by Cayla Kluver
She contemplated me for a long moment, then went to sit on my bed, her face pale.
“You’ve never been a problem,” she said, her tone gentler. “Not to me. I know I’ve been hard on you since your father’s death, but…I haven’t been myself. For a time, I wanted to die with him, but that is in the past. You and the other children are my reason to live, my happiness. I hope you can forgive me for how I’ve treated you.”
I stayed in place, the shawl clutched in my hands, feeling ashamed, like the terrible daughter I was. How could I have wanted her to be remorseful? How could I have tried to make her so with my harsh remarks?
“I’m sorry, too,” I mumbled, closing the wardrobe. “I’ll be polite to him.”
I hurried downstairs, Mother coming more slowly after me, in all likelihood cringing. She was dignified and refined; I was clumsy and loud. If I’d been thinking, I would have taken my time—Taether wouldn’t keep me out late, and every second I was apart from him was one less second I’d have to spend with him. But that was not an appropriate attitude. Those thoughts stemmed from the same side of me that wanted Mother to be impossibly strong; it was the same side that wanted Cannan to trade places with his dead brother so I could have my papa again; it was the same side that wanted Steldor to lead a rebellion that would take back our kingdom. It was the side that served no good.
Taking a deep breath, I shook off that wicked part of me and decided that for the rest of the evening, I would be a lady. I would show Taether that I could be pleasant—I had been well-raised and did have the ability to be charming company. I would focus on the future, and seriously consider whether I could wed this man.
By the end of our walk, the answer was an unequivocal no. Steldor’s and Celdrid’s conduct at the dinner table had irked Taether and released something within him that I doubted Cannan had ever seen; if he had, my uncle would never have envisioned me with the man. It was as though our positions had reversed—just when I began to put on a show, he stopped acting.
“Your posture would put a queen to shame,” he said at one point during our walk. Although I found the compliment a bit strange, I demurely inclined my head, accepting it as my mother would have wanted.
“Your strides, however, are far too long to befit a lady.”
Caught between confusion, offense and amusement, my feelings settled on the latter when Dahnath, who was our chaperone, smothered a laugh. My elder sister thought me appallingly boyish, so if she found his assessment absurd, then there was no basis for it.
“I merely wish to keep up with you, my lord,” I said with some measure of grace.
“But it is my duty to attend to you. You must let me be the gentleman I am.”
“Very well, we will walk at a slower pace.” I consciously took smaller steps, trying to ignore my prickling resentment that he was giving me an etiquette lesson. While it was within the bounds of Hytanican society for men to correct the women for whom they were responsible—sisters, daughters, nieces and those whom they courted—whatever flaw it was in my nature that made me hot-tempered also made me unwilling to take criticism of the kind he was proffering.
“You were avoiding my questions at dinner,” he went on, putting his hand over mine where it lay on his arm. “Please be open with me about yourself. I want to know you, not a volume on good manners.”
Despite the irony in this invitation, given the exchange we’d just had, I obliged.
“I enjoy reading.”
“And what do you read?”
I thought for a moment. He professed to want to know the real me.
“Poetry, and stories. I especially love to read about horses.”
“Horses?”
“Yes, I find horses fascinating. They’re powerful and beautiful animals, so full of life.”
We walked on in silence while he digested this piece of information.
“Do you ride?” he asked, sounding stunned, but I couldn’t tell if he was judging me or if the conversation had merely taken a turn he had not anticipated.
“Yes, sometimes,” I said, deciding to be honest. “My father taught me. It isn’t an activity I’d like to give up.”
He gave a breathy laugh, patted my hand and directed me around to return to the house. I had thought our stroll would take us farther across the property, but I wasn’t going to object to an early end to our time together.
“Let’s walk at my pace, shall we?” Taether suggested, and I agreed, knowing what he really meant.
* * *
When all the guests had gone, Mother herded the younger children upstairs to see them ready for bed. I went to my room to don my nightdress, then returned to the first floor, walking into the kitchen where warm tea was likely to be found, for it was my mother’s favorite drink. After pouring some of it into an old mug, I carried it to the parlor, my limbs feeling strangely heavy.
I tucked my legs beneath me in a padded armchair and sipped the tea, which was by now tepid and not very appealing. The evening’s events, though I wished I could laugh them off, were troubling me. Maybe Mother was right that no decent man would want me as a wife if I did not change. Tears seared my eyes, and I let myself fall prey to juvenile thoughts. I don’t want to be a wife.
I heard feet shuffling across the rug and turned my face away to hide my misery, hoping it wasn’t Dahnath or Mother. I didn’t want to discuss the evening or my behavior with either of them.
“Shaselle?”
I came about, surprised by the small voice. “Celdrid, what are you doing up?”
