Free Birthright by Jean Johnson

deep blue lounging robe, padded into the front room. The partially open robe showed off a long strip of his chest, including the sparse scattering of his copper-red hairs and spice-brown freckles. “I prefer moonlight, myself.”
    One of Kalasa’s brows arched up as she glanced at her twin for an explanation. Hallakan eyed the foreigner, his lip curling up slightly on one side. “A foreigner.”
    “Elrik, I present my sister, Taje-tan Kalasa Am’n Adanjé, and Taje Hallakan Am’n Paikan, overlord of the city of Paikan,” Arasa introduced. “Kalasa, Taje, I present Mage Elrik of the Snow Leaper Tribe of Kumron, and a graduate of the Academy at Aben-hul.”
    “Sajé,” Hallakan murmured, using the commoner-honorific, and not bothering to nod his head in greeting. He was still arrogant about his social status, Arasa noted. At least her sister nodded politely.
    Elrik nodded at the other man, then dipped a little lower in a half-bow to Kalasa. “Taje, Taje-tan.”
    “Well,” Arasa said, covering up the awkward tension. “You’ve probably had a long journey and are tired. Why don’t you go and sleep for a while, then perhaps you can come with me to the Mother Temple later this afternoon? I have something important to show you, Kalasa, something I think will clarify the succession question between us once and for all.”
    Kalasa and Hallakan exchanged a look, and the other woman nodded. “That would be good. I would like to hear your solution.”
    “I heard you had a possible one yourself,” Arasa observed. “I’d like to hear it, too, after you’ve rested.”
    This time, Hallakan looked at Kalasa, but she looked away from him. “Let’s discuss that later,” Kalasa stated. “And I’d like to hear your solution, first. You’ve been gone longer than I have, after all. But it’ll be after we’ve rested.”
    “Of course.” Stepping aside, Arasa watched her twin leave the room, Hallakan at her heels. She caught Elrik’s puzzled look and shrugged. “I can only hope her solution turns out to be a lot easier than mine. Shall we go back to bed?”
    He nodded, then paused. “Arasa… after this is over, if you aren’t firstborn…I’d like to discuss the, ah, possibility of my asking for your hand in marriage. If that’s all right with you.”
    She flushed with pleasure, then narrowed her eyes in dismay. “And if I am firstborn? Are you going to run away?”
    Rubbing at the back of his neck, Elrik shrugged. “No…but I thought that I’d leave the asking up to you, at that point. If you aren’t, I’ll ask. If you are, you ask.”
    It was a silly division of responsibility, one that made her want to chuckle, but she could see the logic in it. Only a man with very little political ambition would put it that way, reassuring her that he wasn’t trying to marry her for her station. “Tell you what. I’ll remove all doubt, and ask you, here and now: Elrik, will you give me your hand in marriage, and promise before the Gods to become my husband at some point within the near future?”
    “Yes.” He flushed and smiled, closing the distance between them. A light brush of his mouth against hers sealed his acceptance.

Four
    K alasa’s relief slumped her shoulders and turned her voice into a sigh. “Oh, yes…this is much better than the solution I had found. We’ll do this one.”
    Hallakan leaned over his betrothed’s shoulder, frowning at the text. “ Walking from Ijesh to the capitol? That’s all you do? And ‘the Land will know’ which one of you is firstborn?”
    “Yes,” Arasa confirmed, looking up at him from the other side of the table, her hands holding the scroll open so they could read. “If it worked for the First Emperor—and it does say the Land will recognize all of his firstborn heirs—then it should work for us.”
    “This isn’t even one of the official history-scrolls!” the dark blond man scoffed. “You said you found it in a collection of tales intended for children to