The Keeper and the Rulership: The End in the Beginning, #2

By Emily Martha Sorensen

As the daughter of a landowner, Raneh lives in a world of clearly defined roles and rules.  She's supposed to get married, gain status, become a landowner herself, and definitely not have magic.  Seeing as it's forbidden and all.

Too bad she has it anyway.

On top of that, a suitable courtship does not seem to be forthcoming, her younger brother is a social embarrassment, her younger sister is better at everything than she is, and . . .

And the Ruler's coming to visit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Martha Sorensen
• Release date: Apr 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533796745

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ishould have been delighted.  In normal circumstances, I would at least be relieved.  I wouldn’t be obliged to attend the most significant event of the season without the favor of a suitor displayed on me.

But there were a few obvious problems with being presented with two bouquets.  First, of course, whoever I turned down would be offended.

Second, I honestly didn’t know which boy I preferred.

I tried to swallow my coil of fear — bad things happened when I got nervous — and turned to the first bouquet.

It was from Jontan.  His family’s land was right next to ours, and he’d been an easy escort for me for years.  The problem was, I didn’t think our relationship was going anywhere.  Jontan felt more like a brother than a suitor, and I was weary of pretending we had chemistry that just wasn’t there.

Derrim and I sparkled with chemistry.  He made me laugh, and even though he wasn’t handsome, he had incredible charisma.  When he took me to events, I lit up with laughter, I had a great time, and I felt giddy as long as we were together.

But there was a problem with Derrim, too.  He was rude and caustic, his cutting remarks always hilarious when said in context.  But every time I let him escort me someplace, I felt sick the next morning.  I liked Derrim, I liked spending time with him, and yet I didn’t like the person he made me.

I stared at the two bouquets disconsolately.

A rustle sounded behind me.  I turned to find my mother sweeping down the stairway.

Why, Raneh! she cried, plucking up the first of the enormous bouquets.  "Two choices!  And here you were worried that you might not receive any!"

I gave her a weak smile as she flipped through the flowers expertly.

Luries, she said, running her fingers along the broad pink petals.  Thick.  And healthy.  He has honorable intentions.

I nodded.  Jontan’s intentions were always honorable.  That was one of the things I liked about him.

Affection and fondness, Mother continued, examining the smooth orange lennies and the delicately scented turquoise adlies.  With just a hint of sweetness, those must have been cut just before budding.  That required foresight.  He must have been planning this for weeks.  And tied together with tiny white speckies.  A very harmonious arrangement, Raneh.

Jontan’s always are, I sighed, pointing at the tiny spray of wheatling and adly leaves that was his family’s signature.  But they always have something else, as well.

Mother frowned and pulled out the biggest of the pale pink luries.  There, hidden beneath the rest of the flowers, was the crushed velvety blue-purple he always shoved there.

Mother let out a bark of laughter.  Filias?  He really always puts one in there?

‘Loyalty to the Rulership,’ I said dryly.  If it were anyone else, I would think he was showing off.  But with Jontan, he’s always sincere.

Mother chuckled.  That’s not a bad trait in a suitor, Raneh.

But it’s not flattering, either! I protested.  Every single bouquet he sends is practically saying he’d put the Rulership first over his family!

So?  Were you planning to make him choose between them? Mother teased.

I looked down, not daring to answer that.  The truth was, I had reasons for not liking the Rulership, reasons for not wanting to marry somebody who was so blindly faithful to it.  In fact, Derrim’s irreverence towards the Ruler had been one of the reasons I’d been attracted to him in the first place.

Let’s see the other bouquet, Mother said, setting the first one down.  She picked up the second and examined it critically.  I see Derrim’s preference for spectacle hasn’t been dampened since the last invitation he sent.

This bouquet was a wild mash of clashing colors that seemed entirely haphazard.  Garishly orange whirlies spun out the sides, purple-green-striped inna leaves jabbed from the middle, and tiny red speckies were strewn in strange places.  He’d put his family’s signature of laceleafs right where it was supposed to be, front and center, but it was rendered deliberately ridiculous with a pair of bright orange stokwings perched on top, arranged to look like birds about to eat the laceleaf berries.

