S. E. Aeghann
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Luther's Pride Part 50
🕑 Added 2026-01-07 13:00:08 +0000 UTCLuther knew the steps to the dance, though it had been a while since he’d danced them. It took him more measures than it did Rhosyn to fall into the song’s rhythm. He concentrated through the first few steps, but once he regained his confidence, he lifted his eyes to Rhosyn, who was glaring at him.
“I could blame my grief, confusion, or arrogance, but no matter what the cause within myself, I still defied your trust. I take full responsibility and offer no excuses for my behavior,” Luther said. “I’ll submit to whatever punishment you deem fair.”
The previous statements softened Rhosyn’s anger toward him, but the last one drove it away in surprise. He was the social superior within the union, and among their personalities, he was more dominant than the others. To submit himself to a punishment she determined showed a humility no one in the ballroom would expect of someone of his station.
“Is that some kind of sexual kink?” Rhosyn asked.
Luther almost laughed, but thought better of it and turned his amusement into a grin. “No, that particular fetish isn’t among my preferences. I meant it more literally than suggestively. My father used to make me write lines, for instance, organize his books, or my least favorite punishment: Clean the tower.”
Rhosyn almost chuckled. “My parents would make me practice etiquette.”
“You’re a rather polite young lady,” Luther said. “Should I take that to mean you were in trouble often, then?”
Rhosyn lowered her eyelashes. “Between us, I’d say Eira and I were fairly even for troublemaking,” she said. “Though I was worse at it and got caught more often. Not that it mattered. Eira and I would often join each other’s punishments, either in solidarity or out of anger at our parents for taking away our playmate.”
Luther considered that a sweet gesture between siblings, though one he would have doubted would appear with harsher punishments.
“I’d follow my sister anywhere,” Rhosyn said. “I know you and Criella were much the same when you were children. Inseparable playmates, though not siblings. I understand your love for her, but I can only imagine your grief at losing her. Losing my parents was one thing, but if I were to lose Eira? It would break me, as losing Criella has broken you.”
Luther nodded, understanding her quite well.
“But I would never, ever, stop her from ascending to heaven,” Rhosyn said, her grip on his hand tightening. She turned her face toward his so that he could see her lips weren’t moving, but she spoke directly into his mind for a secret conversation she didn’t want to share with the surrounding strangers. “It’s cruel and selfish, damning her to torment for eternity because you have to live without her. She’s dead, and whatever you believe you’ve seen, there’s no communing with the dead or bringing them back. So I want us to leave this party as soon as we can, and when we get home, we’ll sneak away with her and burn her remains.”
Luther’s eyes widened.
“That’s your punishment, Luther,” Rhosyn said to his mind. “You have to do the right thing, or I’ll tell the others what I saw in your memories, and they’ll help me after learning how blasphemous your sins are.”
Luther sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils. He couldn’t lie to Rhosyn. If he did, she’d know. The young woman was slender and graceful. She bore the beauty of youth as rouge on her cheeks. Her plump lips remained closed, hiding deep, unyielding thoughts.
He stared into her eyes, but her sincerity was plain on her face. She meant for him to return home and burn Criella’s body, hope be damned. They didn’t believe him that her spirit was still there. Rhosyn must have seen her in his memories, but thought it was only the visions of a man driven delirious with grief. He might have a chance to convince them if he could prove it, but it would have to wait, and either way, she was right. He’d asked them to potentially sacrifice their lives, to break the law, and now he was asking him to betray their consciences and religion. He had to expect they’d defy him before they defied their gods.
“Give me one chance to—”
“This is your chance, Luther,” Rhosyn said. “And it’s the last one I’m giving you. Our union is forever, but my sister and I have our own property. We’ll separate and live the rest of our lives apart from you if we have to. Please, don’t make us.”
That threat struck Luther harder than any slap might have. The ultimatum before him wasn’t just about loss; separating meant they could refuse any future partners from joining the union. They could make his life incredibly lonely for the rest of his life, even if his life weren’t terribly long. Worse, they’d suffer as well.
“And that’s assuming you aren’t discovered and executed,” Rhosyn said. “If you die in that way, your title passes to your heir, if you’ve named any of us in your will, or to Helena as your first spouse. No doubt she’ll face challenges for it.”
Luther swallowed, keeping his eyes on Rhosyn’s as they carried on their silent conversation mind-to-mind.
“Don’t let your pride get in the way of your happiness, husband,” Rhosyn said as the song ended. “You have until we return home to consider your future.”
She ended the mind-to-mind communication there, leaving him on the dance floor as she returned to Eira. Helena took the opportunity to switch partners, but a servant beat her to Luther. The servant bowed and gestured to the table, where Duke Beaudivere nodded at him. It was time.
The musicians changed their tune, and the crowd on the dance floor slid apart to either side as the duke and his union moved to the stairs before their table. They formed ranks, with Duke Beaudivere at the center and apex of their arch.
