The Four Proposals of Charlie of Windsong

“Go talk to her,” his father had ordered gruffly, barely looking up from his accounts ledger. “I know you’ve barely got it in you, but say something charming. You need her to like you.”

“Shouldn’t you talk to her father first?” Osher had tried.

His father glared up at him. “A girl like that has her father wrapped around her finger. If she wants you, she’ll tell him to get you for her. It’s your job to make sure she wants you.”

“She’s not a very nice girl, Father,” he’d said carefully. “She rides around dressed like a boy. Do you really want a girl like that attached to our family?”

Lord Halvard waved these protests aside. “She’s the most politically valuable girl in the country right now. So what if she’s brazen?” He studied his son with a critical eye. “At least your children would inherit some boldness from someone.”

So now Osher stood watching her walking across the courtyard with a book under her arm. She was wearing a gown today, at least, and she didn’t have a sword dangling from her belt, though she did still have a knife. The knife was all right, he reasoned. It was a pretty, jeweled thing, suitable for a woman. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the doorway and into her path.

She turned her gaze toward him at once, and he was so startled by the intensity of her blue eyes that he almost froze. Gods, she was pretty. He knew that, of course, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this close to her before to actually see it. It should have pleased him she was pretty, but it put his mind on edge. He’d picked up a grass snake as a boy, drawn by the vivid green of its scales, by how gracefully it moved as it wound its way through the grass. Of course it had bitten him. He felt with a certain foreboding that this beautiful girl was about to bite him too.

He had been standing there in front of her not talking for a beat too long now, so he wretched his face into a smile. “Good morning, Lady Tatiana.”

“Good morning,” she replied levelly. She waited. “I’ve not had the pleasure,” she said gently.

Of course. She had no idea who he was. They hadn’t been introduced.

“Osher of Bent River,” he said with a proper bow.

Her smile was a polite thing. “Were you looking for me?” she asked. She wasn’t going to stand around and wait for him to make small talk.

“No,” he lied, “I just saw you walking by and wanted to say hello.” She blinked those big blue eyes at him, and he knew she didn’t believe him and he was about to lose her. “What are you reading?” he asked quickly.

She showed him the cover of the book, the title pressed into the leather in a thin layer of gold sheet. It was a book on Fallondian history, and his hopes of finding a topic to talk about faded.

“Are you interested in history?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s important to know history because it influences us even now, don’t you agree?”

“Very much,” he said at once, though he didn’t give a fig.

“What sort of history do you enjoy?” she asked him. Her tone was pleasant, but there was a glint of something in her eye that made him uneasy.

“Oh, you know, of here,” Osher said. “Local history,” he amended more intelligently.

She tilted her head in an expression of intense curiosity. “Like what? What is your favorite local historical event?”

If any other girl had spoken to him like that, he would assume she was making conversation the way well-brought-up girls were taught to do. But the glint in her eyes had taken on a brighter sheen. He realized she was teasing him. He rifled through his memory of any historical event—any battle, any birth, any dog that had barked in the dark.

Charlie was watching him scramble with an encouraging smile. Then she looked past his shoulder and widened her eyes just slightly.

Osher turned to see what she was looking at and saw Sir William, Charlie’s eldest brother striding toward them. He hadn’t realized the man was at the palace as he had been running Windsong in his father’s absence. And William was definitely coming to interrupt their conversation now because his sister had made a “rescue me” face at him.

“Hello,” William said as he reached them. He looked expectantly at Osher.

Charlie introduced them, and they exchanged bows and greetings politely.

“I’m afraid I must steal Charlie away,” William said so sincerely that Osher almost believed him. “Our father is looking for her.” He took Charlie’s arm to lead her away.

“So pleasant to have met you, Sir Osher,” she told him very kindly as she looked back over her shoulder.

“And you, Lady Tatiana,” he told her with relief. He had tried. The girl wasn’t interested.

Surely his father couldn’t argue with that.

**********************************

He found her sitting on the rail of the palace’s riding field, her horse’s reins in her hand. She had finished her ride and was watching the others before she went inside. She turned her head as he approached.

“Good evening, Lord Thaniel.”

She knew who he was then. He was pleased, not because she knew him, but because she was clever enough to pay attention to her father’s political associates. “Good evening, Lady Charlie. That’s a fine fellow you got there,” he told her, nodding to the horse.

She gave the horse’s nose a pat. “I’m still training him, I’m afraid.”

