and if it was a bit lopsided, that smile, it was also warm and loving. “I don’t need Doram to convince anyone else I did the right thing as long as I know I did and as long as I know you believe I did. We despicable war maids are used to standing up for ourselves, you know.”
“So I’ve heard,” Hanatha said with a smile of her own. “But even the hardiest of warriors can occasionally use an ally, and Doram could be a very useful one. No one’s ever dared to denigrate you openly in front of your father or me, but I’m pretty sure quite a few people who might have done just that-your Aunt Gayarla comes to mind-have refrained only because they felt we would have defended you out of mushy-minded love, no matter what you’d done. Oh, admittedly becoming a war maid wasn’t a minor social faux pas like, say, murder,” her smile flashed suddenly into a grin, “but it was undoubtedly the same thing. Just a pair of parents unable to accept what a totally self-centered, spoiled ingrate of a child they’d raised. But Doram has a rather different perspective on you and the family, and anyone who knows him knows he’s about as stubborn and independent minded as they come. He could go a long way toward defanging some of the resentment and anger I know a great many in Balthar feel where you’re concerned. Of course, quite a few of those people are going to be extremely reluctant to admit they’ve been wrong for the last half dozen years or so, so they probably won’t. It’s much more comfortable to cling to your bigotry than it is to admit you’ve been wrong to feel it in the first place, you know.”
“I do know. You only have to look at how some of them still feel about hradani,” Leeana agreed and snorted just a bit more harshly than she’d intended to.
“True.”
Hanatha sat back in her chair, regarding her daughter thoughtfully, then cocked her head.
“Odd you should mention hradani, love,” she said.
“Odd?” Leeana’s tone sounded a bit forced to her own ear. “Odd how, Mother?”
“Well, it’s just that the only other person no one ever dared to denigrate you in front of-I mean, aside from your father and I, who love you, of course-was Prince Bahzell.”
“Oh?” Leeana swore with silent, vicious venom as her voice cracked on the single syllable, and her mother smiled again, with an odd gentleness this time.
“Yes. Well, I imagine that would only be to be expected, now that I think about it. He is a champion of Tomanak, after all. He recognizes justice-and injustice-when he sees it, and he did know the true reason you’d run away. And on top of all that, there are those scandalous liberties the hradani allow their own womenfolk, so naturally he’d be more blind than a proper Sothoii to how the war maids violate every conceivable canon of respectable female behavior. No doubt that’s why he was always so quick to defend you.”
“He was?” The question was forced out of Leeana against her will, and her mother’s smile grew broader.
“Actually, now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the way in which he sprang to your defense as the way he simply looked at whoever might have made the unfortunate comment. It’s most entertaining to see a strong man’s knees quiver under a mere glance, you know. No,” her tone turned thoughtful, “I don’t believe he ever actually had to say a single word.”
“He…always seemed to understand,” Leeana said slowly. “Before I ran away, I mean. He…gave me some very good advice.” She smiled at her mother a bit mistily. “If I’d listened to him, I never would’ve run.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Hanatha agreed. “And that would have been a very wonderful thing…from my perspective. But from yours?” She shook her head. “Your father is one Sothoii noble in a thousand, Leeana. You would have grown up freer, less confined, than any other young woman of your station in the Kingdom. And you would never have become all you can be, because there still would have been limits, barriers, not even he could have removed for you. And”-Hanatha Bowmaster’s eyes stabbed suddenly into her daughter’s-“you would never truly have been free to follow your heart wherever it leads you.”
Silence hovered, so still the buzzing of a bee in the flowers of the open window’s planter box could be clearly heard. Then Leeana very carefully and precisely set down her glass and looked at her mother.
“You’ve guessed?” Her tone made the question a statement, and Hanatha nodded gently.
“I told you, you’ve never really been able to hide your feelings from me, sweetheart. I guessed long ago, before you ever fled to Kalatha, in fact. For that matter, I’ve always suspected it might have been one of the reasons you ran.”
