by Neal Jones
After another eternity, the priest closed the worn, thick book of scriptures and descended the stage. The chorus began another chant, and Prokal rose. Vatra followed suit, and they face the audience. The priest stood in front of them, facing the chorus, and Vatra saw that his book of scriptures had been replaced with a censer. He performed one last recitation, swinging the censer back and forth slowly, its acrid smoke wafting into the air. Then he turned and began walking up the aisle. Vatra and Prokal followed, and behind them came Jharek, Erengaar, and Larewyn. Larewyn's parents brought up the rear, and they all gathered together outside the temple at the bottom of the steps. A different hovercar was waiting at the curb, twice as large as the one that had brought Vatra and Jharek, and Prokal led his new bride to it. As soon as Jharek, Erengaar, Larewyn, and the Lord and Lady Tannit were aboard and seated comfortably, the car ascended into the sky and set a course for the palace.
Marija was the first to break the silence. "That was a lovely ceremony, second lovar."
Her husband, Lord Gyan, bobbed his head in agreement. "Such a beautiful language. What was it? I've never heard it before."
"Tu'rsha. It's from the first civilization, from somewhere in the first or second century, the Age of Ackverin, I believe." To Vatra's utter surprise, Prokal's demeanor shifted from quiet and reserved to animated and almost delighted. His dark eyes filled with a new intensity as he continued. "It is a very old language, and very few Jha'Drok of this modern age even know of its existence. Very sad, really. The Age of Ackverin was the mother our ancestors. We Jha'Drok are direct descendants of that era, and yet so many of us are so ignorant of that period of our history."
"Is that where your...religion was first started?" Marija asked politely.
"Yes, it was. The oldest writings of Orr'eba, Sh'alla's prophet, are believed by our scholars to have originated in that time. Some even believe that Sh'alla herself appeared to Orr'eba to tell him of the First Souls, and the cycle of rebirth. It's quite fascinating. I would be happy to lend you some reading materials that would explain all of that in more detail."
"That's kind of you, second lovar," Larewyn interrupted. "But I can assure you that my mother would never get around to reading them. It would interfere with her socialization parties and fund raisers."
"Oh, Lare, stop it!" Marija scolded, but her tone was light. "I apologize for my daughter, Prokal. She has no idea these days what I spend my time with. She's far too engrossed in building a nursery and sewing baby clothes."
"Oh really?" Vatra hadn't meant to join the conversation, but she couldn't resist an opportunity like this one. "I had no idea you possessed any sewing skills, lady empress. Perhaps you could show me some of your creations when we get back to the palace?"
"Mother, don't be ridiculous!" Larewyn blushed, one hand absently rubbing her swollen belly. "I only choose the patterns. My handmaids are the ones who actually sew. They're quite good at it."
Prokal nodded stiffly. "I see. Well, Lady Tannit –"
"Oh, please, call me Marija. We're practically family now."
"Yes...Marija, if you would like those reading materials, just send a message to my comm-code."
Jharek fidgeted in his seat next to Vatra. "Mother, are we almost there?" he whispered.
Lord Gyan winked at him from his seat across the aisle. "Getting hungry are you, young prince? I don't blame you." He leaned forward, whispering. "That service was about an hour too long for my taste. I'm ravished!"
He grinned and Jharek grinned back, nodding. "Me too!" he whispered.
Vatra took some small pleasure in the way that Lord Tannit had taken her son under his wing the last few months. Jharek had gone on several hunting excursions with Gyan and his two sons, who were both more than ten years older than Jharek. Yet they had accepted him as a younger brother, and the fact that this irritated both Marija and Larewyn only made the gesture all the more sweet to Vatra. However, it still puzzled the lady princess why Gyan would be so willing to treat her son as one of his own, and she had thought at first that it was some ploy on the part of Marija. After all, what better way to rid the crown of a potential threat than to have Jharek die by "accident" while on a hunting trip.
