Chapter Text
Paul continued to look at the golden-haired Princess. Aside to his mother, he said: “That’s Irulan, the oldest, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Chani moved up on Paul’s other side, said: “Do you wish me to leave, Muad’Dib?”
He glanced at her. “Leave? You’ll never again leave my side.”
“There’s nothing binding between us,” Chani said.
Paul looked down at her for a silent moment, then: “Speak only truth with me, my Sihaya.” As she started to reply, he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “That which binds us cannot be loosed,” he said. "Now, watch these matters closely for I wish to see this room later through your wisdom.”
Chani moved up on Paul’s other side, said: “Do you wish me to leave, Muad’Dib?”
He glanced at her. “Leave? You’ll never again leave my side.”
Chani's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "She's your ghanima."
"Ghanima?" The Fremen term rang strangely when applied to the princess. Spoil of war. "Yes... I suppose she is."
“I know the reasons,” Chani whispered. “If it must be... Usul.”
Paul, hearing the secret tears in her voice, touched her cheek. “My Sihaya need fear nothing, ever,” he whispered.
"I know the reasons," said Chani. There was no fear in her voice, no hidden tears, only quiet determination. "It must be so, Usul."
Jessica nodded, feeling suddenly old and tired. She looked at Chani. “And for the royal concubine?”
“No title for me,” Chani whispered. “Nothing. I beg of you.”
Paul stared down into her eyes, remembering her suddenly as she had stood once with little Leto in her arms, their child now dead in this violence. “I swear to you now,” he whispered, “that you’ll need no title. That woman over there will be my wife and you but a concubine because this is a political thing and we must weld peace out of this moment, enlist the Great Houses of the Landsraad. We must obey the forms. Yet that princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire.”
“So you say now,” Chani said. She glanced across the room at the tall princess.
Jessica nodded, feeling suddenly old and tired. She looked at Chani. “And for the royal concubine?”
Chani said nothing, but watched the princess with a thoughtful expression.
"I swear to you now,” Paul whispered, “that you'll have far more than your title. That woman over there will be my wife and you but a concubine because this is a political thing and we must weld peace out of this moment, enlist the Great Houses of the Landsraad. We must obey the forms. Yet that princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance—"
"No," said Chani. "Be still." There was no anger in her voice, only a resolution that could not be argued against, for all the softness of its expression.
Paul stared at her, stunned into silence. "No?" he echoed eventually.
"Do not patronize me with senseless words, Usul. I told you once, when I killed one of your challengers, that I'm no longer a child hunting scorpions. I do not play games. That is true today as it was then."
"This is different, Sihaya," he murmured. "There's no need—"
"When you took Harah as a servant, you released her after one year, as custom said you must," she returned sharply. "She was free to become Stilgar's wife, free to share him with his other wife, Tharthar. Yet you think to hold this princess captive until your day of death? And whatever for, when we might readily reach an understanding and share you? I know your potency. You are not one of those incapable of pleasing more than one woman." She paused, irritation clear in her features, intermingling with the raw grief for their son. "This foolishness does not become my Usul."
"We shall discuss this later," he replied, deeply disturbed.
It seemed that Chani, having reached a Fremen decision, would not be easily swayed from this path.