A set of simple, elegant thrones stood side by side atop a dais at the end of the vast room. Beside them, almost lurking in the shadows, she spotted Ellyesce, dressed in his fine court garb, but standing just in front of one of those thrones was the prince of Oescienne. Jahrra brushed her eyes over his face in a casual, swift movement. His posture wasn’t as relaxed as she expected, and the expression on his face suggested a distracted mind. One thing was for certain, though. He studied her far longer, and far more carefully, than she studied him.
“Prince Aeron, may I formally present Jahrraneh Drisihn of Oescienne,” Denaeh announced, her voice carrying over the quiet whispers.
Upon hearing Jahrra’s full name, the crowd hushed entirely. The silence was worse than the gossiping, but Jahrra stood her ground, refusing to balk.
“Thank you, Denaeh. I, of course, remember Jahrra from three days ago, when I first arrived here.”
A quick glance answered Jahrra’s suspicions. A small smile tugged at the corner of the prince’s fine lips. Irritation pricked in the pit of her stomach. Why his amusement should bother her more than that of his courtiers was a mystery.
“I thought it might please the lady Jahrra to hear some of the petitions of the court. To see how I plan to rule over Oescienne. I would like to know her opinion on such matters.”
There was a quiet entreaty in his tone, one that baffled Jahrra so much she blinked up at him, brow furrowing. Why on Ethoes would he care about her opinion? And why announce it so publicly?
Jahrra swallowed back a knot of apprehension as the whispers started up again. This time, when she made a quick inventory of the crowd, many of the haughty eyes that had watched her walk up the deep green carpet now regarded her with sharp dislike and even a hint of jealousy. Here she was, a human girl born without parents, raised in poverty, coming to stand before a crown prince in her traveling clothes like a common beggar, and what does he do? He bestows upon her a sense of equality. Pressing her lips together in a tight line, Jahrra returned her eyes to the prince’s face once more. She expected him to be perusing the scroll Ellyesce had handed to him, figuring out the order in which to hear petitions, but he still studied her, his attention as direct and potent as a stream of well-placed dragon fire.
An image of bright emerald flames flashed across her inner mind, and Jahrra gave a small gasp as memories of her late guardian struggled to break free. No. Not here in front of everyone. Her heart rate spiked, and she drew in several calming breaths through her nose. The nightmares rattling her from her sleep were bad enough. She didn’t need such horrors invading her day as well.
“Jahrra, are you well?” Denaeh asked, concern tightening her own features.
The Mystic took Jahrra gently by the arm. “Come along. We’ll sit just below the dais, over there, where we can watch the proceedings comfortably.”
She led her to a cozy-looking couch set on the first wide tier of the dais. Before it rose a desk, the top a dark polished wood gleaming so brightly Jahrra’s wan expression gazed back at her when she and Denaeh sat.
“Usually the king, or prince, would have a small panel of scribes sitting here during the proceedings. They’d take notes of the petitions and what the king and his advisors decide. Today, it will be just Ellyesce taking notes. In time, his majesty will hire scribes and bring in more advisors. I imagine most of the people this morning have come to welcome their prince home.”
Jahrra nodded, only half listening to what Denaeh said.
“Where is Dervit?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
Denaeh gave Jahrra a wry grin. “The prince has appointed him the occupation of court spy, and I dare say he’s taking his job very seriously. Last night, I found him creeping along a narrow stone ledge behind some tapestries in the castle’s library. Ellyesce and I were in there taking inventory of the books when we discovered him. I think we scared him nearly to death when we both pounced with our magic, before he had a chance to tell us he was under the prince’s orders. I checked with Aeron this morning to confirm Dervit’s claim.”
She shrugged her shoulder, her expression blank but her topaz eyes twinkling a little. “The prince has heard tales of Dervit’s adventures with you and Ellyesce and thought he’d best put the limbit’s natural curiosity to work.”
So, that was why Dervit hadn’t checked on her in the swamp. He’d been too busy sneaking around the castle doing the prince’s bidding. Jahrra’s jaw tightened, and she cast a nasty look up at Prince Aeron seated only a dozen feet or so away from her. His attention had shifted to some lord who had once owned land in the province and was now trying to take it back from the family who had been working that property for generations.
