Sarai’s jaw muscles worked. “Think this will happen again?”
He sighed. “Only one way to find out.”
Her gaze met his. “You sure?”
“Something small—very small.” His heart speeded.
His mate’s eyes narrowed. She took a breath. “I wish your surcoat were emerald green.”
Bannor felt a tingle like something trying to happen. His stomach tightened. He waited for the threads of reality to twine.
A wash of relief went through him as the tunic remained unchanged. The fact that it tried to happen was not comforting though. “Did you feel something?” he asked.
She nodded. “Does that mean we’re safe?”
“No. Typical Garmtur, it only happens when you’re not expecting it.” He sighed. “Odin, I don’t want to tell Wren. It’ll make her crazy.” Now there were two things he needed to tell the savant.
Sarai pursed her lips. “I’m halfway there, myself. That’s frightening. Wanting something and it unexpectedly comes true.”
Bannor clenched his fists. He knew what that felt like. “To be safe, be careful what you wish for.”
They were ushered into the King’s hall at noon. Bannor only knew it was noon because he’d heard a courtier mumbling about his being late for the noon court.
The elves had decorated a high grotto as their audience chamber. Strategically-placed torches lit up the stalagmites and stalactites making them glitter as fine as any crafted ornaments.
A high-backed lace-wood chair, plain and unadorned served as the King’s throne. It sat in the center of a simple dais made of wood with a heavy violet cloth laid over it. Two steely-eyed elves wearing shining chain mail armor and carrying broad spears stood on the edges of the platform.
If the King of Corwin knew Malan was holding court in his territory, he’d probably throw a fit.
Bannor glanced around at the other elves gathering in rows down either side of the cavern. They were males and females, mostly nobles, though some were high ranking soldiers. Gold, green, silver, and orange eyes peered at him from impassive faces. Though their expressions looked painted on, Bannor felt himself being scrutinized, sized up, weighed and judged.
The King had not entered yet. He tried to remember all the things Sarai had told him. Proper forms of address and such. So much to remember and only a short time to memorize them. Dom’Ista the most important, the King’s title, meaning high father. If he speaks your informal name you may meet his eyes, if not, look no higher than his chest. Odin—there’d been a reason he avoided court.
Bannor jumped as a fingernail tickled the back of his neck and a hand trailed across his shoulder. A sultry voice very like Sarai’s spoke by him. “So, Sister, is this the one all the fuss is about?”
A dark-haired elf woman dressed in emerald green silks stepped around him. She looked slightly shorter than Sarai, with a rounder face and body. Her hair was clasped horsetail fashion, the long strands finger-widths from brushing the floor. The family resemblance showed in the way she held her chin and the intensity of her amber eyes.
She made a show of looking him up and down. “I must say, he certainly is well made.”
Sarai tensed. Her eyes flashed. When she spoke, her voice echoed none of the irritation Bannor felt in her grip. “Janai, this is my One, Bannor.” She looked up at him. “Bannor, my older sister, Janai.”
Janai held out a hand. Bannor bowed over it and kissed one of the many jeweled rings on her slender fingers.
The older princess smiled, not only her face, but her whole body. She seemed to glow. Bannor found her breathtaking, so like Sarai, and completely different at the same time. His gut feelings told him she was dangerous. She knew she was beautiful and used it like a weapon.
“Your One?” Janai gazed up at him with pursed lips and raised a jeweled finger to the side of his cheek. “Why sister, how impetuous. Are you turning jihira on me?”
Sarai’s tone turned icy. “I’ll ask you once to take your hand off him, Janai.”
The older sister froze as though someone had aimed a crossbow at her head. She gingerly removed her hand as though a stiff breeze might shatter him. She raised an eyebrow. “How selfish of you.” She licked her lips. “There’s more than enough to go around.”
“Janai, you’re too greedy to share. You always have been. It only takes once for me to learn.”
The dark-haired elf snorted. She looked up at him as if to confide a secret. “One little incident two centuries ago and she still holds it against me.” She sighed and shrugged.