He stumbled over to me, wearing a long, loose-fitted cotton sleep shirt. His dark hair was sticking up in the back the way it always did in the morning, which meant he’d crawled out of bed; perhaps he was not even fully awake.
“Ganya said she wasn’t feeling well so Mama’s with her. She’s not paying any attention to me.”
“That doesn’t mean you should disobey her,” I said out of principle, recognizing my own hypocrisy.
He shrugged and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
Just like Papa, my brother was astute. And just being asked the question was enough to bring back the tightness in my throat.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I’m just tired—perhaps a little sad.”
“You don’t get sad unless something’s wrong.”
Simple logic—it was so innocent I couldn’t resist it.
“I walk too fast!” I squeaked, unable to hold back tears any longer.
There was a pause, then Celdrid started laughing. “Lord Taether couldn’t keep up?”
“No, that’s not it—he couldn’t stand me. I don’t meet the standards for a lady. Walking with me is like having a clomping, ugly ox for company.”
“A clomping, ugly ox that walks too fast?”
I rolled my eyes at his amusement. “You’re just a little horror, you know that? You’d better go back to bed before Mother comes looking for you.”
He stood, then hesitated, something more on his mind.
“If he didn’t like you, Shaselle, it’s probably because you could’ve beaten him in a fight any day. Besides, someone who tattles at the dinner table doesn’t deserve to be part of this family.”
Whether intentional or not, Celdrid succeeded in making me laugh. I didn’t doubt his sincerity, but it was clear that a day in his impressive cousin’s company had improved his mood. And a return of some of his
precociousness was enough to lift my spirits.
“Tell me something. Just what did Steldor give you today?”
“A sword—a sword Papa gave to him when he was four years old and Uncle Cannan had been gone for a long time. Papa told him it would help him remember to be brave, and to remember that he had Papa to watch out for him.” Celdrid’s lip trembled, then he smiled and finished. “Steldor said it will help me remember to be brave, and that he and Galen and Uncle Cannan are all watching out for me now.”
“Good night, Celdrid,” I said, giving him a hug, then he turned and left the room.
I stared after him for a moment, mulling over the things he had said. Then I realized he was right. No one worth my time would have tattled on a sad little boy.
CHAPTER FIVE:
LOVE AND LONGING
ALERA
Narian was once more making preparations for a journey to Cokyri; as official liaison, he frequently traveled between the mother empire and the province. Knowing that the trip was long and arduous, I didn’t expect him to come to me that night, and I didn’t bother to light a lantern when I adjourned to my bedroom. Instead, I relied on memory and moonlight to guide me to my dressing table.
I unpinned my dark brown hair—it was not yet long enough to tie back, but letting it merely hang was impractical—and reached behind to tug at the laces of my dress. They were difficult to loosen without the aid of my personal maid, Sahdienne, who had been among those servants rehired for the sake of the economy. I sighed in frustration and stood, about to send for her when I felt warm hands rest on my waist from behind. My irritation dispersed as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back against a sturdy chest, breathing in his presence. Narian had come.
He swept my hair off my neck, his fingers giving me pleasant chills, then took over what I had been attempting. My dress rustled to the floor, leaving me standing in my chemise, and he sweetly and tenderly kissed my neck and shoulders. He pushed my shift down my arms, his mouth following, and I leaned against him, my legs weak, keenly attuned to every brush of his lips against my flushed skin.
My heart beat faster, and I twisted to face him, kissing him deeply, hardly aware that he had begun to walk backward, leading me toward the bed. We fell together upon the mattress, not entirely gracefully, but neither of us thinking about form. He rolled on top of me, his breath quickening along with mine, and it was only when he took hold of my bunched up chemise that my brain snapped into action. I placed my hands on his shoulders and shook my head, and he flopped flat on his back beside me with a groan.
After a moment to regain his composure, he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at me, desire still lurking in his mesmerizing eyes.
“Alera? Are you…all right?”
“Narian, we can’t do this.” I was more than a little shocked at the both of us.
His brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He took a breath and opened his mouth, then stopped, apparently unable to decide exactly what he wanted to say.
“Why not?”
“Because,” I said, pushing myself upright. “We’re not married!”
He sat up as well and lit the lantern on my bedside table. I pulled my chemise back onto my shoulders and wrapped my arms around my legs while I waited for his reaction.
“And marriage, that’s…important to you…for this,” he surmised, trying to work out the basis for my objection.
“Yes,” I told him fervently. “Isn’t it to you?”
He glanced at the bedclothes, as though he anticipated an unpleasant reaction to what he would say.
“Well, no. We don’t have marriage in Cokyri.”
My eyebrows shot upward. “You don’t have…marriage? Well then, how do you…I mean, where…where do your children come from?”
