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i_read_whatOkay, so last time, Niall fell in love with one woman, even though he's been betrothed to his first cousin from birth, and everyone is sad and frustrated. He then decides to make some diplomatic alliances by betrothing his own not-yet-born children to their second cousins. Because why not?
I don't care what the cover of Tapestry of Lions shows us, Kellin totally has a fucking Hapsburg jaw.
So we rejoin Niall as he answers a summons to an audience chamber. This bit amused me;
Liam sent word for me to meet him in one of Kilore’s audience chambers, but when I went I found myself alone. No doubt important business kept him: one of his wolfhounds was due to whelp, or a mare to foal, or perhaps even Sean demanded his attention. Wryly, I reflected that the Prince of Erinn’s priorities were different from those of most men.
Wow, has there ever been a more subtle condemnation of Donal than the fact that his son thinks Liam paying attention to his own kid reflects priorities "different from those of most men"?
That's a nitroglycerin burn, dude.
But actually, he's here to see someone else! It's ROWAN.
My father’s closest companion—and Cheysuli general of all the Homanan armies—stared at me as if he distrusted his eyes. I did not doubt he did, after nearly a year. And then he smiled a smile I feared would break his face, so broad and transparent he was in his relief, and I met him halfway across the chamber in a bearhug that required neither apology nor explanation.
The rampant black lion on Rowan’s crimson tunic clawed silk impotently as I stepped back from the embrace. In the months of my absence the general had aged. Cheysuli do not show the years as easily as Homanans, but Rowan was no longer young. I could not number his years precisely, but he claimed several more than fifty, I knew. And it had begun to show.
Rowan! HOW ARE YOU?! I'm SO SORRY you're stuck as fucking Donal's closest companion!
Also, that's another pretty good burn when you think about it. Donal's so awful that his closest companion is the guy he regularly accused of being soulless. Fuck you, Donal.
And because I'm me, I can't resist doing some math here.
So Rowan was twelve in Shapechangers, and thus was seventeen or eighteen at the beginning of Song of Homana. Song covered about three years, ending when Donal was eight years old. So he'd be twenty-one at the end.
Legacy of the Sword starts off when Donal is about twenty-three or twenty-four (to Aislinn's sixteen). So that would make Rowan about thirty six or thirty seven. Niall must be nearly twenty now, so...
Huh, Rowan's got to be about fifty-seven. That's a fucking impressive run! He's outlived Carillon (40), Alix (39), Finn (47 or 50 depending on which math you use), or Duncan (49 or 52, depending on which math you use).
That's not bad, for a lirless dude who rejected his heritage and role in the prophecy and yet has spent the last forty years of his life seeing to the safety and wellbeing of its active participants!
In fact, if I do the math, I'm fairly certain Rowan is in the top five when it comes to known major character lifespans in the series. (Niall, IIRC, makes it pretty far. As does a few others. But those are spoilers for later.)
Anyway, Rowan's very happy to see Niall. And Niall's really happy to see Rowan. And this is actually pretty interesting, as, if you recall (who could forget?) that Niall's biggest angst prior to recent events was his lack of lir. In a way, Rowan and Niall are interesting mirror reflections of each other. Rowan is a full-blooded Cheysuli, but raised in an Ellasian-Homanan household and intentionally culturally Homanan. Niall is mixed-race, but raised in a predominantly Cheysuli household and is culturally Cheysuli, in so much as he can be while still being the heir to the Homanan throne.
Emotion welled into my chest with such intensity I feared I might shame myself. It is rare for a Cheysuli to show precisely what he feels. Oddly, I saw the same struggle in Rowan’s careworn face.
Why not? He and I share the same capricious gods.
Lirless, both of us. Cheysuli born and bred, and yet we neither of us claimed a lir. Rowan’s explanation was straightforward enough: orphaned in Shaine’s purge of shapechangers some forty-five years before, he had been taken in as a foster son by immigrant Ellasian crofters who did not know he was Cheysuli. In those dangerous days no shapechanger was safe; he did not dare divulge his heritage, or he would give himself over into certain death. And so he had been reared Homanan, growing into Homanan habits and traditions; when the time came for him to go out and make a bond with the lir intended for him, he did not. Lirless he was and would remain so, until the day he died.
And I? Perhaps it is time I learned to live with it, even as Rowan has.
So anyway, Niall notes his very pleasant prison situation. Rowan is concerned, asking if they'd suborned him. But no. Niall's still loyal. He's just honest: Shea's been a good dude.
