Chapter 18 – Terms and Misunderstandings

Laenre sat on her chair made of woven mycelium, making notes on supply lists with an inscrutable expression.

“Mother, you can’t be serious.” Shaelith stood in front of the polished obsidian desk and had her hands clenched into fists. “Vyriz is chained up at that warlock’s fortress, losing fingers as we speak, while I’m supposed to enter into a concubine contract with some idiot?”

Laenre looked up from a document and fixed her cool amethyst eyes on Shaelith. “De facto, you have already entered into it through my word. The contract is sealed.”

“Then undo it!”

“I’m not one for turning.” Laenre leaned back. “And even if I were, why should I?”

Shaelith stared at her in disbelief. “Because you just gave me away to a clueless, uncouth, completely brainless human who thinks life is some kind of game?”

“I didn’t ‘give you away,’ I sold you at a premium, as hard to believe as that sounds.” A hint of amusement flitted across Laenre’s features. “Zinvere paid an astronomical price for you. That’s a world of difference.”

“Mother-”

“Listen to me.” Laenre’s voice sharpened. “The alliance with House Zinvere means that we will dominate Myzelemaerlazin unchallenged for at least this decade. Rynalazel is finished, and their alliance with Arazesre and Yndrala will crumble. The Deepglow Spores alone are worth more than anything our rivals could amass in three generations. Never before in history has so much been paid for a single concubine contract! Be realistic!”

Shaelith opened her mouth again, but Laenre just continued.

“The Tulvian connection through Princess Obelaine will open up trade routes that other houses can only dream of. And if your hero actually eliminates the Warlock, this damn war will end.”

“If.” Shaelith snorted. “You heard him talk. He thinks this is… child’s play, all just a joke. He’s not taking anything seriously at all.”

“That’s exactly why you’ll keep an eye on him.”

Shaelith froze. “What?”

Laenre folded his hands. “The Council hasn’t decided yet, but I’ll get them on board. As far as I’m concerned, this little mission you’re going on is both a genuine attempt to take out the Warlock as well as a diversion. While the Warlock and the goblins are focused on you, we’ll strike from somewhere else. Your job is to keep your contract holder from getting in our way with any nonsense, rescue Vyriz if possible, and above all, keep you all alive.”

So I’m not only his goddamn trophy wife, but also his babysitter?

She snorted bitterly.

What if I just leave?

The thought flashed through Shaelith’s mind before she could suppress it. She knew the way to the border. She could move through enemy territory, maybe she could even get to Vyriz-

No. Think, Shaelith.

She had only just recovered from mana exhaustion. She didn’t even know exactly where the warlock’s fortress was. And even if she did, she had seen what he was capable of. Yes, she had been exhausted, had only blood instead of mycelial ink, had not been in full possession of her powers, but even so, he could break Shaeravyn shields and Ben and she together had barely been able to stop him. Would she have a chance all alone? Against someone who explicitly wanted her, for whatever reason?

I would walk right into his trap. That’s exactly what he wants.

And then there was the fact that a broken concubine contract was social suicide. The Zinvere Alliance would collapse, and House Vyrnara would-

What would Mother do?

Would Laenre have her killed? Shaelith looked at her mother’s cool face and the fine lines around her eyes that bore witness to centuries of calculation.

No. Probably not.

But she would disown her without hesitation. And a Shaeravyn without a house… that was little better than dead. She would have no protection, no resources, and no identity. She would become nameless and dependent on the mercy of others.

I hate it. But with House Vyrnara behind me, I have resources and allies and a family. A chance to actually save Vyriz, instead of just dying in a heroic attempt. If that’s really my goal, I’ll achieve it better by entering into the concubine contract. Fuck.

The truth tasted bitter.

“Ten years, Shaelith.” Laenre’s tone softened, as if she had noticed Shaelith’s inner struggle. “That’s nothing. And the human isn’t even bad to look at.”

“It’s not about what he looks like!” Shaelith raised her voice. “Did you hear him talk?”

What else could she say? “Mother, you know, I kind of know this guy from before, because I had another life before this one, and that’s why this is all a little awkward”?

“I was the concubine of the breeding male who fathered you for twenty-five years.” Laenre said suddenly.

Shaelith fell silent. Laenre had never talked about him before.