Mother caught a whiff of the strong scent of inna and whirlies, and choked.  Would someone teach that boy how to mix perfume properly?

I giggled.  He always uses flowers that are too strong and should not be mixed together.  I think it’s his way of showing off his acerbic taste.

Or lack of taste whatsoever, Mother shuddered.  She tossed the bouquet back onto the main hallway’s receiving table.  Tell me, does he actually show up smelling like this?

No, no.  I couldn’t stop giggling.  He rarely wears scent at all, actually.

Well, that’s something.  Mother eyed me critically.  So?  Which boy are you planning to go with?

I hesitated.  "Well, in some ways Derrim is a lot better than Jontan.  He’s so interesting."

Mother glanced at the so-safe-that-it-could-have-been-taken-straight-out-of-a-textbook-and-probably-had-been bouquet.  I understand.  Jontan does lack creativity.

Or ability to gain status, I admitted, brutally.  He rarely loses any, which is more than I can say for Derrim, but he rarely earns anything, either.  He’s just . . . invisible.  I’m not saying that I’m wildly ambitious, but . . .

But one can’t spend status that isn’t there, Mother nodded.  One wants to have some revenue that’s more than the crops bring in.

If one wants to stay a landowner, anyway, I said glumly.  And I don’t want to be a vassal, Mother!

Well, of course not.  Nobody does.

Grandmother and Grandfather don’t mind, I thought.  But their situation was different.  They worked for us; they didn’t have to live with some landowner family that didn’t love them.

You could always be ours, Mother said gently, as if reading my mind.  But I’m guessing you would rather have your own land.

I nodded emphatically.  Being vassal to my parents would be almost as intolerable as being a vassal to anyone else.  True, I would take my share of my family’s status with me when I married.  True, they could gift me with any more they wanted me to receive.  But my parents had three children to worry about, and one would be in much more dire need of status than me.

Here.  Mother plopped the second bouquet in my arms.  Go with Derrim.  He sounds like the better possibility.

I nodded, breathing deeply.  Then I choked and gagged at Derrim’s bouquet’s perfume.  It was much worse than usual.

Who combines spicy with acrid on purpose? I thought indignantly.  Derrim, what were you thinking?

Chapter 2

Our family’s house magician was helping me arrange my hair.

Here we go, she said, tucking a strand behind my ear.  And then we . . . enhance!

The lock of hair bounced with curl.

Isn’t that a waste of magic? I asked curiously.  I mean, if you only have so much to draw from daily . . .

Who cares during the growing season? she scoffed.  They barely even need me during harvest season.

I sighed, feeling her pull my hair up into the tight, tucked-up style I usually wore for parties.  Out of the many things I looked forward to when I got married, wearing my hair down in public would be top of the list.

Is it nice, having magic? I asked wistfully.  I mean, being able to use it publicly?

She gave me a strange look.  "It’s not like anybody ever uses it secretively."

I gulped.  N-no, of course not.  I was just . . . wondering . . .

Well, stop wondering, she said tartly.  Magic’s forbidden for landowners, and you’re hardly going to take the oath and renounce status.

"Well, I could, couldn’t I?" I said defiantly.

Lala burst out laughing.  She laughed so hard, she dropped the two tucks of hair she was holding.  She leaned over and gasped for breath.

What? I cried, offended.  "I could!  It’s not forbidden!"

Nobody ever chooses magic over status if they could be wealthy, Lala gasped, holding her stomach.  You’re hardly in danger of vassalhood, Raneh.

"But I could —"

Why would you want to? she asked incredulously.  You have status, Raneh.  A lot of status.  To be a landowner is much better than having magic.

But why is it forbidden to have both?  I can understand with mathematics, but —

Okay, Lala said with amusement.  Why is it forbidden with mathematics?

That one was easy.  That one made sense.

Because the knowledge of the status equations can’t be available to anyone with status.  It would allow them to cheat.

So . . .

So it’s not the same! I cried.  Magic has nothing to do with status!

Oh, really? Lala asked contemptuously.  You think magic wouldn’t allow a landowner to cheat?

I fell silent.  She had a point.

