Page 10 of What Fury Brings
“Glenaerys has secured much of the nobility in her favor,” Olerra explained. “I must take the next step in proving myself the perfect candidate by kidnapping and marrying a man.”
In Amarra, the art of husband hunting was as old as the Goddess’s Gift. It wasn’t mandatory, but many families prided themselves on keeping their bloodlines noble. That was nearly impossible to do without looking outside of Amarra, for most of the noblemen in the country were dead.
Olerra thought it was ridiculous that so many cared, considering that women with harems couldn’t prove that their children were sired by their husband. It didn’t matter, though. Any child born to a noblewoman was raised by her husband and, therefore, noble.
Olerra couldn’t care less about the purity of her future daughters’ blood. No, kidnapping a husband was a necessity for an entirely different reason.
“I’d hate to see you wedded before you’re ready,” the queen said. “Your mother was dear to me, Goddess bless her soul. I don’t know that she would have wanted this for you.”
“The throne or marriage?” Olerra asked.
“To marry at so young an age. You’re only twenty-one. What if your tastes should change in the next ten years?”
It was certainly a risk, but once Olerra had the throne, she could ship her husband away to the farthest reaches of the world if she wanted to—which was indeed her plan. She couldn’t risk him learning her secret.
“Husbands come and go, but Amarra is eternal,” Olerra said.
The queen nodded, accepting this answer, as Olerra knew she would. “I wish your mother were still with us. Gods, but I miss her.”
“I do, too.”
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, Olerra could hear her laugh or smell a hint of her perfume. But her face was gone. She could not remember its shape or features, having only been four years old when she was orphaned.
Ivanisa was killed by Olerra’s sire. Her mother had kept him for fiveyears before he managed to get the better of her. It was not a quick or painless death.
And it was utterly unexpected.
Because of the magic granted to them by the goddess Amarra, Amarran women could physically overpower any man they came across. For a man to kill a woman, he’d have to have surprise or skill on his side. Olerra’s sire, the third son of some earl from Dyphankar, should have had neither.
No one had witnessed the murder. Her sire had been found trying to flee the country. He was killed while the guards had attempted to apprehend him.
To die by one’s husband was rare, but it happened. Just never before to the royal family.
That’s why Olerra had more to prove than most. Because she was her mother’s daughter, and her mother had died to a man. She had to show the women of her kingdom she wouldn’t be beaten so easily. That they could trust the Corasene line.
And she had to prove it by breaking a man of her own.
Olerra would take the Amarran throne by any means necessary. The queen alone could not bequeath her kingdom. The love of the people went a long way, but it was the loyalty of the nobility that Olerra truly had to secure—a tricky feat when her cousin spent more time with them, overseeing both political maneuverings and even dipping into the spy network. Not only could Glenaerys foster the proper relationships to win over the nobility, she likely had the means to bribe them into doing her will, if needed.
A general’s salary paid well, but it was nothing compared to the wealth of Glen’s mother. That’s why Olerra’s grandmother had wed her son to her.
There was no pride in inheriting wealth. It was no more than anaccident of birth. Olerra earned her station by being the best: the best fighter, the best battle strategist, the best teacher. She had a deep respect and love for her troops. Owning the trust of Amarra’s fighting force went a long way. That would sway many of the nobility to vote in her favor.
Yet managing a husband would sway those who were hesitant about Olerra because of what had happened to her mother.
“You have declared yourself differre. Does this still stand true?” the queen asked.
Olerra blinked at the change in topic. She wished she could claim to be sirem and like women as her aunt did. Olerra had tried to be physical with women before, but there was no denying that her attractions lay elsewhere.
With men.
“It does.”
“Most differres of your age and standing already have a kept man or have started their harems—”
At the look Olerra gave her, Lemya added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with not wanting to keep a man.” She grimaced at the thought. “The people of Amarra are welcome to whatever their tastes may be. As far as I’ve seen, you’ve never courted a man or even paid particular attention to one. Are you sure you’re not amise?”
Olerra certainly was not indifferent to nor repulsed by sex. She’d been repressing her sexual drive all her life—but she couldn’t very well admit to her aunt her greatest shame.
