Agedor's glare, rife with humiliation, melted at the King's words. He cast his eyes to the ground, and bowed. “I understand, Father.”
“Now go. Return to your command with all due speed.” He gestured at the door.
Agedor moved to walk past him, but Aridor put a firm hand on his arm. “But first, I insist you apologize to these men.” He nodded toward Mizar and Sen. The young healer hadn't risen to his feet, but one of his eyes had cracked open, and he was watching the exchange between father and son with pained interest.
From the grumble that coaxed itself from Agedor's throat, it was clear this was the last thing he wanted to do. Mizar remained stoic as the wounded prince squared his shoulders and said, “I apologize for my actions, High Mage. I beg your forgiveness. You too, boy.” He cast a fleeting glimpse at Sen, though Mizar suspected it was more to admire his own handiwork than to acknowledge him.
Wanting to end the entire episode, Mizar simply bowed silently in response.
“His name is Sen, Agedor,” the king growled. “It is the duty of a leader to know the names of those who serve him.” One more scowl, and Aridor released Agedor's arm. Without another word, the prince swept from the room.
Sen stretched out his hands to Mizar, which he promptly grasped, hauling his apprentice to his feet. With Aridor's help, Sen staggered to the work bench. “Thank you, Your Highness,” Sen whispered through swollen lips as he sat.
“Can you heal yourself?” Mizar asked.
He shook his head. “I need a clear head for that, Master. My skull feels like it's in pieces.”
Aridor, too, looked concerned. “I will send for the physician as soon as I have a conversation with the High Mage.”
Sen nodded, folding his arms on the table and placing his head on them.
Mizar patted his back. “Rest now, Sen, and try not to fall asleep. I'll be right back.”
He led Aridor into the hallway, where several guards stood. Mizar hadn't even heard them approach. But then, he'd been too busy watching his apprentice being pummeled to pay attention. With a wave of his hand, Aridor dismissed them. They saluted, turned on their heels and marched back down the corridor.
As the sound of their booted feet faded away, Aridor said, “I hope you've made more progress than I have.”
Mizar nodded. “If you're referring to Merdeen's prophecies, then yes, Your Highness. We only finished the translations an hour ago. I believe we can now determine what Elzor's ultimate goal is.” He paused. “And there are other things I must tell you as well. I scarcely know where to begin.”
The King quirked an eyebrow. “I heard a report that it was you who divulged to the patrol where to find the raiders' bodies. Did you get lost on your way to Ghaldyn?”
Mizar felt his face redden. When asking for permission to travel home before Aridor's departure, he hadn't mentioned his side-trip to the forest's edge. Caught in his deception, Mizar bowed his head in contrition. “I apologize for not telling you about that, Sire. I was following an instruction given to me by Arantha. He led me to the exact spot where the Vandans crossed.”
“I would question Arantha's decision to send you to deal with such a minor incursion … if I didn't already know this mysterious girl was involved. The soldiers reported that you had an unconscious girl tethered to you as you rode to Ghaldyn.”
“That is correct, Sire.”
“Is this the same girl that I've just heard bested Agedor in a contest of archery?”
Mizar blanched. “You are better informed than I, Sire. I have not left my study for several hours.” He sighed. “I gave her explicit instructions not to go wandering off, but it seems she crossed path with Prince Warran during that time.”
“I see.” Aridor shot a glance down the corridor in both directions. “I have a political bloodbath to prepare for, Mizar. There is too much that I don't know, and it is imperative I go into that summit with all available information.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. “Tell … me … everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Not for the first time since taking up residence in the Ixtrayu village, Davin wished he had a mirror handy. Or at least a hairbrush. He wasn't a high-maintenance guy, but the last few weeks had sucked the life out of his curly red hair. Without the ability to check his reflection in anything more technologically advanced than a pool of water, he assumed he looked like a ginger-haired sheepdog.
He used the ladle to scoop some water out of his bedroom's basin, tipping it gently over his scalp and using his fingers to rake through his hair. Then he shrugged his brand-new, custom-made, kova-leather jacket over his plain white T-shirt, admiring the fit.