Sarai narrowed her eyes. “I have seen little to make me think you would not do it again—sister.”
Janai bit a fingernail and gazed up at him with great amber eyes that glowed the same way Sarai’s did. “I don’t know what it is about him, but I think I’d make an exception in his case.”
Bannor frowned. He hated being talked about as if he wasn’t present. It was something he’d come to expect from nobles, though.
The talking around the room abruptly stopped. Bannor glanced back as a figure entered.
Sarai pulled him to a kneeling position with his head bowed as the King proceeded to the head of the chamber. Bannor heard robes whoosh, the click of hard boots and the clink of armor as the male strode to the dais and stepped onto the wood.
“All may heed,” a deep voice intoned.
Sarai pulled his head up. The King of Malan stood on the dais. Giant for an elf and big even for a human, Bannor would have looked him in the eye. Long, silvery hair crested at his shoulders and ran down his back. His corded arms and torso were covered in a gold metal mesh so fine he looked clothed in liquid gold.
The King gestured. A figure swept forward dressed in black and silver. A triple-layered cloak that looked woven from shadows hushed through the air as a broad-shouldered elf with braided steel-gray hair marched to the head of the room.
“Baldric,” muttered Sarai. “What’s he doing here?”
Janai shook her head, eyes wide. Sarai tensed. This new elf had been unexpected and must indicate something bad.
Baldric stepped onto the dais, came to one knee and bowed to the King. The ruler nodded and gestured him up. Baldric rose, stepped to the side of the throne and turned.
The new elf’s eyes looked the color of granite, flecks of gold and black on a background of rocky gray. The light from the torches did not reflect in his eyes. His whole rigid posture, pinched angular features, and flat stare gave the appearance of a merciless, unstoppable force.
The King nodded.
Baldric spoke with a deep ringing voice. “Step forward Arminwen Sarai, daughter of Malan.” The elf’s eyes sought out Bannor as if to pin him to a board. “Bannor Starfist, step forward.”
Sarai’s grip on his hand hurt. Something was wrong. They stepped to the center of the room a few paces from the King. The Malanian ruler’s handsome face was unreadable. Amber eyes stared through them, unblinking.
Baldric continued, the hard tones of his words like arrows in Bannor’s chest. “Bannor Starfist, Malan formally charges you with kidnapping and reckless endangerment of a daughter of Malan. How do you plead?”
* * *
Justice comes in many flavors, each of them more bitter than the last. The only sweet justice is revenge, something I have always had a taste for…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Forty-Eight
« ^ »
Bannor knelt next to Sarai. The cavern walls of the audience chamber suddenly felt as if they were closing in. Sounds resonated off the stalactites and stalagmites. The flickering torchlight appeared too bright. There were too many people with too many eyes staring at him. Only the sounds of breathing and the rustling of clothes and jewelry remained. The echo of the magister’s voice seemed to linger in the walls. Malan formally charges you with kidnapping and reckless endangerment of the Arminwen of Malan. How do you plead?
The neck of Bannor’s tunic felt tight. Sweat d
ampened his armpits. He realized his hands were clenched where the holsters for his axes normally were.
How do you plead? The words rang in his head. Coming here had been exactly the colossal mistake he expected.
What was there to do? What was there to say? He became acutely aware of the dozens of elves all staring at him, especially the King. The ruler’s amber eyes stared through him as if he were a pane of glass. The King’s hands tensed and relaxed. The rest of the elf remained motionless as if he were a part of the makeshift throne.
Beside him, Sarai drew a breath. He sensed the emotion well up in her, surprise, indignation—anger.
“Father!” she burst out.
The King exploded out of his chair. His voice struck the room like a thunderclap. “You will be silent, Daughter!” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. His hand trembled. “Gav ne ja sada!” His hard inflections cracked like whips.
The vehemence of his order chopped through her objection like an axe. She stopped and stared as if she abruptly realized she was looking at a stranger.
Her father pointed to Baldric. “Continue.”
