“Of course, he cares, child! And as for being businesslike, he’s just doing his job,” her grandmother said through Lor. “I spoke to the head of the Kindred High Council, Commander Sylvan, myself and he assured me he was sending his best and most deadly warrior to defend you personally and train your new guard. You need have no fear while the Kindred is with you.”
“I suppose not,” Ellina sighed. “But he’s just so cold. So stiff and—”
A brisk rapping at her door interrupted her and then it opened and the very male she had been talking about was revealed in the doorway.
Ellina’s heart jumped nimbly into her throat and she wondered if he had heard her talking about him. It was impossible to tell from the stern, implacable expression on his face.
“Your Highness,” the tall Kindred warrior said, bowing respectfully, if coldly to her. “The people are all assembled to see you drink the Cup of Wisdom. The High Priest and his helpers are in place and I and my squad are prepared to move to the balcony. Are you ready to go?”
As always, Ellina found herself somewhat tongue-tied around the tall Kindred. And it wasn’t just his cold demeanor that tripped her up—it was his appearance.
Though she had never expected to have any kind of an attraction to an off-worlder, Ellina had to admit Commander Ty’rial was the most beautiful male she had ever seen.
Which was odd, because he looked so different from anyone she had ever encountered before.
His skin was a tawny caramel color without even a hint of blue in it and his eyes…well, Ellina had yet to decide what color his eyes were. They were pale and reflective and sometimes seemed to be blue, sometimes green, and sometimes even a pale amber. His hair grew all over his head instead of in a thin, narrow strip like most Chorkay males’ hair did and it was a deep midnight black instead of being green or blue, as was proper.
He didn’t even have a third eye, Ellina thought, which should have rendered him completely repulsive. Instead, the smooth, empty space between his arching black brows where a third eye ought to have been—would have been on a Chorkay—only somehow rendered him exotic and more beautiful than ever.
But the tall Kindred’s beauty was purely masculine, Ellina had to admit. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, and the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. His mouth was a study in contrasts—the top lip was thin and serious but the bottom lip was lush—betraying some innate vulnerability the rest of his stern but handsome features concealed.
Of course it was ridiculous to think so much about her temporary personal guard, Ellina told herself. Commander Ty’rial was only here until the guards he had chosen from among her own people could be properly trained and vetted. Then he would go back to the Kindred Mother Ship and she would most likely never see him again.
Which was as it should be.
“Your Majesty?” he asked again and she realized she’d been standing there, staring up at his perfect features like an idiot without saying anything. “Are you ready?” he asked her, a touch impatiently, she thought.
Ellina opened her mouth to say of course she was ready in the most imperious voice she could manage but instead she heard herself say,
“I’m frightened.”
Two
“Frightened?” Commander Ty’rial frowned a little, not as though he was angry, but as though he didn’t quite understand. “Why would you be frightened?” he asked, taking a step towards her. “I’ll have my entire squad surrounding you all the way to the balcony and once there, we have a translucent, bomb and blaster-proof screen erected. But the people won’t see it—they’ll only see you, their new Potentate—drinking from the Cup of Wisdom in order to increase her insight and rule them wisely.”
“It’s not only bombs and blasters I fear,” Ellina whispered.
“Then, what?” His frown deepened as he took another step into her sleeping chamber, which was supposed to be forbidden. Ellina was royalty and a virgin—only males she had expressly invited in ought to be allowed in her most private quarters. Still, she made no move to send the tall Kindred out.
“I…I think my old guard, Guffin, was poisoned,” she confessed at last, her stomach clenching as she finally spit out the words.
“What?” Commander Ty’rial shook his head. “This is the first I’ve heard of this—why was I not told before?”
“I—” Ellina began but just then a new head appeared at the doorway of her sleeping chamber.
“Royal Mistress,” a nasal, self-important voice said. “My master, the Lord Kikbax, High Priest of the most holy Thufar, is ready for you to drink the Cup of Wisdom. He sent me to collect you at once.”
Ellina squeezed her hands into fists at her sides. The servants of the High Priest tended to treat her as the High Priest did himself—like a willful child who had to be corralled and told what to do. They would never have dared to speak so to her grandmother because she was older than Lord Kikbax. But since Ellina had been raised in the palace under the High Priest’s nose, he treated her as an inferior rather than his queen and goddess, which was how their relationship was supposed to work.
Commander Ty’rial seemed to feel the implicit insult to Ellina as much as she did herself. His frown was like a thundercloud as he marched back to the door and glared down at the startled servant.
“Who are you and how dare you command the Potentate, she who is the Goddess in the Flesh?” he demanded harshly.
The servant started back in surprise, all three of his eyes going wide at the growl in the big Kindred’s voice.
“I…I am but a humble servant of the High Priest, Lord Kikbax,” he stammered. “I was sent to fetch her.”
“You do not ‘fetch’ Y’res the Fourth, as though she were a child or a pet,” Commander Ty’rial snapped. “And you will beg her pardon on bended knee for insulting her. Now.”
He pointed to the floor of the open doorway and glared at the servant.