He'd been quite apprehensive about mixing with the general population of the Ixtrayu tribe, given his mother's worries and the tension that thickened the air. He was sure, emerging from the Room of Healing, he'd be looked upon with scorn, derision, and fear. That hadn't been the case. Well, mostly. Many of the older women made no effort to hide their unease in his presence, which made him thankful Kelia had ordered them to leave him be. A few of them, however, he'd caught looking at him with sadness in their eyes, no doubt because he reminded them of the sons they'd been forced to give up. All of them gave him a wide berth.
The younger women, particularly the ones close to his own age, were much less fearful. Initially, they too were reluctant to speak to him, staring at him as if he were a wild animal on a long leash. Sarja, thankfully, had convinced them that he was not dangerous, and that had opened the floodgates. From that point on, he'd been peppered with questions about the Above, space travel, and life on Earth pre- and post-Jegg invasion. He'd done his best to answer them without compromising their beliefs, and they'd been grateful for his amicability. There was one girl named Cassia, however, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him, particularly from the waist down. Sarja had warned him to watch out for her, and he realized at that moment why.
Sarja had been so nice to him, showing him around and educating him on the rituals, tasks and general minutia of Ixtrayu life. It took a lot of effort to keep his attraction to her in check, as drop-dead gorgeous as she was. He kept reminding himself that she was already spoken for, and that messing with the relationship between Sarja and the Protectress's daughter might have serious repercussions for both himself and his mother. That's when Sarja introduced him to Eleri.
Eleri, he learned, had just taken her place at her mother Nurya's side as one of the tribe's cloth-weavers. Under the tutelage of both Nurya and Runa's companion Amya, she had become quite proficient at tanning leather made from kova skin and crafting tunics and robes from it. She seemed particularly interested in the design of his collarless T-shirt, and asked him to lend it to her for two days. Eager to impress her, he'd done just that, wearing a plain beige tunic in the interim. And now, he'd not only gotten his T-shirt back, but a long-sleeved leather jacket to wear over it.
He was amazed that a girl would put forth such effort for a boy she'd only just met. It was possible she was only currying favor with the strange alien visitors, but he didn't get that vibe from her. They'd shared several meals together, along with Sarja, and he'd become quite taken with Eleri's friendly, easygoing personality. She was sixteen years old, not quite as tall or muscular as Sarja, but not petite either, with short brown hair and hazel-colored doe eyes. Unlike many of the Ixtrayu, she hadn't yet chosen a girlfriend among her tribemates. He'd asked her why, but she just blushed and dodged the question, smiling at him. He'd come to love her smile, picturing it in his head whenever they weren't together.
He ran his fingers down the length of the jacket, which felt soft and supple under his touch, and a sudden thought sent him into a momentary panic: Does her gift mean we're … involved? He dismissed this notion, reasoning that given the bizarre circumstances of his presence in the village, coupled with the complete absence of any teenage mating practices between boys and girls, he was safe. At least for now.
Tread carefully, he though
t.
“Dav?” his mother's voice called. “You ready to go?”
The last of the day's sunlight was just visible through the window as he greeted his mother in the home's main room—living room? family room?—and his eyebrows shot up into his ginger hairline.
Maeve wore a flowing beige robe, with many intricate swirly designs stitched into the collar and hem that seemed to be abstract representations of some of the local flora and fauna. It was all Davin could do to suppress a giggle. It was as close to a dress as he'd ever seen her wear. She hadn't even worn a dress on her wedding day, according to the holo-vids she and his father had shown him.
His smile disappeared at the thought. He had done his best not to think about his father since Maeve had dropped the bomb on him in the Council Chamber, and he certainly hadn't harbored any thoughts of forgiveness. No, no, no. I am NOT going to spoil my mood by thinking about Dad right now.
