Exile

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  She nodded.

  “The priest will perform the rites in both Common and Maarlai,” he said. “If you are uncertain about anything, follow my lead.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave a nod, looking at her, his gaze moving down her gown. “You look nice.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I am covered almost completely. I know.”

  He clamped his mouth shut, then, to her surprise, let out a low chuckle. “That was not exactly what I meant.”

  “Sure it was,” she said.

  “This is what I can expect from my bride? Is this how you usually dress?”

  Shannen nodded. “And what a relief that must be, eh?”

  He didn’t answer. The priest was speaking, and, after a few words, Daarik took her hand, placing it on his arm.

  “Ready?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No.”

  “That makes two of us,” he said, and they began climbing the stairs together. It felt like a public execution, except that instead of a hangman’s noose, there was a husband.

  She would have rather had the noose.

  Daarik held his bride’s hand, his mind numb. This all felt like some kind of dream, one he would wake from and everything would be just as it had been. He would spend his days with his soldiers, his nights with whoever he wanted. He would live in his hut and his free time would be his own.

  Right. That time had clearly passed him by.

  He glanced past Shannen, to where his brother and cousin stood, at the edges of the crowd. They looked about as pleased as he felt. Every once in a while, he took a quick look at the human he was marrying. She was stoic, calm, facing straight ahead at the priest. It was better than he’d figured when his father had presented this fate to him. He’d expected screaming, hatred, crying. Horror and hysterics. Yet Shannen stood there in her veil and scarf, and her eyes were dry. Her hand was cool and dry in his, though he realized with some surprise that his palms were sweating. He glanced down at their joined hands. Hers was tiny, shapely, pale. It did not look entirely repulsive against his larger hand. He glanced back up at his bride. Likely, that was because of the woman it was attached to. Had she cried and screamed, had she spewed hatred for him and his people as those other two had, he would be sickened to even touch her.

  “I will now join Daarik Goreblood and Shannen of House Lyon,” the priest said, first in Maarlai, then in Common. He took their joined hands in his, and tied them, twisting and coiling a length of light leather around their hands, beginning at their elbows, down to their hands and between their fingers. This forced them closer together, and Daarik looked down to see Shannen pressed to his side, looking at their joined hands.

  “Daarik, do you swear to take this… female to be your mate, to protect, honor, and respect her?” At this, Daarik heard more than a few mutterings from the crowd, that a Maarlai should never have to swear to give respect to a human.

  “I do swear it,” Daarik said, first in Common, for his bride’s benefit, and then in Maarlai. He watched Shannon’s face, noted her long, dark eyelashes, dramatic against the golden warmth of her skin. She looked up at him, and for just a moment, their eyes met. He detected something in her gaze. Not fear. Trepidation. No hate, though, and maybe that more than anything was what he had expected to find there.

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze in his, and, after a moment, she did the same to him.

  “And do you, Shannen, take this warrior of the proud and honorable Maarlai to be your mate, to protect, honor, and respect him?”

  “I do swear it,” Shannen said, her voice soft, smooth. He kept his gaze on her, and when she looked up at him again, he gave her hand another squeeze.

  “By the power given to me by the Mother, may Her light shine entirely, I now pronounce you mates. This is a vow undertaken with the understanding that it is eternal, that there shall be no others, that you would give your lives willingly to one another,” the priest said in Maarlai, then Common. There were snickers. No one among his people expected him to hold to that.

  He was not sure, entirely, that he expected himself to, either.

  Once the pronouncement had been made, the priest and witnesses left the dais. Shannen looked up at him questioningly.

  “Everyone else will go to the feast site,” he told her. “Traditionally, the newlyweds are to stand here, bound, and enjoy their first few moments bonded this way alone.”

  She nodded. Then she looked up at him again. “This is probably not how you envisioned this day, I am guessing.”

  He felt himself smiling. “Not exactly. But I think that could be said for both of us.”

  She nodded. “I never planned to wed at all.”

  He raised his eyebrows. This was unheard of. The humans wed and then spawned like rats. “What did you plan to do?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Study, read. Become an old spinster who tends to her garden and pretty much ignores everything and everyone else.”

  “A loner, then?” he asked.

  “I always have been. Except when I chose not to be,” she added, with a bit of a twinkle to her eyes, and he wondered at it. “If it’s any consolation to you, I will not expect you to try to entertain me or keep me company. We both know I am not wanted here. I will be your wife. I will honor the promise I made here today. But I do not expect your attention or time.”

  Daarik nodded. It was exactly what he would have hoped to hear her say. He didn’t entirely believe it, because she was a human and he’d be a fool to believe anything she said to him, but the fact that she’d said the words counted for something. They could make this work.

  “And is that a roundabout way of saying that I should not expect yours, either?” he asked quietly.

  “Try not to be too heartbroken about it,” she said wryly, and he laughed, to his own amazement.

  “I will manage, somehow,” he said, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle. He was pleased with her dry sense of humor, her calm demeanor.

  “How long are we supposed to stand here? And what happens next?”