Denaeh must have read her face, for the Mystic drew in a deep breath and leaned towards Jahrra, whispering in her ear, “Dervit was more than pleased to be given the honor, Jahrra. You can’t blame him. He’s been going stir crazy here with nothing to do.”
Jahrra opened her mouth to make a retort, but then let her teeth click back together. She was about to argue that Dervit had her to keep him company, but that wasn’t entirely true. Ever since returning to Oescienne, she’d been avoiding them all, except for Phrym.
Denaeh reached out beneath the table and took Jahrra’s hand.
“Look who’s here,” she whispered, angling her head to the far end of the massive hall.
Jahrra blinked up, and her bitter thoughts melted away. At the far end of the line of people waiting to pay homage to the returned prince of Oescienne there loomed two familiar faces rising above the heads of everyone else.
Sapheramin, looking as regal and elegant as ever, scanned the crowds gathered until her eyes fell upon Jahrra. A bright smile graced the dragon’s face. She nudged Tollorias with her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, he had been doing the same as his mate, though his scrutiny was far more suspicious than hers. Sapheramin’s light shove, however, distracted him from his perusal long enough for him to spot Jahrra. He didn’t quite smile, but then again, Tollorias rarely did. His deep amber eyes did spark a little, though, as he gave her a regal nod.
“Surely seeing Sapheramin and Tollorias will brighten your day?” Denaeh pressed.
Jahrra sighed, letting her earlier irritation melt away with her exhaled breath. She had promised herself she would try to be positive, and the first chance she got, she’d let the darkness seep back into her heart.
Attempting a small smile, she turned to Denaeh. “Yes. My day does seem a bit brighter now.”
Time passed, and the morning stretched on. Servants brought her and Denaeh fresh tea and small delicacies to eat while the droves of people approached the throne, offered their blessings and sometimes small gifts, then stepped aside to allow more to pass. Jahrra lost interest around midday, so she was entirely absorbed in counting the flecks of chocolate flakes on one of the small cakes set before her when a somewhat familiar, feminine voice crooned, “Greetings, your most royal highness.”
Jahrra froze. She knew that voice. It had matured a little, but there was no mistaking that dripping disdain, that haughty clip to her words. Jahrra lifted her eyes to confirm her suspicions. Ellysian. Gods and goddesses above and below. What on Ethoes was she doing here? The young Resai woman, a girl no longer, wore a deep golden gown of silk and lace, her curtsey impeccable. Jahrra couldn’t see her face, for she had dipped her chin so low her dark brown hair spilled forward to hide her features. But it was her, and right beside her, as if attached to her hip, bowed her brother, Eydeth. Jahrra drew in a sharp breath between her clenched teeth, and Denaeh’s attention fell upon her friend.
“Jahrra, what is it?” Denaeh reached for her friend’s hand only to be rewarded with a bone-crushing squeeze.
The Mystic actually gasped, which in turn drew the prince’s attention. He snapped his head around, eyes narrowed as he studied the pair of women sitting at the scribes’ desk.
Ellysian, however, hadn’t seemed to notice, for she’d regained her composure and f
aced the prince once again.
“My name is Ellysian of Kiniahn Kroi. My father and mother have sent my brother and me here to welcome you home, your majesty. It is so wonderful to have Oescienne’s rightful sovereign on the throne once again.”
But, Aeron wasn’t paying attention to her. He made to stand from his throne, but Denaeh gave a quick shake of her head. The prince answered with a slight nod of understanding, then narrowed his eyes on Ellysian. The young Resai woman beamed up at him, fluttering her eyelashes like some besotted ninny.
“As I was saying, my brother and I are here on behalf of our parents. They welcome you as well, and gladly regard you as their monarch, however, they want to make sure you have no plans to strip them of their land. Rumor has it you have been allowing common peasants to reclaim property that belonged to their ancestors some five hundred years ago.” Ellysian gave a tittering laugh, then beamed once again. “And, from what I’ve witnessed in this throne room so far, those rumors appear to be true.”