But if somebody got it accidentally —

Lala snorted with laughter.  Magic doesn’t come to anyone without their asking for it.  She stabbed a pin through my hair.  I flinched as the tip grazed my scalp, and the scent of whirlies jostled above me.  Really, Raneh, don’t be morbid.

I stared ahead of me, at the wall, glumly.  Morbid.  Because using magic without renouncing status first was an automatic death sentence.  Because nobody got it accidentally.

I wondered if I had time to visit my groverweed.

Of course Derrim, who was notoriously late to everything, chose this one evening to arrive early.

I flung open the door, preparing to run down to my garden, and there he was.  His hand hung foolishly in the air, right where the knocker had been a second previously.

Uh, Derrim said, quickly recovering by smoothing his hand through his hair, as if that had been what he had intended in the first place.  Hi, Raneh.  Ready to go already?

I wanted to die.  Uh . . . sorry . . . I was just planning to drop by my garden while I waited . . .

Derrim looked down at my high-heeled dance shoes, then back up at my crimson ballgown, with the shimmering gold highlights.  You’re going to wear that for gardening? he asked incredulously.

No! I fumbled.  No, it’s not — uh —

Great.  Just great.  How do I explain this?

I — I wanted to pick a filias.  Just for good luck, I fumbled.  It’s kind of dumb and superstitious, but it’s such a major event, so I’m nervous, and . . .

Derrim’s sneer softened.  Let’s go together, he said, sweeping into a bow.  You lead the way.

Feeling like a fool, I slipped out into the cool evening air and walked down the path along the edge of the house.  We passed our largest and most magnificent garden, the one my mother tended, which was most prominent near the front of the house.  Fruited, thorned vines tumbled out over the high fence, wafting perfume into the night air.  Off to the side of the house was my father’s garden, which was nothing exciting but very tidy, tended mostly by our field magicians and Grandmother, who used it to grow culinary herbs.

I cringed as we passed Yaika’s garden, which only got tended when she felt like it, usually during planting season.  She grew wild assortments of exotic flowers, and it would have been quite visually striking, if she had ever bothered to weed out the beds with real regularity.  Unfortunately, while her taste was perfect, her interest lay far more in fashion than gardening, and it showed fairly obviously.

What’s that one? Derrim asked, pointing.

Okay, now I cringed.

That’s my brother’s garden, I said.  He’s, uh . . . he’s in between plantings right now.

Derrim surveyed me skeptically.  In the middle of the growing season?

He had to pull out a whole lot of weeds, I improvised.  He’s planning to start all over again at the end of harvest season, with transplanting and everything.  That’s the second-best time to do it, you know, right before cold season begins.

Uh huh.  Derrim didn’t look like he believed a word of it.  Wasted land is really bad.  You could get more than status-dinged if anybody saw it.

I know.  Believe me, I know.  I wish Father and Mother weren’t so insistent that they aren’t going to do it for him.  I took a deep breath, trying not to show my humiliation, and squared my shoulders.  Well, that’s really up to him, I said briskly.  I’m sure he’ll come up with something quite nice when he’s ready.

Suuuure, Derrim said.  Has Tuberbulge even gained status yet?

I glared at him.  Bulge tubers were actually highly nutritious, not paunchy like my brother, but I didn’t think he meant the term as a compliment.

I dignified this with no response, and pushed open the metal slats of my garden gate.  My fence was only waist-high, meant as a support for vines around the edges more than a deterrent to keep out thieves, so the latch was simple.  I turned back and looked at Derrim.  Coming? I asked archly.

Derrim looked down at his shining shoes and his immaculate dancing slacks.  He made a face.  No, thanks.

I smiled smirkishly and slipped into my own private world.

Alone, I felt myself relaxing.  Around him, I always felt the need to play a part, to be confident and cocky, and even around other people, I had expectations all over me.  But in this one place, I had quiet and peace.  In this one place, my secrets were known and safe.

Hello, you, I whispered to my groverweed, slipping onto my knees and picking out a leaf.  I touched it gently, feeling the surge of magic that always came when groverweed connected with me.  Not now, I said softly.  Not right now.  Right now, I want you to take.

The groverweed squeezed my magic eagerly, and yanked to drain me.  I felt weak and lightheaded, as I always did when magic was pulled from me, and I stumbled up back my feet.  Why did I tell Derrim I wanted to come? I thought fuzzily.  Oh, right.  Filias.  The Ruler’s flower.