The magister nodded, his voice hollow. “Arminwen Sarai Ravael T’Evagduran, Malan charges you with criminal malfeasance intended to undermine the state, abandonment of a royal post, and violation of sovereign imposed curfews. How do you plead?”
A ripple went through the audience. It did not appear that the nobles expected this turn of events. Most wore wooden expressions of surprise and dismay.
Sarai’s eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. Bannor felt energy crackling around her. The King didn’t know what his daughter had become during the months of her absence. Here they stood, far beneath the ground, surrounded by stone—Sarai’s element. The place where even avatars were unwise to challenge her.
He had to calm Sarai before she lost her temper. His mate would kill if antagonized enough, and it looked like her father was determined to do that very thing.
Bannor pried his hand out of Sarai’s and struggled to his feet. His heart pounded and his mouth had gone dry. He cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could. “Dom’Ista, I am innocent of these charges. So is Sarai. No insult, dereliction, nor endangerment was intended by either of us.”
Dereliction? Was that the right word? He’d heard a magistrate use it when a guard abandoned his duties.
The King scowled. “You speak out of turn.”
Sarai rose slowly, the light in her eyes bright and deadly. When she spoke, it was in a quiet voice. Despite its lack of volume, Bannor had no doubt King T’Evagduran heard every word. “Father. Will you press these charges against me? Embarrass me in front of the court?” She paused. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Is that your intention?”
The King settled into his throne with exaggerated slowness and gripped the chair arms. “Daughter,” he rumbled. “Was that not your intention when you slipped away unannounced?”
“Father—” Sarai’s voice dropped to a growl.
Bannor tried to will Sarai silent, knowing that her next words would get them in horrible trouble.
“I had better things to do than play games,” she said.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop as Sarai’s Father jerked as though slapped. Bannor saw many of the onlookers wince. No one blinked. Few appeared to breathe. Bannor glanced at Sarai’s sister. The woman’s jaw hung open and her eyes were wide.
Bannor couldn’t remember his last breath. He’d started to head off this confrontation, but simply didn’t know what to say. Sarai had told him so little of her family, and he knew nothing about her Father. What could he say that he had any business saying?
Baldric the magister stood on the dais like a statue. Only his granite-colored eyes moved. His penetrating gaze flicked from King to Princess.
The wooden chair arm creaked under King T’Evagduran’s grip. He leaned forward. “You are my daughter, Sarai. You will do what is expected of you.”
“To be a whore, Father? Is that what’s expected? To sleep with a man I don’t love for the sake of an alliance?”
Bannor heard the whole room draw a breath. Female elves around the room flinched. Some turned their faces and others stared at the floor. All around him, bodies hummed with tension. He saw Janai take a few steps as if ready to intervene. Apparently, she couldn’t get up the nerve to get between the two.
He closed his hands into fists, angry at his own impotence but not wanting to further escalate this confrontation. His stomach churned in empathy, feeling Sarai’s rage and humiliation. Throughout the generations, the role of noblewomen and women-of-standing had been to bond families together. Rarely did they ever have a say in the matter. Sarai stood here in front of the assembled nobility, challenging the demeaning practice.
King T’Evagduran narrowed his eyes. “You do what your sovereign requires of you. It is no less than is expected of any other loyal lady of Malan.”
“This lady is not chattel,” she snarled. She looked at Bannor and put a hand on his shoulder. “I do not accept patronization from my One.” Another ripple of surprise went through the room. “I will not accept it from my Father. You can lock me up, but you cannot change my mind. I will choose who shares my bed.”
Amber eyes looked daggers first at Sarai, then at Bannor. The accusatory look on the King’s face said he blamed him for Sarai’s open rebellion. He felt that intense gaze dissecting him. Cold sweat trickled down the small of his back. A pessimistic voice in the back of his head said that dissection would be the least of his problems.
The King focused again on Sarai. “Are you finished?”
His mate’s eyes narrowed to slits. She opened her hand, fingers crooked like talons. Sarai made a scooping motion then yanked her arm up as if to grip something and rip it.
