The Consort (Tellaran Series)

by Ariel MacArran

  “I guess today’s just full of honors for me,” Kyndan sighed.

  He was definitely going to figure out a way to leave early.

  The empress stood before the jeweled doors of Lashima’s sanctum as Alari took her position on her mother’s right. Jazan gave a small smirk when he saw her, then took up his own place to the left of the empress, all of them waiting as the court assembled. Alari wished they might take forever, that the closed sanctuary doors might never open.

  In the last hours before the festival of Ren’thar would begin her mother made the traditional gestures of generosity. The empress presented gifts to a number of children, some of whom, dressed in their ragged best, had clearly been brought from the lower city for the ceremony. A few young boys selected by talent, or more likely the influence of powerful relatives of the merchant class, were elevated to the warrior caste and sent to homes to be fostered.

  The empress granted gifts to the temples, of course, and announced that the winner of the contests this year would be permitted to formally court the Princess Saria.

  Alari saw her sister blink and a rush of worry clouded her sweet face.

  In a magnanimous gesture Empress Azara allowed the Tellaran to approach her along with the red-haired clan leader.

  The Tellaran man walked with grace and a pride that was surprising. He had a boldness to his gaze when he looked at the empress that bordered on the insolent and, just for an instant, Alari saw his blue eyes glance her way.

  He and the red-haired Ti’antah, impeded by the size of her belly, bowed to the empress.

  “Ti’antah of the Az’anti,” the empress said. “It is agreeable to see you.”

  “Thank you, Imperial Majesty,” the clan leader replied. “It is an honor to be in your presence again. And I thank you again for granting my request to serve you and the Az-kye people in these peace talks.”

  Alari knew Kinara of the Az’anti by sight. All the Empire knew the woman whose mother had sent her to confront the attacking Tellaran Fleet months ago, how she had succeeded beyond all expectations. Although Kinara had been welcomed home by the empress herself, gifted honors and rewards beyond measure, neither Alari nor her sister had ever been permitted to meet her.

  Her mother hated this woman.

  Alari knew, but had never so much as whispered to any, even Saria, that her mother feared the Az’anti clan leader’s growing renown as well. Kinara was even whispered to be a Cy’atta—a Stardancer—emissary of the goddess Lashima and therefore a grave threat to her mother’s rule.

  “After such service as yours to the Empire,” the empress said with a beneficent smile, “it is I who must claim the honor of our acquaintance and offer thanks for your efforts in this matter.”

  Kinara bowed again, as far she was able. “You are too kind, Imperial Majesty. Please allow me to present to you the Tellaran Realm’s representative for the peace talks commencement, Commander Kyndan Maere of the Tellaran Fleet.”

  “Of course,” Azara said graciously. “All of Az-kye welcomes you, Commander.”

  “The honor is mine, Imperial Majesty.” The Tellaran’s voice was deep and warm, his Az-kye perfect, but the way he formed the words was smoother, imparting a soothing hum to their tone. “I bring you greetings from the Tellaran Council and their hopes for a new era of peace between our peoples.”

  “With your permission I will begin talks for a peace treaty with the Tellaran Realm immediately,” the red-haired clan leader said.

  “Certainly.” Azara held her hand out; an attendant gave her a datapad. “I have chosen the names of clan leaders to assist you in these efforts, Kinara of the Az’anti.”

  The red-haired clan leader blinked but recovered quickly to take the datapad. “Thank you, Imperial Majesty.” She glanced at the list, her brow furrowing slightly. “Would Your Majesty wish all of these clan leaders to take part in the talks?”

  The empress raised her eyebrows. “The talks will be involved. A great deal needs to be decided.”

  “Imperial Majesty,” Kinara of the Az’anti began hesitantly and even from here Alari could see the clan leader’s dismay and disappointment. “To involve all these clan leaders—it will take months just to begin the talks.”

  “My Lady of the Az’anti,” the empress said, slightly reproving now. “This must be done properly. If the Tellarans are to be our allies we must know it to be a lasting peace.” The empress smiled again. “I look forward to the peace and security these talks will bring my Empire.”

  She gave them a nod of dismissal; the pair bowed again and withdrew.