  “We should stay for a little while yet, though we can sit if you’d like.”

  She nodded, and he led her to one of the long benches, and they sat, working together, still bound. “So we stay here for a while, and then we make our way to the feast hall. There would usually be ribald jokes about how we spent this time, but I do not think that will be the case today.”

  “No, likely not,” she murmured.

  “There will be a feast, you and I sitting at a table with my family, our witnesses, and your emissary, as well as the priest. We will eat, and then we will listen to the music for a while, traditional songs about marriage, battle, and all the things it means to be Maarlai.”

  “Will we be bound like this the whole time?”

  He nodded.

  “Until when?”

  He took a breath. This, he was not looking forward to even talking to her about, let alone actually doing. “The ties stay until after the marriage is consummated. The idea being that once we have shared one another’s bodies, we’ve created our own bond, and this leather tie will be unnecessary.”

  “I am sorry about the witness thing,” she said so quietly he barely heard it. “I don’t want to do that.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I do not want to either. It goes against how my people do things. But this marriage exists for one thing, and one thing only: a treaty between your people and mine. We will do what is necessary to ensure it is legal, binding, and meets the standards of all parties.”

  She gave a small nod.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I am not any happier about it than you are.”

  “So we’ll be suffering together, at least,” she said.

  He felt a smile spread across his face. “From my understanding of it, that’s all marriage basically is, anyway.”

  “Ah, a true romantic, then,” she said, and he was pretty certain she was smiling from the sound of her voice.
For just a moment, he wished the veil was not there. He pushed the ridiculous thought away immediately.

  “That’s me,” he agreed. “We’ll be all right, just as long as neither of us has any expectations beyond what we promised here today. I will protect, honor, and respect you. I swore it, and I will do it.”

  She nodded. “I promise the same to you.”

  “Thank you for not being a hysterical, crying wreck of a woman,” he said, and she laughed.

  Mother, the sound of it. It was like bells chiming, clean and clear. It was summer, and cool forest…

  …And he was becoming a complete idiot, he chided himself.

  “Well, thank you for not looking like you want to kill me where I stand. It is much appreciated,” she told him.

  He nodded, and they sat together on the bench in silence for a while, the hot sun overhead shining through the patchy leaf canopy overhead, the occasional sound of birds from the trees nearby.

  “Your things will be moved to the palace. Mine as well. A suite has been prepared for us.”

  Her gaze shot up to him. “We will be sharing living space?”

  “It is usually the way marriage works. Does it not among your people?”

  “It is, but…” she shrugged, trailing off.

  “You didn’t expect it with this.”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, we will make the best of it. If my presence in bed with you is an issue, there is a comfortable settee I can sleep on. It is of no issue.”

  She nodded, and he heard a sigh.

  “We should go to the feast now,” he said, and she nodded, and they stood up together, and he guided her through their village to the palace, which is where the banquet would be held. He pointed out certain buildings of interest, and she nodded politely and asked questions when necessary.

  “That is the library,” he said, and she stopped still.

  “You have a library?”

  “Well, that is the one the citizens of Darathar use. There is another in the palace.”

  He watched her stare longingly at the small stone building. “Can I read the books in there?” she asked.

  He stopped, which forced her to stop as well. He bent down a little, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are the mate of the future king of the Maarlai. You can do whatever you want.” He couldn’t explain why he’d said it, only that he already felt protective of her for some insipid reason, and he knew that his people would not show her much friendship or warmth. Not after so many of them had died fighting the humans.

  “I am not among my people,” she reminded him softly.

  “Wrong. You became Maarlai the moment you said the words. Do not forget it. Plenty of them,” he said, gesturing his chin toward the palace, “will try to make you feel otherwise. You are one of us, at least by marriage, and no one tells us what we can and cannot do.”

  “Does that include barring my husband from the room he is insisting we share?” she said, and he could see from the way her eyes crinkled at the corners that she was smiling again.

  “Except when it comes to me,” he amended. She rolled her eyes.

  “Always a catch,” she muttered, and he squeezed her hand. After another glance at the library, they moved on.

  “Are the books in Common or Maarlai?” she asked.

  “Both.”

  She nodded. “I should learn the language here.”

  “If you want to.”

  “I do.”

  He gave her a nod. For some reason, it pleased him that she wanted to learn. They reached the gates of the palace.

  “Here we go,” he told her, and this time, it was she who squeezed his hand for support.

  Chapter Three

  The feast was as joyless as Shannen could have expected. Their arrival was met with silence. Certainly there were no bawdy jokes made, and there was not even an attempt at polite applause.

  She kept her eyes forward as Daarik led her to a large rectangular table. She noted that the king sat there, looking weak and tired, as did Daarik’s grandmother. The Maarlai from the selection meeting, the one who had struck her as eager, somehow, was there as well, seated at the right hand of the king. Further down, the large warrior and the female warrior who had brought her meal sat together, both of them looking miserable. The emissary from her own people sat at the other end of the table, looking down at his cup as if he’d been presented with the equivalent of horse urine.