Maeve's innocent smile vanished at the same time his did. “You don't like it? Kelia says it's traditional for Ixtrayu bonding ceremonies, and I didn't feel like showing up in the same clothes that I teach combat training in. Is that okay with you?” She furrowed her brow at him, but there was no missing the lightheartedness in her voice.
“Fine with me,” he said, dispelling all thoughts of his father. “I'm just glad they didn't ask me to wear one of those. Not really my thing.”
“Hey now,” his mother said, wagging a finger at him. “Don't make me pull this off and put it on you, kiddo. Because I totally will.” She looked him up and down, giving particular scrutiny to his new jacket. “Where did you get that?”
“Um …”
His awkward response was cut off, much to his relief, when Kelia poked her head through the front entrance. She, too, wore a robe with equally intricate designs on it, though hers was chocolate-brown in color. She looked as formal and regal as Davin had ever seen her. “The procession is leaving shortly,” she said, her eyes flicking from him to Maeve. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as we'll ever be,” Maeve said somewhat self-consciously. “Do we look all right?”
Kelia stepped into the room, gave them both the once-over, and nodded. “We're not used to having guests at our ceremonies, but I am gratified that you made the effort to dress appropriately for the occasion, Maeve. It will tell my sisters that you have embraced our faith and our traditions. That is no small thing.”
The mention of faith caused a slight tremor in his mother's body, but it only lasted a moment. She straightened up and made a hilarious show of primping her purple hair, which he just noticed looked shinier than usual. “My pleasure,” she said, her eyes locked on Kelia's.
Davin stood still, waiting for the two women to break their gaze and head out the door. The three seconds it took before this happened felt like five minutes.
Something solidified inside Davin's gut as the three of them stepped outside and joined the long, silent procession making its way out of the village. He would have to have a very serious talk with his mother after the ceremony.
* * *
The circle of shade trees that jutted from the ground on the western edge of the Plains of Iyan came into view almost as soon as the procession cleared the chava corral just northeast of the village. From there, it only took another ten minutes to reach the site where the ceremony was to be held. During the journey, Davin noticed his mother sticking close to him, especially after she noticed his eyes wandering over the crowd. He spied Eleri, about twenty yards ahead, and had to resist the temptation to call out her name.
As they entered the ring of trees, amply lit by a circle of torches placed around the perimeter, Davin noticed a circle of green leaves and purple wildflowers adorning the center of the clearing. This was where the two girls would probably stand during the ceremony.
No one spoke as, one by one, the entire Ixtrayu tribe—minus a few huntresses who had been assigned lookout duty, a duty his mother and Kelia had recently initiated—took up position on the edge of the clearing. Davin and Maeve, per Kelia's instructions, stood several paces further inward and off to one side, anticipating the ritual's commencement.
When it seemed the encircled space could hold no more spectators, Kelia strode into the clearing, flanked by two older women whose beige robes and hair adornments were more elaborate than the rest of the crowd's. Their faces bore blank expressions, but Davin could see one of them, a woman he recognized as Olma, the chava-keeper, practically vibrating in anticipation. The two women stood behind Kelia and to her left. Seconds later, the Council members silently entered, forming a line behind and to Kelia's right.
With everyone in place, Kelia raised her hands, speaking in a loud, authoritative voice. “Under the watchful gaze of Arantha, I welcome you, my sisters, to this sacred place.
“Eight centuries ago, when Arantha led our ancestors to the safe haven of our Plateau, far from the countries of men, they had little to bind them together but their love for each other. From those early days, it became one of the Protectress's many privileges to preside over the ceremony where her sisters would enter into a sacred union of love and companionship for the rest of their lives. In these troubled times …” She shot a sideways glance at Maeve and Davin, “when the divine goddess's path for us remains uncertain, it gives me the greatest pleasure to uphold this most joyous of rituals. On this night, two of our own will be bound together as companions in love, for now and for all time.”
A barely audible sniffle drew Davin's attention toward his mother. The delight on her face was palpable, but it was tinged with melancholy. He wondered if she was recalling the day she and his father got married.
