talk." Kaddar patronized.
"No, this is something I learned from a midwife and healer around Pirate's Swoop. When the mother and father can't choose a name, they pick many that they like, and then they whisper them to the baby, who will tell them if he hears his name."
Kaddar indulgently raised an eyebrow. "What does he do, cry when he hears his name? Or stop crying? How do you know it isn't just an accident, that he didn't just happen to stop crying at that moment?"
"Scoff if you must." Kalasin made a show of her dignity, before smiling. "I know it sounds strange, but I saw it once. A woman had just given a daughter to the world, so we washed the baby and cleaned her and wrapped her in a blanket and gave her to her mother, and the mother began whispering names to the baby while the baby ate, but when the baby heard her name, she stopped sucking and looked up into her mother's face. And the mother said the name again, and the baby blinked and yawned, and returned to her meal. So the mother knew that her daughter heard her own name."
Kaddar shrugged. If it meant that much to her, who was to say it was ridiculous? "Last resort?" He compromised.
"Last resort." Kalasin agreed. She yawned. "I'm pretty sure he's a boy, but we should think about girl names too, just in case."
"Isoke or Gzifa." Kaddar said immediately. "Gzifa is 'peaceful.'"
Kalasin thought for a moment. "So we could name her for Buri and Alanna without doing it obviously? Because their names both have to do with peace."
"And I like the name. It's a female form of Gazanoi, so it honors my father, without actually tying expectations into it."
Kalasin smiled. "What about 'Isoke'? What does that mean?"
"Gift from God." Kaddar said. "The boy name with the same meaning is Kirabo."
Kalasin sat up abruptly. "That's his name." She said.
"What?"
"The way he moved just now—Kirabo. That is his name. It's perfect. I like how it sounds. The meaning describes how we feel about him without putting pressure on him. Because after losing our first baby," She choked, and continued relentlessly. "He is a gift. And my father's name, Jonathan, means 'gift of god.' So it's a roundabout way of honoring the family without making it messy politically." She turned and smiled at him. "So, Gzifa for a girl, and Kirabo for a boy. Princess Gzifa, Prince Kirabo, Emperor Kirabo. It even has easy nicknames."
Kaddar grinned at her enthusiasm. "This is why we're politicians. We figured out how to honor our families without inciting riots in our country, plus we even found names we like."
"Thank the Goddess." Kalasin yawned again and settled into the bed. "If we're going to face the ghastliness that is the morning we should probably sleep. We can talk about second names some other time."
Kaddar sighed. "What's tomorrow?" He asked drowsily.
"The beginning of preparations for the arrival of Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, the Giantkiller and Squire Alan of Olau and Pirate's Swoop." His wife pulled the sheet over her head. "More parties, may the gods help us all. I don't think my feet will last."
Kaddar laughed. "You're sure that we have to host more parties?"
"They're sick of them and we're sick of them and I have a healer's orders to stay off my feet, so I could probably convince Varice that once a week is enough, but it might be a lot of work to drag Raoul and Buri out that often. They both hate social functions, though they have learned to tolerate them. But I'll have to make sure that no one brings Raoul alcohol, because he doesn't drink it, and Alan can't eat certain nuts and it's just going to be a delight to sort it all out." The sheet muffled her words. "And everyone's going to stare at me because I wore that dress and those shoes tonight."
Kaddar laughingly caressed her shoulder. "You had a good time at the party. If they stare, it's only because you were so beautiful last night."
Kalasin uncovered her head and sighed. "It's wonderful to be married to a liar, some days."
"You were beautiful, but it was a bit dangerous." He said.
"Dangerous? No, the belt I wore protected me from lesser mages. And the brooch would have disabled poisons. The buttons were black opal. I put them on every dress as a power reserve."
"I know that." He said. "I trust you to recognize and compensate for the dangers we live with in this Court. I meant that exposing a crowd to the full force of your beauty, without the distraction of jewels and ruffles might've blinded them."
She giggled. "You're terrible, flattering me and flirting with me when I feel like a whale."
He sighed. "Why don't you ever believe that I'm telling you the truth about your looks?"
"Because I'm not as beautiful as you keep raving, and because compliments are a weapon as deadly as a sword in the Lioness's hand, in the right mouth."
Kaddar gave her a confused glance.
Kalasin tried to explain. "Usually, a compliment flatters and makes the subject feel better. A skillful flatterer can make the recipient feel as though she needs his approval. After all, if he always thinks she's wonderful and says so in glowing terms, then if he isn't complimenting her, she must be doing something wrong. It gives him more power than a bow or sword, because then she wants to please him. And sometimes she starts to think that the only good things about her are the things he compliments. I've seen intelligent women paralyzed, unable to make a choice of any kind because they're obsessed over what a man thinks of their appearance."
"I'm not trying to manipulate you." He said. "I want you to know that I think well of you."
She tossed her hair. "I'm not responsible for my looks. I just got lucky because my parents are attractive people. I'd rather be honestly praised for the things I've worked to accomplish than extravagantly praised for an accident of birth."
"An accident of birth?" Kaddar arched an eyebrow. "Maybe, maybe not. It's true that you inherited your features from your family, but you do take care of yourself and your appearance. You're not vain and you don't obsess, but you don't run around in dirty rags that don't fit, either."
Kalasin could not respond to such obvious silliness, so she simply looked at him. He reached out and rested her hand on his chest, holding it with both of his own. He kissed each finger in turn, then lay with her hand on his chest. "Are you angry?" He asked finally.
"Why would I be angry?" Her blue eyes were honestly confused. "Your instincts are good with the compliments, and I do appreciate that you tell me that you like how I look. Please don't misunderstand me—"
"Don't trip over your words." He said. "My feelings aren't hurt. It's just that my mother shows love by correcting people every other minute. I prefer to show my love a different way." He tickled her cheek with a piece of her own hair, then released the game. "Are you angry because I told Buri about the first baby?" He hesitated and choked over the words.
Kalasin's body stiffened. "I'm not angry." She said, in a stilted voice. Her body language and tone suddenly put them miles apart, instead of curled together intimately.
Kaddar held on to her hand. "Because it's okay if you are angry."
She didn't answer him.
"Or if you're frightened or sad or if you feel betrayed. It's okay for you to feel all those things, and it's okay for you to tell me, or do something about it."
She tugged her hand out of his and turned her back to him.
He sighed. He was the Emperor of all the Southern Lands, but he had trouble talking to his wife. How ridiculous was this? "Please, Kalasin." He coaxed, with a sudden stab of fear. What if she withdrew again? After the miscarriage, Kalasin had stayed in bed for days that stretched to weeks. She had barely spoken, and had become indifferent to food, drink, company, and personal hygiene. He still didn't know what had snapped her out of it, but he couldn't risk her withdrawing into herself again. He grabbed her shoulder, and squeezed as the intensity of his emotions got the better of him. "Scream, yell, break things, hit me, cry, but do something. Don't freeze again. Kalasin, I don't think I would make it if you froze again." And then the pain and fear was thick in his voice.
She rolled her shoulder, and he released his grip. She rolled over, sat up and looked at him. "I'm not angry." She enunciated in a clear, clipped voice. He bit his lip, hurt. She reached over and pressed one hand to his heart, gently. "Really." She said, in a more genuine way. "I'm just surprised that you did it so quickly, and a little hurt that you told her without telling me what you were going to do." She paused. "I'm actually relieved too, in a way."
Kaddar let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Relieved?"
"Because you explained it, I didn't have to." She said. "I didn't have to look in her face and admit that my body failed me. I didn't have to deal with her feeling betrayed that I kept that secret, on top of my own betrayal and guilt and shame and sorrow. So, thank you, I guess."
