she should get her implant removed and take Progestene or something to induce ovulation. And when an annoyed Martinez had asked him why in hell he should do that, Roland had patiently explained.When the Chen family’s back on its feet after the war, Daddy Chen may try to make his daughter divorce you. I want you to have fathered a couple of bouncing baby heirs by that point—and if Chen tries to disinherit them in favor of children by some other parent, Clan Martinez will serve him with a lawsuit that will nail his ears to the wall.
It had not cheered Martinez to discover that Roland was already thinking ahead to his divorce.
“Shall we walk in the garden?” Martinez suggested.
“Certainly.”
The garden in the Shelley Palace courtyard was old and overgrown, shadowed by the rambling structure of the palace, which had been built over many centuries and in different styles. The two stood for a moment before an allegory of The Triumph of Virtue over Vice, the two central figures so old and weathered that their faces had become nearly identical abstractions, corroded blind eyes over hollow, mournful mouths.
“Who is that person?” Terza asked, indicating an elderly Terran woman in a light summer frock who walked amid straggling forsythia. “She’s not dressed for a wedding.”
“I’m not certain who she is,” Martinez said. “But we have only the front part of the palace, you know. Shelley relatives and clients and pensioned servants live in the back—there’s a regular crowd of them, and I haven’t been here long enough to know them.”
“Sometimes I have the same problem at our properties,” Terza said, “though of course I’m supposed to know them, they all work for us.”
Martinez took Terza’s arm and drew her away from the corroded statues and along an old, uneven brick walk, where the sound of their heels was muffled by moss. “I imagine it’s hard work being the Chen heir,” he said.
“Not yet,” Terza said. She glanced at him. “My father’s given me some of his clients to look after, and some properties. But it’s nothing like real work—I have plenty of time for my music and for a full social schedule.”
“Perhaps he wants you to enjoy your freedom while you’re young.”
Terza looked thoughtful. “That might be part of it. But I think he wanted to know who my husband would be before he charted my course, so that he and I could compliment each other in the way of our goals.”
Martinez looked at her. “That’s odd.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’ll be Lady Chen one day. Your husband will be Lord Chen only because of you. He should fit himself to your ambitions, not the other way around.”
Her heavy silks rustled. Terza gave a close-lipped smile and looked down at the moss-covered walk. “That’s a generous thought. So if I elected to pursue a career in the Ministry of Works, you’d resign your commission to join me in my postings?”
Martinez felt his heart shift into a faster, far more uneasy tempo. “Let’s hope neither of us ever has to make such a decision,” he said.
Her downcast smile widened. “Let’s hope not.” She turned her cool brown eyes to his. “But in all seriousness, you wouldn’t object to my having a career?”
“No, not at all. But isn’t being Lady Chen a career in itself?” His own father had never worked at anything other than being Lord Martinez of Laredo, and it had seemed very much a full-time job.
“I suppose,” Terza said. “But some administrative experience would come in handy, for dealing with family enterprises and clients, and later for the Convocation.”
She wouldn’t have any anxiety on that last score, he knew. The head of Clan Chen was always coopted into the Convocation, along with the heads of around four hundred other families, a fact of history that less privileged Peers like Lord Martinez had always resented.
“And of course we’re at war,” Terza added. “I want to do what I can to—oh.”
“Hold still.” Martinez went down on one knee and disentangled her trailing gown from an intrusive hydrangea. He looked up at her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
There was a moment’s silence as Martinez knelt at her feet, and then Terza gave him her hand and helped him rise. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the soft, paper-thin leather of her glove as they continued along the garden path.
“Perhaps I’ll try for a post in the Ministry of Right and Dominion,” Terza said, naming the civilian ministry that, under the Fleet Control Board, governed and supported the Fleet and smaller, related services. “That way I could aid both my father and my husband.”
“That’s a…worthy idea,” Martinez said. She heard the hesitation in his tone and raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t quite approve?”
“No, not that.” Martinez searched his mind for the best way to phrase the thought that had flown on chill wings into his mind. “Perhaps you should choose another ministry, that’s all,” he said. “If the Naxids win, they might be more likely to…leave you alone.”
Sadness touched Terza’s lips. “I’ve decided it’s useless to guess what the Naxids might do,” she said.
A chord sounded plangent along his nerves. Ah, Roland, Martinez thought, have you considered we might be getting this girl killed?
They came to another statue grouping, representing an allegory harder to read than the first. A woman poured water from a jug into a pool, and a man with a mustache and tall peaked hat watched while strumming a bulbous stringed instrument. The figure of a large, self-satisfied bird perched on the woman’s left shoulder. In the air floated the freshness of water and the moist scent of mosses and lilies.
Before the statuary Martinez took both Terza’s hands. He could see the pulse beat in her throat. She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes inquiring, and then she tilted her face toward him to be kissed. Her lips were warm and pliant.
He hadn’t kissed her before, not really. There had been formal kisses when the engagement was announced, but that had been for the benefit of an audience. This was for the two of them alone.
Martinez couldn’t help but think of the excitement he’d tasted on Sula’s lips, the way her kiss had always seemed to promise fire and passion…That fervor was absent here—instead there was a gracious acquiescence mixed with a kind of hopeful curiosity.
He decided that this was not a bad place to start. He put his arms around her. He breathed the warm scent of her hair. Water splashed and chuckled from the stone woman’s jug.
His sleeve comm chimed. He gave an apologetic laugh, disentangled himself, and answered. He looked at the display to see the face of Vonderheydte,Corona ‘s former junior lieutenant.
“My lord,” Vonderheydte said.
“Lieutenant,” Martinez said in surprise. “How are you doing?”
“Very well, my lord, thank you.” Vonderheydte paused, licked his lips, and then broke into a bright grin. “In fact, my lord, I’m getting married tomorrow. I thought I’d extend you an invitation.”
Laughter burst from Martinez. The marriage motif was being repeated a few too many times. Solemnity, then farce, followed now by parody. At this rate his own nuptials would barely rate a footnote.
A sobering thought struck Martinez. “Just a moment,” he said. “Haven’t you been married twice before?”
“Yes,” Vonderheydte admitted, “but Daphne is different. This time I’ve found the right woman.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Martinez said. “I would be honored to attend, if I can.”
“Empire Hotel, lord captain,” Vonderheydte said, “Empyrean Ballroom, 16:01 hours.”
“Very good,” Martinez said. “I’ll be there unless something urgent calls me away.”
Martinez blanked the screen and looked at Terza. “One of my officers,” he said, then corrected, “my former officers.”
“So I understood,” Terza said.
“Would you like to join me at the wedding? Perhaps we’ll pick up some useful ideas.”
Terza smiled. “I have to organize our own wedding for the following day, remember. I don’t think I’m going to have the leisure to attend anything between now and then.”
“Ah.” He looked at her. “Would you like me to assist? I’m rather good at organizing things.”
“Thanks, but no. I’d lose too much time explaining everything.”