But then one of Vatra's handmaids had overheard two of Larewyn's servants discussing the Lady Marija's fury of the way that her husband had taken such a liking to young Jharek. Later that same week Vatra, seated next to Marija during dinner, brought up the subject, thanking Lord Gyan publicly for taking Jharek with him and his sons on their outings to the wild game preserves. By then Vatra had known Marija well enough to know that her look of irritation was a genuine one. It didn't take long, of course, for Marija to bury that look beneath an expression of bemusement and pretend that she, too, was pleased, and that was even further proof, as far as Vatra was concerned, that her son was not in any immediate danger.
Now, almost six months later, she felt another stab of regret that Jharek would no longer be able to spend time with Lord Tannit and his sons. She fervently hoped that J'Vel Sonri was everything that Prokal had told her it was, and she had made him promise during his visit two months ago that he would find a Skelperi master to further her son's lessons in the mastery of swordplay. But more than that, she hoped that there were other boys his age, and that Jharek would finally be free of the isolation that had been imposed upon him and Vatra because of their place in the royal court.
Vatra glanced across the aisle and caught Erengaar gazing at Jharek while Larewyn, Marija, and Prokal continued to discuss the Sh'allanite wedding ceremony. The lord emperor's expression as he watched Jharek fiddle with his baldric reminded Vatra of the true reason that Jharek had never been in any danger while off hunting with Lord Gyan and his sons. As far as she knew, the secret knowledge that Jharek was actually his son and not Tiegran's remained only between the two of them. Erengaar would have made sure that his son remained safe and free of Larewyn's and Marija's machinations. That assurance had grown even stronger for Vatra when Larewyn learned that she was carrying a daughter. For now, Jharek was the only male heir to the Jha'Drok throne, and not because he was Erengaar's trueborn son. The fact that Vatra was his mother was enough to fulfill the divine claim should Erengaar be unable to father any sons of his own.
The lord emperor caught Vatra watching him, and he scowled, turning to the viewport. The com panel by the main hatch chimed softly, indicating that the craft was initiating landing procedures. Prokal reached for Vatra's hand and she took, smiling at him. To her surprise, he squeezed her hand, nodding once, and the lady princess took some small comfort in that gesture. His demeanor had returned to its former stoic state, but at least he was showing glimmers of his true self beneath the mask.
The car landed with its customary, brief jolt, and the hatch opened moments later. Vatra and Prokal led the royal party out of the shuttle, across the tarmac, and into the palace.
( 3 )
A sixteen course feast had been prepared, and the three hundred guests that filled the celebration hall were currently being served appetizers of baked aneesto and fried k'ime. Vatra had lost track of which course this was, probably number five or six, though she knew they had not yet arrived at the main course. She was already feeling light headed from too much wine, and she willingly accepted several slices of the aneesto when a servant appeared at her elbow. Prokal was still on his first cup of dabe tea, and Vatra felt anxious once more at the thought of being alone with him in her bed chamber that night. She started to reach for her wine glass but then thought better of it. It would be even worse for her if she was passed out before that hour arrived, and so she motioned for a servant to come near.
"Take this," she ordered, passing him the goblet. "Please bring me a glass of cold elmr't."
"Yes, m'lady."
"Are you feeling all right?" Prokal asked, nibbling on his slice of aneesto.
"Yes. The wine seems to be particularly strong tonight."
He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. "You don't need to restrai
n yourself for my benefit. There will be plenty of time later for us to celebrate our union."
Vatra nodded and smiled weakly. "Nonetheless, Prokal, I think it wise to pace myself."
He shrugged, his expression solemn as ever. "As you wish."
Vatra took a bite of her aneesto, chewing slowly, pondering her husband's comment. The more she thought about it, the more confused and anxious she became, and when her cup of elmr't arrived, she downed half the glass in a single gulp. The sixth course – or was it the seventh? – arrived on silver platters heaped with steamed vynt, and the aroma made Vatra's mouth water. She took only a standard serving for appearance's sake, but as soon as it was gone, she requested a servant to bring her another helping, as well as a goblet of wine.
