“What troubles you, Mother?”
Avaline leaned down and kissed his cheek, smiling with an open adoration that made him almost as uncomfortable as the stares he got from others when they thought he was not watching. They did it now, turning to watch him. He could see them in his periphery when he lowered his gaze to the stone walk.
Did his mother even noticed the things about him that made them stare? The vertical slit pupils of his eyes, the silver flecks in emerald irises, the pale silver scaling that ran up the back of his neck, peeking out at his temples and on the inside of his wrists. That same scaling ran over his shoulders and down the center of his back, appearing again on the upper part of his calves. Things that made him different. Things that made him unlikely to ever share in the comfortable nudity others of his class took for granted on days like this in the sunlit palace gardens. Things he pretended not to care about, but every time someone looked at him, he couldn’t help wondering what they thought. What unusual trait did their eyes linger upon the longest?
They whispered about him. He couldn’t help wondering which of them perpetuated the rumors that his markings were a throwback to darker times and an omen of darker days ahead even now, almost sixteen peaceful years after his birth.
He smiled at them all. What else was there to do?
“Your Dawning Day is almost here. You’ll be sixteen,” Avaline remarked as if it were a casual observation and not a major event she had been planning for since practically before his birth. “I’ve seen you admiring other young women, but still you spend all of your time with Myara.”
This again?
Her remark had the inflection of a question, so he responded to it as such. “We both have other friends,” he defended, playing obtuse and opting to ignore her insinuating tone as he eyed a brilliant green grasshopper that had landed on the walk.
“Have you given any consideration to marriage yet?”
He rolled his eyes, knowing she could not see it from her vantage, and turned his attention to gently prodding the grasshopper with the silver-plated toe of his boot.
She started to quote the words of a familiar song with a poetic cadence. “Marry money or marry none, my son, for we have more than enough to share. Marry one or marry many, but no more than seven for there are only seven nights in a week.”
The grasshopper jumped and Dephithus followed it with his gaze.
Her tone turned serious. “But you must marry.”
At the top of the jump, his eyes refocused on a mischievous smile and sparkling dark eyes peeking through an opening in the garden hedge.
“You are the most likely heir to an illustrious line...Dephithus, are you listening?”
He grinned at Myara and shrugged, a helpless gesture indicating imprisonment in yet another of his mother’s lectures.
Mythan, High Lord of Imperious and Avaline’s primary husband, walked up then, casting a shadow upon them both with his height and the strength of his presence. He quickly eased that regal pressure away by ruffling Dephithus’s hair.
“I see your mother has your rapt attention.” Dephithus glanced up, his brow furrowing with guilt, and Mythan cracked a conciliatory grin, his hazel eyes full of warm affection. Mythan’s gaze moved to his mother then, the warmth in his eyes deepening. “Avaline, are you trying to fill his head with talk of lineage and marriage when he’s almost old enough to enter the tournaments? There will be many a joust and melee championship under his belt before he has to prove the virtue of his seed.”
Dephithus’s face grew warm. He could only hope Myara had not heard that.
Avaline gave an exasperated exhale, but she gazed up at Mythan with open love and indulgence brimming over in her eyes. Brown eyes, not green, and with round pupils like everyone else. For all that she appeared not to notice, he could not seem to help seeing the differences.
Dephithus stood and inclined his head in a slight bow, noting as he did so that he could meet Mythan’s eyes without looking up. He was tall enough now that he could muss up Mythan’s head of neatly trimmed brown hair if he ever had the courage to do such a thing to the lord of the realm.
“Good morrow, Den-father,” he greeted with enthusiasm, already contemplating the potential for escape in Mythan’s fortuitous arrival as he straightened his hair with a casual shake of his head.
“Ever the gentleman my son.” Avaline reached up from her perch to ruffle his hair again.
Her smirk told him she was picking on him, knowing how he disliked having his hair messed with like he was still a child. Dephithus tossed his head to settle his hair down again.
Another hand reached up from behind to muss his hair yet again as Myara slipped into the gathering with a feisty smile and a soft giggle meant only for him. He requited with a playful bump of his elbow and a scowl of mock warning.
“Myara,” Avaline greeted. “You have grown to be such a lovely young woman. Don’t you think so Dephithus?” Avaline looked expectantly at him.
Even Mythan raised one regal brow as though curious what he might say to this unexpected query.
Myara shifted her feet, her gaze dropping as if the cobbled walk had very suddenly become a subject of great interest.
Obligingly, Dephithus turned a critical eye on her.
At fifteen, she had started to change dramatically from the boyish young girl he had grown accustomed to. She always had her father’s natural strength and the structure of a fighter, something that was deceptively starting to hide itself beneath the emerging feminine curvature and beauty of a court lady. Her dark gold skin was kind to the eyes in the bright sunshine. Indeed, everything about her was a soft, dark gold. Her skin, her eyes, her hair, even her smile had a warm gold softness to it.