“I…” Leeana inhaled deeply. “I think, perhaps, it was. At least a little,” she admitted.
“That made me very angry with him, for a while,” Hanatha said in the tone of someone making an admission in return. “I thought how silly it was-how stupid — for me to have lost my only daughter over a schoolroom miss’s infatuation. How ridiculous it was for you to have ruined your life at fourteen for something that could never happen. But I don’t know if he ever realized it at all.” She paused, frowning, then shook her head. “No, that’s not really quite right. I don’t know if he ever allowed himself to realize it at all. You’re very young, you know,” she smiled faintly, “and you were considerably younger then.”
“Maybe I’m not as much of a war maid as I thought I was.” Leeana’s voice was a mixture of wry admission, frustration, and anxiety. “Somehow I never really envisioned us having this particular conversation, Mother. And… and I’m afraid.”
“Afraid?” Hanatha asked gently. “ My daughter, afraid? Ridiculous. A slight case of nerves I’ll allow, but not fear. Not in someone who will always be a daughter of the House of Bowmaster, whatever that silly war maid charter may say!”
Leeana surprised herself with a gurgle of laughter, and her mother leaned forward, reaching across the table to stretch out an index finger and wipe away the single tear Leeana hadn’t realized had trickled down her cheek.
“Better!” Hanatha said.
“Maybe so, Mother, but it doesn’t get me any closer to a solution to my problem, now does it?”
“Leeana Hanathafressa, are you going to sit there and tell me-as your father’s daughter, as well as mine-that you came all the way home to Hill Guard for your twenty-first birthday, without a plan of campaign? Please! I know you far better than that.”
“But, you really wouldn’t…I mean, you and Father won’t…?”
“Six and a half years ago, possibly I would have,” Hanatha admitted. “For that matter, four years ago I might have. But now? Today? Today you’ve earned the right in my heart, as well as under the law, to make this decision without deferring to anyone except your own heart. I’d love you and accept and respect any decision you might make, even if I felt it was a mistake which would bring you more heartache than you could possibly imagine. Fortunately, I don’t think you are making a mistake, and I’ve had every one of those years you were away to watch him any time your name was mentioned.”
“Then you truly won’t be distressed?”
“Have you become hard of hearing as a war maid, dear?”
“No! No, I haven’t,” Leeana assured her with another, freer laugh.
“Good, because I was beginning to think you must have!”
The two of them sat in silence for the better part of two minutes, then Hanatha picked up her own glass of lemonade, sipped, and set it back down once more.
“I trust you do have a plan of campaign,” she told her daughter with a composed expression, “because I’m quite sure he’s spent the last seven years going over every reason it would be totally unsuitable, unacceptable, wrong, and diplomatically disastrous. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised by now if he’s managed, with that excess of nobility I’ve noticed he tries very hard to hide, to decide he never actually felt any of those things in the first place. In fact, he’s probably done almost as good a job of it-no, maybe even a better job of it-than Trianal’s done where Sharlassa is concerned.”
“Trianal and Sharlassa? ” Leeana’s eyes widened.
“Of course, Leeana!” Hanatha shook her head. “She’s a dear, sweet child, but that isn’t the only reason I’ve been so happy to have her staying here at Hill Guard while we polish her education in all those things you managed to run away from. And she, of course, thinks she’s far too poorly born to be a suitable match for Trianal, while he thinks she’s too young-Lillinara, all of seven years younger than him! — for him to be thinking about ‘robbing the cradle’ or using his position as your father’s heir to ‘pressure’ her into accepting his advances.” The baroness rolled her eyes. “There are times I feel surrounded by nothing but noble, selfless, utterly frustrating blockheads.”
“Oh, my!” Leeana laughed, leaning back in her own chair. “It really would be a perfect match, wouldn’t it? And it would take all of the traditional political alliance-building out of the equation when it comes time to find
