The Heart of the Lost Star (Tales of the High Court Book 3)

by Megan Derr

  Tsarana and Seredia waited for him in the hallway, and he lightly touched both their arms in greeting, smiling at the return touches to his shoulder and back before Seredia fell into step alongside him and Tsarana just ahead of them.

  He could hear the voices well before he saw the sources, and forcefully shoved away the dread and sulking that threatened to rise up again. He was High Commander: he could handle one damned house party.

  A hush fell over the semi-crowded hallway as they saw him, then was followed by a smattering of whispers and people shifting as they looked between Jader and his 'siblings' near the door. Krista's face lit up with eagerness and she motioned impatiently for him to join her as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Standing next to her was a man who looked even more like Jader than Krista—they really could have been twins, save for a clear difference in ages. They had the same boney build, black hair and brown eyes, the same snow-white skin that got Jader startled looks and concerns about his health back in Harken. Seeing the two of them together, unmistakable relations of his, Jader felt a faint but sharp ache for the memories he'd lost forever to the sea. He'd long ago stopped wishing to have his lost life back, but that didn't mean he wasn't sad it was dead and gone.

  "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've…" Jader hesitated, the Bentan difficult, heavy and clunky on his tongue. "Hear much."

  The man smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and extended his hand, and Jader shook it. He said something in Bentan, and Krista translated, "He cannot believe it's you. It really is like seeing a ghost. Even I am still taken aback sometimes, and I've had a few months to grow used to it." She smiled, a bit of wobble to it as she looked between them, then cleared her throat and said, "Lord Jader, I present to you our eldest brother, Lord Cherrell, Captain of Abernoth Pass. The guarding and upkeep of the pass has been entrusted to our family for the past four centuries. More than a few of our ancestors have died driving back enemies who would breach Benta by way of the Pass. The duty of commanding it has always fallen to the eldest son of each generation, and my brother carries the legacy with honor."

  "So you don't inherit the title?" Jader asked. "Even though you're the oldest?"

  Krista repeated the question, which garnered another smile from Cherrell that was even stiffer than the first one and turned his eyes chilly. He said something to Krista which made her whack his arm playfully, and then she replied, "Abernoth is unusual in Benta in that our line is matriarchal. It is always the eldest daughter who inherits the title, unless there is no daughter, though that has not happened in a long time, and it always returns to a woman the moment a suitable heir is born. My brother likes to tease that I'm hardly duchess material, but he's always supported me when so much of the country insists a woman should not hold a title, merely complement her husband's."

  "People are fools. It's wonderful Abernoth is matriarchal." Jader smiled. "So many cultures are patriarchal, and I don't understand why when the mothers are the heart and blood of the home."

  Krista's face lit with a smile he'd never seen before, and for a moment, Jader again felt that ache for the family he'd lost. "It's happy to hear you think so, but I forgot Islander culture is very matriarchal, so of course you'd agree. Very few in Benta approve, but Abernoth women are a stubborn lot and we do not treat with men who take issue."

  "A sound policy," Jader replied with a laugh, and they finally turned to pay attention to the other guests clamoring for an introduction. Jader tried to remember all the names, but there were too many names, titles, and greetings for him to memorize them all.

  Especially since everyone seemed to think personal space was something for other people, and kept pressing too close and touching in ways he was certain they would not with each other. But he was used to being the oddity in the room that did not merit the same courtesies. He simply gritted his teeth and endured.

  Thankfully, Tsarana started glaring them back, and Wessel stepped in to help, deftly moving everyone onward to the dining room. Once they were all settled with cocktails and appetizers, Cherrell turned to him and said something that sounded like a question.

  Krista said, "He would like to know how you managed to become High Commander. It was not a surprise to anyone when Lord Arseni was appointed by His Majesty several years ago, but how does an Islander become his successor?"