He shook his head, returning his focus to the ceremony. Nope. Not going there. Not now.
Kelia turned to the two older women on her right. “Olma, Jazia, are your daughters prepared?”
“They are prepared, Protectress,” they said together, bowing their heads and clasping their hands in front of them.
“Do you, Olma, give your consent for Zarina to enter into this union, thus yielding your responsibilities as her primary caregiver?”
Olma's jubilant smile cracked through her rough, leathery skin. “Yes, Protectress.”
“Do you, Jazia, give your consent for Bika to enter into this union, thus yielding your responsibilities as her primary caregiver?”
Jazia, a stocky huntress, bowed again. “Yes, Protectress.”
Kelia faced the center of the circle again. “Let the betrothed come forward.”
From opposite sides of the clearing, two young women, only a few years older than Davin, emerged from the crowd and approached the center.
Davin had been to several weddings back on Earth before the invasion, including one between his neighbors Tyler and Kevin. They'd been fun—mostly because of the copious amounts of food—but he'd never really understood the need for such solemnity in what was, after all, the happiest day of their lives.
Seeing the faces of these two girls light up as they laid eyes upon each other, however, sent a wave of warmth straight to his heart. Dressed in robes so white they practically glowed, and with a row of colorful flowers woven right into their hair, they walked forward at a slow, measured pace. They entered the inner circle without a word, never taking their eyes off each other.
All noise—all movement—ceased. Even the slight wind that had been blowing across the plains seemed to recognize the significance of the moment. It was breathtaking, and Davin felt a tear forming at the corner of his eye.
Kelia approached the girls, spreading her arms wide and casting her eyes heavenward. “Let Arantha herself bear witness to this union, in the presence of our sisters, our families, and our honored guests.” She flashed a smile at Maeve and Davin before continuing. “Let their love last for all time, from this side of the Great Veil to the other. Let no being, mortal or god, cast asunder what their hearts have wrought.”
She placed her hands on the girls' shoulders, drawing their attention. “Bika, daughter of J
azia; Zarina, daughter of Olma. Do you swear, in Arantha's name, that you enter this union with your hearts light and of your own free will?”
They bowed their heads. “We swear, Protectress.”
“Do you swear, in Arantha's name, to hold true to her traditions?”
“We swear, Protectress.”
“Do you swear, in Arantha's name, to love, protect, and cherish each other, through this life and beyond?”
“We swear, Protectress.”
“Are you prepared to receive the Sharing?”
Davin's eyes widened. The Sharing, as Kelia had explained, was when two Ixtrayu joined in a sort of telepathic bond. His mother had experienced this with Kelia only minutes after they met, and soon after, Maeve discovered her Wielding abilities. However, for Ixtrayu without such abilities, Kelia would act as a conduit between the Sharers, allowing them to bond not only mentally but emotionally and spiritually.
“We are prepared, Protectress,” they said in unison.
“Kneel,” Kelia instructed.
Both girls knelt within the circle, facing each other.
Leaning in close, Kelia whispered, “Join hands, and close your eyes.”
Bika and Zarina grasped each other's hands, squeezing their eyes shut.
Kelia gently placed her fingertips on both girls' heads, closing her own eyes as well.
Two hundred Ixtrayu watched, silent as ghosts, as first Zarina's and then Bika's bodies stiffened, their mouths and eyes sprang open, and their grip on each other's hands tightened. The transfer of thoughts, of experiences, was not something Davin could see with his own eyes, but he had no doubt that's what was happening. Radiant smiles appeared on both girls' faces as their eyes rolled back into their heads. Slight gasps escaped their lips as their invisible bond was forged.
After a minute or so, Kelia withdrew her hands and took a step back. Both girls struggled for breath as they rejoined the conscious world, but the looks of ecstasy on their faces hadn't diminished. Davin couldn't help feel the smallest pang of jealousy. He locked eyes with Eleri, staring at him from the other side of the circle. Her mouth curled into a smile that the torchlight also reflected in her eyes, and his insides turned to jelly.
Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2) Page 21