But she was still a fighter. Her family was one of the great military lines, highly respected for their martial history, though few could quite remember why that was so important anymore. There was no need to dwell on a violent past, Avaline once told him, when the present was such a wondrous time of peace. He remembered the words because it made him uncomfortable sometimes wondering what lessons were being lost in the forgetting of that past, but perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps families like Myara’s would eventually have to become something new or fade away.
After a proper period of awkward silence aimed at making his friend squirm in her boots, he shrugged and strangled back an inappropriate grin similar to the one he could see tugging at the corner of Myara’s mouth.
“Pardon mother, but I really don’t have the time these days to notice such things, what with all my training and my Dawning Day around the corner. There will be tournaments to compete in soon. I need to be ready.” He offered Mythan a wink at that then faced Myara again. “Shall we be off to training?”
With a sly smile he offered his arm. Myara gave a hasty bow to Mythan and Avaline, then she slipped her arm into his and they tromped off, chuckling at his mother’s impotent glower trying to burn holes in their backs. His laughter was a bit forced though, for now that his mother mentioned it, he did notice the woman his childhood friend was becoming. There was something alluring about the angle of her golden eyes and her high cheeks were tinted with a kiss of self-conscious pink after the encounter with Mythan and his mother. Her lips were full and probably quite supple. There was a healthy shine to her thick wavy hair and the glow of her skin made him curious if it was as silky smooth as it looked.
When she took her arm away, he let his fingers slide across the bare skin of her forearm. Yes, it was soft and pleasant to the touch. How had he not noticed these changes happening? Was he simply too accustomed to her presence to notice or had something changed in him as well? Perhaps one day while the weight of his sword or a flash of bright sunlight distracted him, life had simply stolen away her boyish awkwardness and replaced it with this.
He released a troubled exhale.
“What is it?” Her voice pulled him out of his reverie.
“What is what?”
“That woeful drama
tic exhale. Is something wrong?”
He answered with a gentle smile, realizing after he had done it that it was not quite characteristic of him, at least not with her. He made his expression more serious. “We’re doing mounted work today, right?”
She nodded, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and stared at him a long moment as if still seeking the cause for his odd behavior. Just when her probing gaze began to make him uncomfortable, she gave up. With a small shake of her head, she turned her attention to the distant training grounds.
“Race you to the stables,” she challenged.
In hopes of catching one another off guard, they both burst into a run. Giddy pleasure burned away the remains of his discomfiture. He reached over and pinched her side, making her stumble and giving him a few strides advantage. Glancing over one shoulder, he saw her lip twist into a playful snarl as she bounded after him. They hurdled two lovers who lay entwined in each other in the groomed grass of the lower garden where the hill sloped down towards the stables. Lighthearted threats followed them as they raced down the hill, but the lovers would soon resume their petting.
“Last one there has to ride tail,” Myara announced as she lunged a stride ahead of him.
A broad grin split his lips and he plunged recklessly after her, but he held back his speed. Sometimes, he had to let her win.
He had always been stronger and faster than others his age. It was one more thing that made him stand out as different. Either a freak to avoid or a fascination to follow and study. It didn’t bother him most of the time. The other students didn’t seem to mind that he was born with advantages all that much anymore, unless they were on the wrong side of his practice sword.
Still, it was always better with Myara than with anyone else. She allowed him to go easy on her without calling him out for what he was doing and sometimes she gave him quite the run even with his natural edge. As ruthless as she could be in combat, he expected her to make an occasional jab at him for it, but she rarely did so. Most of the time she simply treated him like her best friend instead of someone different to fear or fawn over.
Her friendship was all he wanted, wasn’t it?
As he let her pull ahead of him, he again noticed the ways in which she had changed. His gaze ran down the lines of her body. Where had the curves come from? The power of her strides only added to this new appeal. He found his eyes lingering on her slender waist and the soft curve of her hips until a stumble at the edge of the maintained road brought him back to attention.
Myara sprinted across to the side of the first stable and turned, panting as she broke out a broad grin and stuck her tongue out at him. There was the Myara he knew, her pretty face twisted up in a childish expression of taunting.
He slowed to a walk and rolled his eyes. “So uncivilized.”
With a toss of her head, she turned up her nose and stomped toward the stable entrance, sporting a satisfied grin all the way.
CHAPTER TWO
In one of the outdoor practice arenas, the oldest and highest ranked class of youth in the Imperious Legion Training Academy stood proud beside freshly groomed and saddled mounts. Their leather saddles gleamed in the sunlight of the outdoor arena. Area Commander Parthak insisted that her reflection show clearly in a properly polished saddle. The students of Imperious were required to clean their gear with their own hands twice a week regardless of social standing and how many capable servants one’s parents had. A rule Dephithus appreciated, for it gave him one more way to build camaraderie with his fellow students.
Parthak strode down the line, short blond hair creating a frame around cool blue eyes and severe, angular features. As an area commander, she was only one rank below the lance commanders, who were, in turn, only one step down from the high commander. An individual to be respected. She scrutinized each aspiring soldier’s equipment, checking everything for dust or signs of poor care. After several grumbles and an occasional satisfied grunt, she returned to her place in the center where her mount patiently waited and faced the lineup.
