"I can't study all day," Vyrl grumbled. "I'll turn into a mad marauder."
"A marauder?" Eldrinson tried to hold back his smile. "We can't have that."
Although his father had guarded his mind, Vyrl could tell he wasn't angry, either about the missed homework or about Vyrl dancing, which he had probably seen.
"I feel suffocated in here," Vyrl said. "I need to run."
His father tried to look stern. "If you intend to carry through with this idea of yours, to earn a doctorate in agriculture someday, you have to study."
"If I go to the university, I'll have to go off-world." The prospect dismayed Vyrl. "Maybe I could attend through the computer webs instead."
"You mean in a virtual classroom?"
"Yes." Vyrl's mood lightened. "Exactly."
Eldrinson rubbed his chin. "I don't really understand it, these machines and things of your mother's people."
Having grown up with the technology his mother had brought to Lyshriol, Vyrl had never shared his father's unease with it. Eager now, he said, "I've been checking colleges. Many have programs for virtual students. I would never have to leave Lyshriol." He longed to learn the science behind the farming he loved. Lyshriol was more than his home; the plains, the suns, the land itself were part of him at a level so deep he couldn't separate them from his identity.
His father spoke carefully. "Many possibilities exist."
Vyrl could tell something more than unfinished homework was troubling his father. Disquieted, he looked around. "Where is everyone?" Usually the house bustled with life. He had six brothers and three sisters, all at home except for Eldrin, his oldest brother.
"They went to the festival in the village," Eldrinson said. "I've been looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
"To talk." His father's expression had become unreadable. "If you stay here on Lyshriol, your life will have many constraints. You wouldn't have to accept those limitations if you went off-world."
Apprehension brushed Vyrl. "I don't want to leave."
"You may change your mind when you're older."
He pondered his father. Although Eldrinson didn't seem overly upset, he wasn't happy either. Vyrl had tended to avoid his parents lately, but this cautious conversation bothered him. His father was shielding his mind more than usual. It didn't feel right.
Vyrl went to the stairs and sat on the fourth step, stretching out his legs. "What happened?"
Eldrinson came over and leaned against the banister, his elbow resting on its gold curve. "You are familiar with the House of Majda?"
"I guess." Vyrl knew Majda the way he knew the other noble Houses, as institutions he studied in school and otherwise gladly forgot. In this age of elected leaders, the Imperial nobility were an anachronism— including his own family, the Ruby Dynasty, which topped that antiquated hierarchy.
He winced, reminded of the history lessons he had neglected yesterday, earning his tutor's disapproval. His mother's ancestors had ruled the Ruby Empire until that interstellar civilization had fallen, stranding its colony worlds. During the ensuing dark ages, many colonies had lost their technology. Only in recent centuries had his mother's people regained star travel and begun rediscovering the lost colonies, such as this one on Lyshriol. Although Vyrl knew the House of Majda had been a strong ally of the Ruby Dynasty throughout history, he had never met a single member of that venerated line. Majda belonged to off-world politics, like a distant fog.
"Devon Majda heads the House of Majda," his father said. "She inherited the title of Matriarch ten years ago, just after her twenty-eighth birthday."
"Oh." Vyrl leaned back with his elbows on the stair above him.
Eldrinson shifted his weight, then cleared his throat. "As Matriarch, Devon has… responsibilities."
"I see." In truth, Vyrl had no idea what his father was talking about. He couldn't pick up anything from Eldrinson's guarded mind. He wondered if he could make it to the festival in time to have dinner with his brothers.
"Do you know what those responsibilities are?" Eldrinson asked.
Was this a test? Maybe his father was more annoyed with him for playing truant than he realized. If he had to stay in tonight while everyone else enjoyed the festival, he wouldn't see Lily.
He tried to sound knowledgeable. "As the head of her House, Devon Majda has a seat in the Assembly." Vyrl scoured his memory. "Most councilors in the Assembly are elected leaders who represent various worlds. Only the noble Houses have hereditary seats. It's left over from the days when the Ruby Dynasty ruled instead of the Assembly." He squinted at Eldrinson. "You and Mother have seats, too, don't you? Mother is the Councilor for Foreign Affairs."
"That's right." His father paused. "Your mother's seat is more than hereditary; she ran for election and won. It gives her more votes."
"Oh. Yes." Although Vyrl admired his mother's work in a theoretical sort of way, right now he had more concern for his growling stomach. Lately he was hungry all the time. He ate twice as much as his younger siblings, but it never seemed to be enough.
"The Ruby Dynasty and Majda must balance their power with that of the Assembly," Eldrin said, still guarded.
Vyrl knew he was missing whatever his father wanted him to see. "I didn't finish my studies on Majda," he admitted.
Eldrinson hesitated, discomfort leaking past his mental barriers. He didn't even admonish Vyrl for his lack of scholarly effort. Instead he said, "As the head of Majda, Devon must ensure that her line continues."
Although Vyrl wasn't sure why his father cared, he could well imagine that the House of Majda was upset, if their matriarch had reached the age of thirty-eight without producing any children. "She needs heirs."
"That's right."
When his father said no more, relief spread through Vyrl. Apparently the lesson was over. He stood up. "Shall we join the others? I'm starving."
"Vyrl, wait." Eldrinson raked his hand through his hair. "We need to discuss this."
Vyrl stopped, then slowly sat again. "Discuss what?"
His father answered quietly. "Your betrothal."
What? The word thudded in on Vyrl. Betrothal? He must have misheard. "I'm not betrothed to anyone." His voice cracked on the last word.
"I realize this is unexpected." His father gave him a look of apology. "Your mother and I had intended to take more time, to let you adjust to the idea. This visit caught us by surprise. We've just received word that Brigadier General Majda — that's Devon — will be here in two days."
A constriction tightened Vyrl's chest, making it hard to breathe. "Brigadier General? At thirty-eight?" He was no military expert, but even he knew that however old it might sound to him, that age was young for such a rank.
"She's good at what she does. Very good." His father added dryly, "Her family connections don't hurt either."
Vyrl struggled to mask his turmoil, to hide the chaos of his emotions. Surely an escape existed from this disaster. "This is too fast."
Sympathy washed across his father's face. "I'm sorry it is such a shock. Your mother and I want you to be happy. Vyrl, we spent a great deal of time checking out Devon. She is a good person. And as the Majda consort, you can follow pursuits you could never have here." Awkwardly he added, "Including an, uh, artistic career, if you wish."
Vyrl barely heard him. All he could see was Lily, her lovely face bright in the sunshine, like a lost dream. Betrothals among the noble Houses were political arrangements; his parents and Majda had probably been negotiating for months, even years. These matters carried the weight of governmental decrees. Nineteen-year-old Eldrin, his oldest brother, had married the Ruby Pharaoh three years ago, his own kin, as tradition dictated. But it wasn't fair. He wasn't Eldrin. He wasn't the firstborn. He had three older brothers and three younger ones. His parents had turned down offers for his other brothers, considering the matches unsuitable. Vyrl had never expected they would accept one for him, especially with the highest placed member of the most powerful House.