He leaned against the fence on the opposite side of her from the horse, out of its reach. It was an unexpectedly balmy evening, the sun fading gently as if reluctant to go. “The spirited ones are always worth the extra time.”

“He has enough spirit for three, and I’m finding I need the patience of five.” She didn’t sound like she was complaining. She seemed amused, in fact.

Lord Thaniel pretended to watch the riders guiding their horses around the field for a moment, but he was studying her. She looked relaxed, at ease, as she balanced on the rail, the composure of someone who belonged anywhere she happened to be. Charlie of Windsong was a pretty girl, everyone thought so, but it wasn’t her beauty that he liked about her face. She had the bright, intelligent look in her eyes that spoke to a mind always at work, a certain canniness. His own Evelyn was just the same. Fox-face, he used to call her when she was young, because she had the clever, mischievous face of a little red fox. Being clever had gotten Evelyn in trouble as a girl, especially with her father, because girls were meant to be quiet and meek, and Evelyn was far too saucy. Her family had been eager to get rid of her before her sharp tongue caused a scandal, and he felt like he’d made the deal of the century in marrying her.

Now he hoped to make the same deal for his son. Oh, Eduin would like her because she was pretty, but he’d learn as he got older that having a wife that had more than wool between her ears was more valuable than silky hair or a charming nose. Sure, it was nice to have someone make soothing noises while pulling your boots off for you while you complained about your day, but it was far better to have someone understand what you were complaining about and ask an intelligent question. The bloom of youth tended to wilt somewhat over the years anyway. Best not to base your choice of a girl on her face.

Charlie was looking back at him now, her chin tilted a bit. When he realized she’d caught him, she raised her eyebrows.

“I have a proposal for you,” he told her. No point in tiptoeing around it.

“My Lord Thaniel, I feel your lovely wife might not be pleased by that.”

He chuckled. “I dare say not. I mean for my son, Eduin.”

“I’ve not had the pleasure, but he doesn’t seem very interested.” She wanted to know why Eduin wasn’t asking her himself. She looked back out over the arena again, patient but resigned. She was inundated with offers. He would have to make his appeal quick and to the point before she made an excuse to escape.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” he told her. “Smitten boys are all right for making declarations of love, but marriages are built on more solid things than that. You’re an intelligent young woman—you’ve been educated, you’ve traveled, you were right in the middle of your father’s grand scheme for the throne. There must be certain things you want out of life, and you know the bargaining power you hold. I’m proposing a deal.”

She was looking at him again at least. “A deal.”

“Yes. You’ll want a husband who won’t try to stop you from doing the things you enjoy, who won’t try to change you into a quiet, meek little wife. A husband who will appreciate your mind and your opinions.” He looked at her intently for a moment. “A woman doesn’t just marry her husband; she marries his entire family. Plum River can offer you a home where you will be valued for who you are.”

“I have a home where I am valued,” she pointed out practically. “In fact, I have my own land.”

“You may still want to marry,” he persisted. “The worth of a companion who shares your life and supports you in all things cannot be understated. My own wife has improved every hour of my days with just her presence. And having children to dote upon makes life all the more rich.”

“And in return, you get a son married to the daughter of the Earl Marshal?” she offered slyly, but she smiled as she said it.

He wouldn’t have insulted her by lying. “Yes. And Eduin gets a wife with the mind and the enterprise to help him succeed at life, to help him raise children who will also succeed. The two of you could be a team who help each other. You have no need to marry, as you say, my lady, so you have time to make a decision that benefits you. All I ask is that if you decide to marry, consider Plum River. Come and meet Eduin to see if you can be friends. Come stay at our fife for a few weeks to see how you like it.”

“That is indeed a generous offer,” she said. She was not offended, he saw. As he had known, she was far too practical to be insulted by his laying things out so plainly. But she was also too sensible to be stirred much by his picture of her idyllic future. “And I think it’s the best of the proposals I’ve received by far. I really don’t think I shall marry any time soon, so I wouldn’t make the poor lad wait for me,” she told him, jumping down off the fence. She climbed back onto her horse. “He might be waiting a long time. Tell him to say hello to my sister,” she suggested as she clucked to the horse and took off at a trot.

She was a fine girl, he thought as she rode away. She would have eaten poor Eduin alive.

**********************************

It had been a bit of trouble to make his father see the merits of his plan, but he had come around eventually. Brenner had his future bride picked out, and he was determined to woo her. He readily admitted Tatiana of Windsong, or Charlie as she called herself, was not the sort of girl he had seen himself with when he had pictured his future, but she had merits he hadn’t dreamed of in his boyhood fantasies.