“Do I have a volunteer to ride tail today,” she barked, eyeing them, as she always did, like unscrupulous rabble needing to be brought to hand.
“Commander,” Dephithus piped up, not missing Myara’s smug grin as he did so, “it would be my honor to ride tail for the troop.”
“You are going to be a remarkable soldier, Dephithus. I must remember to put a word in to the high commander for you.” Parthak beamed at him, though the gesture signaling him to prepare to mount was as abrupt as ever.
Now Dephithus was the one wearing the smug grin when he glanced over to see Myara rolling her eyes at him. He winked then positioned himself beside his mount. Upon command, he mounted the big chestnut courser. The horse stood solid as stone, unmoved by the sudden weight on his back and ready to respond to any direction his rider might give. Being one of the top students had its benefits, such as the prime choice of mounts for schooling.
The lineup waited, facing the area commander, as Dephithus gave a gentle squeeze of his legs to lift his mount onto the bit and into a delightful prance down the front of the line and into the tail position. He lacked Myara’s natural seat and her rapport with the big animals, but he had enough drive and desire to succeed that he rode as well as the best of them.
“Myara, you and Chen will ride scout,” Parthak ordered after running her icy gaze over the group several times.
Myara let out a gleeful little squeak as commander Parthak mounted her stallion and commanded the rest to follow suit. She then turned her mount toward the arena exit and moved the animal into a perfectly cadenced prance. The troop fell into line behind her in a well-choreographed pattern of movements. They had practiced so often that most of them could probably do it sleeping.
Dephithus watched from the rear as they left the arena. Myara and Chen trotted out ahead to scout the forest that bordered it on the south and west sides. Parthak held the rest of the troop back for longer than usual and a charge of excitement began to pass among them, bringing the horses heads up a little higher, when they realized the commander had something out of the ordinary planned. Once the scouts had time to disappear out of sight into the dense foliage of the spring forest, the commander turned to the troop and proceeded to split it down the middle, leaving Dephithus as tail of one half.
“Troop one,” she pointed with her crop to indicate the half of the group Dephithus was tailing, “will circle wide to the north and come in ahead of the scouts. You are the enemy. Your object is to take the scouts captive and defend against the troop sent to retrieve them.” As the first troop prepared to move their mounts off, she barked out, “Hold up. Let’s see how good you really are, Dephithus. You will be their commanding officer. Now move!”
Dephithus didn’t wait to be hollered at again. He spun his mount and galloped to the head of the troop. As they pulled a wide, galloping arch through the field and into the woods around where the scouts were likely to be, Dephithus started planning tactics. When they had gone far enough, he pulled the troop up and discussed his plan with the others then split the troop in half again, designating one person from each group to scout ahead and locate their respective targets.
His half of the troop moved out cautiously through the trees in the wake of one scout, leaving their horses behind so they could move with less noise. Predictably, one of the original scouts was following the deer path they were slinking along. Dephithus gestured for his troop to hide off the path and wait. He grinned as Myara rode into view humming a dance melody and peering through the trees. Before her sweeping gaze hit them, one of his troop threw something up into the trees, making a noise above her. She glanced up at the canopy of bright green that filtered the sunlight and Dephithus signaled the troop to swoop in. Her expression turned to instant alarm when he whistled his troops into action. She didn’t have time to do more than wheel her mount in preparation for flight before they had her surrounded. To do her credit, she drew her sword to fight, but she recognized within a
few seconds that she was grossly outnumbered and relinquished the weapon.
Dephithus stepped out of the trees while they bound her hands and one of the soldiers bowed his head, falling into character.
“We have captured an enemy scout, Captain.”
Three short, sharp whistles let him know that the other scout was also in custody.
With a disapproving scowl and a shake of his head, Dephithus looked down on Myara. “Shameful how lazy a soldier can get in times of peace.”
Myara stared up at him, the color fading from her cheeks. In that instant, her eyes widened, growing moist with the fear of one who truly faced an unknown and terrifying enemy. A chill moved through Dephithus and he shook it off, giving her a wink.
The look of terror faded, and she shook her head as he had to dash away the feeling before narrowing her eyes at him. “I thought you were riding tail.”
Dephithus grinned, relieved that the odd moment was behind them. He made a show of puffing out his chest. “I was promoted.”
Kathan, a lad from the local village, stepped up to Dephithus, clearing his throat to speak with an exaggerated solemnity. “Captain?”
Dephithus nodded to him. “What is it?”
“The other soldiers and I are concerned about your camaraderie with this enemy scout,” his expression remained admirably serious, though his eyes betrayed him with the sparkle of laughter.
Dephithus chuckled. “Come, we have a rescue party to conquer. Gag the prisoner. We can’t have her crying out a warning to them.” He turned his back on Myara’s sudden glower and led them back to the horses.
Dark Hope of the Dragons (Elysium's Fall Book 1) Page 2