“Eight months of it?—assuming, of course, the voyage took you the three months it took me.” Rowan’s posture was the rigid stance of a longtime soldier and officer at rest, which is to say he was not precisely resting. And his elaborately casual tone was as inflexible as his spine. “I think perhaps we misjudged your reaction to my coming; Aislinn said Carillon’s grandson would devise an immediate means of departure. Donal said it was more likely you would leave the devising to me.” The general did not smile. “Yet you say nothing at all of departure.”
I mean, dude. You JUST walked in the door. I'll cut you some slack, because I know you're used to "I know I've been just made king, but I absolutely have to go see my mistress and then get kidnapped for six months, and then run off and see my mistress again, and then mind-rape my wife, before I ever actually sit on the fucking throne" levels of impulse, but Niall's not like that. He's a much more thoughtful and deliberate person than his forebears. It's honestly refreshing.
Niall, for his part, is a little irked that his mother is still referring to him as "Carillon's grandson". Poor poor Aislinn. He never deserved your love.
Anyway, Niall doesn't think Shea plans to let him go until Alaric gives in. Rowan's got news: Alaric is far too busy mustering up men to aid Strahan.
...so I feel like you probably ought to have carte blanche in dissolving the fucking betrothal at this point. When a dude is building up troops against you, that's pretty much a sign that talks have broken down.
Rowan's perspective is different:
“Contingent upon you making his daughter Princess of Homana.” Rowan’s tone was distant. “Oh, aye, the proxy ceremony makes you husband and wife in Homanan law, but until she is properly wed and acclaimed Princess of Homana, the alliance does not exist. And now it seems impossible that it ever will exist, does it not? At least, while Shea keeps you here.” He turned to face me and the lion rippled, clawing at his right shoulder. “Eleven months ago you left Homana to fetch Gisella home to a Homanan wedding. Circumstances aside, Alaric has every right in the world to declare the proxy wedding invalid and the cradle-betrothal broken.” His face was a mask; his tone was not so well-schooled. “A broken betrothal and an invalid proxy wedding taints a woman as well as a man, Niall. A father would be justified in levying war in his despoiled daughter’s name. And as for you, who would you find to wed? Who would have you?”
...what is this bullshit?!
Rowan, I don't blame you, I blame your author for putting stupid bullshit in your mouth. If the PRINCE OF A COUNTRY is ABDUCTED on the way to pick up YOUR DAUGHTER, and YOU aren't paying the ransom, then that's fucking on YOU. Especially when YOUR ambassadors were the last to see him alive. If anything, this should be an excuse for Donal to wage war against Atvia. Alaric should be fucking groveling.
And for fuck's sake, I'm fairly certain that any nearby king with an eligible daughter would be more than happy to wed her to even a "disgraced" prince under these circumstances. Hell, Henry VIII still had spouses after he fucking beheaded one of them.
Niall thinks that Deirdre would. Yeah, basically, Shea pretty much outright proposed that. Nothing's changed, problem solved. I'll be sad because it means my favorite protagonist won't be born, but I'll live with that.
I'm not sure if I should be admiring how Alaric has maneuvered the situation to come out as the wronged party, or just scornful of Donal's incompetence. I'm going with the latter.
But something else has Rowan on edge: problems at home. And it's not Strahan. It's fucking Carillon.
“Carillon!” I stared at him blankly. “How can this concern a man who has been dead for twenty years?”
“Because while he lived he sired children,” Rowan answered in the same even tone.
Baffled, I nodded agreement with the obvious. “How else would I be his grandson?”
“I did not say child, Niall.”
No. He had not. He had said children.
Suddenly, I was very cold. The chamber darkened around me. “A son,” I said distantly. “A son.”
“A bastard.” Rowan’s voice was very quiet. “We know very little. His age: thirty-five. His mother: a Homanan woman who followed Carillon’s rebel army as he made his way from Ellas to Mujhara.” He shrugged. “I remember her myself. Carillon was not the sort of man who wanted or needed a woman with every meal, and when he took one, he kept her. Sarne was—worth keeping.”
...okay, mathematically speaking, that doesn't work. Aislinn is thirty-six. We were told that like ten chapters ago. Aislinn was born after Carillon was settled into Homana and married. Also, if there were any women between Ellas and Mujhara, we'd have fucking heard about it. Song of Homana was first person. And the bastard should be almost forty.
This is annoying because there's a scenario that absolutely would make sense: namely that Carillon got restless AFTER Electra's betrayal. That would make far more sense. It'd also be a reason for Sarne to leave with the bastard, since his presence really would have put Aislinn and Donal's position in danger.
So anyway, Sarne came to Rowan, pregnant, and Rowan gave her money to leave. Unfortunately, Carillon's genes are pretty strong, and the kid, like Niall, is a spitting image of Carillon himself. And unfortunately, there are a lot of Homanans who really like the thought of following a non-Cheysuli descendant of Carillon instead.