Jahrra jerked in her seat, old memories, older than the ones that had plagued her these past weeks, lashed around in her mind like torn banners in the wind. Anger welled within her, that same anger first brought on by Aeron’s arrival. With smoldering eyes, she glared up at Ellysian and her brother. Neither were looking at her. Their cool gazes cast upon the prince. Oh, yes. The haughtiness was still there. Worse, even, than when she had last dealt with them. What sort of havoc had they wreaked upon Oescienne while she was gone?
Gritting her teeth, Jahrra planted her palms against the table, rising to her feet with purpose. She had once feared these siblings, on some childish level, but they intimidated her no longer. She would not let these two parasites dig their teeth in any deeper. As she locked her knees in place, the chair she’d been sitting in scraped loudly against the stone floor. All eyes, including the twins’, darted to her.
“Jahrra,” Denaeh hissed under her breath, trying to pull her back down into her seat.
Jahrra shrugged her off, then asked, a hint of censure in her tone, “Do you mean, Ellysian, the land your mother and father took illegally?”
A hush fell over the grand hall, several hundred murmuring voices fading into soft silence.
Ellysian’s expression twisted in irritation as she eyed Jahrra up and down. Confusion dominated her features, but then something about Jahrra, her hair, or something about her face maybe, finally sparked recognition in the Resai woman’s brown eyes.
“Oh, it can’t be!” she exclaimed, a cruel smile curving the corner of her mouth. “Jahrra,” she sneered, “the Nesnan girl we used to torment in school? I thought you and your dragon ran off and got killed in the war!”
Eydeth, who had been glaring daggers at her, snorted in amusement. A small gathering of Resai elves behind them sniggered into their hands or behind silk fans. Jahrra paid them no attention. She had seen too much, experienced too much, in the past year to let the ugly disdain of two spoiled, sheltered brats get the better of her.
“Have you not heard, then?” she said, her voice pitched low, deadly. “Ciarrohn tried to kill me, but he failed. His general threw me in a dungeon and tortured me for days, but I prevailed. He even pitted his best swordsman against me, and I pierced his heart.”
The laughter that had bubbled up at the insult to her died. Beside her, Denaeh reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around Jahrra’s wrist. Not to stop her, but to offer comfort.
Ellysian’s face, to Jahrra’s satisfaction, drained of color, her eyes growing wide. Movement to her left had Jahrra tilting her head to discover Prince Aeron rising from his throne. Malice rolled off him in waves, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Any pity I might cast your way, Ellysian of Kiniahn Kroi, died a swift death the moment you dared treat Jahrra with such disrespect.”
Jahrra’s knees nearly buckled, but she stood her ground.
“Y-your highness?” Ellysian stammered.
“Enough!” he snarled. “I have heard of you, Ellysian and Eydeth. I know of how you spent your childhood making Jahrra’s life miserable. And because of that alone, I would strip you and your family of their title and the land they have accumulated through nefarious means.”
“But, your highness! You cannot–” Eydeth babbled.
Aeron’s fierce eyes snapped to Eydeth, and he shut his mouth with a click.
“Are you telling me, Eydeth, that your father has not taken advantage of an absent monarch here in Oescienne? Am I to believe he did not bully his way into becoming the most notorious and despised landlord in all of Oescienne? I’ve heard enough from the two of you. You can bring this message back to your father,” he flicked a hand in Ellyesce’s direction, and the Magehn got to work scribbling on a piece of parchment at his podium, “informing him any land acquired in the absence of a king, queen, prince, or princess of the Sohliendis line is hereby forfeit to the common lands of Oescienne, and to be used by those people who live there in whichever way they see fit. They will no longer be paying tithes or rents to your mother and father, and instead, your family, like all the others living in this kingdom, will pay their fair share.”
“You can’t do that, your majesty!” Ellysian cried.
Jahrra could have sworn the enemy of her childhood stomped her foot beneath those voluminous skirts. For the first time in weeks, she actually wanted to laugh.
Aeron arched a dark golden brow, just as haughty as Ellysian but lacking the pettiness. “I can, and I just did. Ellyesce!”
