“Oh, well, we just arrived,” she answered breathlessly.
“Then, we haven’t a minute to waste. The real party is taking place in the cavern room.”
Keiron tipped his head to Dervit, and in response the limbit smiled and waved a chicken leg at him before returning to his meal. Jahrra could only blink as the Resai elf proceeded to pull her through the throng of people. Only this time, the people moved well out of the way for them. A gesture reserved entirely for the regent’s son, she gathered.
Although the cavern was crowded, the patrons had far more room to spread out than in the entrance hall. A troupe of musicians, tucked away in one corner of the chamber, plucked out a merry tune while several Resai men and women, dressed in their finest, danced away in the center of the room.
Keiron led them to the dance floor, then tugged on Jahrra’s hand, pulling her close.
“I’ve been dying to dance with you all week,” he breathed into her ear.
Jahrra fought the onslaught of goose pimples forming on her skin, but to no avail. Her head was spinning, and her heart was thumping wildly. This enthusiastic Keiron was quite the contrast to the polite, distant young Resai elf who had invited her to the ball only a few days ago. Jahrra wondered what had changed his demeanor, but wasn’t about to complain. Before she knew it, Keiron was leading her in a fast-paced dance. She had no idea what she was doing, but her partner proved to be an excellent leader, carrying her through the dance as if she had no will of her own.
Soon, the first song came to a resounding finish, but before Jahrra could catch her breath, the fiddles, flutes and drums started up again, and she was once more swept away in a flurry of movement. As Keiron spun her over the cavern floor, Jahrra caught small glimpses of the vast space around her. Fellow dancers, dressed in the colors of spring, floated around them like flowers caught in a rushing stream. Tiny, sparkling lights that hinted at magic dotted the rocky ceiling far above, their colors of pink, yellow, white and green reminding Jahrra of a clear, starry night. Great streamers of shimmery fabric in lively hues hung along the curved walls, and sconces stuffed with wildflowers spilling to the floor like miniature, frothy waterfalls added their own color and perfume to the air. Jahrra wondered where they had found the flowers, what with the recent spell of cold weather, but in the end, it wasn’t important. The rush of the music and of the dance itself, the boisterous, happy voices of the Resai elves, and the occasional cool breeze creeping in from outside only added to the general merriment of the ballroom.
Finally, the music stopped, and those in the center of the room stood and clapped, praising the musicians for their skill. The fiddlers and flautists bowed, then sat down to take a short break. A loud thumping sound drew Jahrra’s and Keiron’s attention toward the back of the room. One of the regent’s guards, decked out in the formal dress of a soldier serving court, slammed the butt of his spear against the ground to call attention to those present.
“Citizens and guests of Cahrdyarein, your attention please!”
Jahrra beamed. It wasn’t just any guard, but the captain of the guard. Pendric. He scanned the crowd like a hawk, his eyes softening when they landed on her and Keiron. Their corners crinkled as he gave her a smirk, tilting his head ever so slightly. Jahrra responded with a bow of her head and a small curtsey.
“The regent will address you now,” Pendric continued.
With Pendric’s introduction over, Morivan stood, his heavy robes and chains of jewel-encrusted gold making him wobble a little. He held out a hand, his wife rising with him. Her own dress matched her husband’s: deep scarlet and gold with gems sewn into the bodice and skirt. It was the most beautiful gown Jahrra had ever seen, and the most shameless display of opulence as well.
Beside her, Keiron let out a small, frustrated breath.
“Mother and Father do like to remind the people they are the closest thing to a king and queen Cahrdyarein will ever have.”
Jahrra cast him a sideways glance. He actually looked slightly embarrassed. Huh. And this was the person Jaax suspected of taking sides with the Crimson King. She returned her attention to his parents, studying Morivan’s self-satisfied, smug face and noting the bland indifference in his wife’s deportment. No, it was much more likely these two were feeding information to the soldiers waiting just outside the wall, poised to attack. If Morivan wished to be king, and not just regent, aiding the Crimson King’s soldiers might earn him a favor from their sovereign. The only question was, what were they waiting for? Why not attack now, while the entire town was stuffed into the regent’s fortress, too busy enjoying the food and wine and Morivan’s generous hospitality to notice any potential danger?