“Good people, nobles, of the empire,” A herald spoke, using a trick to carry his voice through the hall. “Before we dine, we have a matter of ceremony to conduct. His lordship, Cerebrion Le Fey, has ascended to the heavens after passing away in his sleep. Rising to his seat among the nobility is his son, Luther Le Fey. We here bear witness to this ascent. May he prove mighty!”
A scattering of tepid applause filled the room. It was nothing personal against Luther, or even racist against his demihuman blood. The nobility gave the same unenthusiastic welcome to anything that interrupted their dancing, feasting, and drinking.
“You may approach His Grace, Duke Beaudivere,” The herald gestured to Luther.
Luther stepped out from the flanking lines and approached the stairs. His wives appeared from the crowd as well, walking two-abreast behind him. He stopped at the bottom step and knelt, keeping his head bowed and his eyes on the swirling gray within the white marble of the floor.
“I, Lord Luther Le Fey of Raefendale, do hereby swear upon my honor and blood that I shall be your vassal,” Luther said, reciting the words he remembered from the paper he signed, and likely butchering them. “I pledge my might, my counsel, and my service to the empire and its nobles above me. I will serve you as you serve the emperor.”
What was the next part? Taxes. Money was highly coveted by those who had more of it than others, and gold flowed upward to fill as many vaults as it could.
“I will render to you the taxes and levies from the lands you have entrusted me to protect.”
Protection. The word reminded Luther of the next piece of the oath—the reason for the nobility in the first place.
“I shall answer your summons to war with all the might my union can muster.”
Something, something, trust? Right. That came next, but Luther couldn’t remember the oath, and the words fled before him as he approached them. Rhosyn whispered in his mind once more, feeding him the words after he hesitated for too long. He altered them slightly, making the language less archaic, but the oaths remained the same.
“I hold my lands in your trust, and pledge to govern them justly as your vassal,” Luther said. “I acknowledge the duke of these lands as my rightful lord and commander, and swear to obey you in all matters of governance and war.” He’d changed those words from what Rhosyn gave him, but he wouldn’t swear personal loyalty or obedience to Beaudivere. He swore to the office instead, which Beaudivere couldn’t protest.
Still, Beaudivere wasn’t the only noble who noticed the careful choosing of Luther’s words, and murmurs rippled through the hall in waves.
“I will defend your lands and those of my fellow nobles as I would defend my own. I shall not harm this empire or harbor its traitors within my walls, and I shall kill its enemies and invaders with overwhelming might.”
Luther realized that was why the nobility existed, after all. To protect the people. At least, that was the theory, the philosophy. Governance kept the peace between the people, and magical might protected them from the kingdoms outside the empire.
“I swear these things before these witnesses, before the gods above and below, to hold sacred until death releases me.”
Luther finished his oaths, and the crowd waited for Beaudivere’s response. The duke looked down at him from the top of the stairs and grimaced. He’d clearly expected Luther to climb the steps and have an awkward time kneeling. Instead, he was forced to descend, to lower himself to Luther’s level, and put his hand on Luther’s head.
“So you swear, and so shall it be,” Duke Beaudivere raised his other hand with the chalice in it, distracting the eyes in the room from his other hand releasing Luther’s head. He wiped his hand on the back of his tailcoat. “To the empire!” He raised his glass.
“To the empire!” The crowd responded.
“To our might!” The duke yelled.
“To our might!” The crowd echoed with a far more raucous cry, and everyone drank their glasses.
The duke smiled as he made Luther wait until he’d downed his glass. Then he passed it to a servant, before finally clapping Luther on the shoulders. “You may rise, Luther Le Fey, Lord of Raefendale.”
Luther stood, rising from the stone in one smooth motion and standing taller than the duke despite his extra step. The duke quickly climbed the steps. “Come! Let us have a demonstration of your might!”
The crowd murmured and backed away, opening the dance floor.
“Show us your arcana,” The duke commanded. “We are most curious.”
“If it pleases your grace,” Luther said, in full knowledge that it did not. “I have arranged for such a demonstration already, as soon as the Feothe clan is ready.”
“I’m afraid I’m a most impatient superior,” The duke said, gesturing to the empty dance floor. “Come, I’m told you and your first bride sparred together to determine if you could marry. You defeated her without even using your arcana. Show us some entertainment.”
Ah, so that was the purpose. Disrespecting Luther before the nobility, treating him like an entertainer, so he knew his place as a demihuman would never be equal to what it should be. He knew that already from the lack of a title. Raefendale was a large valley on the empire’s border, and the mountains surrounding it were also part of his domain. By rights, he should be a Marquess, but the previous duke had refused to grant his fey father that honor. He had all the responsibilities and taxes of a Marquess, but none of the honor or prestige among society outside his valley.
Luther smiled. “Very well, my Lord, if you insist, but surely, you or one of your spouses would be willing to aid me for the demonstration. Which among you is the strongest? Or perhaps Branan or Lucas would be so kind as to join me on the floor, so that I might show them what I can do.”
The fury in the duke’s eyes made Luther want to laugh, but he’d never be so disrespectful as to forbid the duke from taking a graceful exit.
“You can’t demonstrate your skills without someone else?” The duke asked, using the question to narrow down which arcanas Luther might have.