I fell back on my hands and knees and ran my hands through the groverweed patch until I found a token clump of filias.  I could always tell the difference — I didn’t know why nobody else could — and I yanked it up out of the ground, roots and all.  Then I frowned, realizing that would probably not look good, and peeled off a stalk with a small, budding flower.  The rest I shoved back into the ground, not really bothering to plant it.  Filias was pretty hardy; it had to be, if it was going to be mistaken for groverweed.

I rubbed my forehead, waiting for the fuzzy feeling to dissipate.  Then I waited until I was sure I could walk steadily, heading back to the front gate.

You took your sweet time, Derrim observed.

I made a face at him.  It’s hard to see the buds when there are so many leaves.  But, see?  I got one.

Derrim looked at it unenthusiastically.  It’s wilted, and it’s still just a bud.  Nix that flower.  You are not going to wear it with me.

Okay, I said, sniffing.  I just wanted it for luck, anyway.

And you are going to get your house magician to do something about those shoes, aren’t you? he added, pointing.

I looked down.  My crimson heels were covered in dirt.  Annoyed at him, I simply stomped the dirt off.  Good as new, I said.

He snorted derisively, then spun to head back to the house.  With his back turned, I flung the filias at the bushes unceremoniously.

Stupid flower, I muttered under my breath.  Then I ran to catch up with him.

Chapter 3

B ye, Mother! I called at the house as we passed.  Bye, Father!

A rotund head poked out the doorway.  Hey, what about me? my brother demanded.

I squeezed my eyes shut.  This was an interaction I had been hoping to avoid.

Hi, Tuberbulge, Derrim said.  Still not statused yet, I see?

Hurik pushed the door open further and leaned in the doorway, taking a huge bite out of a pastry.  A glob of jam fell from his mouth and onto his tunic.  I could have sworn it was on purpose.  Nope.

Derrim said, in a casual voice, Take your oath and start earning your own keep, you leech.

Hurik sucked more of the jam out of the pastry, loud and slurpy.  I don’t have to take one till I’m eighteen.

"You’re supposed to take the oath of childhood when you’re twelve!"

"But I don’t have to.  Hurik held up a finger.  That makes all the difference."

Derrim glared at me, plainly infuriated.  "Tell him he’s fourteen.  He should be out and earning status just like everyone else his age."

We’ve tried, I sighed.  He doesn’t listen.

Sure I do, Hurik said, slurping butter off his fingers.  I just don’t obey.  I like my life the way it is, thanks.

He shut the door.  The shuffling sound of his walk ambled up the stairs.

Lazy cretin, Derrim muttered, grating his teeth.

I sighed, not entirely in disagreement.  He does have some good qualities.

Uh huhhh, Derrim said, looking unconvinced.

The door flew open.

Raneh?! Yaika squealed.  I can’t believe you were going to go off without saying goodbye to me!

I flinched.  The force of my sister’s presence was like an entire crowd staring at me.  Even Derrim, who had never met her before, took a step backward.

Uh . . . he said, recovering.  Are you . . . Raneh’s sister?

Yes!  I’m Yaika! she beamed.  Her face lit up.  I’m going to turn twelve next month!  I’m taking my oath soon!

Even through annoyance, I had to snort with laughter into my hand.  Derrim didn’t seem to notice he’d just jolted a whole bunch of status her way.  Not that it mattered, since she hadn’t taken her oath of childhood yet; it had rebounded right back.  But he’d probably be ticked off when he realized.

I wish I could go with you, Raneh! Yaika wailed, throwing her arms around me.  It’s so awful, not quite being old enough yet!

Gritting my teeth, I tried to pull her off me.  I was used to Yaika, and yet she still managed to stun me with her beauty every time she first walked into a room.  It wasn’t fair.  When I was twelve years old, I’d looked like a bumpy twig.

I’ve heard so much about you, Yaika said breathlessly, looking up at Derrim with her wide, gorgeous eyes.  You’re Derrim, aren’t you?

Uh, he said.  Yeah.  Uh huh.  Yeah.  He smoothed his hands through his hair.