Flustered, the other male got down on his knees, though he still tried to protest.
“But my master is the High Priest! And he says she must come at once! All the people are waiting. ”
“Your master and the people both may wait upon the pleasure of my Lady, the Potentate,” Commander Ty’rial growled. “And I have not yet heard your apology, servant.”
His emphasis on the man’s inferior status when compared to Ellina herself and his insistence on an apology made the servant’s face turn purple with embarrassed rage. But one look at the Kindred warrior towering over him and he bent his head low, as was proper in the presence of the Potentate, and mumbled something about deepest regrets and hopes that her Royal Majesty had not been offended.
Ellina had the feeling that Commander Ty’rial was going to insist that the servant speak up and make a more proper apology but at that point, she just wanted him gone.
“You may tell your master that I will be there when I am ready,” she said in her most imperious, “Potentate and Goddess” voice. “For now, you are dismissed.”
Lord Kikbax’s servant bobbed his head once more and then scrambled hastily up from the floor and ran off, no doubt to tell the High Priest how wrong-headed and rebellious the new young Potentate was acting.
Ellina didn’t care. In fact, she was glad that the servant—and the High Priest, his master—had been put in their places. Commander Ty’rial was right—she was not to be fetched or ordered about by anyone and it was time that Lord Kikbax recognized that.
Yet even the triumph of the moment couldn’t quite quell the sick, stomach-churning fear she felt when she thought of going out on the Grand Balcony and drinking from the Cup of Wisdom.
The tall Kindred seemed to sense this because he closed the door to her bed chamber and came forward to take her hand in his. His fingers were warm and so much longer than hers that she felt like a child as he led her to the low sofa covered in rare golden zanda fibers and seated her on it. Then, instead of sitting at her side, he knelt on one knee before her and looked into her ey
es.
“Now tell me, Your Highness,” he rumbled. “What’s this all about? You truly think your old guard was poisoned?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know!” Ellina said. She bit her lip. “All I know is that he was perfectly fine a few weeks before my coronation and then he was suddenly taken ill with a mysterious ‘wasting sickness’ that even the best physician in the land was unable to cure. He…Guffin…” She choked on the old guard’s name and almost couldn’t continue. “He…he wasted so quickly and then he was burned in state and his ashes scattered to the dunes above,” she made herself say. “So by the time I thought to wonder if his illness might be due to poison, it was too late…too late.” She shook her head.
“He meant a great deal to you, this Guffin of yours.” It was a statement, not a question, and Commander Ty’rial’s deep voice was quiet. When she glanced up at him, Ellina saw that his eyes were softer than she had ever seen them.
“He was always there for me, after my parents were assassinated,” she whispered. “I knew he would always keep me safe so I wasn’t afraid, even though they were dead. He…he’s only been gone less than a solar month…and I…I…”
But her words ended in a choked sob. She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes and, though she tried to hold them back, they overflowed anyway and ran down her cheeks, wetting the neckline of her elaborate golden dress.
The tall Kindred spoke not a word but he tugged her gently towards him. His movement was clearly an invitation only. If she wished, she could pull her hand out of his and ignore it.
But Ellina didn’t want to ignore it—she wanted comfort. Comfort that no one had been able to give since Guffin passed on to be with Thufar. For though she could and did speak as often as she liked with her grandmother through their chewchies, she couldn’t get a hug from her through Lor and Shel. And of course, no one else would dream of touching the Potentate so intimately, so she felt all alone.
Commander Ty’rial seemed to have no compunction about touching her, however. Somehow she found herself sitting on his knee with her face pressed against his broad chest, sobbing her heart out.
In the excitement and flurry surrounding the coronation, she had never been able to grieve the loss of her old guard, who had been almost like a father to her. In all this time, she hadn’t shed a tear—she had felt numb. But when the Kindred’s strong arms enfolded her, the numbness seemed to melt like snow in the desert and all the pain of Guffin’s death hit her in a fresh wave of sorrow.
Ellina cried as though her heart would break and, perched on her head, her chewchie Lor howled mournfully, sharing her pain and grief just the way he shared her joy and laughter when she was happy. For a long moment she gave herself up completely to unhappiness and just let herself go.
But it didn’t take long for Ellina to come back to herself. As the first wave of grief passed, a sense of shame took its place. What was she doing here, sitting on the knee of an off-worlder and crying on his shoulder like a little girl who had skinned her knee? It was most improper and if anyone poked their head in her sleeping chamber door and saw her doing it, a terrible scandal would certainly arise.
Stiffly, she sat up, swiping at her eyes. Her third eye, located in the middle of her forehead as it was with all Chorkays, felt especially sore from weeping as it did not usually perform that function. It was said that only true grief and loss could bring tears from a Chorkay’s third eye, which were exactly her feelings for Guffin.
“Are you all right, little one?” Commander Ty’rial asked softly, which almost made Ellina start sobbing again.
“Oh!” She put a hand to her throat. “Little one,” she whispered.
“Forgive me.” His tone grew more formal, though she continued to sit on his knee. “I should not have referred to you as anything so casual and informal, Your Majesty.”