She was the daughter of the Earl Marshal of King Justinian, a kingmaker and military genius straight out of a legend. Everyone knew the king was almost a figurehead; it was his advisors like Arathis of Windsong that really ran the country. Charlie was basically a princess, even if she didn’t have the title. She did have titles of her own though, and a fife rumor said had large land holdings of fine timber. With all that, he didn’t even care about her dowry, though he was sure it was large. A man like Arathis would never let his daughter go without gifting her an obscene amount of money, and Charlie was known to be his favorite child.

His father’s objection had been to Charlie’s more…unconventional behavior. Her father had taught her to fence, ride, and shoot, all of which she did dressed in men’s clothing, and all of which she did quite well. She had traveled all over the Eastern Lands, sometimes with the army and sometimes on her own, of all things. She was talked of as a brazen girl, though no one had ever provided a single tale to put merit to that claim. She simply wasn’t very girlish. He had imagined his wife to be demure and respected, an industrious woman who formed herself around his needs. But he saw now he had been too narrow in his vision.

Brenner didn’t object to Charlie’s riding and swordsmanship, though he didn’t necessarily approve of them either. He would rather she gave them up, but he wasn’t too concerned. She was at least good at the things she did, and that spoke well for her, even if they weren’t things girls were expected to be good at. He expected those things would fade naturally from her interest anyway as she became busy with caring for their children and managing the household. He wouldn’t need to talk her into taking up more ladylike pursuits. And in his mind, Charlie’s talent at fencing just proved the strength of her bloodline. You might pick a filly to be a broodmare because of her sire’s achievements and hope she passed down some of that ability to her colts, but in Charlie’s case, there was no guessing. She herself had inherited those qualities, so he was giddily certain she would pass them on to their children. She would even be motivated to help teach them.

She was an attractive enough girl, with big, blue eyes, though she was too dark-haired and severe for his usual taste. He was all right with that; he was old enough to know now that clinging to one image of a beautiful girl was silly. Real girls weren’t going to match up perfectly with a narrow description of hair and eye color, height, and shape like ordering a tunic from a tailor. Everyone thought Charlie was pretty, so everyone would think he had done well to catch her. That was enough. She would look nice standing next to him, and any daughters they had would be pretty too.

He pictured them years in the future, standing side-by-side, a beautiful couple, well-liked and politically powerful. A few rowdy, bright-eyed boys stood with them, already being raised to ride and shoot like the knights they would become. He decided a sweet baby girl would be nice too, so he added her to Charlie’s arms in his vision. It would be nice to dote upon a daughter, and Charlie would probably like to have a girl. It occurred to him uneasily that she might insist they train their daughter in swordsmanship as she had been, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, so he pushed the thought away again. They would visit Windsong frequently so Charlie could see her family, and he pictured himself closeted away with Arathis, having serious discussions and planning the children’s futures.

“Sir, Lady Tatiana is here.”

He stirred as the servant’s voice interrupted his domestic fantasy. He slipped the man a coin for keeping watch, then leaned cautiously over the half-door of his horse’s stall to watch for her.

Twenty minutes later she walked past him down the aisle leading a giant black monster of a horse that was far too large for her. Her father bred horses—was this really what he had given her? Had she insisted on getting the same type of horse as her brothers? No matter—the horse was of no consequence.

Brenner stepped back so she wouldn’t see him as she passed, then leaned out again to watch her. He gave her time to get out of the stable before he followed, leading his own horse. She used the wooden steps outside the stable to climb onto her behemoth, then turned toward the castle gates. He mounted and followed her at a discreet distance as she rode across the palace grounds and out into the city. He waited until she had ridden a little ways from the palace before he caught up with her.

“Good day, Lady Charlie,” he called cheerfully, drawing his horse up level with hers. ‘Lady Charlie’ sounded ridiculous, but he’d heard she disliked being called Tatiana. “Lovely day for a ride. Are you going anywhere particular?”

She looked neither surprised nor pleased to see him. She also didn’t answer right away, and in the pause he felt a frisson of panic that he’d misjudged this introduction he’d planned so carefully.

“I’m riding out to the tower outside the city,” she said politely.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” he asked earnestly. “I’m desperate to get out of the city, and I’d love some company.”

She didn’t want him to come, but she wasn’t heartless enough to tell him to go away before he’d done something to annoy her. “All right. Don’t ride too close—my horse kicks.”

