The Fall

by Christie Meierz

  She raised her eyebrows and said in her haughtiest voice, “I am not Paranian.”

  His arms tightened around her. “Then I shall have to teach you.” Sudden mischief lit his face, and he rolled several times, pulling her shrieking along with him and coating them both with sand. “You provide the water, I provide the sand,” he said, when he stopped.

  “Sand doesn’t belong in my hair!”

  “Nor does ocean water in mine.” He flashed his teeth.

  “Sand and water belong together. Oh, I know! Let’s make a sand castle!”

  “A construct of sand could never endure.”

  “It’s not supposed to, silly.” She pushed herself onto her knees and looked around. A patch of white sand met the water not too far down the rocky beach. She pulled at his hand. “Come on!”

  Once the Paran realized what she intended, he threw himself into the project with enthusiasm. The lack of disposable travel cups, or utensils of any kind, proved a hindrance to construction, but Laura found a mostly intact conical shell about the size of her hand and used it to form peaked roofs and to carry water.

  “There,” she announced, when the last corner tower stood proud and… lopsided. She got to her feet and surveyed her work. A sculptor she was not; five-year-olds built better sand castles, but she wasn’t telling the Paran that. “A suitable home for the beautiful princess and her dark, handsome prince.”

  “The tide will soon wash it away.”

  “Oh hush.”

  The Paran pulled her into his arms. “The beautiful princess may stay with me, then.”

  “You fit the role of dark, handsome prince admirably.”

  His smile turned so smug that she burst out laughing.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ll be insufferable.”

  “Should I not be?” He took her hand and began to lead her back toward the rocky part of the beach.

  “All men are insufferable.” She pulled her hand free and sprinted for the waiting pod. “Catch me if you can!” she called.

  He ran faster than she thought, and she didn’t quite make it to the pod before he caught her. A poke to the ribs earned her enough room to wiggle free, and she dove in headlong just before he grabbed her again.

  The guards who had accompanied them followed, each popping into view just before entering the vehicle. The Paran herded Laura into the center. The guards took up positions around them, alert, grim-faced, and silent, while the last set the pod into motion, heading into the water and aiming for the ocean tunnels leading back to the stronghold. Once inside the tunnels themselves, the sentinels visibly relaxed.

  “They do not like it when I leave the stronghold,” the Paran murmured.

  “Why not? You’re safe enough in the heart of your province, aren’t you?”

  “A ruler is never truly safe.”

  She winced. Marianne had once said something about an invasion of Suralia. The blood ran out of her face. “Almost everyone in Suralia’s stronghold died, when the Sural was young.”

  “Yes, my grandfather attempted to assassinate him.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But—”

  “We are allies?” He pulled her close as she nodded. “The Sural is not one to blame my mother, or me, for my grandfather’s actions.”

  “How very… enlightened… of him.”

  Amusement not her own jolted her. She blinked up at the Paran’s crinkled gaze. “He leads the caste well, despite your opinion of him.” A corner of his mouth lifted.

  She pursed her lips. Opinion is just opinion, Mama had said time after time, exhorting her to civility at all cost. You can still smile if you have to. A lifetime of following that training had gotten Laura through months of living with the man who killed John. She still couldn’t like him, though.

  An unsettling thought struck her. “Is there someone who would invade Parania, if they could?” she asked, her stomach tensing.

  “It is… unlikely. My mother worked very hard to make peace where my grandfather had caused strife.”

  “How much of that is left?”

  “Tarasia and Vedelar remain at enmity with Parania. A few others work against me but stop short of enmity. They are more rivals than foes.”

  She took a deep breath. Rivals. That sounded better than outright adversaries. “Have you… invaded each other?”

  “Not in my lifetime.” He gave her a squeeze. “And you will not be a legal target once you increase with a child.”

  The knot in her stomach unwound a little.