I rolled my eyes and finally pried Yaika off.  Don’t worry.  I’ll come back with a bunch of status.

She giggled.  You’d better!  I need to buy a stunning gown for my coming-out party!

You already have loads that nobody’s seen! I protested.

Yaika giggled, blew a kiss at both of us, spun around, and pranced back into the house.

Derrim stared after her for a moment in stunned silence.  So that’s your sister, he said finally.

I sighed.  Yeah.  That’s Yaika.

Derrim shook his head vigorously, as if trying to clear it.  You realize she’s gonna get married at fourteen.

"Only if a really, really rich suitor comes that early, I said with a shrug.  Otherwise, she’ll hold out until she’s at the peak of her beauty.  We’ve talked about it before, and that’s what she’s told me."

"Peak of her beauty, Derrim muttered under his breath.  Your parents are gonna be rich the instant she get statused."

A burble of laughter escaped me.  I know.

Which was something we were all looking forward to immensely.

We’re here!  Derrim leaned over into the back of the carriage and twisted the knob of the engine.  Its vial of enhanced stinksap burbled and went still.  Huh.  Impressive.

I leaned out the window and gasped.  I had been here before, for another event, but the Ental family had outdone themselves this time.  The distance from the gardens to the house had been diminished so that the tallest flowers loomed over the windows, and the facade had been painted with some glittery fragrance.  As we passed up the walk to the entrance, several vassals bowed in front of us, and we could hear the strains of music from a distance.  Sheer curtains parted to admit us into the entryway, and that, too, had been enhanced magically.  It was noticeably longer and more silent than it would have been normally.

As my feet padded down the carpet, woven with similar glittery threads, I could only whisper.  How much magic do you think it must have taken to do this?

Loads, Derrim said, shrugging.  His voice seemed to echo through the hallway.  Probably they paid a lot of status to each of their friends to get their friends’ spare magicians here.

On each side of the hallway were the usual assortment of artists, standing by their works so we could tip them with status whenever we saw something we liked.  We passed a sculpture of the Ruler in a gown made from filias, and two paintings with vividly-dyed colors caught my eye.  I stopped to look more closely, but Derrim dragged me forward.

Waste of status, he said brusquely.

Several of artists looked offended, and I averted my eyes, embarrassed.  As we marched on, I focused and tossed a tiny bit of status at each of them.  I didn’t have time to pick a favorite, but I wasn’t going to be rude to them.

At the end of the hallway were two lavishly painted doors.  Derrim placed his hands on two laceleaf-shaped decorations and squeezed his eyes shut.

Do you think I look good? he asked in an undertone.

He’s as nervous as me, I thought in astonishment.  He is?

You look good.  I cleared my throat.  You look great.

He ran his fingers through his hair, then reached out and tweaked my hairpiece.  He brushed some nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt and his sash, took a deep breath, and flung the doors open before us.

Dazzling lights blinded me.  I shielded my eyes to see the room had far more gleaming chandeliers than usual, to match the truly enormous enhanced room size.  Flickering snowbuds danced from each table and grew through the walls, poofing tiny specks of white perfume dust in the air whenever someone brushed into them.  It was magnificent.

One girl in cream and silver rushed towards us, her face lighting up.  Derrim! she cried.

Who’s that? I hissed, trying to ignore a stab of jealousy.

Derrim completely ignored me and swept forward in a bow.  Gendri, he said warmly.  I was hoping I’d see you here.

You should have invited me, she said pouting.  I had to come with my brother instead.  I was counting on you!

Necessities prevented me, he said with a mysterious smile, patting her hand.  But another time, I’m sure that we could . . .

Okay, enough of this nonsense, I thought.

I’m Raneh, I said, elbowing my way over.  Derrim came here with me.

Gendri’s mouth opened.  She stared at me in horror.  Her face, already an unusually light shade of brown, went even paler.  Derrim! she gasped in a strangled voice.  "You didn’t invite her instead of me?"

Derrim’s gaze flickered over to me.  He looked mildly annoyed.

You have a problem with that? I asked her flintily.

Gendri’s fists clenched.  Her eyes filled with tears.  She smacked a tiny bit of status from me