I can't blame Donal for this one, actually, but because I'll hate him, I'll make a passive aggression how, even if the Homanans don't support Niall, at least the Cheysuli will because it's not like there's a rival candidate in THAT direction...
Or at least there had been. Or could be, if Isolde has a son.
Anyway, poor Niall is pretty aghast at the situation, and disbelieving. His primary angst for the whole book was not being Cheysuli enough, but the racists still want someone more pure. It's a mess.
Niall thinks that he was never meant to inherit, but Rowan (like Ian) is unflagging in his support. And they need to act now:
I slumped back in the chair again. “A pretty coil, Rowan. How do we get free of it?”
“By having you leave Erinn for Atvia, where you will settle things with Alaric and bring Gisella home to Homana,” Rowan said flatly. “Your absence has strengthened the bastard’s cause. When we feared you dead—” He shrugged. “We need you home. As soon as possible. With Gisella and Ian… I think only Ian can settle this thing with the a’saii, since he is the one they wish to put upon the throne.”
...oh, um. About that...
(Also, who could possibly have predicted that certain Cheysuli elements would rather see Donal's firstborn on the throne? Fucking Donal...)
“You knew,” I mused, thinking of the a’saii. Then I was on my feet. “You do not know! Gods, Rowan, there is no Ian! He died in the storm.”
All the color ran out of his face, leaving it a stark, empty mask of shock that only slowly was refilled by a comprehension and grief so intense it made me want to run from the man, the room, the castle.
To find my brother in the belly of the dragon.
“Rujho,” I said; no more. The pain was new again.
After a moment, Rowan cleared his throat. “I must send word to Donal.”
Aw.
...though in a way, the problem IS kind of solved. The a'saii won't have another candidate until Isolde has a kid.
So Niall sends Rowan home to tell Donal in person and makes the determination to leave for Atvia. If Shea doesn't release him, he'll break his parole. Fair enough.
So at night, Niall can't sleep. That's when Deirdre comes in. She heard his conversation with Rowan:
“I heard you speak to your father’s man. Is that what a true Cheysuli looks like? So fierce, so solemn…so dangerous. I’m thinking I like you better as a Homanan.”
Aw. I'm taking it in the spirit that Deirdre likely intends, but she should probably remember that he is Cheysuli too. Even if he doesn't look it.
...you know, given that Gisella's whole benefit over Deirdre is her Cheysuli blood, and your problem is with HOMANAN white supremacists, wouldn't it possibly be better to bring DEIRDRE as your bride?
ANYWAY, Deirdre heard him say he'd break his parole. She asks if they've driven him away. Um, no? You HEARD the conversation. This is entirely about external events. I don't agree with their solution, but it's clearly a response to that.
So anyway, this is essentially a goodbye fuck. And Niall, to his credit, wants to clearly establish consent:
I locked my fingers in her hair. Its color was muted in the darkness, but I gloried in its texture. “I am not one for gainsaying you in this, the gods know—” fervently “—but do you know what you are about?”
She pressed herself against me, winding heavy locks of hair around my neck as if she sought to set iron there. “Only rarely am I not knowing what I am about, my lord.” Her breath was warm against my ear. Low-voiced, she said, “Don’t be worrying about what I heard today. I have no intention of telling my father or brother. We’ll be keeping it between us.”
I bore her down with me, shivering with pleasure at the sensual touch of her hair and skin. “Meijha—” Then purposely, I used the Erinnish inflection “—you will have me thinking you are not jealous of Gisella…and I am knowing better.”
Laughing softly, she stroked my naked shoulder, tracing shapes of her own devising in a languid, sensuous fashion, then set lips and tongue against it. “’Tis a jealous woman I am, but I know when I have lost. What was that word you called me?”
“Meijha,” I breathed, “Cheysuli….”
One thing I really appreciate about this relationship is the frankness about the situation. It's an unfair situation for Deirdre. She doesn't get to be queen. She doesn't get the respect. And for all the lip-service about lack of dishonor, it IS different in the eyes of the Homanans at least. That's not even getting into what a loss of virginity might do for her own marriage prospects. She doesn't want a marriage now, but is that forever?
But they're honest. Niall isn't misleading or manipulating her. She's making her own decision. Niall tries to explain the deal here:
I kissed the fingertip, then reached for the hand, the arm, the breast. “Do not judge too hastily a people you cannot know,” I whispered. “In the clans, warriors may have both wife and light woman—cheysula and meijha. There is no dishonor, none at all, for the woman who is not a wife. I swear by all the gods of Erinn and Homana—”
“Don’t be swearing by gods you’re knowing nothing about.” Her breath came faster still. “’Tis disastrous when they take note of it.”