  Jader tamped down on his anger. It was a question people in Harken never stopped asking—why would Benta be any different? "He happened to be at the garrison where I was stationed on a day when I lost my temper and yelled at my superior officer and peers after they did something monumentally stupid that wound up injuring six people, one of whom later died of their wounds. I was furious, but mostly I was scared because I knew the lieutenant would simply hide what had really happened and blame what couldn't be hidden on me, and nobody would ask twice because who cared what happened to an Islander? If anyone else had caught me losing my temper at a superior office, I would have been whipped and put in stocks. But Lesto wanted to know what was going on. When I was done telling him, he threw all of them in the stocks and demoted the officer. The next day I was ordered to return with him to Harkenesten, and a few months later I was declared his Deputy High Commander."

  Krista laughed. "What a tale!" She repeated it to Cherrell and the others at the table, who all laughed and commented. Krista translated their comments, which ranged from approval to stern remarks about how insubordination should not be rewarded.

  "But neglect of duty, lying on reports, and racism should be?" Jader challenged, and the man who'd commented looked away without replying.

  It was going to be a long meal.

  He got a slight reprieve when the first course arrived, a thick, creamy soup that would have been vastly improved by some spicy seasoning. Or any seasoning at all, really. But eating was infinitely better than talking.

  As people began to make progress on their soup, however, the conversation resumed. While some people spoke amongst themselves, most of the table was still more than happy to pepper him with questions and wait for the translations.

  "Is it true Islanders don't believe in monogamy?" one of them asked.

  Jader bit back his first reply to that and made himself take another bite of soup before replying, "We believe that only those in a particular relationship have the right to dictate the rules of it, and that relationships come in many shapes and forms. So it's more accurate to say we do not believe monogamy to be the only option, as so many others do."

  "But what about inheritance laws and such?" asked the man right across from him.

  "My property goes to whomever I choose. If I die without bequeathing it, my family discusses the matter and my mother makes the final decision. If the family cannot settle the matter, the community mother handles it. When I left home to pursue a military career, I bequeathed my belongings to my youngest sister. They are essentially hers, unless I choose to return to the Islands and reclaim them. When I die, they will belong to her fully."

  Another man asked, "What about the family business? Surely those need a clear line of inheritance."

  "Islanders don't have the same way of living as Mainlanders," Jader said. "I have more brothers and sisters than I can keep up with, never mind cousins, nieces, nephews, and so forth. There are more than enough of them running about that nobody in the family is lacking for people to pass skills on to. Whether they're eldest, youngest, middle, or only barely blood-related is immaterial. We don't believe in forcing people to take up an occupation or interest they've no inclination toward."

  That garnered still more comments, questions, and opinions, most of which Jader let wash over him as the first course was taken away and the second brought out.

  Leaning in close, Seredia murmured, "You're being flirted with, you know."

  "Really? Because I feel more like I'm being stalked to put in a cage."

  "Well, it would be a very pretty cage, and theoretically you'd enjoy the tricks they want you to perform,"
Seredia replied.

  Jader almost inhaled his wine and shot her an admonishing, albeit amused, look. Seredia withdrew with a snicker.

  A few paces behind him, against the wall, Jader could hear Tsarana shift slightly and murmur in low tones to the guard who'd accompanied him into the dining room. After a moment, she moved to take up position on the far side of the table, almost directly opposite Jader, standing in front of the long bank of shuttered windows that took up nearly all of that wall.

  What was troubling Tsarana?

  But he wasn't High Commander right now, and he had to trust his guards to do their job, even if everything in him railed against doing nothing.

  "So do you have lovers, my lord?" a woman asked, batting her eyes and giggling.

  "I have one," Jader replied. "He's an earnest man who is probably too good for me, beautiful and smart and raising two lovely children."

  There were a few startled looks, even a rather ridiculous gasp. "Children?" Another woman asked. "That's exceedingly generous of you, to be willing to take as lover someone who already has children."