Of course her damn horse kicked. But he rode as close as he dared, and they trotted through the streets, pedestrians judiciously clearing a path for them. He was quiet for a while to allow her to grow used to his presence and to prove he didn’t intend to chatter the entire way. Then he made pleasant small talk that she responded to with perfect grace. He was embarrassingly relieved at that; she was said to be clever, and he had imagined her responding with either a biting wit or with the terse mutterings of someone who felt no obligation to be polite to others. But she was both intelligent and civil, if not very talkative.

When they had passed through the city gates, Charlie nudged her horse into a run, and he followed. The ruins of the old watch tower outside the city loomed ahead of them, and soon they were riding toward it at a flat gallop. He was further impressed by how well she rode, fearless and natural. He let himself be caught up in the sensation of it, enjoying the feel of the wind and the ground rushing past. When they reached the base of the tower hill, she slowed her horse a bit, and they circled the path to the top. For a moment they stood facing the city below them, both still a bit breathless and exuberant. It occurred to him how much he loved riding, and though he’d never uttered those words to anyone before, some instinct told him to tell her now.

He turned toward her. “I love riding,” he said, almost sheepishly. “I know that’s silly to say. Riding is how you get from one place to another, and something you train at to be good at for the tournament. It’s like saying you enjoying walking or practicing fencing drills. But there’s nothing quite like it.”

She smiled at him, and it was like approaching a camp fire out of the darkness. “I love riding too. I always have.”

Whether it was the exhilaration of a gallop through the morning air or how well talking with her had gone, Brenner was more hopeful than ever that they would have a future together. Admittedly, he had largely made his decision based on cold calculations of her best qualities and how they would complement each other, but he was starting to think he’d actually grow to like her. He had gone into this plan with the tactical planning of a war siege, but it turned out she was easy to talk to, and she had disappointed none of his expectations. He was even starting to think she was pretty.

Charlie dismounted and left her horse to climb on the rubble of the tower, though what she hoped to find he didn’t guess.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said uncertainly. “It might be dangerous.”

She looked back at him from the perilously-slanted doorway that had once led to a set of steps. “Most fun things are.” She resumed her inspection of the tower but didn’t seem inclined to climb any higher at least.

“Charlie,” he began, swinging down from his own horse. She glanced up, her eyes narrowed, and he wondered if he had been too forward using her given name. He pressed on. “I don’t want there to be any subterfuge between us.”

“Between us,” she echoed.

“Yes, I want to be honest about my intentions.” He took a step toward her. She was watching him cautiously now, and he knew he must give his speech before he lost her. “My father will be speaking to your father soon.”

Her dark eyebrows drew together. “Oh, yes? About what?”

It seemed obviously to him, but she must have been afraid to assume. “About our being wed. He means to ask for your hand. Of course, I know your father will only accept if you want him to, but my father is just going about it the proper way.”

Now her smile was a lot less warm and lot more teeth. “So you thought you’d come check me out, see what you were getting?”

He was confused. “No, I thought I’d try to get to know you. We haven’t spent enough time together to know if we like each other or not.” He also thought that was irrelevant, but girls liked to be wooed.

“It seems it would have been wiser to have gotten to know me before your father asking mine for my hand,” she pointed out.

“You know that isn’t how it works,” Brenner told her gently, trying to be patient. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to speak to you at all if the arrangements weren’t already being made. I really should have waited until your father told me I could, but when I saw you in the city, I just really wanted to talk to you.” He looked away and tried for a shy, wistful expression.

“If you don’t already know me,” Charlie said slowly, “and indeed, wouldn’t have spoken to me before the marriage was approved had you not been impatient, why were you so eager to talk to me at all?”

It took him a moment to parse what she was saying, and he felt stupid with her standing there staring at him. She wanted to know what reason he had for liking her before they had properly met. His panic grew as he realized there was no good way to answer her. He certainly couldn’t tell her of the way he had been watching her and the private fantasy he had formed about their lives together. He couldn’t tell her he’d sought her out because his father had chosen her; she would think he didn’t like her.

“Because you seem like such a wonderful girl, Charlie,” he said at last.

Charlie pondered this in silence. She had pulled her horse’s head toward her and was stroking his face absently. “Name something wonderful about me.”

Don’t say she’s pretty, he knew at once. Not her wealth or her titles. Her fencing skills? “You seem like such a nice girl,” he told her. “You’re very nice to talk to.”

Charlie dropped her arms to her sides suddenly, releasing the horse.