From hidden speakers came a blast of musical fanfare, and a troupe of Shynbon dancers streamed into the hall. They were an even mix of male and female, all of them barely clothed, their bodies writhing against one another in time to the rhythmic beat of the music, and Vatra snuck a sideways glance at her new husband. There was a twitch about his eyes that was the only indication of his disdain for such revelry, but he said nothing, and Vatra wondered if her brother had been the one to order the entertainment or if it had been Larewyn's. Probably Larewyn's, Vatra mused silently, sipping her wine and glancing towards the end of the table where the lord emperor and lady empress were in mid-conversation.
After the ninth course came the entrée, roasted phen'an with cream sauce, and Vatra was well on her way to being royally drunk. Her head was pleasantly swimming, and her stomach was nearly full, but something two courses back wasn't agreeing with her. She stood and politely excused herself.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Prokal asked again.
"I'm fine, my love. Just in need of some fresh air, that's all." She made her way to a side entrance and walked quickly through the winding corridors until she was sure she was far enough from the celebration hall so as not to be seen by any passing servants or guests.
Vatra continued the length of the corridor until she arrived at a relief room, one that was little used, in a wing of one of the oldest sections of the palace that hadn't been occupied for many decades. Vatra shut the door behind her and locked it before crumpling onto the cushioned seat in front of the vanity. She stared at her reflection in the ancient mirror. A thin layer of dust coated the glass, a testimony to how often this room and the corridor outside were actually cleaned. Once upon a time this wing of the palace had been used as guest quarters for noblemen and their wives, but in the last century, with the rise of civil unrest against the monarchy, much of the palace was now closed off to anyone except members of the royal family.
Vatra struggled to rein in her emotions, but the combination of excess wine and her anxieties about her future were simply too much for her, and she began to sob quietly, her face buried in her hands. She hated herself for feeling so vulnerable, and after a few minutes, she finally regained her control.
"Stop it!" she spat to her hazy reflection. She stood, wiping her eyes and squaring her shoulders. "You are a daughter of the House of Valayne, not some scared little girl!"
"Talking to yourself is a sign of madness."
Vatra whirled, a startled scream escaping her before she clamped a hand over her mouth. "Sierik!"
He chuckled as he emerged from one of the stalls, a glass of wine in one hand. "Don't worry, cousin, no one can hear us down here."
Vatra was so relieved to see him that she fell into his embrace, clutching him tightly and laying her head against his broad, firm chest. "How long have you been down here?"
"Over an hour. I was starting to think you would never come."
She looked up at him, blinking back fresh tears, and she scolded herself again for feeling so weak and helpless. "I had to get away," she said, stepping back and wiping her eyes. "It was all starting to be…too much." She turned to the mirror, smoothing the front of her gown, and arranging her veil back into its proper position.
Sierik reached for her hand. "Stay a little longer," he whispered into her ear. "You and I haven't been in this room for a very long time." His arms slipped around her waist, his lips nuzzled her neck, and she closed her eyes as she leaned back into him. She could feel his hardness as he pressed himself against her, could smell the sickening sweetness of the wine on his breath.
"Sierik, I can't…" she moaned. "I must get back soon or Prokal will start wondering about me…"
But he was already unbuttoning the front of her bodice, just enough to slip his hand beneath, and he ripped a hole in her undergarment, just enough to slip his fingers beneath her lace…
…and she gasped as he plunged them inside of her, rubbing her just right, and she couldn't control herself any longer. She turned to face him, unbuckling his pants and shoving them down as he pushed her against the counter of the vanity. He removed his fingers and thrust himself inside her, his rhythm frantic yet controlled, his mouth covering hers. She sucked on his tongue, and his hands quickly unbuttoned the rest of her bodice. He rubbed her stiff nipples through the lace of her undergarment, and she moaned softly, writhing beneath him as she pulled off his jacket and rapidly unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed up his undershirt, running her fingers over the bare skin of his chest and back, causing him to moan into her mouth as he bit her lower lip. She teased his nipples, worrying them and pinching them, turning his moans into growls of lust and fire.