  Anger filled Jader, and he set down his glass hard enough some of the pale wine splashed over the rim and across the delicate, cream-colored table cloth. "Why am I supposed to be troubled he has children? "He is—" He snarled in frustration as the Harken words slipped away. "Mothers are sacred, and children precious. Back home, someone like him would be looked upon highly, and considered too good for a floundering fish like me."

  Beneath the table, Seredia rested a reassuring hand on his thigh and translated smoothly since Krista could not understand the Islander he'd slipped into.

  When she was done, a few people had the decency to look abashed, but most simply looked confused. Jader drained his wine and was grateful when a servant stepped in to smoothly refill it without his needing to figure out how to ask.

  Desperate for a conversation he could enjoy, Jader turned to Wessel, who smoothed away the angry look he'd been casting the others. "This is an excellent wine, my lord. Fyr Dane white, correct? One of their ice wines, I think, though dryer than the ones I've previously enjoyed."

  "My mother, rest her soul, loved wine and amassed quite the collection. I had heard you were especially fond yourself, my lord, and tried to make certain we had wines to impress." Wessel winked. Seredia and Krista translated for the table, and that thankfully launched the discussion of wine and other forms of alcohol that Jader had hoped for.

  A man who hadn't yet spoken to him chuckled as he commented, and Jader was surprised to hear the word 'Chass'.

  "Captain Chass?" he asked. "Why is he talking about Chass?"

  Krista said, "Lord Darling owns a few breweries, amongst other things, and he says that one of his best customers is His Royal Highness. I presume this Captain Chass is also a prince?"

  Jader's mouth quirked. "Prince Chass is the High Consort's brother, one of three, and Captain of Penance Gate."

  "Oh." Krista's eyes widened slightly before she swiftly translated.

  It was her brother, Cherrell, who then said through her, "Impressive. I'm surprised you did not bring Penance Gate as your escort."

  Seredia's mouth flattened slightly before she replied in pleasant but cool tones. Cherrell grimaced slightly and replied.

  "What did I just miss?" Jader asked.

  "He was implying that you must not be well thought of, after all, if the High Consort did not send his own brother's famous mercenaries to be your honor guard." Seredia cast Cherrell another look. "I reminded him that asking Penance Gate to play bodyguard on a peace keeping mission is a bit like asking a warhorse to plow a field. Or did he know something we didn't about why the High Consort should be wasting his brother's time that way? He says no, he simply did not think that far, and admits he's a bit disappointed he did not get to meet the notorious Penance Gate."

  "He should be grateful Penance Gate wasn't sent," Jader said. "They're only sent out when a problem is beyond resolving and can only be removed."

  The next course was brought in, some sort of heavy, gamey meat redolent with fragrant seasoning, for once, accompanied by foods Jader didn't recognize but which tasted marvelous.

  His meal was interrupted by Krista, who motioned to the woman beside her and said, "Lady Heather and the others were discussing the practice of dying hair, and I mentioned that your lover had dyed hair. They were curious, as that is not something nobility does here. It's generally a practice of…" She pursed her lips. "Certain lower classes. They wondered how it came to be taken up by nobility—but I know Harken citizens also do things like tattoos and piercings other than their ears."

  Jader's brow furrowed, and he spoke in low tones to Seredia, lapsing into Islander. "Did they just say that dying hair is generally something only done by whores?"

  "Yes," Seredia replied. "Nobility pierce their ears, but otherwise altering the body in such ways is considered uncouth, something for the 'unrefined and uneducated'."

  "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Jader said, but forced a smile and replied in Harken for her to translate: "In origin, the Harken practice of dying hair is religious. The priests, monks, soldiers, and so forth of the various temples would dye their hair to show what god or demi-god they served, with other accoutrements to indicate rank, specialties, and so on. Over time, as religion became a less central part of life, the practice spread out. It was popularized a few generations ago by a consort who left the order he was a part of when he fell in love with the High Queen of the time. Nowadays it's not as common a practice, but still done, especially in the city and surrounding areas from whence that consort came—where my lover is originally from. I'm astonished it's a practice associated with lower classes, given that it's costly in time and money, something only the affluent would be able to afford. There are cheap ways to dye hair, but they don't work nearly as well as the more established, costly methods."

