“But you gentlemen are distracting me!” Faris said. “Don’t you want my news?”
“I do,” said Kestrel, passing the baby another flower.
“As you should. Your father won’t be pleased.”
Kestrel glanced up from the child, and when she did, she saw Arin within earshot, his expression keen.
“What has my father to do with it?” She found it impossible to believe that he had romantically entangled himself. “He’s not even in the city. He’s leading a training session a day’s ride from here.”
“That may be. But when General Trajan returns, Senator Andrax will pay an even greater price.”
“For what?”
“Why, for selling kegs of black powder to the eastern savages.”
There was a stunned silence.
“Andrax has sold weapons to the empire’s enemies?” Benix said.
“He claims the kegs were stolen. But I ask you, how could they be? They were under his guard. Now they’re missing. Everyone knows Andrax likes to line his pockets with bribes. What’s to stop him from trading illegally with the barbarians?”
“You’re right,” Kestrel said, “my father will be furious.”
Lady Faris began listing in thrilled tones the possible punishments for the senator, who had been imprisoned until the capital could be reached for instructions. “My husband himself has gone to discuss the matter with the emperor. Oh, what shall happen to Andrax? An execution, do you think? Banishment to the northern tundra at the very least!” Faris’s circle of admirers joined in, concocting punishments so wildly cruel they became morbid jokes. Only Ronan was silent, watching Faris’s baby clamber onto Kestrel’s lap and drool on her sleeve.
Kestrel held the child, her eyes trained on but not really seeing his fine white hair, stirring in the faint wind like dandelion fluff. She dreaded her father’s return. She knew what this news would bring. He would be appalled at the senator’s betrayal and would use the news to urge Kestrel to see the necessity of adding loyal soldiers to the empire’s ranks. His pressure on her would increase. She could not breathe.
“You’re good at this,” said Ronan.
“What?”
He leaned to touch the baby’s head. “Being a mother.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Ronan looked awkward. Then he said glibly, “Nothing, if you don’t like it.” He glanced at Benix, Faris, and the others, but they were discussing thumbscrews and nooses. “It didn’t mean anything. I take it back.”
Kestrel set the baby on the grass next to Faris. “You cannot take it back.”
“Just this once,” he said, echoing her earlier words during the game.
She stood and walked away.
He followed. “Come, Kestrel. I spoke only the truth.”
They had entered the shade of thickly grown laran trees, whose leaves were a bloody color. They would soon fall.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to have a child someday,” Kestrel told Ronan.
Visibly relieved, he said, “Good. The empire needs new life.”
It did. She knew this. As the Valorian empire stretched across the continent, it faced the problem of keeping what it had won. The solutions were military prowess and boosting the Valorian population, so the emperor prohibited any activities that unnecessarily endangered Valorian lives—like dueling and the bull-jumping games that used to mark coming-of-age ceremonies. Marriage became mandatory by the age of twenty for anyone who was not a soldier.
“It’s just—” Kestrel tried again: “Ronan, I feel trapped. Between what my father wants and—”
He held up his hands in flat-palmed defense. “I am not trying to trap you. I am your friend.”
“I know. But when you are faced with only two choices—the military or marriage—don’t you wonder if there is a third, or a fourth, or more, even, than that?”
“You have many choices. The law says that in three years you must marry, but not whom. Anyway, there is time.” His shoulder grazed hers in the teasing push of children starting a mock fight. “Time enough for me to convince you of the right choice.”
“Benix, of course.” She laughed.
“Benix.” Ronan made a fist and shook it at the sky. “Benix!” he shouted. “I challenge you to a duel! Where are you, you great oaf?” Ronan stormed from the laran trees with all the flair of a comic actor.
Kestrel smiled, watching him go. Maybe his silly flirtations disguised something real. People’s feelings were hard to know for certain. A conversation with Ronan resembled a Bite and Sting game where Kestrel couldn’t tell if the truth looked like a lie, or a lie like the truth.