Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
From there, Michel and her father went into a locked room alone and did not come out.
Eve was not allowed in, though it seemed every other advisor her father ever had was summoned at some point.
Khuyag came and went. Each brother was called in.
Timicin entered the room and stayed for hours.
She heard bursts of yelling from behind the door throughout the day, but she never knew from whom.
Eve stayed perched outside the door. For a while, she paced.
Then she sat. Then she stood by the window.
Each time the door opened, she waited for news, like an expectant father.
She received nothing more than stern looks from those coming and going.
Her mother brought her broth and fruit to nibble on.
Her sisters-in-law, all five of them this time, like a flock of geese, came to look at her, asking questions she couldn’t answer.
What are they discussing? Why aren’t you allowed in?
Did you really see a dragon? The time ticked by, and the sun traveled through the sky.
It was not like her father to leave her out of things that mattered to her.
Plus, she had input that could help this alliance be forged.
But now, now, she wasn’t invited while these men planned her future?
Finally, after hours and hours, the door opened. Her father stood there and asked her to come in. By now, she was pissed.
She rose and walked toward him in a halo of fire. Her father’s expression went from sternness to surprise when he saw her, then to amusement as she glared at him while entering the room.
Michel, molded over a chair, perked up to smile at her, but his expression turned anxious when he saw her scowl.
Her father sat at the table, Michel stayed in the chair to his right, and Eve sat across from the two men. She folded her arms.
“So,” she bit out. “What have you two intellects decided will be my fate?”
Michel opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He looked from her to her father.
Her father sighed with irritation. “Michel has told me many things this afternoon,” he began. “Many things that you did not tell me about the journey you have been on.” He paused and breathed in a long breath through his nose. “I believe…” He paused. “I believe this will be a suitable match.”
“Oh, really?” Eve said sarcastically, her arms folded.
“Eve,” Michel began. “We didn’t mean to exclude you. There were politics to discuss. How to handle Timicin.”
“Do you not trust my input on politics? You don’t know this tribe better than I.”
“No, I—” stammered Michel. “Of course not.”
“Enough.” Her father waved his hand. “I needed my head to be clear. If you were here, emotions would be too high.”
“Father, I am more than capable of controlling my emotions—”
He stood up and struck his chest with a closed fist. “My emotions, Enebish.”
Eve shut her mouth.
Her father took in another controlling breath. “It is all done. Everything has been decided.”
“What of the tribe of Timicin?” she pressed.
Michel scooted forward on his chair. “Eve, we will trade with him,” he said, his voice hoarse from the hours of negotiations.
“Timicin’s tribe does business with the Chinese and other markets I’ve never had access to.
It will give me enough that the loss of Renault and Kashgar will not destroy my business here. ”
“The trade will bring riches to Timicin,” her father interjected. “He is satisfied.”
“The girl?” Eve asked.
“As far as Timicin knows, it was Ganbold who killed Bataar.” Borjigin nodded. “This was all a game played by the ancestors. Let them know the truth and no others.”
“Well,” she said, throwing her hands up in resignation. “That just leaves me.”
“Eve,” Michel said. He reached out to take her hand, but when her father grunted, he pulled his hands back. “We will be wed in the morning. Your father has agreed.”
“No,” Eve said.
“No?” Michel asked.
“No?!” her father bellowed as he slammed his hands on the desk, fuming once more.
Eve stood up too to match her father’s gaze. “We are traveling to Chevalerie,” she announced, fuming just as much. “I wish first to be accepted by my future in-laws.”
“Who is traveling?” asked Michel.
“All of us,” she asserted, still matching stares at her father. She could tell by his expression that he would concede without further argument. “My parents, my brothers, the whole damn family.”
Her father sat back down in his chair and folded his arms.
“And Father,” she said. “Prepare to bring the cashmere with us.”
“The cashmere?” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said, “All of it. Empty every storehouse and set the craftsmen to make more. I want every bolt, every string, every fiber coming with us.”
“Where is this coming from?” he asked. He indicated toward Michel. “We spoke nothing of cashmere.”
“Because he needs to bring home more than beads and barley from Timicin. Or my new family, my new people, will be persecuted.” She stuck a finger toward Michel, who jumped when she did.
“I would have to discuss this with the il-khans.” Her father hesitated.
Eve stomped out of the room and then returned with the orange-bound book in her hand.
She tossed it onto her father’s desk. “In there, you will find every agreeable merchant between here and the Mediterranean. Every transaction that can justify this level of trade. You have all you need to convince anyone that this will be a prosperous market for both the horde and my new home.”
“We aren’t prepared to initiate this level of trade…” he trailed off.
“Figure it out, Father, like you have just figured out the rest of my life.” Then she turned back to Michel. “I hope your little kingdom can handle our army,” she yelled as she slammed out of the room.
As she left, she had caught the look of shock on Michel’s face. But it wasn’t until she got down the hall that she heard the booming laughter of her father.
Later that night, there came a knock on her door.
She knew that knock. It was the knock of a man who knew that her pride had been bruised and that she had been taking too much from this life.