Their pace quickened, and Sierik began nibbling her neck and her ear. "No!" she whispered. "Don't leave a mark!"
"I'll be careful," he gasped. He bit her lobe just then, moaning once more as he climaxed, and Vatra screamed again as she reached hers. Her fingers clawed at his back, her nails drawing fresh blood, and she wrapped her legs around him, locking his body tight against hers. Sierik kissed her, silencing her screams, as his entire body shuddered one more time, the last of his seed bursting inside of her.
Vatra held him close for several moments afterwards, not wanting to leave the comfort and security of his embrace. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Sierik laid his head against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her as he nuzzled the bare skin of her neck one last time.
Vatra finally pushed him away and stood up. She buttoned her bodice and reached for her veil which had fallen onto the vanity. Sierik buckled his pants, buttoned his shirt, and reached for his jacket. "Was this the time, do you think?" he asked quietly.
"The time for what?" She wiped a hand across the mirror to clear away the dust.
"Is it safe now for you to keep my seed? You can allow Prokal to think it's his."
She looked down for a moment. "I don't know," she said honestly. "You're right, I suppose I could."
He embraced her from behind once more, kissing her neck softly. "I love you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes, clamping them tight to ward off the tears.
After another few moments, Vatra pulled away and started for the door. "Goodbye, Sierik," she said without back. "I will miss you."
He waited for several minutes after she was gone, drinking the rest of the wine, and when the bottle was empty he hurled it against the mirror. Both of them shattered, and Sierik roared his pain to an empty room. It echoed in the desolate corridor beyond, and when he returned to the celebration hall he demanded another bottle from a passing servant.
Vatra was back at her place at the head table, and she watched her cousin enter, moving to the empty chair next to his wife. He leaned over as he sat, whispering something into her ear, and she giggled. Vatra reached over to grasp her husband's hand, and he turned to her, momentarily startled. He gave her a slight smile, bringing up her hand to kiss the back of it, and then returned to his conversation with Lord Gyan.
It was time to serve the twelfth course, and Vatra realized that she wasn't feeling as full as she had been a few minutes before. She signaled a servant who was walking by with a wine pitcher, and just then the kitchen staff appeared with steaming trays of baked meat stacked upon them. Vatra se
lected three thick slices that were pinker than some of the others, and then smothered them in the leftover cream sauce from the phen'an course.
There was more music, more dancers, and the guests became more loud and more celebratory as the afternoon faded into evening. By the time the sixteenth course was served – chilled omus topped with fresh dryn berries - most of the lords and ladies were passed out in their chairs or dancing together in the center of the room as a waltz played overhead.
Prokal stopped a passing servant and murmured something to him. Moments later the music ceased and a chime rang three times throughout the hall. The guests in the center of the room stopped dancing, and those at the tables paused in their drinking to look up. Some that were passed out stirred, lifting their heads and blinking in mild confusion.
R'Daak stood and proclaimed, "Lord emperor and lady empress, honored guests, it has been a great pleasure for me and my new bride to share this evening with you. The food has been superb, the wine exquisite, but now the hour grows late, and my wife and I are ready to retire to our chambers. We thank you for sharing this momentous occasion with us, and we wish you many blessings and prosperity in your days and years to come." He turned to Erengaar. "Lord emperor, may we have your leave?"
"You may. Evening star to both of you."
Vatra rose and echoed the response with her husband. "Evening star."
They bowed to Erengaar and Larewyn and then Vatra took Prokal's hand. As they descended the stage the music began once more, and the guests stood as they passed the tables. Vatra dared a sideways glance at Sierik as she passed, but his chair – as well as Lyka's – was empty.
( 4 )
Vatra thought that she was being led to her apartments, but at the entrance to the north wing Prokal paused and turned the other direction. Vatra realized that he was taking her to the east wing, which was where the current guest quarters for visiting dignitaries and noblemen were located. Once inside their suite, Prokal closed the door and locked it. Vatra had only been in this part of the palace many years ago, when she was quite young, and she took a few moments to admire the antique fixtures and classical tapestries that adorned the room.