  The pod zipped upwards into the vertical shaft to the stronghold’s transport room. At the top, Vondra stood with Veryth clinging to her leg. Her eyes widened as she took in their damp, sandy robes and Laura’s bare feet.

  “Did you walk on the beach or roll in it?” she asked.

  “A little of both,” the Paran said. “She soaked me with water from a tidal pool.”

  “I fell in!” Laura protested.

  “You kicked the water quite deliberately.”

  She pouted. “I was wet. You weren’t. And I’m not so sure you didn’t push me.”

  Vondra burst out laughing. “You should return to seclusion. I am not certain your bonding is complete.”

  The Paran cocked an eyebrow at her. “We slept through the night.”

  She shook her head. “But your judgment has not returned. There will be fresh robes in your quarters. Your quarters,” she emphasized, pointing at the Paran. “I will order your midday meal sent there.”

  “Daughter—”

  “Father.” She crossed her arms, mouth twitching. “You need to bathe. You both smell like shore weeds.”

  “She’s right...” Laura murmured. Images of the Paran bathing danced in her mind’s eye. She hadn’t liked to see him get dressed in the first place.

  Vondra’s eyes fixed on her. “You need to get your bond-partner back to your quarters.”

  Laura reached for his hand. That sounded like a truly grand idea. The Paran looked down at her, then over at his daughter, and then headed into the corridor without another word, tugging Laura along by the hand.

  She had another truly grand idea as they passed the audience room.

  * * *

  In the cool of the evening, Sharana sat on a large rock overlooking Monralar’s city. Perhaps she would go into the city, after all. A distraction might help her ignore the fizzing satisfaction coming from her beloved while he planned his campaign against the Sural, and a fellow scholar living in the city had said the artisans recently filled the entire bottom floor of the art center with beautiful new exhibits.

  Behind her, a presence she recognized left the stronghold keep. She pivoted and gave her student a welcoming smile as she approached.

  “Child,” she said. “It is late for you to come here.”

  “Scholar.” The girl halted next to the rock and stood gazing at the ground, fingers twisting. Sharana touched her hand as a reminder to relax. “Mother sent me to ask why you sent me away, and... and to beg your forgiveness for giving offense.”

  Sharana’s jaw slackened. “Sent you away...?”

  “Five days past. You told me to return to my mother.” She swallowed. “How did I offend?”

  “Child, you misunderstood. I only meant to dismiss you from the day’s lessons.”

  “But you said—” The girl fell silent. “You were full of irritation, Scholar. I thought you were disappointed with me, and then you told me to return to my mother’s farm.”

  Sharana rubbed her temples with one hand. She had attributed her student’s absence to the autumn harvest. “No, child. You never disappoint me. You will make an excellent scholar when you come of age. Come.” She patted the rock. “Sit.”

  “You feel very troubled, Scholar.” The girl glanced toward the stronghold, then settled herself beside Sharana, her anxiety now replaced with adolescent wisdom. “Perhaps you should speak with your apothecary.”

  “I am well enough, child.”

  Her student
gave her a sidelong look.

  Sharana lifted one corner of her mouth. “You wish to know how a sensitive came to be bonded to our Monral?”

  The girl’s eyes darted away, then returned, sheepish. “Yes, Scholar.”

  “It is not a complicated story. As our Monral found you, the Monral his father searched the province for sensitives and found me. He brought us here, my father and me, when I was a small child, and then he convinced a trained sensitive to come to Monralar to teach me. So you see, I have lived in the stronghold nearly all my life. When I completed my training, I worked closely with the Monral before he took power.” She smiled into the growing darkness. “Our hearts grew together.”

  “But—”

  Sharana nudged her arm with an elbow. “But?”

  “The ruling caste. They… hurt each other.” The girl shuddered.

  “Yes, they do. But it does not mean they cannot give their hearts in gentle tenderness. I admit I can find that difficult to remember at times.”

  Her student’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How do you bear it?”

