by Shea, K. M.
Tari dipped into an elegant, elvish curtsey. “I am Tarinthali Ringali, youngest daughter of Elvaren and Kistwyn of Gloria, a Dancer of the Evening Star.”
“A pleasure—,” Arion cut off, frowning slightly at the difficulty of Tari’s name.
“Please, refer to me as Tari,” Tari smiled. “I believe it will be easier for you to pronounce, Captain Arion?” she said, turning her statement into a question.
Arion nodded curtly. “Very well,” he said, glancing at the watching guests—who were whispering to one another.
Tari could hardly believe the man’s nonchalance. “Are you not… excited at what this exchange means, Captain Arion?”
Arion turned his eyes back to Tari, who was starting to wish she hadn’t spoken. The captain was intimidating, even more so than any of the wizards, enchanters, and members of nobility Tari had met before.
“Perhaps,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “But mostly I am aware of how exceedingly difficult life will be for us from now on,” he frowned.
The forgotten translator made a squeaking noise and plopped down on his rear, his eyes wide as he looked back and forth between Tari and Arion. He blurted a string of words. Tari recognized it as human but could not understand it.
“What did he say?” Tari asked as she and Arion turned to face the translator.
“He asked if I speak elvish,” Arion said to Tari before addressing the translator. “I do not.”
The translator grasped his neck and yelled, calling half a dozen translators, elf and human alike, to his side. He spoke to them in Calnoric, pointing emphatically at Tari and Arion.
Tari looked to Arion, trying to decipher their words by gauging his reaction. He wearily eyed the translators, turning his back to the guests and members of the audience to face them head on.
Tari swallowed thickly, taking a step backwards as the translators surged towards her, pressing in on her like yapping dogs. Tari full out retreated when a human translator reached out to grasp her wrist. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for a friendly face.
Arion was of no use whatsoever. He rubbed the back of his head with a scowl, mussing his pitch black hair as his mood turned sour. Tari looked past the crowd of yapping translators and spotted Kiva, standing with Princess Claire.
“Kiva!” Tari shouted, dodging a translator before running for her sister, her bell bracelets jingling.
Kiva held out her hand, and Tari reached out to grasp it. Two of the translators tried to follow Tari, but Talon stood in their path. The rest of the translators circled Arion, speaking with great animation as the enchanters and wizards approached them.
The magic users were grave, staring flatly at the translators who switched back and forth between elvish and human.
Pandemonium broke out in the celebration hall when the translators finally got their message across to the enchanters and wizards. Everyone was shouting, and several of the more important guests stormed the platform.
Tari and her relatives shrank back as the humans pressed forward.
Finally, the hall went silent when a human shouted one, thunderous word.
The crowds parted and Crown Prince Benjimir surveyed the platform with the air of royalty.
Standing at his side was Crown Princess Yvrea. The elvish princess glided down the open path, concern pulling at the corners of her mouth. She stopped next to Tari and Kiva and opened her arms. “Cousin,” she said to Tari.
Tari made the motion to sink in a curtsey, but Princess Yvrea stepped forward, protectively embracing Tari like she was a fretting child.
Tari felt both comforted and slightly embarrassed, although she was not completely surprised. Princess Yvrea had a mothering instinct that overlapped into her actions no matter where she was. Tari had met and dined with Princess Yvrea enough to know that as the Princess was a great admirer of Seer Ringali, Tari’s teacher, as well as her relative.
Still holding Tari in her arms, Princess Yvrea turned. “Will someone please explain what has happened?”
One of the translators, a human, stumbled forward. “P-p-Princess,” he stammered.
A more assured elf joined him. “My Crown Princess Yvrea, we are not certain.”
Princess Yvrea nodded as a translator at Crown Prince Benjimir’s elbow whispered into his ear. “I see,” the Crown Princess said, releasing Tari to address her, although she placed her hands on Tari’s shoulders. “Are you upset that you were bonded to a male? Captain Arion is Princess Claire’s oldest sibling. I assure you he is honorable and full of dignity, although I must confess I am not sure why they made this rather untraditional pairing.”
Bond pairings were almost always of the same gender. The only exception was when it was unavoidable, as it was with Crown Prince Benjimir and Crown Princess Yvrea who, as the future rulers of their countries, had to be bound.
Tari cleared her throat and curtseyed. “If you will excuse my impertinence, My Crown Princess Yvrea, it is not that Captain Arion and I find each other disagreeable. It is instead, it is merely,” Tari hesitated, as though admitting their mutual understanding out loud would somehow make it official. “We can speak to each other.”