  Alari’s stomach knotted.

  No more official duties, no more delays . . .

  The High Priestess of Lashima started forward. Jazan, along with members of his clan, proudly stepped into position and Alari willed her feet to move as the court readjusted to take their proper places for the declaration.

  Sparkling with gemstones placed to recreate the night sky as it appeared over the city at the time of the spring equinox, the doors of the sanctuary remained closed before her. The court stood arrayed before the entrance to the goddess’s sacred space; reflected in the stones there, Alari could see the black of the courtiers’ clothing, the bright garb of the ancient and bent High Priestess of Lashima as she hobbled forward on her cane, and a single jewel of blue and white.

  Alari took up her place next to Jazan, the position of her attendants forcing her even closer to him. Alari’s hands pressed against the gems embroidered into her skirt, the stones’ edges rough against her damp palms.

  Saria sent her a worried look and the empress gave her a brief, rare nod of approval. Alari sought the comfort of the goddess’ gaze but Lashima’s kindly face was concealed behind the doors of the sanctuary.

  They had now only to declare publicly for each other and the doors to the sanctuary would be opened. She and Jazan would walk inside with the High Priestess to stand before the goddess, they would clasp hands, and the last words that would unite them would be spoken.

  High Priestess Celara’s hair was snowy, her back bent with age, a thousand creases on her papery skin, but her smile was kindly, her eyes bright and joyous as befitting one who represented the goddess of Love.

  “If you would enter Lashima’s sanctuary to be mated, speak now to your intent,” High Priestess Celara intoned. “Jazan of the Az’rayah, do you choose the First Imperial Daughter Alari?”

  Her heart pounded so hard she suddenly feared she would be ill.

  Please . . .

  “I do choose her,” Jazan said proudly.

  “First Imperial Daughter, do you choose Jazan of the Az’rayah?”

  Alari opened her mouth to reply with the ritual words of declaration to name him in return but then, as if another spoke through her, she cried: “No!”

  She saw the astonishment of the court, felt the sudden stillness in Jazan beside her, saw the High Priestess blink.

  Alari turned her head to meet his sky blue gaze.

  “I choose Commander Kyndan Maere of the Tellaran Fleet!”

  There was an instant of shocked silence then the eyes of everyone—the empress, the priestesses, the court, the warrior at the princess’ side—turned toward him.

  “What?” Kyndan blurted.

  He sought Kinara’s gaze and Aidar’s as well only to find his sister and brother-in-law equally stunned.

  “Daughter,” the empress hissed. “Answer High Priestess Celara proper—”

  The High Priestess, possibly the only one in all the Empire with the power to do so, held up her hand to silence the empress.

  “Princess Alari has declared for this”—Celara glanced at Kyndan—“man.” The High Priestess tilted her head to regard the scowling Jazan. “Jazan of the Az’rayah, do you cede your claim?”

  “He is no warrior! He is not even Az-kye!” Jazan spat. “I see what game you play at,” he snarled at Alari and her lips went white. “You think I will not meet this Tellaran filth in the Circle.” He addressed the
High Priestess. “I do not cede!”

  “Filth?” Kyndan stepped forward, no doubt blowing all those weeks of nicey-nice diplomatic talks to dust. Kinara tried unsuccessfully to pull him back but he shook off her hold. “What the hell is going on?”

  The eyes of the court were on him but right now he didn’t give a damn about their stupid protocols.

  He glared at them. “Is one of you going to festering answer me?”

  The empress’ black eyes narrowed at him then she gave Aidar a short nod.

  Aidar stepped forward. “Commander Kyndan Maere of the Tellaran Fleet,” he said. “First Imperial Daughter Alari has chosen you.”

  “Chosen me?” Kyndan demanded. “What do you mean, chosen me?”

  Aidar looked at him levelly. “To be her mate.”

  Kyndan’s gaze snapped to Alari. “She did what?”

  Her dark eyes met his, her mouth parted but she didn’t speak.

  “Kyndan Maere,” Aidar said, wresting his attention back. “Jazan of the Az’rayah has not relinquished his claim.”