“No, no—it’s not that,” Ellina said quickly. Her tall Kindred guard was finally thawing a little—she didn’t want to send him back behind his wall of ice. Though at the same time, she needed to preserve a little dignity herself. “It’s just…that was what Guffin used to call me—‘little one’,” she explained, lifting her chin. She was determined not to cry again despite the tender memory.
“Then I must ask your forgiveness a second time,” Commander Ty’rial said, though his tone was a bit less formal this time. “For stirring up old memories and giving you pain.”
Ellina stood up from his knee a bit shakily and took a deep breath. It was time she got hold of herself and stopped behaving like a little girl. She was the Potentate of an entire planet—she had to act like it.
“The memories were already stirred up,” she told the big Kindred, who remained kneeling before her. He was so tall they were still nearly eye-to-eye, even with her standing. “Besides I…” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t really mind you calling me that. It reminded me of when I felt safe.”
“You’re safe with me, Your Highness.” Commander Ty’rial’s voice was firm and decisive. “I swore an oath to keep you safe or die trying and I meant it. You will not come to harm under my watch.”
“But how can you keep me safe from poison?” Ellina demanded, frowning. “I appreciate your willingness to put yourself between me and a bomb or a blaster shot but I am the one who must drink from the Cup of Wisdom.” She began pacing on the soft, moss carpet. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust the High Priest—he was cleared of the assassination attempt at my coronation. But what if someone else decides to slip something into the cup? What then?”
He frowned. “Do you not have a food and drink tester? Someone who tries every dish and drink you take before you take a bite or a sip?”
Ellina shook her head.
“Guffin always did that for me but after he was gone, I was never assigned another taster. I should have asked, I suppose, but everything has been so topsy-turvy…” She shrugged expressively, ashamed to admit that there had been no one she felt she could trust to fill the post, not after all of her personal guards had been implicated in the assassination plot.
The big Kindred’s frown deepened.
“You should have told me. I can’t believe you’ve been without any kind of defense from poison the whole time I’ve been here! Everything you’ve been eating and drinking could have been drugged or worse and I didn’t even know it.”
Ellina crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.
“I haven’t been eating or drinking anything the servants brought me for weeks,” she told him. “So it isn’t as though I’ve been in any danger—well, up until now when I have to drink from the Cup of Wisdom.”
“What?” Commander Ty’rial shook his head. “What have you been living on then?”
“Before he died, Guffin used to bring me honey bars—a kind of crispy, sweet snack,” Ellina told him. “They were always his treat to me, ever since I was little—a specialty of his home region. His own sister made them for me but since she lives so far away, she would always make a huge batch of them to send by him. So those are what I’ve been eating—honey bars—for weeks.” She sighed. “Only I’m almost out of them and though I never thought I’d say it, I am so tired of honey bars,” she finished, making a face.
“Well, you don’t need to eat them anymore,” Commander Ty’rial said firmly. “From now on, I will be your personal taster as well as your bodyguard. You will eat and drink nothing unless I taste it first.”
Ellina looked at him uncertainly.
“But…what if you are poisoned?” she protested. “I don’t want you to put yourself at risk for me.”
“Don’t worry about that, little one. Er…” He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty. I will be just fine. Besides, I’m supposed to be protecting you—remember?”
“I know. It’s just…” Ellina bit her lip and looked up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all,” she admitted in a low voice.
The nobles in the palace would be scandalized if they ever heard of someone of her clas
s letting on to care about what happened to a servant. But she couldn’t help it—she liked the big Kindred now that he had thawed a bit, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying because of her.
The way Guffin did, whispered a little voice in her head.
To her surprise, he smiled just a little.
“If you think poison can hurt me, you don’t know me very well, Your Highness.”
“I don’t know you at all,” Ellina protested. “Which is why it’s so shameful that I cried all over you just now.” She leaned forward and brushed at the wet patch on his uniform shirt. It was woven of some heavy, satiny material and was golden, which made his eyes look amber. “Please forget I did this,” she said, frowning in distress when the wet mark persisted. “It would be considered most improper among all the upper circles.”
She made a face, to show what she thought of the social castes in question but at the same time she was serious. If word got out that she had sat on her guard’s lap and cried and let him hold her, the nobles would scorn her even more than they already did.
“It’s not shameful or improper to need comfort,” he rumbled. “Here—your, er, third eye still looks a bit damp.” He pulled a clean white handkerchief from one of his pockets and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Ellina blotted all three of her eyes carefully. “Oh—that’s sore,” she exclaimed, as she dabbed carefully at the third one, just above and between her brows.
“Did the tears hurt it?” He looked at her anxiously.
Ellina shook her head.
“No, it’s just that I don’t normally cry from it. The umlu or third eye is usually only used to guide one—it is the source of our intuition,” she explained. “It is said that only when a Chorkay experiences true grief and loss will tears come from the umlu.”
“It’s not surprising that you cried from it, then,” he said. “When you were grieving the loss of one so close to you.”
Guarding the Goddess Page 2