Kaddar stared at her. "You think that your body betrayed you because it did something you didn't want it to do?" He asked.
Kalasin made a miniscule gesture of acquiescence.
"Kalasin, that's-," He checked his tongue from the words crazy and silly, "Not what happened at all." He sat up to better look at her. "A mage cast a spell that ripped the life out of your belly. You could not prevent it, or know that it was going to happen. And you cannot blame yourself for an action committed against you." She scowled, but he pressed on. "If you had been raped, it would not be you fault. It would be laid at the feet of the rapist, and no other. This is an occasion where your body was violated, but you cannot hold yourself accountable for it."
She turned her face away, cold as stone. "I should've known you wouldn't understand."
"What don't I understand?" He asked, frustrated. "Let me in, please. Don't you understand that I love you? I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. You try to lock everybody out and keep them at a distance with that cutting politeness. But guess what? You let me in anyway, so letting me know that I'm in won't hurt anymore."
She struggled to find words, and began haltingly. "I'm a woman. I am designed to make life grow. I've been preparing to be a mother since my first blood. So many girls see that first blood and swear they don't want children, but I knew I wanted babies and toddlers and little ones always underfoot." She bit her upper lip to stop its trembling. "I failed. It doesn't matter why, it matters that I lost that baby. She was counting on me; I was all she had." The emperor's wife choked on the lump in her throat and her own tears, and the Emperor finally gathered her up in his arms as she cried. "I understand logically that I didn't kill my baby, but in my heart, I feel that I'm to blame. I was her mother, I should have been able to keep her safe and I couldn't. I failed her."
"By that logic, we both failed her." He said. "I was her father; I was one half of her. I've lived here longer, and I know the ways of the vipers better than you did. I should've predicted that someone would do something like this for one reason or another. It was my failing, if it was anyone's." Kalasin uttered a wet protest. Kaddar did not hush her, but let her cry it out.
"I know you had one half in creating her, but she lived in me, and then she didn't and I can't explain to you or anyone else how that feels." She sniffled, choked, coughed. "And I know I'm not the only woman who ever lost a child. Look at your sister. Nadereh kept going after she lost Gazanoi. Can you imagine losing a living child and continuing? I can't. It's not the natural order for a parent to bury a child. It just isn't." She said fiercely. He agreed, as he eyed his handkerchief, all the way across the room. "I'm a healer. I know that the Black God claims souls whenever he pleases. I've seen babies die in the womb and out of it, and sicknesses pass through the Eastern and Southern Lands, and battles that end the lives of warriors and innocents alike, but this attack was so personal." She gasped for air against her husband's bare chest.
He wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet. "Why have you been carrying all of this around alone?" He asked. "I feel the pain and the loss too, and you're the only one I could talk to about it, but you never wanted to talk. Why?"
"Every time I talk about it, I open the grief. It's like this hole in my heart that swallows everything, and the more it swallows the more it grows, and the only way to keep it from swallowing me completely is to lock it away in this dark corner and not look at it or think about it until I have to. That's why I didn't want anybody to know. As soon as people know, they say "I'm so sorry," and it is so little, but it brings it all back anyways." She breathed through her tears. "But it was swallowing me anyway, even though I locked it away."
"I know." He kissed the crown of her head, and inhaled the scent of her sweet-smelling hair. "I didn't plan to tell her, but it just popped out. I don't regret it. I think talking about it and opening up the wound will allow it to heal."
"You're trying to say that it's time the emergency bandage came off and we dealt with it truly, hmm?" Kalasin wiped her eyes. "I seem to cry so much these days."
"Nadi and my mother and my other sisters always said tears have a certain power to heal broken hearts."
"Back to your mother, hmm?"
"Well, we dragged through everything else tonight." He said wryly. "I think we've done more honest communication tonight than in the last four years. So what's wrong with her?"
"Nothing." Kalasin said firmly. "Nothing at all. Fazia is a wonderful, strong woman." His eyes bored into hers, and she squirmed. "It's just that she still treats me as a northern barbarian, unfit to look in her son's face, let alone share his bed and table. At home, I was very close to my mother and my adopted aunts. When I came here, I thought, or I hoped, that your mother and sisters would love me and that we could be close in a similar way." Uncertain, Kalasin bit her lower lip. "I was so used to being loved completely for who I was that her critical reception was a little surprising."
"She does love you." Kaddar said. "To be honest, she treats you the same way she treats my sisters. Criticizing is in her nature. It's not that she doesn't love you, or Nadi, or the others. It's that she loves you so much she doesn't know quite how to say it, so she tells you how you could improve yourself. Just take everything she says with a grain of salt and the knowledge that under all the criticism, she really saying 'I love you, I think you are the best.'" He smiled wryly. "At least, that's what I choose to believe."
Kalasin kissed him, full on the lips. "I got so lucky with you." She told him, eyes shining with unshed tears and gratitude.
His own eyes ere unnaturally bright as he asked, "What do you mean?'
"Just look at us. At this."
He looked, but all he saw was the tiled and mosaiced marble guestroom of his mother's home. This room had not changed since his father died in Siraj. Almost nothing in their house had. Fazia had never liked changing the house while her husband was away, saying that he deserved to return to the place he remembered. Of course, as soon as Gazanoi returned she would greet him with fabrics and colors and plans for the house. When the prince of the far flung Chelogu province most wanted to recover from the wars in silence, his wife would lead her own style of army through the house to redecorate. Kaddar had hypothesized that it was her way of including her husband in family affairs. After his father died, Fazia approached redecorating less enthusiastically. This room had originally been done in the colors of Chelogu's flag, to welcome the prince's family. Thought the actual patterns and bed linens had changed, the colors had been the same for as long as Kaddar could remember.
Then he looked at the woman in front of him, and he understood. She was six years younger than he was. They had become engaged and married (at least on paper) without ever seeing one another. Yet here they were, curled together intimately, whispering together throughout a night, with a child on the way. They had built their own life, and made their own memories and mistakes. They had stayed together through a domestic tragedy, and the typical power struggles and daily turmoil of ruling a kingdom recovering from a bad king, a famine, a drought, a war, the wrath of the gods, total destruction of treasury, palace capital, and tax records. They had found a certain type of love, which would grow through their years and life together. Not all arranged marriages between people of disparate ages and backgrounds worked out so well. "We are lucky." He agreed wholeheartedly.
Kalasin smiled at him and ran her fingers through her tousled curls. Her eyes were reddened from her tears and her nose was pink, but he looked at her and saw the best thing that had ever happened to him. He reached out and took her face between his palms. "Thank you for coming to Carthak." He told her, then leaned forward and kissed each cheek. He drew back. "Thank you for agreeing to spend your life with me." He kissed her nose. "Thank you for being the woman you are." He kissed her lips. Her hands reached up, and one gripped each of his wrists. His palms still cupped her cheeks. They drew apart. She blinked, her eyes suddenly heavy. "I hope they let us sleep late. Emotional purges are so exhausting."
He laughed. "I'd say we should do this more often, but I think I'll settle for us being honest together all the time, instead of one night a year."
They lay down, spooned together like carefree kittens. Their legs tangled, and her back pressed to his belly. They fell asleep with her head on his right arm and with his left arm resting across her belly and side. Her right arm rested under her chin, but her left arm paralleled Kaddar's. Their hands were intertwined. Despite the heat, they slept the rest of the night tangled together like new lovers, content that the ice of polite reserve between them had thawed and broken quite a bit in just one night.
