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“Surely even you can see the importance of having an imperial heir,” the voice of the priest-wizard was oily as it issued from behind the silver mask. They had cornered her on her way back to her office after spending the morning with His Radiancy. The tone was so distasteful that Kip tried not to recoil, tried to remind herself that the Ouranatha didn’t know she had a plan for a government that didn’t rely on hereditary systems. No one knew she had that plan, to be fair.
Kip was already His Radiancy’s secretary, and he seemed quite pleased with her competence and inclined to keep her on, which was why they approached her. She’d never considered that she was the only woman who had joined His Radiancy’s household who was close enough in age and not already married until that point. Well, that was unfair - there might be others that Kip hadn’t been introduced to.
The first time the priest-wizard cornered her, in the stairwell she took on her way to her rooms, Kip had been so astonished by this… offer?... she'd inadvertently let the priest-wizard give her all the details of his… suggestion.
It was perhaps understandable that, in the wake of the Fall, the Ouranatha would be looking to continue consolidating power by lining up an heir or two for His Radiancy. After all, they had put a lot of effort into raising the Last Emperor into a god. Without a god to follow after the Last Emperor, what would their purpose be?
It was understandable, but not forgivable.
“No, thank you,” Kip replied politely, and fled as professionally as she could.
—
After the fifth time the priest-wizard approached her, His Radiancy brought it up. “We greatly regret that the Ouranatha are pressuring you to become our consort. We have made it quite clear that we are - disappointed - with their actions and ordered them to stop.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Kip replied politely. It seemed the wrong time to mention that she was glad for the faith they had in magical transition, that they were so certain she would be able to carry a child. One of her previous partners had mocked the idea outright. “How did you know?”
“They are too willing to make the offer in front of the imperial guards.” His Radiancy replied, his long fingers knocking a pile of papers on his desk slightly out of alignment.
“The Ouranatha weren’t pressuring me to become your consort,” Kip said carefully. His Radiancy’s eyes narrowed, and she swallowed but forged ahead. “They… want someone to have your child. They do not seem to care what form the relationship between you and the mother takes.”
Sadness flashed in His Radiancy’s golden eyes before he turned away from her, pacing steadily up his usual path to the top of the room. “That is outside our reach. As would be any child we fathered.”
Kip froze as she considered that even his child might be subject to the taboos. Whether he wanted children or not, His Radiancy wasn’t going to risk their lives. Then she bent her head and looked over her notes. “We were discussing the situation in Nijan, my lord.”
—
It took the Ouranatha a full week to decide to test His Radiancy’s displeasure.
This time, she didn’t politely tell them no. Now there was something she wanted that no one but the priest-wizards could give her.
—
There were three Ouranatha seated on one side of a table, and Kip was seated on the other side. The Ouranatha’s terms were disgusting and absurd. Kip stated her terms, and watched them hem and haw and try to tell her that it was impossible. She waited.
She was the only woman who was close enough to interact with His Radiancy on a regular basis who was the right age and unmarried. They didn’t have an option if they wanted a child so badly. Eventually, they told her that they’d try, if they could get approval from the Glorious One. In the meantime, they’d draw up the contract.
It took two weeks for them to get approval from His Radiancy. Kip thought cynically that it likely had taken them two weeks minus one day to write the contract they wanted her to sign and get the courage to ask His Radiancy for his approval, then one day for the actual approval. She met with them again and read the contract, then politely asked for time to consider, to reread the contract they wanted her to sign, possibly rewrite it to clarify a few things.
A few days later, she returned a contract to them.
“Ah, you did rewrite it,” The Ouranatha in the silver mask replied as he skimmed the first page. She nodded, trying to remember how Astandalan women looked when they were trying to act demure. Kip was ready to fight for and defend every single clause of the contract, but she hoped he’d not require that much detail. He flipped through to the last page, ignoring those in the middle. “And already signed it, you are as efficient as everyone says!”
She bit her tongue at the condescending tone. He seemed to think that, because she had agreed to attempt to have a child with His Radiancy, she owed him. She entirely disagreed, of course. The priest-wizard pulled over the pen, signed the contract, then activated the magic to seal it and make it binding. They duplicated it and provided her with a copy.
“There you are. Now go do your best to seduce him.”
—
The contract did not say that Kip had to seduce His Radiancy. That would be absurd. As absurd as the Ouranatha’s first draft.
Kip mused that working with the finest legal mind in the Nine Worlds was an unadulterated delight. She looked up at His Radiancy as he paced, setting their new policy into the completed pile and stretching her hand. “My lord, I did have an idea.”
It was a little early for her to share her plan with him, but her timeline had been moved up. Working so closely with her - her lord on the contract revision had proved that working with him directly would be to her advantage.
She refused to consider the image of a small white shell.
—
It took years for the taboos to be unwound. Kip knew that His Radiancy wouldn’t touch her unless he didn’t have to worry about holding his child, so she had made the removal of the taboos part of her price to the Ouranatha. Anyone could see that they were broken in the wake of the Fall, and the weight of the taboos for one world should be much lighter than that of five. That it wasn’t - that it hadn’t even been evaluated since the Fall was pure laziness.
