Fen turned to watch Lan, frowning at his silence.
“That is how it is in The Acana’s holding,” he said tentatively. “Although I don’t believe The Acana cared for many of them, even those he did marry. Perhaps… that is not how you would go about a such thing? You’re well past the age of maturity and could have a spouse or spouses already, and don’t. So that sort of alliance would not suit you? Alliances for political gain for you only?”
“Flower,” Lan began, halting and gentle, “even among other nobles, The Acana is referred to as the Old Horror. He has deceived and broken hearts among his many other despicable deeds. What you have known is not what most know.”
“Oh.” Fen closed his eyes. “I will consider that.” He waited until his face felt cooler, then reopened his eyes although Lan was still turned from him. “Your alliances, however you wish to make them, will not happen right away. Some nobles might be afraid to offer such a thing until you have more certain power, but offer they will. Though they’ll try to get the best of you in the talks for it. Be careful there.”
Lan sighed. “Cub….”
“Regardless of marriage,” Fen went on quickly, scowling at the word, “I don’t know your goal, or even your desires, if you were first after justice and now are after survival, but I think you and everyone who is with you deserve more thansurvival. And I think I can help you gain it.”
Lan’s head went to side, his thoughtful pose. “How would you split the powerful families?” he finally asked. “Or get the other nobles with me?”
Fen could not breathe for several moments. He clasped his hands tighter together but kept his voice smooth. “When someone has a problem within the boundaries of Acana territory, The Acana or a representative of The Acana is supposed to listen and hand out a judgment. That is how most Earls handle their affairs. But outside of that… who is there to go to? If you are a lesser noble and you have been clearly wronged, if you haven’t the strength and numbers of someone greater, or a willingness to go to war, then there is nowhere for you to state your grievance. Similarly, if your Earl has wronged you, and you are a baker, or a farmer, or a maker of candles, where do you go?”
“Fuck.” Lan pushed the word from him. “Doomsayer for the whole of the North? With a voice outweighing even the richest Earl? Is that how you would have me?”
“Many have been wronged by Earls.” Fen had to put in effort to keep his tones sweet. “Not just you. Even other Earls. What wouldn’t they do for a chance for justice?”
Lan turned to him. “Do you often think like this, cub?”
“I was given very little to do,” Fen admitted. “And when things go badly in my father’s holding, it happens quickly, so it’s best to observe and plan how to avoid threats.”
“Fuck,” Lan said again, quietly pained.
Fen broke his hands apart to make an appeasing gesture. “When bards came with songs and stories, I listened, and started thinking of that too. But thoughts only, until now.”
He thought Lan would turn back or finally get into bed. But he didn’t move, probably seeing more than Fen in the dark.
“The Geon would have been a waste for you,” Lan declared at last. “You should have a land of your own to rule.”
Fen blinked several times in surprise and confusion. “Lands are held with swords and strength.”
“Which is what got us where we are,” Lan replied, smooth now. “A little cunning would go a long way. And much is forgiven for a pretty face.”
Fen realized his mouth was open. He shut it to swallow, then said, slow and lost. “It would still need the sword behind it, at least for now.”
Lan’s exhale was loud. “The Geon would not have recognized what you are and certainly wouldn’t have known what to do with you—outside of his bedroom, that is.”
“And you do?”
Fen didn’t mean to ask it, but it floated between them, caught in the air until Lan faced away from him again and muttered, “I know what I’d like to do with you.” He shook his head once forcefully, then asked, “You truly believe I could be this person, this Earl of Earls?”
Fen fell back onto his fur bed and only then realized he had pushed himself up onto his elbows to try to get a better look at Lan. “You are going to take them on either way. And I have found your judgments to be trustworthy so far. But it’s only one idea.”
He imagined Lan had raised both of his eyebrows. “And you’re not going to tell me exactly how to achieve it?”
Fen glanced over, pleased despite the tension in his chest and stomach to see Lan still and listening. “I don’t know what you have in place already. And I would not presume.”
“Oh, yes?” Lan asked, and thatdidseem to be mocking, if only slightly. “Then do you have other things to tell me that you think I should know?”
Fen scrambled back up onto his elbows, breathless. “Really?”
Lan shifted the single fur left on his bed as he sat against the headboard. “I did ask,” he reminded Fen.
Fen sat up and crossed his legs. “You should rest,” he insisted as though he hadn’t just abandoned his attempt at sleeping. “But if you wish me to be your advisor on those matters, I can give you the histories of the families I have heard, and tell you about those nobles I have met… or at least seen, while they were in the holding.” He worried around a frown for a moment. “It will take some time. Perhaps I can tell you in pieces, to ensure you get your rest.”
“The colors and armor the nobles use, taught to me so I can use it against them?” Lan wondered in that marveling, mocking tone again. “What do I give you in return?”