Author's Notes: The majority of names and meanings are taken from , though I also looked at Tara's Tamora Pierce site and the section on names. The link is [will not display]. (If someone could explain how to get links to work through , I would be very grateful) I looked mostly at African and Arabic names for Kalasin and Kaddar's baby, because Kaddar and Numair, two Carthaki names, are both taken from Arabic. I also looked for meanings and origins of K'miri names. I learned that Buriram and Kalasin are names of two cities in Northeastern Thailand, while Thayet is the name of many regions and villages in Burma. The story of Emry of Queenscove is my attempt to fill in some details. From PotS we know that two of Neal's older brothers were knights who died in the Immortals war. Since they are not named, I took the liberty.
I invented the taboo of naming a child for a living relative, since in some ancient cultures it was believed that if relatives had the same name, the gods would become confused and take the life of both those who shared the name. I expanded the trend of naming a child for a dead relative into a tradition. In many older cultures, the continuance of a name and fame and remembrance was thought to be the only ticket to immortality. In any case, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
rachel132 – Thanks for reading! I'm glad you're curious about what happens next. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint and that you'll continue to read.
Lady Silvamord – I'm glad you're still reading the story! I'm sorry you don't like Jonathan, but I'm glad you enjoyed his interaction with Thayet. I gave you a whole chapter of nothing but Kaddar and Kally. They're not quite playing pranks, but they are talking, which is a step in the right direction. As for Lianne/Alan/Nora/Thom, you'll just have to wait and see what happens when Squire Alan and Sir Raoul come to Carthak. If you look at Chapter 2, Lianne is a little hysterical over the possibilities of Nora and Thom, but I can tell you that she's really hysterical at the thought of her badly behaved sister having an opportunity to choose her own life while the obedient Lianne might not have her choice between the prince and the baron's son.
Ami Angel – Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that you thought George was funny. Thanks also for saying that Kalasin's insecurities were realistic. I hope you still think so after this chapter. I know that we all have a tendency to idealize fictional characters but I think that Kalasin and Kaddar would have problems like anyone else, from the mundane physical and common in-law issues to the less common shared burden of power. Thanks again for letting me know that you enjoyed the story!
Tailyn – Thank you very much for taking the time to visit the update! I'm flattered by your compliments. I'm glad that the characterizations work and that the emotions are reasonable (though I am concerned that "reasonable emotions" is a paradox.) Thank you for enjoying my take on Thayet. I think she's a character with a lot of substance who lives in constant danger of being written off as just a pretty face. I hope you enjoyed this installment. It was a lot of talking without much action, but Kalasin and Kaddar wound up having a lot to say to one another. Thanks again for reading and reviewing, I'm very glad you're enjoying the story.
Razzberrycat – Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story!
Wild Mage – Thanks for being so enthusiastic. This chapter didn't write itself as quickly as I hoped, but the delay wasn't quite so long as the wait for chapter 5. I had actually already picked the name Kirabo for the baby, but I like Kira for a nickname. At first, I wasn't sure I should pick another 'K' name, because it is a little cutesy, but then I found that name and it just fit. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Trickster666 – Thank you for reading and reviewing, and thank you for catching the Theyet and piece glitches in chapter 5. ::Blush:: I started rushing, but those two mixups have now been corrected. I'm really glad that you enjoyed the scene. I thought the dynamics of the three married men who do love Thayet and do have the best of intentions trying to offer comfort to a mother separated from her daughter worked, because even with the best intentions in the world they are a little clueless. Thanks for being so understanding about the job. It's been an eventful summer family wise as well, so I've been writing much less than my personal preference allows. But thank you so much for your glowing feedback. I really appreciate it.
KittyCate – Nice name, first of all! I'm glad you are reading the story and that you liked it enough to take the time to review. I'm sorry you hate waiting, but I hope that doesn't mean you won't read any more until I finish the story! I'm glad you like my version of how Kally adapted to Carthak and how she's changing it to find a place of her own there. Thanks again for reading!
Author: Kate,
Disclaimer: I do not own Kalasin, Lianne, Buri, Kaddar, Carthak, Tortall or any of the people/places named in this story. I am not making a profit and no infringement is intended.
Rating: PG
Ch 6
Kalasin lay on the bed, rigid and silent. She scarcely breathed, afraid that the movement of her chest would cause cloth on her body or the bed to rustle and wake her husband. It was late at night or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it. The Emperor and Empress were sleeping in a bed in the home of his mother, the Princess Fazia.
That night Fazia had sponsored her yearly party for the Imperial University mages and scholars. Kaddar, a scholar at heart, loved these evenings when he could chat with former teachers with relative freedom and debate the finer points of philosophy. Kalasin enjoyed the company as well, truth be told. She could converse intelligently about healing spells, some aspects of the Gift and magical theory. But when the conversations turned to obscure and arcane philosophers, historical figures and Carthaki geology, she always felt vaguely self-conscious and aware of her foreign born status.
Invitations were extended to Buri and Lianne, but the two women had politely declined, citing the fact that neither possessed the Gift, and that they spent quite enough time with mages in Tortall. Though they did not say it, they were both sick of parties. They'd been in Carthak for a solid month, but the time was a blur of finery and food and faces and titles.
Buri and Lianne had developed deeper and more profound respect for Kalasin's professional life. She had lived through four years of the constant parties and heat without collapsing. She had only wavered in performing the social side of her duties once, yet her reign had not been limited to pleasantries with nobles. She was reforming the practices of slavery, the conditions of prisoners, the widespread illiteracy and ignorance of the commoners in her realm.
After a week of it, Buri had decided that it was no wonder that Kalasin had suffered a collapse after her miscarriage. The pace of parties and decisions and unraveling what mattered and what didn't was inhuman and impossible to maintain. After a month, Buri and Lianne were grateful for a night off to sit in their suite and write letters home and compare observations of the glittering Southern Lands.
So Kalasin and Kaddar had attended his mother's party alone. Because they expected it to go late, they planned to sleep over at his mother's house. Kalasin always made an effort to be a good guest and enjoy the company, but at seven months pregnant it was getting harder and harder to enjoy any activity that required standing for long periods of time.
Then again, tonight she had caused a stir among ladies who noticed such things by wearing soft, flat-heeled cushioned slippers and a thin, cool embroidered silk gown and only two items of jewelry. A seemingly dainty magicked girdle/belt protected her from the sendings of lesser mages while the silver and sapphire brooch did double duty as a poison neutralizer and clasp for the front of her dress. Due to the pregnancy, her modest bosom had grown. She had always had an attractive figure, but her natural build was slender. She now possessed voluptuous curves and a rounded belly. Tonight, she had eschewed rings, necklaces, crowns, earrings, bracelets, anklets and bangles.
True, her buttons were black opal and served as reserves where she stored magical power, should an ambush occur, but the buttons were nearly weightless. She had worn her hair simply in an upsweep that exposed and emphasized her pale neck and cleavage. For a formal occasion, her dress was shockingly casual. It looked beautiful and there was no way to deny it, but for a party at her mother-in-law's such garb was unheard of.
The maid who helped Kalasin get dressed thought that the midnight blue gown was a shift, not the actual dress. She had become worried when Kalasin simply pinned up the long ebony tresses instead of using hot irons and papers to curl and dress the hair. By the time Kalasin was supposed to descend the stair and enter the party, the maid was hysterical. The Empress still hadn't sent for jewels or a brocaded dress. In her costume, there was no mark to distinguish her from any common merchant's woman! When the maid had finally found her tongue and reminded Kalasin that such things were not done in the Empire, she had almost lost it when the Empress leveled a cool stare at her. "What am I doing that is so shocking, Klyta?"