The room rumbled. Stone spikes erupted through the dais all round the King, knocking the guards and Baldric aside. Sarai made a chopping motion with her arm and the pointed tops of the spikes sheared away and hissed across the room to slam quivering into the cavern wall.
The cold eyes of the King widened in surprise. Around the room, elves collected themselves after having jumped and cringed from what felt like a ground tremor.
“I am done now, Father. You wanted me to bring a powerful ally into the family.” She held up her index finger, turned her hand over, and then gestured as if pressing on something. One of the stone spikes quivered, groaned, and then shattered. People let out startled cries. The King twitched. “I did. I regret any embarrassment I may have caused, but I refuse to be bandied about like a trinket. As you can see,” she made a smoothing motion with her hand and the stone jutting up through the dais melted and flowed like water. Other rock rose up and crawled along the surfaces of the wooden platform, encasing it in stone. “I have the tools to most stringently object.”
The guards and Baldric picked themselves up. Bannor saw in their eyes they didn’t want to return to the dais, which was now a smooth slab.
King T’Evagduran stared at Sarai. Anger, astonishment and concern all vied for supremacy on his once stony face. The court elves hummed. Faces and bodies taut, they whispered and gestured. Many fussed with clothing, hair, and jewelry.
The King’s knuckles were white from gripping the chair arm. A vein pulsed in his neck. Called out by his daughter in front of his entourage. Not only that, but she was displaying this tremendous power as well. Obviously, he’d expected her to buckle, not give this fierce demonstration of independence.
“How did you—?” T’Evagduran started in an amazed tone, and then stopped himself. Bannor saw the determination in the elf’s face; he wouldn’t let anything sidetrack him, even something as startling as this change in his daughter.
Janai hurried forward in the intervening silence. She bowed low, the long tail of her hair brushing the floor.
“Father,” she said, sounding as though out of breath. “It’s been a bad time for us all.” She glanced at Sarai, who met her gaze. “Sarai has been through mu
ch. The war with the avatars has upset us all. Please,” she glanced between sister and father. “Let us not be rash, and say anything more that we—” She fixed Sarai with a stare and silently mouthed the word ‘apologize’. “That we all will regret.”
The older sister’s words brought a sigh from the room. Bannor felt glad that somebody had intervened before Sarai and the King went for each other’s throats.
Some of the tension left T’Evagduran. Sarai gave Janai a suspicious glance, body still tensed like a bowstring.
T’Evagduran swallowed, looking from one daughter to the next. “I do not appreciate this—” he paused, gaze sweeping the now stone-encased dais, “display. Threats are not how any daughter treats her father; especially if he is King.”
Sarai started to speak, but Janai interrupted. “Father, I’m certain Sarai didn’t mean it that way. She—” Janai wet her lips and her gaze met Bannor’s. “She—she simply has been over-wrought. Bannor has been ill; they’ve been fighting demons night and day, and have done combat with an avatar. Surely, one can understand overreacting after such an ordeal.” Elves in the room nodded in agreement. “Everyone understands your anger with Sarai, but you must admit these proceedings took us all by surprise. I notice you even left Mother out of the ceremony. How would she feel about that?”
The King grimaced. Bannor guessed that Janai was gambling. From his reaction, the threat apparently carried weight. Queen Kalindinai must not have known what the King planned. Her discovering that he’d purposely kept this private inquisition a secret must have dire enough consequences to make the King reconsider.
Janai turned to Sarai, amber eyes narrowed and teeth clenched, she mouthed the word ‘apologize’ again. Sarai shook her head. The older sister rolled her eyes. Bannor took Sarai’s hand and squeezed. She looked up at him, violet eyes glowing bright.
“Do it,” he said silently.
Sarai growled. She let out a breath. Her shoulders slumped. “Janai’s right,” she gave her sister an annoyed look. “I’m tired. I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize to you and to this court for that unseemly display. I’d like—” Janai sidled over and planted a heel on Sarai’s toe. Sarai winced and bared her teeth like she’d bite her sister. Janai kept her gaze level on Sarai. She drew a breath and focused on her Father. “I beg—” she choked on the word. “I beg your forgiveness.”
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