Alera frowned thoughtfully. "In what way is that relevant?"
Tavi scowled. "You're taking her side because she's a girl."
"Yes," Alera said, smiling. "I may be no expert, but I have learned enough of your ways to know which side of this debate I am obliged to support."
Tavi sighed. "The vord are on the verge of destroying the Realm and the world. She could have picked a better time for it."
"It is entirely possible that there might not be another time," Alera said.
Tavi fell quiet at that, staring at the rippling waters of the pool. "I'd better figure something out soon, then," he said, finally. "I'm fairly sure she won't accept the end of the world as a valid excuse."
Alera let out another laugh. "Let us continue," she said, mirth coloring her tone. "We will begin with proper bonesetting, after which we will resume flying lessons."
Tavi groaned. "How much longer do we keep at this?"
"Another half dozen flights or so," Alera said calmly. "For tonight, at any rate."
Half a dozen?
Tavi suddenly felt very tired. His imagination provided him with a sudden image - himself, lying in the snow like a sea jelly, every bone in his body smashed to powder, while a furious Kitai squishily strangled him.
Alera looked at him with a serene smile. "Shall we continue?"
Chapter 1~2
Chapter 1
There was a quick rap on the cabin door, and Antillar Maximus entered the cabin. One of Tavi's oldest friends, Maximus had shared a room with Tavi for the better part of three years at the Academy and was one of the few people in the fleet who would have opened the door without being bidden to.
"Thought you should know," Max began, but then he stopped and blinked at Tavi. He shut the door behind him before blurting out, "Bloody crows, Calderon. Are you sick or something?"
Tavi looked blearily at Max from where he sat at the cabin's small writing desk, poring over maps. "Didn't sleep well last night."
Max's rough, handsome face flashed into a quick, boyish grin. "Aye. Tough to go back to a cold bunk once you get used to a warm one."
Tavi gave him a steady look.
Max's smile widened. "Don't get me wrong. I think it's always a good thing when your Legion's captain is more relaxed and calm than he might be otherwise. I'm all in favor of the captain having a woman. I could see about maybe finding some kind of replacement if you aren't too terribly particular, Captain."
Tavi picked up his cup of tea. "If you don't finish before I've drunk this, I'm throwing this mug at your fat head."
Max folded his arms and leaned back against the door with a serene smile. "Of course, Your Highness."
The honorific stole whatever faint amusement Max had brought with him. Tavi knew that his grandfather was dead, but he had not spoken to the others about it. He had no way to prove it, after all - and Alera had made clear that she had no intention of displaying herself to others in the fleet.
Besides, there was a considerable difference between being the rightful heir and actually assuming the office of the First Lord.
Tavi pushed the thoughts from his mind. Those problems would attend to themselves in time. First, survive today.
"You came in here for a reason, Max?"
Max's smile faded as well. He nodded, his neck slightly stiff. "Crassus is on the way back in. He should be on deck in the next few moments."
Tavi rose and gulped down the rest of the strong tea. He doubted the mild stimulants in it would help him much after yet another grueling night of lessons with Alera, but he was willing to try. "Get me Magnus and the First Spear. Signal the Trueblood and invite Varg to come to the Slive at his earliest convenience."
"Already done," Max said. "Finish your biscuit, at least."
Tavi frowned at him but turned to pick up his breakfast, a plain square of ship's biscuit, a stiff and greyish bread made with some of the last of their flour and some of the less noxious portions of a taken leviathan. "I am not going to miss these," he said, but he tore into it with a will. If things went badly that day, he might not get a chance to eat later on.
"I've been thinking," Max said. "Kitai might have a point."
Tavi shook his head. "If so, I don't see it."
Max grunted. "Look, Tavi. You're my friend. But you've got some of the most crowbegotten blind spots."
"What do you mean?"
"You're the bloody Princeps of Alera, man," Max replied. "You're the bloody role model - or at least, you're supposed to be."
"It's ridiculous," Tavi said.
"Of course it is," Max returned. "But like it or not, that's what the office demands. That you comport yourself in all ways and at all times as the most honorable and dignified young Citizen of the Realm."
Tavi sighed. "And, so?"
"And so the Princeps of the Realm can't afford things running around to embarrass him," Max said. "Mistresses are one thing. Bastards are another."
Max's mouth twisted up at the word. His own father, High Lord Antillus, had conceived Max with a dancing girl he had favored. His second son, Crassus, had been born legitimately, leaving Max bereft of any sort of title or claim. Tavi knew that Max's entire life, including his very limited acceptance from the Citizenry of the Realm, had been powerfully shaped by his lack of legitimacy.
"That really isn't an issue, Max," Tavi said. "There's never been anyone but Kitai."
The big Antillan exhaled heavily. "You're missing the point."
"Then maybe you should explain it to me."
"The point is that things like who the Princeps is sleeping with matter," Tavi's friend replied. "Rival claims to the Crown have caused wars before, Tavi. And worse. Crows, if old Sextus had left a bastard child or two running around Alera, great furies know what might have happened after they killed your father."
"I'll give you that," Tavi said. "It matters. But I'm still waiting for the point."
"The point is that the Realm didn't know you were Septimus's son until last year - and even then, you were way out in the hinterlands, fighting a campaign. You didn't exactly attract a lot of visitors."
"No, I didn't."
"When we get back home, that's going to change," Max said. "Everyone's going to be watching you like hawks. They're going to pry into your life in every way you could possibly imagine, and probably in some that you can't - and every Citizen with a daughter even vaguely close to the right age is going to be hoping to turn her into the next First Lady."