  Chapter Nine

  The flutters outside the refectory windows wheeled through the air in uncomplicated joy. They weren’t empathic—Laura could see that—but still they responded to the euphoric mood permeating the stronghold. The source of that mood sat beside her, broadcasting a high good humor through his ruling bond and seldom taking his eyes off her as he ate the morning meal.

  Laura tore off a piece of roll and munched on it, cheeks flaring.

  The Paran touched her arm, and comfort flowed from him. He wasn’t embarrassed. Nothing seemed to mortify a Tolari, not even bonding up against the wall in the stronghold’s main corridor in broad daylight.

  “No one could have anticipated how your condition would affect us during bonding,” he said.

  “We knew Marianne had problems with hormones colliding when she was pregnant. I should have thought about it.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Beloved.”

  “Oh, all right, I’m not that smart. And we had no way to know junior would come in for a landing so quickly.” She planted her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. All around, people bubbled with happiness, their mood buoyed by the Paran’s. It washed away some of the embarrassment.

  But not all of it.

  He squeezed her wrist. “You have no reason to remain self-conscious. Neither of us bears responsibility for our actions in the corridor yesterday.”

  “You’re not as shy as I am.”

  “Even so, engaging in public sexual activity is not to my taste.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. You seem to like it outside.”

  “When we do not have an audience.”

  “And I am truly grateful for that.” She shook her head and peered up. “You would have stopped? If you could have?”

  “Yes, beloved, had I been thinking clearly.”

  “I didn’t even want to stop.”

  His eyes glinted. “Nor did I. It did seem an excellent idea at the time.”

  Her cough turned into a laugh, despite herself. “Why didn’t the guards just drag us into your quarters?”

  He snorted. “Were I anyone but a member of the ruling caste, they might have attempted it, but to do anything I could have interpreted as trying to take you from me would have triggered a murderous rage. I am too dangerous to risk that.”

  She sighed gustily and flushed again at the memory. It could have been worse. Guards had surrounded them, facing outward, to block them from view. Afterwards, the apothecaries examined them both and discovered the reason for their behavior. Her hand went to her belly. If she’d been paying attention, she would have noticed the new life glowing there.

  “Your tutor agrees you need a language implant,” he said, changing the subject.

  “But—” She looked down. “Is it safe for me now?”

  “It poses no risk to your child. Since you still lack an apothecary of your own, I have ordered Meilyn to prepare it. He informed me that the task will require some tens of days.”

  She slumped back in her chair. Only a few more weeks. The prospect of understanding and participating in casual conversations brought a smile to her lips.

  “Kellandin does, however, wish to continue your language lessons for now.”

  The smile fell off her face. The tall scholar had witnessed at least part of yesterday’s… incident.

  If only she didn’t remember it all so clearly.

  The Paran rose from his seat and dropped a kiss in her hair. “I have meetings. Kellandin awaits you in the library when you finish your meal.”

  She mumbled grumpily as he strode off, and the ebullient collective mood softened her embarrassment to something more like chagrin. She couldn’t suppress a smile at the Paran’s eagerness to get back to work. In her mind’s eye, she could almost see him rub his hands together with glee; the man so loved to scheme. He disappeared into the hall, and his voice rang out in rapid-fire Paranian, exchanging something businesslike with a woman. Laura crunched into a piece of fruit, mind drifting.

  Vondra strolled through the door, Veryth toddler-trotting along beside her with a death grip on her fingers. His mother hoisted him onto the chair beside hers and took her seat, grabbing food from the trays to set before him. For herself, she filled a mug of tea.

  Laura smiled at Vondra and waggled fingers at Veryth. “Good morning.”

  The youngster grinned, mumbling something that could have been a greeting. Or an invitation to swim.

  Vondra laughed and ruffled his hair. “He says you smell strangely.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes.”

  Vondra’s brows pinched together.

  Laura chuckled. “A way of saying that little children blurt out the truth of things. I do smell funny.”