  “Yeah,” Kyndan said impatiently, tearing his eyes away from Alari. “I heard that. What does it mean?”

  “He will take challenge for her.”

  Kyndan felt his face heating with annoyance.

  “He will fight for her,” Aidar clarified.

  “Fight me for her, you mean.”

  The guy was as big as a sular that’d fed on nothing but growth stims. Then Alari’s dark eyes met his again and Kyndan struggled against the urge to shove past them all, to stand between her and that hulking brute.

  Kyndan held Alari’s gaze for a long moment.

  “So what you’re saying is that if we fight and I win,” Kyndan said finally, “she marries me instead.”

  “Yes,” Aidar answered.

  Kyndan addressed the empress. “If I lose, will it affect the peace talks with the Tellarans?”

  “Kyndan,” Kinara whispered frantically. “Oh, gods, don’t do this! Please, you don’t—”

  Empress Azara shot his sister a look and she fell silent.

  “No, it will not,” Azara said. “But as Jazan of the Az’rayah has said, you are not Az-kye. You are not a warrior.” She gave him a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “A Tellaran is not capable of acting as a warrior would and we do not expect such of you.”

  Kyndan’s nostrils flared. All those months being regarded as less than an insect, all the abuse, the humiliations he’d suffered as slave on this world because the festering Az-kye thought themselves superior to Tellarans. The burning frustration of seeing his crew treated the same, the powerless rage of that year, seared through his mind in a flash of red.

  The empress addressed the High Priestess. “This man is unworthy. Continue with—”

  Kyndan’s fists clenched. “The frack I am!”

  His crude shout echoed through the arched hall of the Az-kye palace. Kyndan saw Aidar go pale; he heard the scandalized gasps of the court but he was past caring about any of that.

  “I am a Tellaran warrior. She chose me,” Kyndan said, jerking his chin at Alari. “You want a fight, Az-kye?” he demanded, narrowing his gaze at Jazan and bared his teeth. “I’ll give you one!”

  Jazan’s eyes went cold and cruel. “Then I will take challenge now.”

  Aidar addressed the High Priestess urgently. “Commander Maere does not know the rules of the Circle. He must be allowed time to prepare. You must allow a month at minimum.”

  “A month?” Jazan exclaimed, then turned his eyes to the High Priestess. “You cannot allow such!”

  The High Priestess addressed Kyndan, her eyes regretful. “If you would claim yourself worthy, Tellaran warrior, then you must be worthy now. I will allow you an hour to prepare yourself.”

  “You deem him worthy to be mated to an Imperial Daughter?” the empress demanded with an outraged gesture at Kyndan.

  “I do not have to.” Celara raised her eyebrows. “Your daughter did when she named him, Imperial Majesty.” The High Priestess touched Alari’s arm. “You will be under my protection until challenge is decided, child.”

  Alari’s face had blanched and she sent him a pleading gaze, shaking her head ever so slightly.

  He wet his lips. Was she regretting her hasty choice, then?

  “Hold on,” Kyndan said. “She and I need to talk alone first.”

  Jazan moved between them like an eclipse, a wall of black animal skins and muscle.

  “You will never speak to her alone, Tellaran,” Jazan snarled. “And in an hour I will kill you in the Circle.”

  The Az-kye warrior stalked off. With a final look of distaste in his direction, the empress whirled on her heel to stride away, her attendants flying after her. The High Priestess drew the princess along as the court exchanged shocked, excited whispers.

  Alari looked over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes wide with horror.

  “Oh, frack me,” Kyndan managed. “It’s a fight to the death?”

  A little less than an hour later Kyndan stood barefoot and dressed in only a loincloth, awkwardly gripping the Az-kye sword Aidar had found for him.

  So much for dignified . . .

  “You could have spoken up,” he said to Aidar.

  Aidar looked at him impatiently. “We did all speak up for you! Why did you not refuse? Why did you not listen when my mate begged you not do this? The Empress Azara-behn the Heart of Heaven’s Children herself excused you. And did you insist to undertake this fool thing I sought to give you time to train and you did not even plead for that!”

  Kyndan looked at the wicked sharp blade in his hand, flashing in the light of the warrior’s prep room as he turned it this way and that. “So I have to kill him?”