Jahrra shivered, then shook her head. You promised yourself not to have such thoughts tonight.
Nevertheless, she quickly glanced around the room, searching for any signs of trouble. Her eyes found Jaax before she allowed herself to return her attention to the regent. Her guardian was doing the same: scanning the crowd, his stone-still posture informing her he would miss nothing should danger arise. Feeling suddenly much safer, she let herself relax. She may still be angry with him, but she trusted her guardian’s ability to detect any threats.
“Friends and citizens, I welcome you tonight to my abode!” Morivan pronounced. “It is the Spring Equinox, and although winter’s icy fingers insist on lingering a bit longer, we will not allow this spate of bad weather to dampen our spirits!”
A wave of cheering and clapping resounded throughout the cavern.
“As many of you know, we have had some visitors with us this past week or so.”
He turned his patronizing smile onto Jaax, lingering mostly in the shadows just behind his dais. Her guardian wasn’t smiling, nor was he frowning. His eyes swept over the crowd of people once more, now silent save for a stray cough here and there. When his gaze reached Jahrra, he paused. He hadn’t seen her studying him before, but now his attention was entirely on her, as it had been when she first arrived earlier that evening. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. Something had him irritated. Probably her close proximity to Keiron. Jahrra took a breath and casually linked her arms across her torso, standing up a little taller. He could go right ahead and be irritated. She was having a marvelous time so far, mostly because of Keiron’s superior dancing skills, and she was going to continue to have a good time.
Eventually, Jaax shifted his eyes away from her and nodded his head at Morivan. “My travel companions and I thank you for the hospitality you have shown us.”
His voice was polite, but just as cold as the night outside.
“Yes, yes,” Morivan proclaimed. “We are happy to accommodate the dragon Raejaaxorix, his elvin companion Ellyesce, and the human girl, Jahrra.”
Jahrra flinched a little at that.
“I see the elf is with you tonight,” Morivan drawled, indicating Ellyesce, who was standing in Jaax’s shadow. “But where is the girl?”
The crowd, which had thus far remained silent, began to murmur. A slight trickle of apprehension ran down Jahrra’s spine, and her questions concerning the Red Flange on the brink of attacking came back to her. Was this it? Was the regent’s acknowledgement of her the cue? Were there hidden tunnels at the back of the cavern that lead out into the world beyond the wall, where a legion of the Crimson King’s soldiers could sneak in undetected?
Jahrra was so absorbed in her paranoid thoughts that she nearly screamed when Keiron reached over to place his hand on her forearm.
“Come on,” he murmured, pressing in close to her side. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back to dancing.”
Jahrra didn’t resist as Keiron led her toward the back of the cavern where his mother and father stood. Upon seeing the regent’s son, the crowd parted, making their trip to the dais an easy one. When Morivan noticed them, his eyes rounded slightly in surprise.
“Forgive Jahrra, Father. She has been enjoying the evening with me.”
Keiron moved away from her
and bowed, then held his arm out, inviting Jahrra to step forward.
Jahrra gazed up at the dais and looked first at Marzi, her cool blue gaze unwavering, then to Morivan, their eyes meeting in a sort of silent standoff. The regent quickly adopted an expression of bland indifference, but not before Jahrra caught a glimpse of slight, prickling agitation in his eyes. The regent did not enjoy having her and her companions in his city. She had not detected treachery, true, but should Cahrdyarein be invaded by the Red Flange, Morivan would readily turn her over to avoid their malice. Regardless of the regent’s obvious disdain, however, Jahrra curtsied gracefully.
“Tell me, girl, have you enjoyed your stay in Cahrdyarein?” the regent asked, his tone reflecting his current attitude.
Beside him, Pendric shifted. The captain of the guard had stood so still beside the regent that Jahrra had almost forgotten him.