The elf finished his scratching, sanded the ink to speed it into drying, then carefully carried the scroll up to Prince Aeron. The prince scanned the words quickly, took the proffered quill from Ellyesce, and signed his name in a quick, elegant flourish.
Satisfied with his missive, he rolled the scroll into a tube as Ellyesce fetched wax and the royal seal. When the document was ready to be delivered, he stepped down to Ellysian. Even at ground level, he towered over the young Resai woman. She did not make the effort to hide her anger, but took the scroll, gave a stilted curtsey, then turned to leave.
Before she stepped away from the dais, however, she cast angry eyes on Jahrra and snarled softly, “You just wait until you don’t have your prince to babysit you. Next time I see you in town, I’ll show you far worse than what you got from me in primary school.”
Before Jahrra could so much as draw breath to reply to Ellysian’s ridiculous threat, the swift hiss of steel leaving a leather scabbard rang throughout the hall. Jahrra blinked as the light streaming in through the stained glass above reflected off the blade of a longsword, its point barely touching the delicate skin at Ellysian’s throat. She whimpered, the scroll dropping to the stone floor, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop against the hem of her skirts.
She had to cross her eyes to gaze down the sword’s blade, only to find Prince Aeron glaring at her with such disdain it reminded Jahrra of a wolf poised to kill. Or, a dragon readying his fire. An image of Jaax flashed through Jahrra’s mind, and she shook it away before the memory could reopen those deep wounds again. The last thing she needed was to break down in that moment, where Eydeth and Ellysian could bear witness to her pain.
“If you ever threaten Jahrra again, I will have you executed for treason.”
Ellysian’s eyes went wide, and she gasped. The movement drew the sharp tip of the blade into her skin, leaving a small nick. She whimpered as a trickle of blood dripped down her throat to stain the edge of her bodice.
A few of the Resai men standing nearby snarled in outrage, reaching for their own weapons. A simple wave of Ellyesce’s hand had them crying out in pain and clutching their heads. Jahrra didn’t know what he did, but it changed their minds about pulling steel on their prince. Some of the prince’s guards moved in instead, holding pikes tipped with sharp blades towards the offending elves.
“You dare challenge the prince of the realm?” Ellyesce breathed in a cool, dangerous tone.
Jahrra shivered. She had seen Ellyesce angry be
fore, had witnessed his prowess in battle. But the cold, unwavering authority he now emanated almost matched the prince’s own demeanor.
“Do you understand me, Lady Ellysian?” the prince breathed. “Jahrra’s importance here far surpasses yours now, and to insult her is to insult me.”
Very carefully, Ellysian nodded. Slowly, the prince lowered his weapon, the tip now pointing towards the ground. But, Jahrra was not fooled. He kept the blade unsheathed, ready to employ it should Ellysian and her brother try anything stupid. Well, more so than they had already done.
“Don’t forget the message to your father. I’ll send my Magehn to your estate in a week’s time to make sure he received it. If I learn he did not, your family will also be stripped of their title, and I’ll allow Ellyesce to mete out his own form of punishment. You saw what he did to your supporters.”
Those supporters were currently leaning against the far wall, some sitting upon the ground, clutching their heads. As soon as Aeron took a step back, Eydeth dived for the scroll as if it were made of solid gold. He grabbed his sister’s elbow and hauled her from the great throne room. Ellysian was sniveling in fear, a pale yellow handkerchief pressed to her throat. Eydeth’s face was white and pinched, his eyes wild with terror.
Jahrra turned her gaze onto the prince. He still watched the offensive siblings as they pushed past the crowd waiting at the wide open doors. His sword held out before him, the knuckles of the fingers gripping the hilt white. As much as she enjoyed seeing her old enemies getting exactly what they deserved, resentment uncoiled within her. She didn’t need the prince doing her dirty work. She was quite capable of defending herself.
The Resai twins finally disappeared from sight, and those remaining in the hall took up a nervous, excited chatter. Clearly, what had taken place would be the talk of the castle for at least the next handful of days.
The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five) Page 46