“Alas, no, my Duke,” Luther said. “But please let it be the heartiest of volunteers. It’d be a shame to mar this lovely occasion with an undeserving death.”
Murmurs no longer rippled through the gathered crowd. They crested in tidal waves and smashed against the walls, rebounding as the nobles discussed the possible magics that might cause such care. Many wondered aloud whether Luther combined his mother's magical might with his father's physical abilities. Several took more steps away from him and the hall, pressing themselves against the wall as flat as the other bodies and furniture allowed.
“Oh, nevermind,” The duke relented, laughing away his suggestion as if it were a mere whim and not worth the hassle. “I had plenty of entertainment this morning already, and I expect I shall see more soon enough.” The duke sighed. “On to the feast!”
The duke’s comment made several nobles cheer or applaud at his good sense to remove any delay between them and the food. His referring to Criella’s death as entertainment made the air around Luther crackle. The dark look that came over his features was reserved for the duke and his spouses, while those behind him didn’t see it.
The young man’s wit had annoyed and harassed Luther through the day, but that shameless jibe had sealed his doom. Branan first, but the duke would one day die by Luther’s hand. He knew that for a fact in that moment.
Servants guided nobles to their tables. Helena took Luther’s arm, pulling him into the crowd. Some of them welcomed Luther as nobility and even complimented his handling of the duke’s crude request. Others turned away or gave him cautious looks. No reaction matched another, but they fell into categories Luther had no problem identifying. Those from his own lands welcomed him at least, and several others did as well.
Still, he had no intention of staying for dinner, regardless of how delightful it smelled. He didn’t want to risk poison or other sorceries in the food and drink.
He signaled to Rhosyn and gestured to the exit, and the Le Fey clan made their way through the crowds. They were in the hallway before someone stopped them. A noble, one of Duke Beaudivere’s spouses, the young woman Luther had seen Emiliy speaking with before, walked toward them as if she’d somehow been waiting for them.
“Please, take this to Emily when you see her,” she said. “She is still at your estate, is she not?”
“She is,” Helena answered. “I can take it to her. What is it? A book?”
“Just so,” The woman smiled. “I’ve known few who read as much as she does, and she tells me you have quite the library, Lord Le Fey?”
Luther nodded. “My father was a collector and a scholar.”
“Perhaps I shall visit then, sometime, without my husband, and you can show me your library.”
An innocent request, perhaps, though Luther would be dead and burning before he believed innocence or goodwill from the duke or his spouses.
“I’m sorry, but do I know your name?” Luther asked.
“Luther, please, allow me to introduce Callista,” Jowangshin said. “Callista Beaudivere, this is Luther Le Fey.”
They bowed to each other.
“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Callista asked. “My husband might have all the manners of a drunken cow and the racial prejudices of a man three generations his elder, but please do not judge everyone in our union as in league with him. I personally reproached him three times today, though I do not do so in public, for obvious reasons.”
Luther grinned. If she weren’t married to the duke, he might actually like her. “You show more intelligence than hatred, which is certainly preferable, but I’m afraid I must decline. I have business to attend to if you wish for the money to flow smoothly despite the loss of my solicitor. I must see to her replacement and prepare for our upcoming challenge.”
“My husband will be most annoyed that you left early. He intends to order you to relinquish your challenge against Branan,” Callista said. “He planned on using your oaths of obedience to do so.”
“I appreciate the forewarning,” Luther said. He suspected the duke would try something like that, so he’d worded his oaths carefully. “I believe he’ll find that my challenge against Branan is not a matter of governance or war. It is a personal matter, and I am free to pursue it and hold Branan to it by law.”
Callista blinked.
“If the duke wishes to interfere with that, or should he try any unconventional methods of interference, I will pursue the matter with the emperor,” Luther said. “Make no mistake, Lady Beaudivere, I keep my oaths.”
Callista blinked again, no doubt recalling the oaths he swore at Lucas and Branan after they killed Criella, which was his intention.
If she’d had more time, she might have offered a rebuttal or continued trying to persuade him. Instead, he offered her no such opportunity. “Ah, our carriage is here.” He gestured behind her. “Farewell, Lady Beaudivere, we shall see you again soon.”
Callista offered him a curtsey, and he returned it with a bow before taking his leave.
He held the carriage door for his spouses and climbed inside with them. He sat between Eira and Rhosyn now, riding with his back to the horses as they pulled the carriage along.
“You owe me dinner,” Helena said, her stomach growling.
Luther glanced at Rhosyn. She had other plans for them when they first arrived home.
“What?” Helena asked. “You two need to stop having silent conversations without the rest of us. It’s rude to exclude us. We’re your spouses, too, Rhosyn.”
Rhosyn nodded. “In that case, I think Luther has something he needs to tell you.”
All eyes turned to Luther, and he sighed. “It needs to wait until we’re in the library.”
Jo crossed her arms. “Oh, come on, you can’t leave us in suspense.”
Comments
Flamethrow
I love the way he walked a tightrope in his comments to the duke.
Trey
Well-handled with Beaudivere. Polite-to-civil while 100% clear 👏