“Gisella is Cheysuli. I think she would understand the custom, once I have explained it.”
She drew back a little. “Are you telling me ’tis what I would be? Your—meijha?”
Her accent twisted the word. I did not correct her. “If you wish it, Deirdre.” I wish it, I wish it.
In the shadows I could not see her expression. “I might prefer to be a wife.”
I set my forehead against her shoulder in defeat. “Deirdre—”
“But if I cannot be taking you that way, I’ll be taking you the other. Now enough of this babble, Niall, and let us be making our own alliance between Erinn and Homana.”
a) One thing that's always bothered me about this "meijha" deal is that we never get the perspective of a Cheysuli "cheysula." Aislinn was bothered, but that's written off as Aislinn being Homanan. She doesn't understand the dynamic. But WOULD a Cheysuli woman understand?
Sorcha didn't seem to be okay with being a mistress. Raissa also had apparently insisted on wife-hood. We never really got her opinion of the Lindir situation. We don't know how Melina felt about Duncan's relationship with Alix.
b) And um, dude. Gisella is Cheysuli, racially, sure. But Bronwynn is dead. She's been dead for a long time actually. Gisella has never been to the Keep, and Donal didn't bother to send any Cheysuli servants or friends with his sister when he married her off as broodmare. You might want to find out how ATVIANS feel about this whole deal.
c) Deirdre now is faced with the same ultimatum that Alix got. But at least she hadn't gone in blindly. Now she's making the choice that she wants. And well, I can't begrudge her that.
But really, dude, you should try to find out if your wife is okay with this. Who knows, maybe she loves someone else too. But find out.
The chapter ends here, with Niall and Deirdre working on their own "alliance".
I don't care what the cover of Tapestry of Lions shows us, Kellin totally has a fucking Hapsburg jaw.
So we rejoin Niall as he answers a summons to an audience chamber. This bit amused me;
Liam sent word for me to meet him in one of Kilore’s audience chambers, but when I went I found myself alone. No doubt important business kept him: one of his wolfhounds was due to whelp, or a mare to foal, or perhaps even Sean demanded his attention. Wryly, I reflected that the Prince of Erinn’s priorities were different from those of most men.
Wow, has there ever been a more subtle condemnation of Donal than the fact that his son thinks Liam paying attention to his own kid reflects priorities "different from those of most men"?
That's a nitroglycerin burn, dude.
But actually, he's here to see someone else! It's ROWAN.
My father’s closest companion—and Cheysuli general of all the Homanan armies—stared at me as if he distrusted his eyes. I did not doubt he did, after nearly a year. And then he smiled a smile I feared would break his face, so broad and transparent he was in his relief, and I met him halfway across the chamber in a bearhug that required neither apology nor explanation.
The rampant black lion on Rowan’s crimson tunic clawed silk impotently as I stepped back from the embrace. In the months of my absence the general had aged. Cheysuli do not show the years as easily as Homanans, but Rowan was no longer young. I could not number his years precisely, but he claimed several more than fifty, I knew. And it had begun to show.
Rowan! HOW ARE YOU?! I'm SO SORRY you're stuck as fucking Donal's closest companion!
Also, that's another pretty good burn when you think about it. Donal's so awful that his closest companion is the guy he regularly accused of being soulless. Fuck you, Donal.
And because I'm me, I can't resist doing some math here.
So Rowan was twelve in Shapechangers, and thus was seventeen or eighteen at the beginning of Song of Homana. Song covered about three years, ending when Donal was eight years old. So he'd be twenty-one at the end.
Legacy of the Sword starts off when Donal is about twenty-three or twenty-four (to Aislinn's sixteen). So that would make Rowan about thirty six or thirty seven. Niall must be nearly twenty now, so...
Huh, Rowan's got to be about fifty-seven. That's a fucking impressive run! He's outlived Carillon (40), Alix (39), Finn (47 or 50 depending on which math you use), or Duncan (49 or 52, depending on which math you use).
That's not bad, for a lirless dude who rejected his heritage and role in the prophecy and yet has spent the last forty years of his life seeing to the safety and wellbeing of its active participants!
In fact, if I do the math, I'm fairly certain Rowan is in the top five when it comes to known major character lifespans in the series. (Niall, IIRC, makes it pretty far. As does a few others. But those are spoilers for later.)
Anyway, Rowan's very happy to see Niall. And Niall's really happy to see Rowan. And this is actually pretty interesting, as, if you recall (who could forget?) that Niall's biggest angst prior to recent events was his lack of lir. In a way, Rowan and Niall are interesting mirror reflections of each other. Rowan is a full-blooded Cheysuli, but raised in an Ellasian-Homanan household and intentionally culturally Homanan. Niall is mixed-race, but raised in a predominantly Cheysuli household and is culturally Cheysuli, in so much as he can be while still being the heir to the Homanan throne.