  When Seredia finished translating, there was a momentary lull in the conversation before Krista said, "I know it must seem otherwise, my lord, but I swear nobody here means any harm. They're simply curious, and I apologize their curiosity gets away from them. Nobody believe your lover to be anything but as wonderful as you say."

  "I appreciate it," Jader said. "If you will pardon me, however, I feel the need for some air to clear my head. I'm afraid I've been enjoying the wine a bit too much." He rose without waiting for anyone to reply, signaling for Seredia to remain where she was.

  Tsarana slipped from his spot against the wall and follow Jader into the hallway.

  Letting out a soft sigh, Jader wavered between retreating to his room, to one of the many empty drawing rooms, or outside for a bit. As much as he detested the Bentan cold, fresh air did actually sound like a good idea. "We're going to the back patio."

  "Yes, my lord." Tsarana motioned to someone down the hall, and a Shattered Wind guard slipped from the shadows near the archway that led to the front hall and door and joined them.

  Jader turned and started to head through the house—only to be stopped as someone called out his name, which always sounded sharp and odd in a Bentan accent, like they were incapable of making their words soft and round.

  "Lord Jader," Wessel's secretary repeated as he hastened down the stairs, a touch out of breath as he reached them. "This was mixed up in Lord Wessel's post, I assume by mistake. I was just on my way to take it to your room." He offered a letter.

  Jader's heart trip-trapped as he recognized Kamir's handwriting. He'd written that letter to Kamir on a whim, simply to have someone to talk to where he did not have to speak of work, work, and more work. He'd tried not to get his hopes up that Kamir would reply, but couldn't deny the happiness blooming in his chest. "Thank you very much," he said in slow, careful Bentan, his word as awkwardly soft as the Bentans always sounded awkwardly sharp.

  The man smiled, bowed, and slipped away.

  Continuing on through the house until he reached the patio out back, Jader stood close to one of the lanterns
attached to the wall so he could read the letter.

  Dear Jader,

  I'm glad you will soon be free of the snow. I hope that holds.

  Nothing terribly exciting is happening here, I'm afraid, at least not to my knowledge. The council meeting did not go well. There was apparently too much arguing and sniping, to the point His Majesty called a halt, fined all the councilors 500 crowns apiece, and said they'd best remember how to do their job before the next meeting in six months or they'd recall this first warning as trifling and wish they'd heeded it.

  Jader snickered. Five hundred crowns was trifling for Sarrica in a temper. How disappointing the council hadn't accomplished anything, but then again, that meant the Islands would be left alone for another six months.

  There was a mixture of disappointment and relief, since the main issue up for discussion was the Islands, but I doubt I can tell you anything there that you don't already know.

  Time moves so swiftly, the end of year festivities will be upon us before we know it, and all too soon we'll be into summer and a new year. I hope with the clearing of the snow you are that much closer to achieving your goal and returning home; it sounds like you're still quite homesick.

  Velina has been gone these past three days celebrating an Island holiday. I cannot recall the name of it, but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you. My children helped her make flower wreaths and walked around like little royals the rest of the day.

  At that Jader's chest gave a sharp, aching twist, and he closed his eyes as he willed the stinging homesickness back. He'd been trying not to think about it. The traditional Island new year was a few months before the official Harken new year. It was a week-long celebration across all the islands, and in days long past wars, feuds, and all other hostilities were forbidden—and often, the forced week of peace was when many people worked out differences. There were countless stories of ancient wars that had been brought to an end with the beginning of the new year. If he were home, he'd be helping his brothers prepare food, practicing a dance routine with two or three of his siblings, playfully griping as his mother pestered him with endless errands and chores to make ready.