In the meantime, she focused on her plan, on creating a government that was actually good. It delighted her to have His Radiancy’s support for her (amended) plan, even if it meant she had to put up with titles and court performances. Lady Chancellor wasn’t a title she’d dreamed of holding, but His Radiancy wasn’t wrong about how the status helped as she debated her plan endlessly with anyone who opposed her proposals. Prince Rufus of Amboloyo was particularly pugnacious. Kip barely swallowed her laughter the first time Prince Rufus returned home to find her taking tea with Lady Felicia and discussing the annual budget in preparation for her plan to implement a universal income. After that, his insults became less fierce, as though he was afraid she’d tattle on him to his wife. Kip wouldn’t, but mostly because she was too busy.
His Radiancy had his own magical projects as well as the purifications to undergo, but Kip did enjoy the time they could spend together now that walking to her rooms wasn’t a forty-five minute affair. Over games of chess and dominos they discussed the inconsequential parts of their days: rituals he underwent, audits her office was undertaking, letters Kip had from home, His Radiancy’s hope as he invited his sister to Silverheart again.
Perhaps it was an unusual courtship, but it worked for them.
—
“No. We discussed this! We are not getting married.” Kip said firmly as she looked into Tor’s golden eyes.
“We discussed this a few years ago, when getting to this point was a pipedream. Kip, my darling Kip, I just want to protect you. Can’t you see that being the Last Emperor’s concubine could derail your plans?”
Kip bit back her immediate retort being the Last Emperor’s wife would be worse, took a deep breath, and took his hands in hers. “Tor, I will not be your wife. I - there is a word in language that I will explain to you on the day I learn your secret name.”
His lips pursed, and she laid a single finger over his lips to hush him. “When you’re ready. This isn’t payback or anything silly like that. We’re not ready for that yet. I trust that we’ll get there.”
—
“You told your cousin Basil first?” Tor asked as they cuddled together in bed. There were two comfortable pieces of furniture big enough for two people, and Kip respected that Tor’s private study was still his retreat.
“He was always the one who listened to me. He helped me decide how to tell my mother.”
“How did she take it?” Tor asked cautiously. He knew their relationship was fraught.
“I think she was relieved. I think she didn’t know what to do with a son after we lost my father.”
—
The day her Buru Tovo arrived at the palace, Kip realized she was late.
The healer, Domina Audry, confirmed Kip's suspicion.
And when she danced Aōteketētana for the entire palace, her child danced it with her.
—
“Do twins run in your family?” Domina Audry asked Kip as the woman examined her.
“Well, yes, on both sides of my family,” Kip replied, trying to remember to lay still. “My aunts are twins - my mother’s sisters - and I have cousins on my father’s side who are twins.”
“And His Radiancy also had a grandparent who was a twin.” Kip’s eyes widened as she realized what Domina Audry was saying.
“Really?” She hated how her voice quavered. “Two?”
Domina Audry nodded firmly. “Two.”
—
“It’s traditional to name children after a family member,” Kip said carefully as she looked into his golden eyes, one of his hands resting on her stomach as they shared the same pillow in his huge bed. Though Tor was delighted that she was pregnant, he was hesitant too, holding back for some reason he hadn’t shared yet. “Would you want to name our children after a family member? Melissa? Your father?”
Tor froze for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe- Maybe we could name one Inyara, if it’s a girl?”
“Inyara? That’s a beautiful name,” Kip said reassuringly. “Was that a family member?”
“Yes,” Tor replied hesitantly. “She was my grandmother’s youngest sister. She was a marwn.”
And then he proceeded to tell her a nightmare.
“You were a marwn, and your name was bound,” Kip said eventually, after a lot of tears from both of them. Somehow she’d wound herself around him, as if she could shield him from the hurt and the dreadful memories, and now found herself laying mostly on top of him despite her growing size. He didn’t complain about the weight, just held her tightly.
“Yes,” he replied softly. She pursed her lips, feeling like there was a piece to this puzzle that almost, almost fit.
“That’s why you have a secret name. Would I know your secret name if I heard it?” Kip asked.
“Assuredly,” Tor confirmed. The sparkle was coming back to his eyes as he watched her try to work out the puzzle.
“I do rather wish you’d asked me to trace a missing penny through a century of account books,” she grumbled. Then- well, that was the answer, wasn’t it?
What missing penny - missing person - disappeared around the time Artorin Damara took the throne?
She raised herself on her arms and looked down at him as he lay under her. “F-Fitzroy?”
His smile was as bright as the dawn.
—
“When you marched into my study clutching the Ouranatha’s stupid contract and told me that you loved me and I didn’t have to love you back, but you wanted to give me a child if it was acceptable, I did not think you could possibly be any more beautiful than at that moment or that I could love you any more,” Fitzroy told Kip, smiling gently down at her. “But every day since then I have found that I love you more than the day before, and you surely outshine even that moment now.”