Emotion welled into my chest with such intensity I feared I might shame myself. It is rare for a Cheysuli to show precisely what he feels. Oddly, I saw the same struggle in Rowan’s careworn face.
Why not? He and I share the same capricious gods.
Lirless, both of us. Cheysuli born and bred, and yet we neither of us claimed a lir. Rowan’s explanation was straightforward enough: orphaned in Shaine’s purge of shapechangers some forty-five years before, he had been taken in as a foster son by immigrant Ellasian crofters who did not know he was Cheysuli. In those dangerous days no shapechanger was safe; he did not dare divulge his heritage, or he would give himself over into certain death. And so he had been reared Homanan, growing into Homanan habits and traditions; when the time came for him to go out and make a bond with the lir intended for him, he did not. Lirless he was and would remain so, until the day he died.
And I? Perhaps it is time I learned to live with it, even as Rowan has.
So anyway, Niall notes his very pleasant prison situation. Rowan is concerned, asking if they'd suborned him. But no. Niall's still loyal. He's just honest: Shea's been a good dude.
“Eight months of it?—assuming, of course, the voyage took you the three months it took me.” Rowan’s posture was the rigid stance of a longtime soldier and officer at rest, which is to say he was not precisely resting. And his elaborately casual tone was as inflexible as his spine. “I think perhaps we misjudged your reaction to my coming; Aislinn said Carillon’s grandson would devise an immediate means of departure. Donal said it was more likely you would leave the devising to me.” The general did not smile. “Yet you say nothing at all of departure.”
I mean, dude. You JUST walked in the door. I'll cut you some slack, because I know you're used to "I know I've been just made king, but I absolutely have to go see my mistress and then get kidnapped for six months, and then run off and see my mistress again, and then mind-rape my wife, before I ever actually sit on the fucking throne" levels of impulse, but Niall's not like that. He's a much more thoughtful and deliberate person than his forebears. It's honestly refreshing.
Niall, for his part, is a little irked that his mother is still referring to him as "Carillon's grandson". Poor poor Aislinn. He never deserved your love.
Anyway, Niall doesn't think Shea plans to let him go until Alaric gives in. Rowan's got news: Alaric is far too busy mustering up men to aid Strahan.
...so I feel like you probably ought to have carte blanche in dissolving the fucking betrothal at this point. When a dude is building up troops against you, that's pretty much a sign that talks have broken down.
Rowan's perspective is different:
“Contingent upon you making his daughter Princess of Homana.” Rowan’s tone was distant. “Oh, aye, the proxy ceremony makes you husband and wife in Homanan law, but until she is properly wed and acclaimed Princess of Homana, the alliance does not exist. And now it seems impossible that it ever will exist, does it not? At least, while Shea keeps you here.” He turned to face me and the lion rippled, clawing at his right shoulder. “Eleven months ago you left Homana to fetch Gisella home to a Homanan wedding. Circumstances aside, Alaric has every right in the world to declare the proxy wedding invalid and the cradle-betrothal broken.” His face was a mask; his tone was not so well-schooled. “A broken betrothal and an invalid proxy wedding taints a woman as well as a man, Niall. A father would be justified in levying war in his despoiled daughter’s name. And as for you, who would you find to wed? Who would have you?”
...what is this bullshit?!
Rowan, I don't blame you, I blame your author for putting stupid bullshit in your mouth. If the PRINCE OF A COUNTRY is ABDUCTED on the way to pick up YOUR DAUGHTER, and YOU aren't paying the ransom, then that's fucking on YOU. Especially when YOUR ambassadors were the last to see him alive. If anything, this should be an excuse for Donal to wage war against Atvia. Alaric should be fucking groveling.
And for fuck's sake, I'm fairly certain that any nearby king with an eligible daughter would be more than happy to wed her to even a "disgraced" prince under these circumstances. Hell, Henry VIII still had spouses after he fucking beheaded one of them.
Niall thinks that Deirdre would. Yeah, basically, Shea pretty much outright proposed that. Nothing's changed, problem solved. I'll be sad because it means my favorite protagonist won't be born, but I'll live with that.
I'm not sure if I should be admiring how Alaric has maneuvered the situation to come out as the wronged party, or just scornful of Donal's incompetence. I'm going with the latter.
But something else has Rowan on edge: problems at home. And it's not Strahan. It's fucking Carillon.
“Carillon!” I stared at him blankly. “How can this concern a man who has been dead for twenty years?”