A knock she had heard many times growing up—whenever she was criticized for being too bold, knowing too much, or for being too demanding. The knock of her father.
She had been sitting in her chair by the window, staring out across the land that she had grown up in. She rose and called for him to enter.
“Eve.” He approached her with a heavy grumbling sigh. “You are wearing on my patience.”
“What Father? Have I offended you by taking an active role in my life?” She said the bold words, but her countenance could not back them up. She collapsed once more in the chair. Despite everything, she felt defeated.
“Did I not concede to everything you asked for?” he asked, voice terse.
“Yes,” she said. She dropped her head into her hands. “Thank you.” The words muffled in her hands.
Borjigin chuckled and sat beside her. “What troubles you, my Enebish?”
“Father, I am so sorry to put you through this. This pregnancy. I am terribly ashamed.”
“Ahh, yes.” He put his feet up on the table and leaned back. “That is not ideal.” He paused. “I certainly didn’t expect your marriage to come about like this. But I suppose…” He sighed. “There are worse things.”
She looked up at him, surprised he was not more upset.
“Do you know what Michel and I talked about today?” he asked.
“You talked affiliations. Alliances. How to navigate the marriage politically with the other tribes—”
“Yes, of course. I am not in a position to take a betrothal for you lightly. Our family has always had an obligation to the horde. You know that.” He nodded. “But that wasn’t what Michel and I spent our time on.”
She looked at him.
“I needed to know what happened to you and how everything transpired. You gave me very little information. I needed to know how you suffered. You are my daughter. I failed to protect you.” He sat up straight, placing his feet on the ground once more.
“You have always had a problem telling the whole story.”
“I was just trying to protect everyone,” she said, a humbled softness to her voice.
“Yes, my flower, but if you don’t allow anyone to see the full picture, you are not protecting anyone. Including yourself.”
She looked down. “I am beginning to realize that.”
Her father continued. “You did not tell me how Bataar treated you or abused his wives. How you were forced into exile. How Michel kept you safe.”
“I was worried that if I spoke of Michel too fondly, you would be more suspicious of our relationship. I didn’t want anyone to discover the pregnancy until he was far away.”
“Again, these are times when you must trust in the counsel of the people around you. That was too heavy a decision to make on your own, and in an instant at that.” He leaned forward to take her hands.
“Enebish, you are impulsive. What have I always taught you? Think before you step, and what have you always done? Step before you think. If you want to lead, darling, you cannot do it on your own.”
“I understand.” She squeezed his hands, then let them go. “Father,” she continued, realizing she was not yet finished with her demands. “It cannot be allowed anymore—wife-stealing.”
“It is not allowed,” he began.
“Yes, but it happens.” She looked at him sharply. “It is terrible and degrading and brutal. Our culture is too beautiful to turn our heads when such a thing takes place.”
“It has always been a complication among the young tribes. I truly haven’t seen the face of it so close.”
“It happens,” she shook her head, thinking of the trauma of the girl, “to those poor girls without the support that I have. Their families can’t do anything to help them.” She gave him a weak smile. “And would you love me any less if you were a shepherd and not the Khan?”
He closed his eyes and stroked down his beard with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry that it took happening to you to make me take notice,” he said. “I will ensure it is punished. And that the women who have fallen victim are given protection.”
“Thank you, Father,” she said. She trusted him. He would make it right.
Her father shifted and cleared his throat. “Now back to Michel,” he said, a grumble to his voice.
She looked to see his expression turn stern once more, causing worry to unravel inside her.
“I don’t hate him,” he conceded.
“No?” she gave a small grin.
“He never once mentioned cashmere,” Borjigin continued, softer. “I didn’t know anything about how he was trying to secure a line.”
“I never said we produced it.” She shrugged.
“We have thousands of goats roaming the steppes. He would have to be a horse’s ass not to figure it out.” He gave a small laugh. “I asked him, after you left, why he didn’t bring it up. He said he didn’t want any more complications. He only cared about becoming your husband.”
“Why did you agree, Father?” Eve asked, looking up at him. “To let us marry?”
He just gave a far-off smile. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.
“I have entertained you through books, languages, history, philosophy, politics, studies in the cities, and debates with important leaders. But never once, Enebish, have I had to deal with you falling in love. You never cared for marriage, never showed any interest in any man that I saw.” His expression was gentle as he spoke.
“I would be a cruel and unwise man to deny this union.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” She sighed. “I should have just spoken to you outright.”
“Darling, think before you step.” He reached forward to take her hand.
“You helped the man escape before you let me see the full picture. Don’t let pride stop you from asking for what you need.
You will be a duchess, far away, and you won’t have my counsel.
You are smart enough to put your trust into the right people. ”
“I know, Father.” She folded her hands, very much humbled.
“He adores you,” Borjigin grunted.
“Yes.” She couldn’t help grinning—of this she was sure. “He does.”
“Perhaps don’t be so harsh on him,” he said with amusement.
“Perhaps,” she said, mirroring the amusement that was on her father’s face.