  She sat beside her new husband, the two of them working around the way their wrists were bound. Women and men brought out platters of smoked meats, cheeses, breads, and fruits cooked in fragrant syrupy sauces. A deep rich wine was poured into each of their cups, and Shannen began to reach for it.

  “Wait,” Daarik said in a low voice beside her.

  She looked at him questioningly, drawing her hand back.

  “My father will toast us first. And he may well be one of the few here who will actually mean the words when he wishes us the best,” he said with a wry smile, his lips curving around the large tusks (or were they fangs?) that she could see every time he opened his mouth.

  Shannen nodded, then looked down at her empty plate. The platters of food sat before them, several on each table now. Her stomach turned. The idea of eating was about as welcome as the idea of having her emissary and Daarik’s grandmother present when they consummated the marriage.

  She froze. Nine gods. She was expected to let him bed her.

  She did not know why she hadn’t really thought of it until that moment. Of course, part of her had realized it would happen. Her propriety had recoiled at the idea of someone watching a private moment. She hadn’t even had a moment to really consider what was expected of her.

  She gave her husband a sideways glance, wishing now for the wine more than ever. He was enormous. The Maarlai in general were a large, powerful race. Did they even have the parts… she shook it off.

  Gods, what if he was proportional?

  She went cold, a slight sweat breaking out over her brow, and she was more grateful than ever that she’d decided to wear her traditional clothing. It hid her well, hopefully disguising her fear.

  And she hadn’t stopped to wonder about what her new husband would think when he discovered she was not a virgin. Did that bother his people as it did hers? It had been a good way to keep herself unmarried, when she’d lost her virginity and let word spread that she’d enjoyed more than a few of the palace’s stable men and guards. No word had been made of her virginity during the negotiations, so perhaps it didn’t matter to his people.

  Well. Whether it did or not, it was all done now, she thought as she watched Daarik’s father rise slowly, hiding a faint grimace. The throngs of Maarlai quieted around them, every eye riveted on their leader, who was still commanding, even in his old age and illness.

  “My people. My proud Maarlai warriors. We gather here today to open a new chapter for not just our own people, but for our relations with the humans of our world.”

  His words were met with silence, but she could see from the expressions of the Maarlai in attendance, as she had at the ceremony itself, that they were not happy with the arrangement.

  “I’ll not mince words,” he said in his language. Daarik translated quietly for Shannen, leaning close to her so she could hear him. King Elrek kept talking, and Daarik continued translating.

  “I know none of you are pleased with this situation. I know you believe it to be a punishment, when we were the ones who won the war. We are the victors, yet we suffer one of our hated enemies among us, wed to our most prized warrior, my favorite son and your future leader.”

  Shannen felt her face flush as she listened to Daarik’s translation. She was grateful to him for letting her know what was being said, but she was already tired of hearing about how reviled her presence was. As if she even wanted to be there!

  “Know, my people, that what I do, what Daarik does, is done in service of our people. It is necessary. The time for fighting with the huma
ns has passed. We two hated rivals will have to come to a true peace.” He paused, as did Daarik. “I am no happier about this situation than you are. I wanted the best for my son. I wanted him to settle down with a strong Maarlai female and make grandchildren, strong warriors who would make us all proud. That future is taken from him, and I am angry about that. I have nothing but pride for how he handles this burden. He is truly a warrior.”

  Shannen suppressed a sigh at the continued complaints about how she’d ruined Daarik’s life. Daarik nudged her, met her eyes. “For the record, I had no intention of having children,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t something I ever even considered.”

  She gave a small nod, touched by the fact that he seemed to be trying to make her feel better.

  Daarik’s father continued, and so did Daarik. “But he does this for a reason. We must be united with our human brothers and sisters. And yes. We do need to begin to see them as such, which is why we align ourselves, bind ourselves to them, through this marriage of my child. We must unite,” he continued quietly. “Because something so much worse is coming. Worse than the hell the humans have caused on this planet, worse, even, than the brutal battles we have fought against one another. It is coming. I know not when, but I have foreseen it, as have our Seers. It is coming, and we will have to fight together to have any chance of withstanding it.”

  He paused as quiet chatter met his pronouncement.

  “I am hopeful that my son’s bride will help you understand her people better. Despite the fact that she is a human, she strikes me as forthright and honest, which are traits we can all admire. I admit to being surprised when my son chose her, but having watched the way she has conducted herself these past days, thrown into a life she never wanted either, let us all remember, she has behaved with grace, and has been respectful of us and our ways. Do I believe my son can be happy with her? No, certainly not,” he said, and even though she didn’t understand the words until Daarik translated them for her, she could hear the sadness and regret in his tone. “I doubt he will be happy, and for that, I am sorry. He deserves so much more. We all want the best for our children. But as your leader, and he as you future leader, we must make sacrifices. He understands this, and has faced this marriage with dignity. I expect the rest of you to show his wife the same level of respect she has shown us. Try to come to this union with an open heart. I say that not just to Daarik and Shannen, but to you, my people, as well. If we do not, then we will all eventually perish.”