“Because while he lived he sired children,” Rowan answered in the same even tone.
Baffled, I nodded agreement with the obvious. “How else would I be his grandson?”
“I did not say child, Niall.”
No. He had not. He had said children.
Suddenly, I was very cold. The chamber darkened around me. “A son,” I said distantly. “A son.”
“A bastard.” Rowan’s voice was very quiet. “We know very little. His age: thirty-five. His mother: a Homanan woman who followed Carillon’s rebel army as he made his way from Ellas to Mujhara.” He shrugged. “I remember her myself. Carillon was not the sort of man who wanted or needed a woman with every meal, and when he took one, he kept her. Sarne was—worth keeping.”
...okay, mathematically speaking, that doesn't work. Aislinn is thirty-six. We were told that like ten chapters ago. Aislinn was born after Carillon was settled into Homana and married. Also, if there were any women between Ellas and Mujhara, we'd have fucking heard about it. Song of Homana was first person. And the bastard should be almost forty.
This is annoying because there's a scenario that absolutely would make sense: namely that Carillon got restless AFTER Electra's betrayal. That would make far more sense. It'd also be a reason for Sarne to leave with the bastard, since his presence really would have put Aislinn and Donal's position in danger.
So anyway, Sarne came to Rowan, pregnant, and Rowan gave her money to leave. Unfortunately, Carillon's genes are pretty strong, and the kid, like Niall, is a spitting image of Carillon himself. And unfortunately, there are a lot of Homanans who really like the thought of following a non-Cheysuli descendant of Carillon instead.
I can't blame Donal for this one, actually, but because I'll hate him, I'll make a passive aggression how, even if the Homanans don't support Niall, at least the Cheysuli will because it's not like there's a rival candidate in THAT direction...
Or at least there had been. Or could be, if Isolde has a son.
Anyway, poor Niall is pretty aghast at the situation, and disbelieving. His primary angst for the whole book was not being Cheysuli enough, but the racists still want someone more pure. It's a mess.
Niall thinks that he was never meant to inherit, but Rowan (like Ian) is unflagging in his support. And they need to act now:
I slumped back in the chair again. “A pretty coil, Rowan. How do we get free of it?”
“By having you leave Erinn for Atvia, where you will settle things with Alaric and bring Gisella home to Homana,” Rowan said flatly. “Your absence has strengthened the bastard’s cause. When we feared you dead—” He shrugged. “We need you home. As soon as possible. With Gisella and Ian… I think only Ian can settle this thing with the a’saii, since he is the one they wish to put upon the throne.”
...oh, um. About that...
(Also, who could possibly have predicted that certain Cheysuli elements would rather see Donal's firstborn on the throne? Fucking Donal...)
“You knew,” I mused, thinking of the a’saii. Then I was on my feet. “You do not know! Gods, Rowan, there is no Ian! He died in the storm.”
All the color ran out of his face, leaving it a stark, empty mask of shock that only slowly was refilled by a comprehension and grief so intense it made me want to run from the man, the room, the castle.
To find my brother in the belly of the dragon.
“Rujho,” I said; no more. The pain was new again.
After a moment, Rowan cleared his throat. “I must send word to Donal.”
Aw.
...though in a way, the problem IS kind of solved. The a'saii won't have another candidate until Isolde has a kid.
So Niall sends Rowan home to tell Donal in person and makes the determination to leave for Atvia. If Shea doesn't release him, he'll break his parole. Fair enough.
So at night, Niall can't sleep. That's when Deirdre comes in. She heard his conversation with Rowan:
“I heard you speak to your father’s man. Is that what a true Cheysuli looks like? So fierce, so solemn…so dangerous. I’m thinking I like you better as a Homanan.”
Aw. I'm taking it in the spirit that Deirdre likely intends, but she should probably remember that he is Cheysuli too. Even if he doesn't look it.
...you know, given that Gisella's whole benefit over Deirdre is her Cheysuli blood, and your problem is with HOMANAN white supremacists, wouldn't it possibly be better to bring DEIRDRE as your bride?
ANYWAY, Deirdre heard him say he'd break his parole. She asks if they've driven him away. Um, no? You HEARD the conversation. This is entirely about external events. I don't agree with their solution, but it's clearly a response to that.
So anyway, this is essentially a goodbye fuck. And Niall, to his credit, wants to clearly establish consent:
I locked my fingers in her hair. Its color was muted in the darkness, but I gloried in its texture. “I am not one for gainsaying you in this, the gods know—” fervently “—but do you know what you are about?”