“He was unbearable.” Laenre’s gaze clouded briefly as she immersed herself in memories. “He had the most annoying laugh I’ve ever heard and he gave terrible head. I gave birth to three sons who belonged to his house by contract before I finally had a daughter I was allowed to keep.” She fixed Shaelith with her gaze. “You. And in the end, it was all worth it.”

That’s actually a horror story, Mother, not a motivational speech.

“Go now.” Laenre turned back to her documents. “Make your human presentable for the ceremony and make sure he doesn’t interrupt the proceedings with his babbling.”

Shaelith stood motionless.

“That was not a request, Daughter.”

With a stiff bow, Shaelith left the study, and Laenre could be glad that these mycelium doors couldn’t be slammed shut.

 

~

 

In the guest quarters, Grimbart stood at the table and hammered his chronosteel arm on the spread-out contract document, while Thaelon held the cups on the table so they wouldn’t fall over. Mirrsoss fluttered nervously back and forth, leaving small clouds of wing dust behind her.

And Benderast sat there with the smug grin of a man who apparently still believed he had hit the jackpot.

“…that has nothing to do with that!” Grimbart thundered, banging on the table again. “This is a breeding contract! Are you even reading what’s written here?”

“Breeding sounds fine actually.” Benderast shrugged and winked at Grimbart.

Shaelith entered and the group fell silent. Mirrsoss’ wings vibrated even more nervously than before, carrying her a little higher into the air.

“Oh, Lady Shaelith!” The Umilari fluttered toward her. “We’re trying to explain to him-”

“I heard enough of that.”

This all also means I can never tell him that we come from the same world. That would be far too humiliating now.

Grimbart rubbed his forehead. “Please help us, maybe you can teach him what it means. He won’t listen to us.”

“Teach me?” Benderast leaned back. “What is there to teach? She is my concubine. Just because I’m from another world doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I know what a concubine is, it’s like a wife, only you’re allowed to have more than one. Case closed.”

“But there are certain expectations connected to that,” Mirrsoss tried again tentatively. “Like, for example, among us Umilari, when a couple unites, the dust production of their wings harmonizes over time and-”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Mirrsoss, but I don’t have wings, and neither does Shaelith,” Benderast interrupted. He looked at Shaelith more closely. “I think.”

Thaelon sighed heavily. “Among the Shaeravyn, a concubine contract is a political and reproductive agreement. It’s not a marriage, but a… a business relationship!”

“But with sex, right?”

Silence.

“Oh, by the Forge Father!” Grimbart threw up his hands. “YES, with sex! That’s the POINT! She’s supposed to bear you CHILDREN! READ THE DAMN THING! It says things about offspring and obligations and-”

Benderast blinked. “But I clearly remember her mother saying that she would take care of the children? So, I don’t have any obligations, right?”

I’m standing right here, asshole.

“How do humans do it?” Thaelon asked with growing astonishment. “How can someone enter into a partnership without knowing what obligations they are taking on and what they themselves want from it?”

“I knew what I wanted.” Benderast grinned in Shaelith’s direction. “And I got it.”

Grimbart slumped into a chair. “I give up.”

Shaelith clapped her hands. “Enough. Servants, make him presentable for the ceremony. Wash him, dress him appropriately, explain the basic procedure to him. I have to get myself ready.”

Three servants stepped forward and eyed Benderast curiously.

“Follow their instructions,” Shaelith said coolly. “And try not to do anything embarrassing. That’s all I ask.”

She turned and left the room before he could reply.

~

The large reception room of House Vyrnara had been transformed into a place of restrained splendor for the ceremony in no time at all. Glowing mycelium vines wound around the larger mycelium columns, bathing the room in soft violet light with their bioluminescent tips.

Representatives of all the major Houses and some smaller Houses allied with Vyrnara were present as witnesses, and all of them were curious. This sudden concubine contract for Shaelith was quite an event.

Shaelith wore a night-blue spider silk dress that was daring even by Shaeravyn standards. The fabric clung to her curves and was interrupted by carefully placed cutouts that revealed her purple skin.

If I’m going to be degraded to merchandise, then at least I’ll show them that I’m the most expensive merchandise in the whole city.

Even Thravilith Arazesre, whose face clearly showed envy and contempt, caught her breath when Shaelith entered the room.

