Nicca was a good match to procure an heir, though he wouldn’t put it past her House to entice her to murder him in their marriage bed once she was with child. It was a game his mother had played, though she’d lucked out with his father, whose loyalty had been bought, eventually turning into a love some Houses called a lie.
Vanya knew otherwise. He knew what his mother had negotiated for, what she ultimately gained, and he would not be her son if he didn’t try for the same. Whether or not Nicca could be that for him remained to be seen. And even if he didn’t have her, there was Soren.
Vanya stood from the table and went to the credenza where a small marble box sat, delivered that morning at his request. He picked it up and carried it with him back to the table, setting it beside Soren’s water glass.
Vanya tapped his finger on top of the gold-speckled lid. “Open it.”
Soren glanced at him curiously before reaching for the box. He undid the latch and opened it. Inside, nestled against dark velvet, was a gold medallion imprinted with the House of Sa’Liandel crest, hanging from a slender golden chain. The side profile of a roaring lion showed up in intricate lines. When Soren pressed the tiny button at the top, the face of the medallion opened like a locket, revealing only a tiny, sharp protrusion on the smooth, inside face.
“What is this?” Soren asked.
Vanya took the medallion from him and cradled it in his palm. He settled his thumb over the needle-sharp protrusion and pressed down. The pinprick drew blood, and Vanya smeared it over the gold backing there before closing the medallion up again.
“You cannot tell me what you want for payment, and I cannot leave a debt unpaid. Consider this a promise of future payment for whatever help you need, whenever that might be,” Vanya said as he deposited the medallion back into Soren’s care.
Soren stared at him. “I don’t want a blood vow.”
“Then tell me what youdowant.” Soren’s silence made Vanya sigh. “I will pay my debt when you ask me to, but you need toask.”
“This vow you’re offering comes with no boundaries.”
“You’re a nameless, stateless warden. What do you think you could ask for that would be impossible for me to give within the confines of the duty you adhere to?”
Vanya had thought about it all through the feast last night when Soren had tried to deflect all the goodwill directed his way and come to the conclusion this was the only road he could take. Soren was stubborn, but Vanya knew, eventually, he could pay the warden what was owed.
Soren curled his fingers over the medallion, staring at Vanya with an unreadable look in his gray eyes. “And if I never return and ask for anything?”
Vanya waved off his words. “You’ll return.”
“What makes you so sure about that?”
“Because you will come to Calhames bearing the biannual border updates from the wardens and report directly to me.”
Soren narrowed his eyes. “That’s not my place. A senior warden always handles that duty.”
“It will be your place now. I will make the wardens’ governor aware of it today after you leave.”
Vanya had already told his mother, who hadn’t been pleased about his decision to offer a vow like this, but it was—legally speaking—an acceptable stopgap. To ensure the debt could one day be paid, Soren had to visit him. Eventually, he might come bearing a request that Vanya would be well within his right to answer.
“I said I would take you home to your House, and I did. That should be enough,” Soren said.
“You know it can’t be.”
Soren didn’t move to put the medallion on, so Vanya did it for him, prying it out of his grip to hook it around his throat. The medallion was bright against his dark brown leather vest and shirt, glinting in the light. Soren lifted one hand to touch it, never taking his eyes off Vanya.
Vanya stroked his knuckles down Soren’s cheek, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. “Where will you go when you leave? Back into the poison fields? Home?”
“I have no home to go back to,” Soren said quietly.
“You’ll come back to me,” Vanya said with a surety that made Soren flinch, but there was no denial that came to the warden’s lips. “I will see you again before winter when you bring me the border reports. Perhaps by then you’ll have thought of something I can give you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will see you next spring.”
After a moment, Soren nodded. “Fine.”
“Good.”
Vanya kissed him, and it felt less like a goodbye than he thought it would.