She pressed herself against me, winding heavy locks of hair around my neck as if she sought to set iron there. “Only rarely am I not knowing what I am about, my lord.” Her breath was warm against my ear. Low-voiced, she said, “Don’t be worrying about what I heard today. I have no intention of telling my father or brother. We’ll be keeping it between us.”
I bore her down with me, shivering with pleasure at the sensual touch of her hair and skin. “Meijha—” Then purposely, I used the Erinnish inflection “—you will have me thinking you are not jealous of Gisella…and I am knowing better.”
Laughing softly, she stroked my naked shoulder, tracing shapes of her own devising in a languid, sensuous fashion, then set lips and tongue against it. “’Tis a jealous woman I am, but I know when I have lost. What was that word you called me?”
“Meijha,” I breathed, “Cheysuli….”
One thing I really appreciate about this relationship is the frankness about the situation. It's an unfair situation for Deirdre. She doesn't get to be queen. She doesn't get the respect. And for all the lip-service about lack of dishonor, it IS different in the eyes of the Homanans at least. That's not even getting into what a loss of virginity might do for her own marriage prospects. She doesn't want a marriage now, but is that forever?
But they're honest. Niall isn't misleading or manipulating her. She's making her own decision. Niall tries to explain the deal here:
I kissed the fingertip, then reached for the hand, the arm, the breast. “Do not judge too hastily a people you cannot know,” I whispered. “In the clans, warriors may have both wife and light woman—cheysula and meijha. There is no dishonor, none at all, for the woman who is not a wife. I swear by all the gods of Erinn and Homana—”
“Don’t be swearing by gods you’re knowing nothing about.” Her breath came faster still. “’Tis disastrous when they take note of it.”
“Gisella is Cheysuli. I think she would understand the custom, once I have explained it.”
She drew back a little. “Are you telling me ’tis what I would be? Your—meijha?”
Her accent twisted the word. I did not correct her. “If you wish it, Deirdre.” I wish it, I wish it.
In the shadows I could not see her expression. “I might prefer to be a wife.”
I set my forehead against her shoulder in defeat. “Deirdre—”
“But if I cannot be taking you that way, I’ll be taking you the other. Now enough of this babble, Niall, and let us be making our own alliance between Erinn and Homana.”
a) One thing that's always bothered me about this "meijha" deal is that we never get the perspective of a Cheysuli "cheysula." Aislinn was bothered, but that's written off as Aislinn being Homanan. She doesn't understand the dynamic. But WOULD a Cheysuli woman understand?
Sorcha didn't seem to be okay with being a mistress. Raissa also had apparently insisted on wife-hood. We never really got her opinion of the Lindir situation. We don't know how Melina felt about Duncan's relationship with Alix.
b) And um, dude. Gisella is Cheysuli, racially, sure. But Bronwynn is dead. She's been dead for a long time actually. Gisella has never been to the Keep, and Donal didn't bother to send any Cheysuli servants or friends with his sister when he married her off as broodmare. You might want to find out how ATVIANS feel about this whole deal.
c) Deirdre now is faced with the same ultimatum that Alix got. But at least she hadn't gone in blindly. Now she's making the choice that she wants. And well, I can't begrudge her that.
But really, dude, you should try to find out if your wife is okay with this. Who knows, maybe she loves someone else too. But find out.
The chapter ends here, with Niall and Deirdre working on their own "alliance".
[inarticulate noises of dismay]
Date: 2022-05-17 03:54 pm (UTC)(Although admittedly there is Villainous Incest, yet at least none of the good guys are banging their cousins or half-siblings!)
But seriously, if anyone wants a killer story, then Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory are the dream team everyone needs and should know exists. It's a welcome balm to such clumsily-executed stuff.
= Multi-Facets
Re: [inarticulate noises of dismay]
Date: 2022-05-17 07:06 pm (UTC)I will give Roberson credit: none of the actual incest in the series is sibling incest. (...not for lack of effort on Finn's part, but Shapechangers' Finn seems to have gotten replaced, body-snatched, or possessed by a far less horrible demon for the rest of the series.) The closest we come is first cousins.
Unfortunately, there's a fucking lot of first cousins in these books.
Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 09:40 am (UTC)Tabo: It might be the future. Magic can give new arms to Duncan, and Finn is going to die to Astaroth. Or be reeducated in his prison.
Alix: You don't know Finn. Even if he gets knocked down, he will get back up.
Tabo: You don't know Astaroth. He is an Archdemon, and few people can beat him in a fair fight. Especially since he is not just brute force.
Pan: Can we get with the spork, please?
(Btw, Kalinara, where do you place bets?)
Liam sent word for me to meet him in one of Kilore’s audience chambers, but when I went I found myself alone. No doubt important business kept him: one of his wolfhounds was due to whelp, or a mare to foal, or perhaps even Sean demanded his attention. Wryly, I reflected that the Prince of Erinn’s priorities were different from those of most men.