  The other woman twitched a smile. “You are to be congratulated. A son, as I understand it?”

  “Maybe he and Veryth will be playmates.”

  “Very likely.”

  “Vondra…”

  The Paran’s daughter lifted an eyebrow.

  “It’s not easy for you to watch us, is it?”

  Vondra licked her lips. “It can be… difficult, but I busy myself with my son and my work. And I do not begrudge my father his happiness. He is happy with you, Laura. I never doubt that.” She took a long pull of her tea and tore apart a roll for Veryth. “The heart often lacks wisdom. Mine fixed upon a man whose time with me is limited, and one day, our duties to our provinces will separate us. But I am sure my father and the Brial will rule long and well. While they do, I will have opportunities to be with Brialar’s heir. And it comforts me to see him in Veryth.”

  “Looks like his papa?”

  One side of Vondra’s mouth curved upward. “As you say.”

  Laura leaned back with her own tea. “You’ve been to Brialar?”

  “Many times.”

  “What’s it like?”

  Vondra pulled her son into her lap and helped him drink from a small mug.

  “Forested,” she said, when Veryth settled against her, slurping at his drink. “The province consists mostly of forested hills and low mountains. The stronghold is built on a rocky prominence, but you can always smell the trees. And it snows there in the winter.”

  Laura sighed. Snow. It had been a long time since she’d seen snow fall. The idea appealed to her.

  “The Brial likes to build fires when it is cold,” the other woman continued. “He put a fireplace in the middle of the guest wing common room. His heir is not so happy with it. He once enjoyed spending time in the room just above, where the chimney now lies.”

  Laura laughed. Fathers and sons acted the same everywhere, it seemed. When Papa built an arbor on the grounds of the southern summerhouse in Brazil, he had knowingly built it over her brother Tommy’s favorite hiding spot. Vondra’s chuckle joined in, and then Veryth started giggling. Laura sipped some more of her tea to smother a foolish grin.

  I
have a family again.

  * * *

  Kellandin held an actual book in his hands—not a tablet—when Laura walked into the library. He put it aside and rose to welcome her. “I greet you, artisan,” he said in careful Paranian. “Joy of the bond.”

  She bowed, trying not to blush, but her face heated anyway. Sparks of delight shot through Kellandin.

  With an exasperated sigh, she smoothed her face as best she could and said in English, “No more lessons.”

  Kellandin’s forehead wrinkled.

  “The Paran said I’ll get a language implant soon. Why keep torturing me like this?”

  The wrinkles deepened. “Torturing you?”

  “You can’t think I enjoy feeling stupid on a daily basis. Please, let’s talk about something else, in a language I can understand. Tell me what you know about this implant. The Paran will probably tell me more, but he’s off scheming and I’m curious now.”

  He gave a slow nod. “Very well.”

  “Is it surgery?”

  “In the human definition of the word? No.” Revulsion swirled up from his midsection, and Laura wondered why the idea nauseated him. “It does not require cutting into your body.”

  The disgust subsided. How much could she say before he figured out she concealed a much greater sensitivity than she admitted? Kellandin was a very intelligent man, and she—well, she didn’t think she could fool him very long. She opted for a nod. “Good. That’s… good. Better for the baby, too.”

  “Forgive me, I should have offered my congratulations on your son.”

  She squinted at him. “Who doesn’t know that I’m about two days gone with a boy? For a people who don’t gossip, you spread information awfully fast.”

  The lingering disgust vanished in a resounding belly laugh. “I am one of the Paran’s advisors. He informed me immediately.”

  “Oh. Well, all right. That makes sense. So, um, about the implant—do you know how it’s done?”

  “I am unfamiliar with the realm of the apothecary, artisan. I know only that the theory is quite old, and that you will understand the implanted language when you awake.”

  She blew a sigh out the side of her mouth. “That sounds good.”

  “It is all I know,” he added. “I cannot tell you anything more.”