At any other time, the maid would have wondered how the Empress of Carthak knew the name of a simple lady's maid. But at that moment, Klyta simply said, "It's not decent for a nobility like yourself to dress like just anybody. I mistook your ball gown for a dressing gown, rich as the silk is. And even peasants wear rings and beads to show their status." The maid cringed, but since she had started, she may as well finish.
"Only slaves wear no jewelry, saving iron shackles. Women wear their husbands' wealth to show their good position. A husband who values his wife tells the world by rewarding her with gold and silver and gems. Only slaves or those who are too mean or cheap to care for their women properly let them run around without even a nose button. And the Empress of Carthak shouldn't run around like a slave, if my lady will pardon my saying it."
Kalasin had smiled at the girl. It took a great deal of courage for one of her class to stand up to one of Kalasin's status. Though the girl could just be mad or hysterical, maybe Kalasin's informality with her own servants was starting to rub off. "I wear my royalty and my husband's regard for all to see." Kalasin stood, and she did look rather regal in her midnight blue silk gown. "The buttons on this dress are black opal, and the brooch was a gift from my lord. The embroidery along the hem is our crest." She caressed her child through the gown. "And I need not mention the other way his regard is shown to the world." Kalasin smiled at the girl. "This child who sleeps in my skin is worth more than any jewel for showing how my husband loves me. Though I thank you for your explanation of the custom. Now, I must go to my lord." Kalasin pressed a coin into Klyta's palm in payment for her service. She left the maid shaking in wonder at her own boldness. No one would ever believe that the maid had spoken to her Empress as she would speak to one of her sisters-in-law and lived.
Though Kalasin had made a fine speech, the truth was that she was simply too hot and tired to bother with the elaborate rituals of preparation. The empress had decided that since Fazia was going to treat her daughter-in-law as a northern barbarian even when said daughter-in-law wore Carthaki clothes, Kalasin might as well be comfortable while she was subjected to such treatment. And she had been comfortable. She had enjoyed this party more than any other in recent memory. She drank only the sweet fruit juice that she knew she liked, since Varice was not there with some elaborate new concoction for the Empress to try. She nibbled lightly on the crackers and fruits scattered around. She sat when she was tired and because she was not the hostess she didn't keep a wary eye on how full drinks were or how often they were refilled. In short, she enjoyed the company and the physical comfort of shoes that didn't pinch.
In remembering her speech to the maid, Kalasin cringed. The story had been heard and repeated throughout the gathering, and though the context was lost in its first telling, Kalasin was quite sure that everyone in the palace had heard that the Empress valued her child and her husband's regard above gold and diamonds. (Though Kalasin had no way of knowing it, a version of the story would survive thousands of years and inspire painters and playwrights to show the beautiful lady of Carthak as a paragon of female virtue, who valued her children more than her jewels.)
But in the meanwhile, Kalasin lay in an unfamiliar bed, uncomfortably aware of the pressure her pregnancy put on her bladder. The night was steaming and she missed the artificial chill of her usual bedchamber. She needed to visit the privy, but she couldn't remember exactly where it was. And if she moved, then Kaddar would awake and there would be awkward moments as she tried to find a delicate way to explain that the Empress needed to relieve herself. He had already teased her for being crude enough to reference the act of creating a child as a sign of his regard. Though they had laughed over it together, Kalasin was still embarrassed to admit to her husband that pregnancy greatly increased her awareness of herself as a physical being. Though she was too well mannered to discuss bodily functions with her husband, good manners didn't not banish basic human needs.
The baby and extra matter on her front crushed her like a weight. Her lungs labored to breathe the cloying humid air. At last, she could no longer stand the discomfort. Moving smoothly and nearly silently, she slid out of the side of the bed and put her feet on the cool marble. She resolved to watch her step—in the heat, the marble was sweating minutely. Kalasin stripped off her sweat-soaked shift and pulled a clean one over her head. She grabbed a robe and ghosted through the halls till she found the privy.
Leaving the room, she instantly felt better. Kalasin located the kitchen, which was silent and haunted with the remains of the party. She poured a small glass of fruit juice and chased the taste of sleep from her mouth with the tart sweetness of the liquid. Kalasin left the drinking vessel with the other dirty dishes and trailed back to the privy once more. She drifted silently through the halls, hoping not to wake any of the servants or party guests. Given the number of empty wine skins in the kitchen, she doubted that the guests would be aware of much, but Buri had instilled caution in all the Conté children.
The door to the bedchamber she and Kaddar were sharing did not squeak as she eased it back on its hinges. She slid the robe off her shoulders and hung it on a peg, sighing in relief. Safe. She turned to the bed, and saw Kaddar sitting up, observing her by light called to his palm by his Gift. "Where were you?" His sleepy voice made the question a reproach rather than an accusation. "I woke and you were gone."
"I got some juice." She blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"I don't mind." He yawned. "Come back to bed. Do you need anything else?" He ruffled the sheet, as if he would get up.
"Nothing you could have done for me." She smiled a little. "It's sweet of you to worry so, but I promise that I'm fine." She crossed the room and sat on the mattress. She leaned her back against the headboard and drew her legs up to the bed. He extinguished the light in his palm. She breathed for a few moments to settle herself. "I can't sleep anyway. It's so hot and the baby's kicking like mad."
Kaddar rolled over to face her and propped himself up on his side. "Can I feel?"
She blushed again. He had never before asked to touch the baby, though she sometimes took his hand and let him feel the kicking. She nodded and guided his hand to the site of the activity. An expression of wonder crossed Kaddar's face. His wife smiled. "It was a nice party tonight, wasn't it?"
He agreed, now sitting to concentrate on the swells of movement under Kalasin's taut heated skin. She smiled as he moved his hand to her side and lowered his ear to her covered belly, as though he could hear the baby's heart. Kalasin's cradled his head between her palms in a rare caress. Kaddar turned his face and kissed the baby through her gown and skin. "Does it hurt?" He lifted his face to meet her eyes. The fears of fathers through the ages were on his face. The guilt and the curiosity mixed so that his face reflected a universal male attitude towards the miracle of life. He was reverent as his hands touched her body.
"Not the baby moving, usually." She answered. "That feels strange, but wonderful too. My favorite is when he runs his hand around the edges of his world. It's not hard enough to hurt me; it's just so strange and wonderful to feel a hand touching me from the inside. I could live without the swollen ankles and joints and the stretched skin and the exhaustion and overheating and cramping." She laughed a little, but he withdrew his hand. He lay down again, on his right side, facing her. She eased down and laid on her left side to look at him. "I've been told that eating oranges and drinking more milk will help with the cramps. It's all worth it though. So worth it whenever he kicks me or I imagine holding him." Kalasin smiled, and a contented expression crossed her face.
"You think we're having a boy?" Kaddar asked.
She nodded. "Just a feeling, but we should talk about names. There are only two months left, and I'm not going to call him "the baby" until his naming ceremony, no matter what tradition says."
Kaddar nodded eagerly. "Never too early to start."
"Especially since every citizen, slave, priest and free man in the Empire is going to hear the name and comment on it." She groaned. "If we pick a Tortallan name, then they'll accuse you of bowing to your foreign wife. If we choose a name from an old Thak word, then we favor scholars over nobles. A traditional Chelogu name and we value your father's home more than your mother's. No matter what name we give him, someone will find a reason to be offended by it."