  “Or he will kill you.”

  “Actually kill him?”

  “Or he will kill you!”

  Kyndan shook his head. “Why the hell did she do it anyway? Why choose me? Why not an Az-kye warrior? Gods, there were dozens there.”

  “It was a scandal, an affront to Jazan and his clan, that she should name another just before the final vows,” Aidar said. “It is generations since such was done but the First Imperial Daughter has the right to name any man not already mated or betrothed.” His head came up, his dark eyes suddenly hopeful. “Are you betrothed, Kyndan?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  Aidar sighed. “A shame. But any warrior the princess could name, Jazan of the Az’rayah could fight and defeat. I cannot but believe she thought he would not agree to the Challenge. Truly, it is unseemly that he has.”

  “Because it’s beneath him to fight me,” Kyndan said tightly. “Because it shames him to have to fight a Tellaran.”

  “Yes,” Aidar said bluntly.

  “So she names me because she thinks it’s a solid out for her and no one has to fight. At least she wasn’t trying to get me killed when she did it.” Kyndan tried a practice swipe with the blade. “Well, that’ll make marrying her a smidge less awkward for me.”

  “I hope you survive to do so,” Aidar said solemnly.

  Kyndan’s brow creased. “Have you ever thought of becoming a Fleet Counselor? You have a real talent for inspiring positive thinking.”

  Aidar gave a nod. “It lifts my heart that your humor has not left you.”

  “Aidar,” Kyndan said, lowering the sword. “Why don’t you use this time to tell me how I can win, rather than tell how sorry you are that I’m not going to?”

  Aidar shifted his weight.

  Kyndan blew his breath out. “Okay, how about this? How would you win, if you had to fight him?”

  Aidar considered. “He is taller, his reach longer, and he is extremely well trained. Jazan is a warrior mighty enough to be the empress’ choice to sire a ruler . . .”

  “Okay,” Kyndan gritted out as Aidar trailed off. “He can beat the snot out of me. We know that. Does he have any weaknesses?”

  Aidar looked grim. “Jazan is intelligent and well versed in strategy. He is renowned to be
fearless in combat and his clan is an ancient and mighty one.”

  “The perfect warrior,” Kyndan murmured. “And the perfect mate for an Az-kye princess . . .”

  Maybe he should get out of this. He probably still could. Go to the High Priestess, complain that he didn’t know it would be a death match, say he had reconsidered. Claim that he, a lowly Tellaran, could never be worthy of being the mate of the First Imperial Daughter.

  But then she’d marry Jazan.

  And she’s terrified of him.

  It was in the way she looked at Jazan, the way she tried to make her delicate form even smaller as soon as she took her place beside him.

  The Az-kye had strict gender roles but it was essentially a matriarchal society. She was a woman where women had the advantage. She was an Imperial princess. For frack’s sake, she was heiress to the Az-kye throne itself. What could she have to fear?

  None of this was his problem anyway. The whole thing was an internal Az-kye matter. She’d tried to get out of an arranged marriage she didn’t want and it didn’t work. She’d figure something out. And if she had to marry this guy, she really had the upper hand here, didn’t she?

  He should hand over the sword and get the hell out of here. Put the dress uniform—which was uncomfortable but at least covered his ass—back on and walk away from this fight. The peace talks would go forward with the empress’ blessing and Princess Alari would get the ideal Az-kye mate.

  Alari.

  He hadn’t even known her name when her eyes first met his.

  Eyes as dark, deep and soft as a summer night . . .

  Kyndan tightened his grip on the sword.

  “Okay, he’s Ren’thar in mortal form,” Kyndan said with a dry reference to the Az-kye’s warrior god. “What’s Ren’thar’s weakness?”

  Aidar’s brow creased. “His mate, Lashima.”

  “Goddess of Love.” Kyndan studied Aidar. “You know Az-kyes a hell of a lot better than I do. You saw them together. Do you think Jazan loves Alari?”

  Aidar gave a snort. “I think Jazan a warrior who loves himself alone. He would not force a woman to be his mate if she named another, did he love her.”