“You can write me poetry later. Come hold your daughter.” Kip demanded, moving her son to her breast, feeling him latch on to feed. Fitzroy laughed and did as she commanded, cradling Inyara. Kip smiled at Fitzroy, then down at her son. “Hello Tovo, welcome to the world.”
—
“How convenient, that you have made an heir and a marwn at the same time,” the same silver-masked Ouranatha hadn’t taken long to find Kip and try to intimidate her. In her sitting room in the suite belonging to the Lord of Zunidh, no less. “We’ll even let you choose which one will be heir, and we’ll be on our way with the other.”
“I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Kip said calmly even as she pulled out a contract. “I think what you were saying was ‘Congratulations on the birth of your children.’ Anything else would have you in breach of contract and you would forfeit your magic, your position, and likely your life.”
She wished she could see his eyes widen, the surprise on his face. “What do you mean?”
“Our contract,” Kip replied sweetly as she put it down on the table in front of her. “You have read it, correct? The paragraph above our signatures says that we both agree that we have read the contract in full and agree to its terms. In fact, it goes on to say ‘The parties intend this Agreement to constitute the complete, exclusive, and fully integrated statement of their agreement. As such, it is the sole repository of their agreement and they are not bound by any other agreements, promises, representations, or writings of whatsoever kind or nature. The parties also intend that this complete, exclusive, and fully integrated statement of their agreement may not be supplemented or explained (interpreted) by any evidence of trade usage or course of dealing.’”
She watched him pause at the legalese, and decided to put it in common words for him. “It says that only what is in this contract is binding between us, no matter what else is said between us, and nothing except for a modification of this contract will allow for changes in our agreement.”
“But nowhere in this contract does it say that any children I bear would be considered the heirs of the Last Emperor, nor that the priest-wizards can have any say in their lives. It specifically calls out that they are not the heirs of the Last Emperor, they are not gods, and they are to be born ordinary citizens of Zunidh, with all the rights and privileges therein, and no more.” Kip smiled slowly at the continuing silence from the Ouranatha in front of her. “I was especially shocked that you agreed on page two that, as of the birth of the Glorious One’s first child, he would retire from all roles except that of Lord Magus of Zunidh and become as ordinary a citizen as his children. Between you and I, I think he’ll only remain Lord Magus as long as it takes him to find an heir.”
The priest-wizard snatched up the contract, flipped to the second page, and read the words there with what Kip assumed was horror.
“Do you think you’ve won?” He finally hissed through his mask as he stood and leaned over the table toward her, trying to intimidate her. “Do you think that we are without resources, that you can get away with this?”
“Speaking of your resources. There have been some… inconsistencies in the accounts of the Ouranatha. This is your notice that we will be initiating an audit -” the bells chimed the hour overhead “-now.”
“Although Artorin is retiring, I’m only on maternity leave, and I still get a weekly report. I didn’t initiate that check into your finances - pregnancy brain is a true burden.” Kip said, trying to sound put-upon and not satisfied. Aioru had initiated the audit.
The priest-wizard stared through his mask. She wondered if he was trying to do something magical to her. If so, he was nothing compared to Fitzroy - even as magic-null as she was, she could still sometimes tell when Fitzroy’s magic was active. When that failed to accomplish whatever he wanted, he stormed towards the doors. The guards stationed by the doors did not move to open them.
“Oh, one last thing. I do feel it is wise to remind you that, as ordinary citizens, taking my children would be considered kidnapping. And I do feel that the priest-wizards becoming infamous for kidnapping children would cause a lot of angry parents. Angry, scared parents who wonder what their local priest has been up to, if those on the Council are willing to kidnap a child.” She paused to let him consider that. “I don’t need to dismantle the College of Priest-Wizards in that scenario. You would do it for me.”
—
“Conju!” Kip greeted him, moving forward to greet him in the Islander way. She hadn’t expected to find him on the porch when she finally got out of bed this morning. “I’m so glad you’re back! How was your vacation?”
“Absolutely wonderful! I can’t believe that you and Fitzroy chose not to join us, Eidora and I had the most lovely time.” Conju sat as Kip sunk down onto a chair herself and waxed poetic about the wineries and perfumeries they had toured. Kip watched the street below them, watching cousin after cousin wave up at her. She was so glad that Fitzroy had agreed to move back to the islands with her. “How have things been here?”
“Oh, you know,” Kip said with a smile. “You made it home in time for Inyara and Tovo’s fourth birthday, that’s in two weeks. Fitzroy has been composing madly - Vinyë swears that she’s going to find him an apprentice or two at the rate he’s going, if only so they can bring him the instruments he says he needs to hear before he can add them into his latest work.”
They both chuckled at the idea. “And you, my friend? You slept late today.”
“Oh, well.” She flushed. “I haven’t told him yet, so you have to promise not to tell.”
“Not to tell…?” Conju asked leadingly when she paused for too long.
“I wasn’t sleeping in, I was sick.” She smiled at her friend. “Fitzroy’s going to be a father again. I’m pregnant.”