Jahrra gritted her teeth at Morivan’s patronizing tone. Before answering, she flicked a quick glance in her guardian’s direction. Jaax’s gaze was hard; unreadable. But, she knew what she must do. Diplomacy, Jahrra. Diplomacy ... she reminded herself.
“Yes, your grace,” she answered. “It is a beautiful city, and its citizens have been kind and welcoming. Your hospitality is most appreciated.”
“If that were truly the case, you would have paid my wife and I the same courtesy and introduced yourself the moment you arrived instead of nearly an hour later.”
The room, which had been quietly abuzz with patrons gossiping amongst themselves, plunged into silence. Jahrra grew absolutely still, heat rising in her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Jaax testing his claws against the stone floor of the cave.
Keiron took a step in front of her, his own deportment exuding agitation. “Father, you must forgive Jahrra. Her tardiness is my fault. I was enjoying the pleasure of her company on the dance floor and was too distracted by her loveliness to bring her forward.”
Jahrra felt her face warm even further, her eyes carefully avoiding Jaax as she stared straight ahead, gauging Morivan’s reaction to his son’s excuse.
The regent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Just know that one day these amusements of yours will have to come to an end, my son,” he said dryly. “A human makes a useful companion, if only to pass the time until better prospects come along.”
Jahrra sucked in a breath of mortified outrage. Beside her, Keiron stiffened, and his eyes darkened, the color on his cheeks revealing his own anger. His father had just insulted them both, but there was nothing either she or her companion could say without starting an argument in front of the entire city. Best to stay silent, as much as it pained her.
“You will remember, Morivan,” Jaax snarled softly, almost filling his corner of the room as he sat up from his reclining position, “that human blood flows in your veins, as little of it as may be, and that Jahrraneh Drisihn deserves not only your respect, but your allegiance as well. That is, if you truly wish to see the downfall of the Tyrant. You will refrain from paying her insult in front of your subjects in the future, or you will regret your actions.”
Jahrra’s eyes widened in alarm. What was Jaax doing? They had so little time left here in Cahrdyarein, why would he risk angering Morivan now? She glanced up at her guardian, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes, like virescent fire, were boring into the regent with such intensity she imagined smoke rising from the back of Morivan’s head.
Morivan, who at first appeared ready to respond to Jaax’s insult, lost a bit of his bluster the moment he met the dragon’s eyes.
“My apologies, Raejaaxorix,” he said with a tight smile. “I hope I’ve not insulted Ethoes’ Chosen.”
He didn’t even bother to look at her, but Jahrra figured that was the best apology she was going to get from him. She would take it. Yes, he’d insulted her, but he was a buffoon who would never consider anyone to be at his level. Best to just ignore him.
Keiron gave his father a stiff bow and held his hand out to Jahrra. She took it, but before he could lead her away, Jaax said, “Jahrra.”
She paused and looked at Keiron. He was watching her guardian over her shoulder, his jaw tight.
“How about you go get us some more punch,” Jahrra suggested, “while I see what Jaax wants.”
Keiron nodded and let her hand go. Jahrra took a deep breath and turned to face her guardian. Morivan still watched her the way someone might study a particularly grotesque bug crawling up their pant leg. She turned her back on him and took the few steps to reach Jaax.
The dragon lowered his head.
“We need to talk,” he growled.
Jahrra flashed a quick look in Ellyesce’s direction, but his gaze remained steady. She turned back to Jaax, her brow furrowed.
“About what?”
Had he decided to let her in on his plans, after all?
Jaax lowered his voice and murmured, “Ellyesce told me what happened this morning.”
The blood drained from Jahrra’s face. She shot the elf an acerbic glare, and he shook his head slightly.
“He needed to know,” Ellyesce murmured.
“I would have told you everything tonight, Jahrra,” Jaax pressed, in the quietest voice he could muster. “I didn’t want to ruin the ball for you.”
“You haven’t,” she hissed, “but my trust in you has certainly taken a blow.”
Jaax winced and had the decency to look somewhat abashed. He blew out a weary breath, then returned his full attention to her. Jahrra was expecting him to lecture her on the merits of his decisions, or to apologize for breaking his word. Instead, what he said surprised her.