He took a step closer. “Look, we were getting along so well, weren’t we? Isn’t that a sign? There’s no real, not-awkward way to start these things. It doesn’t happen like in the boo—” He broke off abruptly as her horse snaked its head forward and bit his arm so hard that it jerked him sideways. As Brenner fought to regain his balance, he was dimly aware that Charlie was watching him with a cool lack of surprise.

“I don’t think we’re very well suited for each other, Sir Brenner,” she told him, remounting her demon of a horse. “And don’t follow me—I’d like to ride by myself for the rest of the morning.” She kicked the horse and was riding down the hill again at a speed that was likely to win her a broken neck.

Brenner stared after her a moment, too stunned to think. Then in a rush that made heat climb his neck, he realized—she had let that damn horse bite him on purpose.

What a little bitch.

**********************************

Arathis of Windsong was a stubborn bastard, everyone knew. That was really no surprise, Jem thought. You didn’t become a kingmaker without being stubborn. He appreciated Arathis’s stubbornness when it came to the battlefield or politics, but he never wanted to do business with this man. It occurred to him that he would have a lot more business with Arathis if Jem succeeded at his goal.

After he had kept his guest waiting long enough to establish his control, Arathis finally looked across the table at Jem. “And what can I do for you, Jem?” he asked in that benign tone that meant he’d do nothing.

Jem quelled his anger before he spoke. “I’d like to talk to you about your daughter.”

Arathis’s eyebrows rose gently. “Which one?”

That was a question, to be sure. The older one was adored by the king and had lands of her own, but she was a wild creature. The younger was, by all accounts, a lovely, well-mannered girl who would comport herself graciously, but she lacked her sister’s connections. Arathis had a third daughter, but she was barely more than a toddling child, so he didn’t count her.

“The eldest daughter traditionally marries first,” he said. Let Arathis decide which girl. He wanted Tatiana because she would be considered the biggest prize by others, but he would happily take Beth.

“True,” Arathis said slowly as if this held no merit for him. “Both my daughters are still rather young, and I confess I am eager to have them at home for some time yet. As your kind, beautiful wife still lives, I assume you wish Charlie to marry one of your sons?”

“My second son,” Jem confirmed. He wished his oldest had not yet married that whey-faced girl who spent most of her time weaving in silence, but he couldn’t have predicted Arathis would return from disgrace to toss a new king onto the throne.

Now Arathis frowned as if slightly perplexed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Charlie mention him.”

Jem shifted in his seat and tried not to show his impatience. “I’m not sure the two of them have even met,” he said honestly. “Not much point in them getting attached if it’s not to be.”

“Understandable,” Arathis agreed readily. “If your son would like to talk to Charlie, I will make no objection.” He shrugged. “Whether she likes him or not is entirely up to her.”

Jem contemplated this. “Your Grace, are you giving my son permission to court your daughter?”

“No, I’m giving him permission to speak to her if he wishes,” Arathis replied. “Not that he needed it in the first place. If the two of them become attached, as you say, then perhaps they shall wish to marry.” He didn’t seem to find this likely, but he didn’t seem to care either.

“Your Grace,” Jem tried again, “I had hoped to consider an arrangement between our children. We are one of the most powerful families in this country and would like to ally ourselves with yours. I can tell you of the home we would give your daughter and of the place she would hold at court.”

“My daughter has a place at court,” Arathis replied cheerfully. “Both through me and through her own merit. If I couldn’t give her something she wanted, I’m sure she’d go out and get it herself. My daughters will make their own choices for husbands because I can allow them to do so. If your son would like to try his luck at winning Charlie’s love, let him go talk to her. Perhaps they will suit.” He sat looking pleasantly across the table at Jem now.

“Sir, this is not the way these things are done,” Jem said cautiously. He was certain Arathis was taunting him because he didn’t like Jem. “Have you received a better offer for her?”

Arathis looked annoyed now. “She is not a horse I’m selling. She has received several offers, none of which I will ever press her to accept. I’m not haggling to see who can offer me the most for her.” He waved a hand dismissively. “If your son wants to try his luck, she likes foxgloves and rosemary.”

Arrogant man, Jem thought as he stomped away, fuming at the indignity. To trust a girl to arrange her own marriage! It wasn’t hard to woo a young girl with gifts and flattery—the poor maiden could be deceived by any handsome cad who came along. It must be some sort of challenge, to make men throw themselves at her feet. Ridiculous and indecent, he huffed to himself. Arathis may have been a political savant, but he was certainly a stubborn fool.