“We just choose a partner,” he said, ignoring the absurdity of my question. “A woman chooses a man, and if he accepts, he is marked with a tattoo around his forearm. The tattoo is a great honor—men in Cokyri are proud to bear it.”
“What about the church?”
He shrugged, no longer worrying about how I might react. “Cokyri has no official religion. Some people seek the High Priestess’s approval to be bound, but they come to her of their own accord. Again, it is a choice.”
“So…in order to be with me, all you would need is a tattoo?” I spoke tentatively, trying to absorb and understand his words.
“Only to signify that I am yours and no one else’s. If that is what we both want.”
His closing statement, though subtle, sought confirmation, his steel-blue eyes filled with love and longing.
“I choose you,” I said, leaning toward him, and his mouth met mine with such ardor that my senses reeled all over again. He lay down with me on top of him, and it took all my strength of will to pull away.
“But we have to be married.”
He studied me, concluding that I truly believed in what I said.
“Then let’s go get married.”
“Now?” I blurted, eyes wide.
“Is now a problem?”
“The banns need to be published six weeks in advance of the wedding!”
“Banns?” He rolled me sideways off him so that we lay facing each other, his voice dubious.
“The banns announce our betrothal,” I elaborated, hoping not to dampen his enthusiasm or his readiness to tolerate Hytanican tradition. “They give time for anyone who might have an objection to our union to come forward.”
I recognized the problem even as the words left my mouth, but he was first to say it.
“And when the entire province objects, what then?” He pushed himself into a sitting position, then took my hands and gently pulled me up beside him. “Alera, how important is this custom to you?”
I peered out the window at the stars while I gave the matter serious thought, pondering Narian’s way of life and if I could reconcile myself to it. I wanted to, but part of me was afraid of it—of going against the doctrines I had been raised to follow. I believed strongly in my kingdom’s religion. I also knew I had to uphold the traditions my people valued if they were to believe in me and accept me as their leader. If I were to switch now to Cokyrian custom, their trust would be betrayed.
“It’s very important,” I ultimately answered, not looking at him.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, cupping my chin to raise my eyes to his. “I wouldn’t deserve you if I didn’t respect your beliefs.”
He gave me a light kiss, signifying that things were resolved between us, although the real problem remained.
“I don’t know when the people will accept you, but I cannot go behind their backs. It may be a long wait.”
Narian’s expression was resigned. “So we wait.”
His attitude lifted my spirits, and a splendid idea struck me. “Our priests are sworn to keep confidences—we could be betrothed.”
“And betrothal—it doesn’t involve banns or ceremonies or parades in this kingdom?” He was teasing me, assuring me he was fine with my decision.
“No.” I laughed. “Just an exchange of rings. I’ll wear mine around my neck.”
“I’ll wear mine on my hand where I should. My soldiers will be oblivious.” He smirked, then added, “And it will confirm your countrymen’s suspicions that I am ignorant.”
I gazed into his eyes, at the love that shone within them, and laid my head upon his chest, content, for now, to have
him hold me.
* * *
Narian would be in Cokyri for several days. He would report to the High Priestess on the state of the province and discuss with her such incidents as Steldor and Galen’s revised regulations. He would also present to her a proposal I had prepared concerning the military school. Under the High Priestess’s regulations, the school now served a strictly academic capacity, for the education of both males and females. Given this change, it no longer made sense in my mind for it to be a boarding school—parents would want their daughters to help at home and the buildings were at too great a distance for many children to travel on a daily basis. As a result, I had developed a proposal for four schools, to be situated in the different sections of the city. The plan was reasonable, practical and affordable—all valued by the Cokyrians—so I was confident she would approve. I didn’t know what other business was generally addressed during these visits, or much about Narian’s relationship with Nantilam, except that she was the closest thing to a mother he had ever known. And he always returned to Hytanica well-rested.
During Narian’s absence, I arranged to dine one evening with my parents, sister and brother-in-law in the royal family’s dining room on the second floor. This was a simple pleasure that I was often denied, for my duties as Grand Provost could not be confined to specific hours of the day. But Miranna had recently turned eighteen, and though my nineteenth birthday had been lost in the midst of the efforts to organize the province, I wanted to mark every one of her milestones.
“Alera, what an honor it is to have you join us,” the former King declared upon my entry. “We see far too little of you these days.”
My father’s greeting was more formal than it once would have been, indicative of the deference he now displayed toward me. My relationship with him had been tumultuous the past couple of years—he had pressured me into marriage to Steldor, been disappointed in my conduct as Queen, turned cold when I had asserted my superior status and been grateful when I had negotiated with the Overlord to save his and my mother’s lives. Still, in all my dreams of the future, I could never have foreseen the outcome of our relationship—but neither could I have foreseen the position I now held.