Kaddar shushed her, almost amused to hear the cool, thoughtful Kalasin babble in frustration. "Stop. He is our son. We will choose a name with all due tact and reason, and the world can get over it. My money says it's a topic of discussion for ten minutes, less important than the latest hairstyle or who won the horse races at Festival."
Kalasin nodded a little. "What names do you like?" She asked.
"Are there any you like?" He fished.
In the dark she laughed. "Lianne was right, how silly we are. Married four years and we still haven't learned to talk directly to one another. The truth is, I got out of bed because I had to pee, and the truth is you have at least a few names in your mind, but we both dance around just saying what we mean."
Surprised by the accusation, he stilled for a second, until the humor of the situation caught up to him. "We are quite a pair. So polite to one another that we're afraid to talk. Why is that, do you suppose?" Kaddar asked.
Kalasin honestly thought about it, and slumped. "All my life, I feared Carthak. When I was eight, your uncle sent ships and men and Stormwings to pound Pirate's Swoop. Then, I had to learn how to live here. Refugees from Carthak filled me full of stories of atrocities—or sometimes, they would say "It's too horrible for words," and then my imagination had to fill in the blanks. My imagination is very vivid." She chewed her lip. "I learned and practiced proper forms of address for different ranks of people till my head hurt. I was taught that when in doubt, formality could save me. When I'm frightened or out of my element, I stiffen up and slip into that formality." She shrugged one shoulder. "I do like you. I hope you know that. It's just that sometimes I feel I don't know you very well. I hope you don't think I'm out of line." Kalasin was grateful for the dark, because it covered her blush. She couldn't have said any of these things in the light of day or even looking in his face. But whispering in the dark lent everything a surreal air that allowed her to speak freely.
"Not at all. Every word of it is true." Kaddar sighed. "I didn't make as much effort as I should've in the beginning. I was overwhelmed with the stress of ruling a country. You were seventeen, just a year older than I was when I became the Emperor, but I expected a little girl who would be no help, rather than the mature but naïve young woman you were. You just fit so well here. You did and do everything I asked or the realm needed and you do it so efficiently I came to take it for granted and now I forget you might feel homesick and lonely from time to time."
"Maybe when my confinement begins we can spend more time getting to know one another instead of just each others' politics." She said shyly. "Strange, isn't it? To talk about getting to know your husband."
"No stranger than getting to know your wife." Kaddar assured her. "You looked beautiful tonight."
She laughed throatily. "Daine and Varice warned me that you were charming. I didn't realize that they meant you were a liar. I look like the girl who swallowed the seed and birthed the moon." She referenced an ancient legend.
"My secret's been discovered at last. I wondered how long it would take you to realize that I'm a hopeless liar, always playing one off the other to keep my nobles in line." Kaddar toyed with a curl. "You are lovely though."
Kalasin made a face, as the moon passed through a rare cloud break to illuminate her face. Her husband was startled into laughter. "I think I should commission a Court painter to immortalize that expression."
Kalasin squeaked with outraged laughter. "Maybe we could hang it in the gallery." She rolled to lie on her back, because her side was sore. "Or we could use it to mint the new coins! Maybe the bards who have never seen me would stop writing ridiculous tropes about marble skin and sapphire eyes and night black hair."
Kaddar laughed. "I think you're stuck with a reputation as the world's most beautiful woman."
"At least in Carthak." Kalasin giggled. "But really, what names do you like?"
"You must have thought about this." He countered.
"I know more names I don't like than names I do." She confessed. "Ozorne is out, as is Roger." She turned on her side to look at him again. The moon had gone behind a cloud, so they were comfortably ensconced in darkness.
He chuckled at her small joke, but refused to let her off the hook. "There must be at least one name that you like."
She sobered, and quiet fell between them. Finally, she said, "Emry, maybe. Not for this child, because Emperor Emry sounds terrible. Plus, it's a Tortallan name, inappropriate for the heir to the Empire. But for our next son."
"Emry." Kaddar tested the name. "That's the name of a military strategist from Tortall, right? From the days of your great-grandfather."
"Yes, Emry of Haryse served Old King Jasson as a general. But I was thinking of his grandson, Sir Emry of Queenscove. He was the son of the finest healer in Tortall, Duke Baird. Emry died in the Immortals War. He saved my brother and me. I'll never forget it." She was troubled as she picked at the weave of the bedclothes. "He asked me for a favor the night before the battle that killed him. He asked me to name one of my sons for him. In Tortall, it's bad luck to name a baby for a living person, though it honors the dead. So in that way, he told me he probably wouldn't live out the night."
"You admired him." Kaddar observed, not entirely without envy.
"I did admire Emry." His wife murmured, without adding further explanations. Sir Emry had been a newly made knight, proud to fight for king and country beside his older brother and cousin and the King's Own in a battle to preserve the heir and the eldest princess. Though he insisted that his younger brother Neal, who labored at University was the romantic of the family, he too had been vulnerable to flights of fancy.
Kally had been eleven and she had adored the kind young man with green eyes and a healing touch who helped her calm the soldiers and victims as she tended them. She had cried when she could not heal him, but her husband didn't need to hear such talk.
Kaddar noticed her unwillingness to go further with this talk, and changed the subject. "But if it's bad luck, then why is Sir Gareth named for his father, Duke Gareth?"
"There are a couple of theories about why the Duchess named her son after her husband." Kalasin said. "One, Gary was born while Uncle was away in a battle, and the Duchess didn't think he was coming home. Two, the Duchess hoped to confuse the Black God by having two men with the same name, so he could not take either. It's generally bad luck to have the same name as a living person, though. That's why Lord Alan named his son Thom, and his daughter Alanna. He wanted to continue the name, but he didn't want to invite bad luck." She shrugged.
"So, you want a Carthaki name for this child?"
"Yes." Kalasin said immediately. "Yes, that's only fitting."
"We could name him Gazanoi, for my father."
"Isn't that the name your sister gave to her oldest, who died of fever last year?" Kalasin asked, forbearing an unkind word about naming a child for a grandparent.
Kaddar grimaced. "That's right. It might be in poor taste to give our little one the same name." He thought. "Let's avoid the problem altogether. Let's not saddle the child with a name that belonged to a relative or friend so we don't have to worry about who we're offending or excluding."
Kalasin agreed. "And we don't have to give him the burden of expecting him to live up to the name of a man who either lived or died in some grand fashion that'll turn into a legend he can't possibly live up to." She said, a trifle more bitterly than she intended. She and Roald had always felt a little strange about having the names of grandparents who had committed suicide. Thayet had told her mother's story with pride, till Kally knew the story of the Queen's dramatic song, the K'Miri plight and the heroic defense offered by the Tourakams as well as she knew her own name.
Roald's story had been harder to ferret out, but a vicious conservative who hated their mother had told them the story, rubbing their faces in Roald's "hunting accident" so soon after the death of his beloved. Roald and Kalasin had gone to Jonathan together, hoping for the truth. Roald had been almost tearful, begging to be told that his name did not belong to a coward. Their father had not lied to his son, but he had tried to tell the story from a different angle. Nevertheless, after that day, Roald was unable to act without imagining what was whispered behind his back and if he were being compared to his grandfather, who had taken the coward's path rather than having the courage to live in the face of terrible pain.
Every bard who came to the palace to see the great hall of Kings where the mighty battle had occurred sang Liam's stories. Kalasin's younger brother took up the knight's path, and it seemed to his older siblings that he did so without the same trepidation they lived with every day. He did not ask if he, a humble page, was he to be measured against the Shang Dragon. Roald envied the Liam, because the younger brother treated his name as though it had never belonged to anyone else.