“What must I do to regain that trust?”
Jahrra’s first impulse was to answer his question snidely, but his tone was so sincere, his eyes so full of concern and even sadness, that the smoldering anger she’d kindled earlier snuffed out like a candle set out in a storm. And that’s when Jahrra realized she had never really lost faith in her guardian, and something, some inkling deep within her conscience, told her nothing ever could shake that loyalty free of its hold on her heart.
Jahrra tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and drew a breath in slowly through her nose. Finally, she faced Jaax again and said in a calm voice, “An apology would go a long way.”
Her guardian blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting her response.
“Then,” he said, his voice unusually gruff, “I extend my most heartfelt apology to you, Jahrraneh Drisihn.”
Jahrra gave him a tired smile, the weightless feeling of forgiveness and atonement making her almost giddy. Jaax offered his own relieved smile, but then his eyes flicked to something over her shoulder, and his joy vanished. The Tanaan dragon straightened and took on his haughty, overbearing demeanor once again.
“We will talk more tonight,” he said in a more authoritative tone. “But right now, I believe you are wanted elsewhere.”
Jahrra glanced over her shoulder to find Keiron standing just within earshot, waiting for her. He gave her a tentative quirk of his mouth, flicked his eyes up to meet Jaax’s for a fleeting moment, then glanced back to her. He held out his hand.
“Would you like to rejoin the party, Jahrra?”
Relieved that the rift between herself and her guardian had been patched up, she beamed and hurried over to join the regent’s son.
“I would love to,” she breathed, and he pulled her, laughing, back into the fray.
As Keiron and Jahrra got swept up into the crowd of dancers, Jaax watched them like a hawk, ready to swoop down upon the Resai elf should he reveal any devious intentions.
“Relax, Jaax,” Ellyesce said, in the dead language he and his reptilian friend often used. “He is only a young man enjoying the company of a girl he fancies.”
Jaax gritted his teeth. Oh, if only it were that simple.
“Have you had any more visions since the one this morning?” the dragon asked his friend by way of distraction.
Ellyesce released a weary breath. “None. I imagine the foul weather is working in our favor, but I still feel the Tyrant’s soldiers will not be ready to attack for a few more days or so. Our plans to leave tomorrow will suffice.”
“Might it be a ruse? This isn’t the first time they’ve deceived us.”
Ellyesce shook his head. “No. The vision I saw was truth. Magic does not work against the sacred Trees of Ethoes. Even if the soldiers had known the message was being passed our way, they would not be able to alter it. We have a few more days yet. We can rest easy for now.”
Feeling a little bit better, but not entirely at ease, Jaax allowed himself to unwind. Soon, they would be on the road again, an open road that posed its own danger, and he could not afford to drain his energy over needless worry.
* * *
As the clouds forming over the mountains proceeded to drop their abundance of snow, Archedenaeh sat curled in upon herself with her red cloak wrapped snuggly around her. She was absolutely exhausted, yet despite her weariness, she was thanking Ethoes and all the lesser gods and goddesses that she had found the tiny alcove with its overhang, and that she was still alive.
Somewhere behind her, Milihn grumbled in his sleep. He was tired as well, and for good reason. Now that she and her korehv were safe, Denaeh had the luxury of resting while she regained her strength.
Following Jaax and Jahrra was difficult enough, but to do so with the mountains swarming with legions of the Red Flange had made it even more trying. Regardless of that particular thorn in her side, Denaeh wasn’t the type to easily give up. For more than a week, she’d kept herself carefully out of sight, on the heels of her enemy and just beyond the fringes of their detection range.
Now, as she rested in her sheltered little niche in the mountainside, she allowed her mind to wander back to four days previous when she had moved in close enough to eavesdrop on the enemy. The small army had stopped their progress and were camped out on the mountainside. Her own foresight had informed her of why: Jaax and Jahrra, and the mysterious stranger who traveled with them, had made it to Cahrdyarein and were secured behind its wall.
The Ascending Page 21