Wow, has there ever been a more subtle condemnation of Donal than the fact that his son thinks Liam paying attention to his own kid reflects priorities "different from those of most men"?
Alix: If my son raised his kids in a way good parenting looks special to them, then I am even more glad I escaped my destiny.
The rampant black lion on Rowan’s crimson tunic clawed silk impotently as I stepped back from the embrace. In the months of my absence the general had aged. Cheysuli do not show the years as easily as Homanans, but Rowan was no longer young. I could not number his years precisely, but he claimed several more than fifty, I knew. And it had begun to show.
Pan: I like how it shows the story is generational. With that said, I will stick to Jojo.
Lirless, both of us. Cheysuli born and bred, and yet we neither of us claimed a lir. Rowan’s explanation was straightforward enough: orphaned in Shaine’s purge of shapechangers some forty-five years before, he had been taken in as a foster son by immigrant Ellasian crofters who did not know he was Cheysuli. In those dangerous days no shapechanger was safe; he did not dare divulge his heritage, or he would give himself over into certain death. And so he had been reared Homanan, growing into Homanan habits and traditions; when the time came for him to go out and make a bond with the lir intended for him, he did not. Lirless he was and would remain so, until the day he died.
Tabo: Even an assassin like me is above genocide.
Alix: Sure, some of them were rapists and deserved to die. But what Shaine did was atrocious, and not even the examples of the rapists can excuse it!
Pan: By the way, I am sure Shaine must have used that excuse. All racists are the same.
I mean, dude. You JUST walked in the door. I'll cut you some slack, because I know you're used to "I know I've been just made king, but I absolutely have to go see my mistress and then get kidnapped for six months, and then run off and see my mistress again, and then mind-rape my wife, before I ever actually sit on the fucking throne" levels of impulse, but Niall's not like that. He's a much more thoughtful and deliberate person than his forebears. It's honestly refreshing.
Tabo: At least by killing you I will make sure scum like Donal is never born.
“A broken betrothal and an invalid proxy wedding taints a woman as well as a man, Niall. A father would be justified in levying war in his despoiled daughter’s name. And as for you, who would you find to wed? Who would have you?”
Alix: It should only taint the person who did such a thing!
Pan: A breakup should not be a cause for war.
One thing that's always bothered me about this "meijha" deal is that we never get the perspective of a Cheysuli "cheysula." Aislinn was bothered, but that's written off as Aislinn being Homanan. She doesn't understand the dynamic. But WOULD a Cheysuli woman understand?
Pan: Hold on, Alix, didn't you have the Cheysula title?
Alix: ... I blocked this off my memory. I had been called both, so I don't remember. I prefer to remember when Finn, Poe and Ace Ray treat me like an actual human being, or my fierce battles with the Tatarimokke, the Kamaitachi, and yes, you, Tabo!
b) And um, dude. Gisella is Cheysuli, racially, sure. But Bronwynn is dead. She's been dead for a long time actually. Gisella has never been to the Keep, and Donal didn't bother to send any Cheysuli servants or friends with his sister when he married her off as broodmare. You might want to find out how ATVIANS feel about this whole deal.
Tabo: Well, Alix, your son threw his sister like trash to fulfill a prophecy. I am so proud of you. He would serve the Great One even better than me, as I joined to be alive again and for blood, while he would make sure everyone relied on destinies!
Re: Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 06:05 pm (UTC)Re: Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 06:10 pm (UTC)Alix: Except if you mean Finn from my original series. Yeah, that guy is toast.
Tabo: Meh, Astaroth would beat Stormwolf's Finn too. A wise bet.
Re: Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 06:23 pm (UTC)Re: Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 06:15 pm (UTC)Eventually, Malina revealed that her child was Bors's instead of Duncan's, so Duncan married Alix instead. But it was all very very gross. And we never got to see how Malina herself felt either.
Niall's an interesting parallel to Duncan here, because he's essentially making the same offer to Deirdre that Duncan made to Alix. But Niall has two points in his favor that Duncan never had. 1) He's making the offer while Deirdre is at home in Erinn. She's safe, comfortable and has enough protection near to hand to make sure that she can't be forced into anything. 2) He's making the offer BEFORE Deirdre has given up everything to be with him. So whatever she decides to do, it's with a clear understanding of what he can offer her. She's the one who gets to decide if it's worth it.
Re: Alix and Tabo want a say
Date: 2022-05-19 10:09 pm (UTC)Finn, Duncan, Carillon, Donal... and these are just the good guys.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-23 05:15 pm (UTC)