Lianne lived her early years mistakenly believing that she was named after her older brother, Liam. She was vaguely aware that there used to be a Queen Lianne, but with childish innocence, she disregarded it. In any case, she was Lia to her family and friends, which helped her feel that her name belonged to her.
Jasson knew that there was an Old King Jasson who was connected to him in some shadowy way, but with the self-importance of a child, the prince assumed that the old King was named after him, instead of the other way around. One of the great disappointments of his young life was discovering that the contrary was true. Of the Conte children, only Nora had a name that didn't first belong to someone else. Her siblings had envied her, while she felt like a disconnected outsider among them.
"But if we rule out all of the family names, how do we pick one? Do we refuse to consider a name we like because we happen to know someone called by that word? Do we just look at a list and assign the first we don't recognize?" Hormones making her more easily frustrated, she rolled over to a more comfortable position and felt overwhelmed.
Kaddar raised himself on his elbow. "No, that's not what I'm suggesting. Let's go by meaning."
"Meaning?" Kalasin cocked her head.
"In the language of this country, every name has meaning. A lot of them correspond to virtues instead of just being a sound."
"What does Kaddar mean, then?"
"Powerful."
"Fitting." Kalasin smiled. "Some names are like that in Tortall also. Though they don't always fit, you understand."
"What do you mean?" He asked, studying the way her unbound hair spread on the pillow and the sheen of sweat on her face.
"Alanna means serene and peaceful." Kalasin sighed and rubbed at her side, as an elbow or a knee moved under the skin. "The Lioness is rather volatile, in case you didn't notice when you met her."
"I always knew that you had a gift for understatement." Of their own accord, his fingers began to massage a little circle on her body.
She smiled a little more and relaxed into his touch. "Myles means soldier, but Sir Myles of Olau is a desk knight and scholar to the heart. Gareth means gentle, but as much as I love the Duke and my Uncle Gary, neither of them are gentle. They're both sharp as a sword's point."
"So maybe naming him after a quality we hope he'll possess isn't the way to go." Kaddar murmured. "I've always liked the name Karimah, which means "generous one" but you could be right about a name being pressure."
Kalasin nodded up at him. "What about the name Kamil? It was your grandfather's second name, right? What does that mean?"
Her husband laughed, and the rich sound bubbled through their room. "It means 'perfect one.' Talk about pressure—we'd be breaking three of our own rules; 1) Family Names 2) Pressure and 3) Qualities we don't know he'll possess."
"I don't know. A name that means 'perfect' is more a description of how we feel about him and a vote of confidence than a burden."
"In our minds." Kaddar agreed. "But think about what that name would feel like to him."
Kalasin nodded. "You're right."
He lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling, which featured a mosaic of geometric patterns. "My mother had a few suggestions to make tonight."
"I'm sure she did." Kalasin groaned.
Kaddar took the opportunity to ask a question that had been niggling at him for a long time. "Is my mother 'the trial of your life'?" He quoted Buri.
"What?" She asked, startled into laughter.
"You heard me."
"No, she isn't that bad. I just wonder what I ever did to her sometimes, that's all."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing." She shied away. "We were having a lovely talk. Let's leave this topic for another night, hmm?" She didn't wait for him to acquiesce. "Now, what names does she like?"
"Kyan and Kimoni."
Kalasin repeated them. "What do they mean?"
"Kyan means 'little king.'" Kaddar smirked.
"Descriptive." Kalasin conceded. "What about Kimoni?"
"Great man." He said.
She groaned. "This poor child is going to be called 'the baby' until he's old enough to pick his own name." Kaddar laughed, but a thoughtful expression darted across Kalasin's face. "That's how we'll choose!" She exclaimed eagerly.
"Kalasin, I think we can make a choice before he's old enough to talk." Kaddar patronized.
"No, this is something I learned from a midwife and healer around Pirate's Swoop. When the mother and father can't choose a name, they pick many that they like, and then they whisper them to the baby, who will tell them if he hears his name."
Kaddar indulgently raised an eyebrow. "What does he do, cry when he hears his name? Or stop crying? How do you know it isn't just an accident, that he didn't just happen to stop crying at that moment?"
"Scoff if you must." Kalasin made a show of her dignity, before smiling. "I know it sounds strange, but I saw it once. A woman had just given a daughter to the world, so we washed the baby and cleaned her and wrapped her in a blanket and gave her to her mother, and the mother began whispering names to the baby while the baby ate, but when the baby heard her name, she stopped sucking and looked up into her mother's face. And the mother said the name again, and the baby blinked and yawned, and returned to her meal. So the mother knew that her daughter heard her own name."
Kaddar shrugged. If it meant that much to her, who was to say it was ridiculous? "Last resort?" He compromised.
"Last resort." Kalasin agreed. She yawned. "I'm pretty sure he's a boy, but we should think about girl names too, just in case."
"Isoke or Gzifa." Kaddar said immediately. "Gzifa is 'peaceful.'"
Kalasin thought for a moment. "So we could name her for Buri and Alanna without doing it obviously? Because their names both have to do with peace."
"And I like the name. It's a female form of Gazanoi, so it honors my father, without actually tying expectations into it."
Kalasin smiled. "What about 'Isoke'? What does that mean?"
"Gift from God." Kaddar said. "The boy name with the same meaning is Kirabo."
Kalasin sat up abruptly. "That's his name." She said.
"What?"
"The way he moved just now—Kirabo. That is his name. It's perfect. I like how it sounds. The meaning describes how we feel about him without putting pressure on him. Because after losing our first baby," She choked, and continued relentlessly. "He is a gift. And my father's name, Jonathan, means 'gift of god.' So it's a roundabout way of honoring the family without making it messy politically." She turned and smiled at him. "So, Gzifa for a girl, and Kirabo for a boy. Princess Gzifa, Prince Kirabo, Emperor Kirabo. It even has easy nicknames."
Kaddar grinned at her enthusiasm. "This is why we're politicians. We figured out how to honor our families without inciting riots in our country, plus we even found names we like."
"Thank the Goddess." Kalasin yawned again and settled into the bed. "If we're going to face the ghastliness that is the morning we should probably sleep. We can talk about second names some other time."
Kaddar sighed. "What's tomorrow?" He asked drowsily.
"The beginning of preparations for the arrival of Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, the Giantkiller and Squire Alan of Olau and Pirate's Swoop." His wife pulled the sheet over her head. "More parties, may the gods help us all. I don't think my feet will last."
Kaddar laughed. "You're sure that we have to host more parties?"
"They're sick of them and we're sick of them and I have a healer's orders to stay off my feet, so I could probably convince Varice that once a week is enough, but it might be a lot of work to drag Raoul and Buri out that often. They both hate social functions, though they have learned to tolerate them. But I'll have to make sure that no one brings Raoul alcohol, because he doesn't drink it, and Alan can't eat certain nuts and it's just going to be a delight to sort it all out." The sheet muffled her words. "And everyone's going to stare at me because I wore that dress and those shoes tonight."
Kaddar laughingly caressed her shoulder. "You had a good time at the party. If they stare, it's only because you were so beautiful last night."
Kalasin uncovered her head and sighed. "It's wonderful to be married to a liar, some days."
"You were beautiful, but it was a bit dangerous." He said.
"Dangerous? No, the belt I wore protected me from lesser mages. And the brooch would have disabled poisons. The buttons were black opal. I put them on every dress as a power reserve."
"I know that." He said. "I trust you to recognize and compensate for the dangers we live with in this Court. I meant that exposing a crowd to the full force of your beauty, without the distraction of jewels and ruffles might've blinded them."