Shaelith’s hair was elaborately braided, and she had chosen each message with extreme care. “House Vyrnara above all others. Beauty is my least interesting trait. The Orchid submits.” Underneath the last message, turned inward so that only Shaelith, who had braided the message herself, knew about it, was another small braid that subtly shifted the message. “The Orchid submits. For now.” Defiant, childish even, but she couldn’t help herself.

Benderast stood at the obsidian table wearing a simple but elegant tunic that accentuated his muscular build. The servants had done a good job. He looked almost respectable.

Until he opened his mouth.

“Wow!” he whispered loudly enough for half the assembly to hear. “That’s what I call cleavage!”

Grimbart groaned audibly. He, Mirrsoss, and Thaelon served as Benederast’s witnesses.

Matriarch Delzyndra, who served as mistress of ceremonies, spoke the formal words that Shaelith knew by heart, word for word and syllable for syllable. She had observed enough ceremonies of this kind.

Just never as the main character.

Two servants carried in an ornate container holding the Mycelial Witness, a living fungal colony older than most of the houses of Myzelemaerlazin.

“The contracting parties may step forward,” announced Delzyndra.

Shaelith strode to the obsidian table, and Benderast followed her with a spring in his step.

“Place your hands on the Witness.”

They obeyed. The mycelium felt warm and dry and pulsed sluggishly, almost like a slow heartbeat.

“Shaelith Vyrnara, do you accept the terms of this concubine contract in accordance with the laws and customs of Myzelemaerlazin?”

“I accept.” Her voice was flat.

“Benderast Stonefist, do you accept the terms of this concubine contract according to the laws and customs of Myzelemaerlazin?”

Benderast cleared his throat. “Yes! I take Shaelith, to be my lawfully wedded wife and I promise, um, to love and, uh, cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, until death… I mean, for the next, um, ten years at least-”

“A simple ‘I accept’ will suffice,” Delzyndra interrupted, frowning.

“Oh. Um. I accept?”

The mycelium beneath their hands glowed, gently at first, then more intensely, changing color from a dull violet to a rich gold to a deep carmine red before stabilizing and leaving a permanent imprint stored immutably in the living colony.

Then Shaelith felt the expected burning sensation.

A glyph materialized on her left wrist, made up of fine lines that engraved themselves into her skin. It was a semi-permanent contraception glyph, timed to match the duration of the contract. A standard measure to ensure that the concubine’s children were indeed those of the contract holder.

On Benderast’s right palm, the smaller, more subtle counterpart burned itself in, the override key that automatically canceled her contraception glyph whenever they would… consummate.

Not that that would happen.

Benderast stared at his hand in confusion. “What is this? A buff?”

“Later,” Shaelith murmured.

Delzyndra raised a pair of silver scissors. “The hair exchange.”

A servant stepped forward and cut a single strand of Shaelith’s hair, and another stepped forward to do the same to Benderast.

Shaelith took Benderast’s blonde strand and quickly and skillfully wove it into her own hair to signify her new status with a hair message. “Concubine.”

The humiliation burned in her chest. She had long resigned herself to the fact that she would eventually enter into a concubinage and bear children. That was part of the life of a female noblewoman in Shaeravyn. But concubine to Ben. Fucking. Blomquist. That was different. That was too much. And Vyriz wasn’t even there to cheer her up.

Benderast stared at the lavender-colored strand in his hand.

“Um… how do you do that?”

Like a child who needs his shoes tied.

Without a word, Shaelith took the strand, stepped behind him, and braided it into his hair herself. Just a simple braid, without any deeper meaning, but that was all she could bring herself to do.

“Done.”

Delzyndra nodded. “The contract is sealed. May it be fruitful.”

Shaelith rolled her eyes inwardly.

Then a familiar message flashed in her field of vision.

[NEW TRAIT ACQUIRED] [Hero’s Concubine]

Wonderful, another useless, humiliating trait for the collection.

 

~

 

The ensuing celebration was torture and virtually passed in slow motion.

There was moss wine, and Benderast, who seemed to enjoy the drink, drank more than was advisable. His grin grew wider with every cup. Grimbart had also apparently decided to drown his frustration in moss wine and was already on his seventh cup.

