Page 3 of The Second Marriage

“A laudable goal,” Taral said. “We should do that, then.”

Sejun pressed forward despite feeling that he was repeatedly walking into a solid stone wall. “I wish to know you. If we have some time, some days, before your heat—”

“I’ll be going into my confinement tomorrow. I’ve been noticing the signs for some days now.”

“I see,” Sejun said. Taral was going to provide no encouragement to him whatsoever. Choking bitterness rose in Sejun’s throat for a moment before he managed to swallow it back down. He gripped the railing and struggled to think of what he might say that would break through Taral’s bland facade and induce him to show something of his true nature.

Perhaps thiswashis true nature: guarded and colorless. But no, Sejun couldn’t believe that. No one was this bland and humorless. Taral was nervous, maybe, or shy. That might explain his seeming unfriendliness.

There was a chance Taral would reject Sejun during heat. Then Sejun could return to Merek and eventually marry someone who might deign to muster some excitement about the event.

No, he shouldn’t wish for that. All sons had to leave their homes, either to marry or to join a monastery, and Sejun was no different. He had agreed to this marriage; no one had forced him. His parents were so pleased by the prospect of making a connection with the royal family. He would try to be a good husband and to please Taral’s people so that he could make a home here. And Taral would warm to him in time, surely. Everyone kept assuring him that would happen. They only needed time to grow to like each other.

Taral glanced at him finally, with a minute sideways turn of his head. “Hasri told me you enjoy dancing. I imagine there will be some of that tonight.”

“I do like to dance,” Sejun said, hope rising in him for the first time since the beginning of their conversation, only to immediately have those hopes dashed when Taral said, “I won’t be in attendance, but I’m sure it will be an enjoyable evening.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Sejun pushed away from the railing. He clearly wasn’t going to make any further progress today. “I’ll leave you to your leisure, then.”

“One God guide you,” Taral said as Sejun walked away.

CHAPTER2

Afirst marriage was no cause for a grand celebration, but guests had to be honored nonetheless, and as Taral had said, there was dancing that night after the evening meal. Sejun’s family ate with the queen’s in an empty receiving hall off the courtyard. The meal was a simple stew of chicken and tomatoes. If Sejun had hoped for lively conversation, there was none to be found here. Queen Iniya was occupied with her three children, one of whom was still suckling and spent most of the meal at her breast, and her consort spoke with Hasri about the war in Chedi, which Sejun neither knew nor cared about. He stirred his food around in his bowl and looked out the window at the sky’s changing colors.

“Sejun,” his mother said, her tone mild, and he sat up straight and tried to look attentive, feeling abashed. He was behaving like a sulky child.

The dancing, at least, was conducted with great enthusiasm. The courtyard was strung with lanterns that were lit against the growing dusk, and a few retainers set up under the fig tree with lutes and drums. Sejun danced beside his mother until she pleaded exhaustion and joined his father at the sidelines, then hassled Batsal until he agreed to a single round of the fast-paced circle dance Sejun most enjoyed. When Batsal, too, stepped away, Sejun found himself dancing with the consort, Prince Abiral, who was growing soft and faded with middle age but had quick feet and partnered with Sejun until the musicians stopped for a while to rest.

“You dance well,” Sejun said to him, pleased that at least one person in his new household had some fondness for entertainment.

Abiral chuckled and dabbed at his brow with his sleeve. “I had no liking for it before my marriage. Iniya loves to dance and required it of me as part of my dowry.”

Sejun glanced at the queen, seated on the flagstones beneath the tree with the sleeping baby in her arms. She hadn’t danced once all evening.

Abiral followed his gaze. “That fat one demands her care. He cries when he’s not held. But he’ll grow up soon enough, and then she’ll be back to dancing the rest of us to exhaustion every night.”

Sejun’s heart lifted. Perhaps his life here wouldn’t be so dull as he had feared.

“Our life here is mostly very quiet,” Abiral went on, puncturing Sejun’s hopes as neatly as Taral had earlier. “I come from Ripuk, and the royal household there is much larger and busier. That was a hard adjustment for me when I first came to Tadasho. I’ve learned to enjoy our tranquility, though.”

Sejun considered him. This was already a more open and honest conversation than his stilted chat with Taral. “Your marriage was arranged for you?”

“Yes. It was hard to leave my home and come to a new kingdom where I knew no one. But as time passed, Tadasho became my home.” He looked again at the queen, and Sejun could see the warmth and affection in his gaze. “It’s never easy for a man to leave his own people. There can be great happiness, though, in coming to a new life.”

“Thank you,” Sejun said, not knowing what else to say, and Abiral smiled at him and drifted off.

In the morning, all the talk during breakfast was that Taral had gone into confinement.

“So soon! Sejun must have sent him into his heat early,” Sejun’s father said with an air of smug pride that made Sejun’s face heat.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Batsal said, as if he had any insight into how omegas operated. There were hardly any omegas left these days, and certainly none near Merek.

Hasri poured more tea for herself and Sejun’s mother. “Everything will progress in due time. Don’t make him nervous, the pressure won’t help him.” To Sejun, she said, “I’ll find some other nice boy to marry you to if this one doesn’t work out.”

“I appreciate it,” Sejun said, not sure if he did. He liked his life in Merek, gambling with the guardsmen, reading on the sunny balcony outside his room, riding downriver to visit Batsal—and spending the night in Batsal’s brother-in-law’s bed. He had always known he would be married off someday, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. His family’s steading was rich enough that an extra son was no burden. And yet here he was, a mere two months after his parents had told him Tadasho was soliciting offers.

There was nothing to do but wait: wait for Taral’s heat to come on, wait to see if they were compatible. If Taral accepted him in heat, they would move ahead to their second marriage, and that one would be considered binding.