She giggled. "You're terrible, flattering me and flirting with me when I feel like a whale."
He sighed. "Why don't you ever believe that I'm telling you the truth about your looks?"
"Because I'm not as beautiful as you keep raving, and because compliments are a weapon as deadly as a sword in the Lioness's hand, in the right mouth."
Kaddar gave her a confused glance.
Kalasin tried to explain. "Usually, a compliment flatters and makes the subject feel better. A skillful flatterer can make the recipient feel as though she needs his approval. After all, if he always thinks she's wonderful and says so in glowing terms, then if he isn't complimenting her, she must be doing something wrong. It gives him more power than a bow or sword, because then she wants to please him. And sometimes she starts to think that the only good things about her are the things he compliments. I've seen intelligent women paralyzed, unable to make a choice of any kind because they're obsessed over what a man thinks of their appearance."
"I'm not trying to manipulate you." He said. "I want you to know that I think well of you."
She tossed her hair. "I'm not responsible for my looks. I just got lucky because my parents are attractive people. I'd rather be honestly praised for the things I've worked to accomplish than extravagantly praised for an accident of birth."
"An accident of birth?" Kaddar arched an eyebrow. "Maybe, maybe not. It's true that you inherited your features from your family, but you do take care of yourself and your appearance. You're not vain and you don't obsess, but you don't run around in dirty rags that don't fit, either."
Kalasin could not respond to such obvious silliness, so she simply looked at him. He reached out and rested her hand on his chest, holding it with both of his own. He kissed each finger in turn, then lay with her hand on his chest. "Are you angry?" He asked finally.
"Why would I be angry?" Her blue eyes were honestly confused. "Your instincts are good with the compliments, and I do appreciate that you tell me that you like how I look. Please don't misunderstand me—"
"Don't trip over your words." He said. "My feelings aren't hurt. It's just that my mother shows love by correcting people every other minute. I prefer to show my love a different way." He tickled her cheek with a piece of her own hair, then released the game. "Are you angry because I told Buri about the first baby?" He hesitated and choked over the words.
Kalasin's body stiffened. "I'm not angry." She said, in a stilted voice. Her body language and tone suddenly put them miles apart, instead of curled together intimately.
Kaddar held on to her hand. "Because it's okay if you are angry."
She didn't answer him.
"Or if you're frightened or sad or if you feel betrayed. It's okay for you to feel all those things, and it's okay for you to tell me, or do something about it."
She tugged her hand out of his and turned her back to him.
He sighed. He was the Emperor of all the Southern Lands, but he had trouble talking to his wife. How ridiculous was this? "Please, Kalasin." He coaxed, with a sudden stab of fear. What if she withdrew again? After the miscarriage, Kalasin had stayed in bed for days that stretched to weeks. She had barely spoken, and had become indifferent to food, drink, company, and personal hygiene. He still didn't know what had snapped her out of it, but he couldn't risk her withdrawing into herself again. He grabbed her shoulder, and squeezed as the intensity of his emotions got the better of him. "Scream, yell, break things, hit me, cry, but do something. Don't freeze again. Kalasin, I don't think I would make it if you froze again." And then the pain and fear was thick in his voice.
She rolled her shoulder, and he released his grip. She rolled over, sat up and looked at him. "I'm not angry." She enunciated in a clear, clipped voice. He bit his lip, hurt. She reached over and pressed one hand to his heart, gently. "Really." She said, in a more genuine way. "I'm just surprised that you did it so quickly, and a little hurt that you told her without telling me what you were going to do." She paused. "I'm actually relieved too, in a way."
Kaddar let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Relieved?"
"Because you explained it, I didn't have to." She said. "I didn't have to look in her face and admit that my body failed me. I didn't have to deal with her feeling betrayed that I kept that secret, on top of my own betrayal and guilt and shame and sorrow. So, thank you, I guess."
Kaddar stared at her. "You think that your body betrayed you because it did something you didn't want it to do?" He asked.
Kalasin made a miniscule gesture of acquiescence.
"Kalasin, that's-," He checked his tongue from the words crazy and silly, "Not what happened at all." He sat up to better look at her. "A mage cast a spell that ripped the life out of your belly. You could not prevent it, or know that it was going to happen. And you cannot blame yourself for an action committed against you." She scowled, but he pressed on. "If you had been raped, it would not be you fault. It would be laid at the feet of the rapist, and no other. This is an occasion where your body was violated, but you cannot hold yourself accountable for it."
She turned her face away, cold as stone. "I should've known you wouldn't understand."
"What don't I understand?" He asked, frustrated. "Let me in, please. Don't you understand that I love you? I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. You try to lock everybody out and keep them at a distance with that cutting politeness. But guess what? You let me in anyway, so letting me know that I'm in won't hurt anymore."
She struggled to find words, and began haltingly. "I'm a woman. I am designed to make life grow. I've been preparing to be a mother since my first blood. So many girls see that first blood and swear they don't want children, but I knew I wanted babies and toddlers and little ones always underfoot." She bit her upper lip to stop its trembling. "I failed. It doesn't matter why, it matters that I lost that baby. She was counting on me; I was all she had." The emperor's wife choked on the lump in her throat and her own tears, and the Emperor finally gathered her up in his arms as she cried. "I understand logically that I didn't kill my baby, but in my heart, I feel that I'm to blame. I was her mother, I should have been able to keep her safe and I couldn't. I failed her."
"By that logic, we both failed her." He said. "I was her father; I was one half of her. I've lived here longer, and I know the ways of the vipers better than you did. I should've predicted that someone would do something like this for one reason or another. It was my failing, if it was anyone's." Kalasin uttered a wet protest. Kaddar did not hush her, but let her cry it out.
"I know you had one half in creating her, but she lived in me, and then she didn't and I can't explain to you or anyone else how that feels." She sniffled, choked, coughed. "And I know I'm not the only woman who ever lost a child. Look at your sister. Nadereh kept going after she lost Gazanoi. Can you imagine losing a living child and continuing? I can't. It's not the natural order for a parent to bury a child. It just isn't." She said fiercely. He agreed, as he eyed his handkerchief, all the way across the room. "I'm a healer. I know that the Black God claims souls whenever he pleases. I've seen babies die in the womb and out of it, and sicknesses pass through the Eastern and Southern Lands, and battles that end the lives of warriors and innocents alike, but this attack was so personal." She gasped for air against her husband's bare chest.
He wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet. "Why have you been carrying all of this around alone?" He asked. "I feel the pain and the loss too, and you're the only one I could talk to about it, but you never wanted to talk. Why?"
"Every time I talk about it, I open the grief. It's like this hole in my heart that swallows everything, and the more it swallows the more it grows, and the only way to keep it from swallowing me completely is to lock it away in this dark corner and not look at it or think about it until I have to. That's why I didn't want anybody to know. As soon as people know, they say "I'm so sorry," and it is so little, but it brings it all back anyways." She breathed through her tears. "But it was swallowing me anyway, even though I locked it away."
"I know." He kissed the crown of her head, and inhaled the scent of her sweet-smelling hair. "I didn't plan to tell her, but it just popped out. I don't regret it. I think talking about it and opening up the wound will allow it to heal."
"You're trying to say that it's time the emergency bandage came off and we dealt with it truly, hmm?" Kalasin wiped her eyes. "I seem to cry so much these days."
"Nadi and my mother and my other sisters always said tears have a certain power to heal broken hearts."
"Back to your mother, hmm?"
"Well, we dragged through everything else tonight." He said wryly. "I think we've done more honest communication tonight than in the last four years. So what's wrong with her?"