“To the lucky contract, may it be fruitful!” exclaimed one of Shaelith’s cousins, Phylissere, who was a year younger than Shaelith and was going through a rather wild phase, while raising her crystal cup. Then she leaned over to Benderast, giving him a good view of her ample cleavage, and whispered something in his ear that made him blush.

She wasn’t the only one. Later a 102-year-old young Shaeravyn, from a minor house known, who was known for her adventurous spirit, approached Benderast and let her fingers brush against his arm. “If the Moonlit Orchid doesn’t keep you too busy, human, my door is always open to you.”

A third was even bolder shortly thereafter: “I’d like to find out if human males are really as enduring as they say.”

Benderast looked at Shaelith, who was within earshot, with a slightly frightened expression, and obvious confusion increasingly spread across his face. He completely ignored Captain Norvyz’s very persistent attempts to chat him up, probably because he didn’t realize what he was doing. When Norvyz walked away, somewhat dejected, Benderast just seemed to assume that he had found a new friend and drinking buddy.

“Why is she so cold to me of all people,” Benderast muttered to Thaelon, louder than he probably intended, nodding somewhat awkwardly in Shaelith’s direction, “when everyone else is so, um, friendly?”

Thaelon sipped on a spore tea, because he never drank alcohol. “It could be – and I’m just speculating here – that she doesn’t like you.”

“Bullshit.” Benderast scoffed. “It must be the tsundere trope, believe me, I know all about that. At first, she acts like she hates me, but actually-”

“I’m grateful to you for saving my life,” Thaelon interrupted calmly. “We’ve always been very successful together and you often win against all odds, which is why I’m staying with you. But this time, Benderast… I don’t know, I think you’re seriously misreading the situation.”

Benderast laughed. “You’ll see. Admittedly, I had hoped the quest to be completed with this ceremony, but now I think I’ll probably get the XP on the wedding night.”

Mirrsoss, standing next to them, twitched her antennae in confusion. “Wedding night? What’s that?”

“Well, you know.” Benderast made an unambiguous gesture. “Where the magic happens.”

Mirrsoss’ wings vibrated nervously and a wisp of wing dust rose. “Um… I’m not sure if Lady Shaelith wants to… um…”

“Don’t be such naysayers all the time guys. She’ll come around, you’ll see.” Benderast’s confidence was unshakeable.

Shaelith rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.

He talks as if I’m not even there, has barely spoken a word to me all evening, and now he seriously expects to carry me over the threshold, and then I let him smash.

Laenre’s eyes found Shaelith’s across the crowd, she bowed her head briefly and nodded curtly to her, then called Belyssere over and whispered something in her ear.

Belyssere nodded in return, then went over to Shaelith and bowed before her. “The Matriarch says, Luminous Shaelith, that you are now relieved of your hosting duties and may retire to your chambers with Benderast Stonefist,” she bowed to him as well, though not nearly as deeply. ” I have already had everything prepared there.”

“Excellent!” Benderast jumped up, swayed briefly from the moss wine, but regained his balance. “Let’s go!”

On his way through the party, Benderast was congratulated by at least a dozen Shaeravyn. Some patted him on the shoulder, others gave Shaelith meaningful looks. Belyssere pinched her earlobe tenderly and whispered softly, “Have fun,” before retreating.

The whole House will want to know how he was tomorrow morning.

Benderast soaked up the attention like a sponge, walking with a spring in his step despite the alcohol and waving to his well-wishers like a triumphant on his parade.

Shaelith walked silently beside him through the corridors, trying with iron will to keep a calm expression on her face. When he tried to put his arm around her waist, she quickened her pace, leaving him behind, and stepped through the door to her chambers, which slid open before her.

Shaelith entered and took in the room.

Softly glowing mushrooms bathed everything in warm, subdued light, and the sweet scent of aphrodisiac spores hung in the air. Belyssere had really thought of everything. The bed was an obscene sea of pillows and shimmering silk, arranged exactly to her taste. On a small table stood carafes of moss wine and bowls of candied mushrooms. Everything the servants would normally prepare for Shaelith for a night of passion.

And normally, I would appreciate that. But this is not “normally.”

Behind her, she heard Benderast’s heavy footsteps and then the dull sound of the mycelium door closing.

Now they were alone.