"Nothing." Kalasin said firmly. "Nothing at all. Fazia is a wonderful, strong woman." His eyes bored into hers, and she squirmed. "It's just that she still treats me as a northern barbarian, unfit to look in her son's face, let alone share his bed and table. At home, I was very close to my mother and my adopted aunts. When I came here, I thought, or I hoped, that your mother and sisters would love me and that we could be close in a similar way." Uncertain, Kalasin bit her lower lip. "I was so used to being loved completely for who I was that her critical reception was a little surprising."
"She does love you." Kaddar said. "To be honest, she treats you the same way she treats my sisters. Criticizing is in her nature. It's not that she doesn't love you, or Nadi, or the others. It's that she loves you so much she doesn't know quite how to say it, so she tells you how you could improve yourself. Just take everything she says with a grain of salt and the knowledge that under all the criticism, she really saying 'I love you, I think you are the best.'" He smiled wryly. "At least, that's what I choose to believe."
Kalasin kissed him, full on the lips. "I got so lucky with you." She told him, eyes shining with unshed tears and gratitude.
His own eyes ere unnaturally bright as he asked, "What do you mean?'
"Just look at us. At this."
He looked, but all he saw was the tiled and mosaiced marble guestroom of his mother's home. This room had not changed since his father died in Siraj. Almost nothing in their house had. Fazia had never liked changing the house while her husband was away, saying that he deserved to return to the place he remembered. Of course, as soon as Gazanoi returned she would greet him with fabrics and colors and plans for the house. When the prince of the far flung Chelogu province most wanted to recover from the wars in silence, his wife would lead her own style of army through the house to redecorate. Kaddar had hypothesized that it was her way of including her husband in family affairs. After his father died, Fazia approached redecorating less enthusiastically. This room had originally been done in the colors of Chelogu's flag, to welcome the prince's family. Thought the actual patterns and bed linens had changed, the colors had been the same for as long as Kaddar could remember.
Then he looked at the woman in front of him, and he understood. She was six years younger than he was. They had become engaged and married (at least on paper) without ever seeing one another. Yet here they were, curled together intimately, whispering together throughout a night, with a child on the way. They had built their own life, and made their own memories and mistakes. They had stayed together through a domestic tragedy, and the typical power struggles and daily turmoil of ruling a kingdom recovering from a bad king, a famine, a drought, a war, the wrath of the gods, total destruction of treasury, palace capital, and tax records. They had found a certain type of love, which would grow through their years and life together. Not all arranged marriages between people of disparate ages and backgrounds worked out so well. "We are lucky." He agreed wholeheartedly.
Kalasin smiled at him and ran her fingers through her tousled curls. Her eyes were reddened from her tears and her nose was pink, but he looked at her and saw the best thing that had ever happened to him. He reached out and took her face between his palms. "Thank you for coming to Carthak." He told her, then leaned forward and kissed each cheek. He drew back. "Thank you for agreeing to spend your life with me." He kissed her nose. "Thank you for being the woman you are." He kissed her lips. Her hands reached up, and one gripped each of his wrists. His palms still cupped her cheeks. They drew apart. She blinked, her eyes suddenly heavy. "I hope they let us sleep late. Emotional purges are so exhausting."
He laughed. "I'd say we should do this more often, but I think I'll settle for us being honest together all the time, instead of one night a year."
They lay down, spooned together like carefree kittens. Their legs tangled, and her back pressed to his belly. They fell asleep with her head on his right arm and with his left arm resting across her belly and side. Her right arm rested under her chin, but her left arm paralleled Kaddar's. Their hands were intertwined. Despite the heat, they slept the rest of the night tangled together like new lovers, content that the ice of polite reserve between them had thawed and broken quite a bit in just one night.
Author's Notes: The majority of names and meanings are taken from , though I also looked at Tara's Tamora Pierce site and the section on names. The link is [will not display]. (If someone could explain how to get links to work through , I would be very grateful) I looked mostly at African and Arabic names for Kalasin and Kaddar's baby, because Kaddar and Numair, two Carthaki names, are both taken from Arabic. I also looked for meanings and origins of K'miri names. I learned that Buriram and Kalasin are names of two cities in Northeastern Thailand, while Thayet is the name of many regions and villages in Burma. The story of Emry of Queenscove is my attempt to fill in some details. From PotS we know that two of Neal's older brothers were knights who died in the Immortals war. Since they are not named, I took the liberty.
I invented the taboo of naming a child for a living relative, since in some ancient cultures it was believed that if relatives had the same name, the gods would become confused and take the life of both those who shared the name. I expanded the trend of naming a child for a dead relative into a tradition. In many older cultures, the continuance of a name and fame and remembrance was thought to be the only ticket to immortality. In any case, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
rachel132 – Thanks for reading! I'm glad you're curious about what happens next. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint and that you'll continue to read.
Lady Silvamord – I'm glad you're still reading the story! I'm sorry you don't like Jonathan, but I'm glad you enjoyed his interaction with Thayet. I gave you a whole chapter of nothing but Kaddar and Kally. They're not quite playing pranks, but they are talking, which is a step in the right direction. As for Lianne/Alan/Nora/Thom, you'll just have to wait and see what happens when Squire Alan and Sir Raoul come to Carthak. If you look at Chapter 2, Lianne is a little hysterical over the possibilities of Nora and Thom, but I can tell you that she's really hysterical at the thought of her badly behaved sister having an opportunity to choose her own life while the obedient Lianne might not have her choice between the prince and the baron's son.
Ami Angel – Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that you thought George was funny. Thanks also for saying that Kalasin's insecurities were realistic. I hope you still think so after this chapter. I know that we all have a tendency to idealize fictional characters but I think that Kalasin and Kaddar would have problems like anyone else, from the mundane physical and common in-law issues to the less common shared burden of power. Thanks again for letting me know that you enjoyed the story!
Tailyn – Thank you very much for taking the time to visit the update! I'm flattered by your compliments. I'm glad that the characterizations work and that the emotions are reasonable (though I am concerned that "reasonable emotions" is a paradox.) Thank you for enjoying my take on Thayet. I think she's a character with a lot of substance who lives in constant danger of being written off as just a pretty face. I hope you enjoyed this installment. It was a lot of talking without much action, but Kalasin and Kaddar wound up having a lot to say to one another. Thanks again for reading and reviewing, I'm very glad you're enjoying the story.
Razzberrycat – Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story!
Wild Mage – Thanks for being so enthusiastic. This chapter didn't write itself as quickly as I hoped, but the delay wasn't quite so long as the wait for chapter 5. I had actually already picked the name Kirabo for the baby, but I like Kira for a nickname. At first, I wasn't sure I should pick another 'K' name, because it is a little cutesy, but then I found that name and it just fit. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Trickster666 – Thank you for reading and reviewing, and thank you for catching the Theyet and piece glitches in chapter 5. ::Blush:: I started rushing, but those two mixups have now been corrected. I'm really glad that you enjoyed the scene. I thought the dynamics of the three married men who do love Thayet and do have the best of intentions trying to offer comfort to a mother separated from her daughter worked, because even with the best intentions in the world they are a little clueless. Thanks for being so understanding about the job. It's been an eventful summer family wise as well, so I've been writing much less than my personal preference allows. But thank you so much for your glowing feedback. I really appreciate it.
KittyCate – Nice name, first of all! I'm glad you are reading the story and that you liked it enough to take the time to review. I'm sorry you hate waiting, but I hope that doesn't mean you won't read any more until I finish the story! I'm glad you like my version of how Kally adapted to Carthak and how she's changing it to find a place of her own there. Thanks again for reading!