The elves in the audience stood with gasps and smiles, speaking excitedly to each other. The translators went wild, hugging one another and joyously shouting. Prince Benjimir frowned as he spoke with his translator, and in the midst of the hubbub Captain Arion walked across the platform to stand at Tari’s side.
Tari looked at the tall captain as Crown Princess Yvrea retreated. “What do you think?”
Arion wryly shook his head. “As I said, exceedingly more difficult.”
Tari sank into the cushions of the couch as Arion stood behind her in a stance of attention. They had been pulled from the Celebration Hall before order was restored and escorted to a small, stuffy office. Then, after hours of talking to translators, both elf and human, being pinched and prodded by enchanters and wizards, talked to, read to, questioned, and—oddly enough—sung to, Tari was left alone with her partner.
She exhaled and shut her eyes, reveling in the moment of leisure. “I can’t imagine they have any additional tests to throw at us, unless they mean to test our physical abilities.”
“It is not likely,” Arion acknowledged.
Tari opened her eyes. “They’re probably trying to decide what to do with us. Maybe they have sent for more members of the Royal families?”
“They already have,” Arion said, still standing behind Tari’s couch.
“What?” Tari asked, twisting to face the captain. “How do you know?”
Arion gestured to the open window behind them. “The flag of His Majesty King Petyrr and the banner of the elvish King Celrin fly above the Celebration Hall.”
Tari leaned back to get a glance of at the top of the vaulted Celebration Hall. She only caught a glimpse of the elvish banner, a rising sun, before the door to the small office was thrown open
First through the door was King Petyrr. Three assistants, two guards, and a translator trailed after him. King Celrin glided through the door after this small procession. He studied the already crowded room and spoke softly to his assistant who stood directly behind him, dismissing him before he stepped inside the room with a lone translator.
There was some fumbling before King Petyrr barked, and two of his assistants and guards fled the room.
Tari stood and dipped into an elegant curtsey. Arion was a moment behind her, offering a stiff bow to his monarch. Tari froze momentarily in surprise when she realized she knew Arion’s bow was stiff, not because of his posture, but because of some inner feeling that told her so.
The two Kings stood side by side—a translator standing behind each monarch—and made a striking picture of differences. King Celrin was tall and slim, clothed in flowing robes. He had long hair that was plaited into a braid, and he studied Arion and Tari with the scrutiny scholars afford to ancient texts. King Petyrr, on the other hand, had a large smile with deep
smile lines. He was short, portly, and red faced, but while King Celrin wore dignity like a cloak, King Petyrr’s brisk manner commanded respect.
King Petyrr spoke, his voice booming and jovial.
Tari looked to Arion, as there was no translator present who seemed intent on translating for them. The captain bowed again and did not translate, as Tari hoped he would. “It was certainly a surprise, Your Majesty,” he said.
King Petyrr spoke again, this time with a large gesture and a peal of laughter.
Arion bowed his head. “If you say so, Your Majesty.”
Tari longed to ask Arion what the King said, but it seemed improper when royalty was addressing them.
The translator at King Celrin’s elbow translated for the ruling elf in whispers. The elf king nodded before turning to Tari. “Tarinthali Ringali, Elvaren’s youngest child, correct?”
“Yes, My King,” Tari said, inclining her head before whispering to Arion. “My King Celrin asked if I was the youngest child of my father, Elvaren.”
Arion shifted, and a frown twisted his lips for a moment before he nodded.
“Your sister was bound today as well, was she not? She did not experience this phenomenon.” King Celrin said, reflecting on his words more than informing Tari of the day’s events. “Your bonding, Tarinthali, has ignited a light of hope in our people. The enchanters and wizards are discussing your bond among themselves with the aid of the translators. It is to be hoped that they will be able to recreate such a bond, but we are not convinced it is something that can be repeated,” King Celrin said, looking to King Petyrr, who nodded after his being told the translation.
“My King Celrin has expressed the opinion that the wizards and enchanters hope to reproduce our unusual bond, but My King Celrin and His Majesty King Petyrr doubt they will be successful,” Tari rushed to tell Arion before King Petyrr spoke again in his loud voice.
Arion listened for a moment, his lips tightening, and translated when the human king paused to laugh and let King Celrin’s translator catch up.
“His Majesty King Petyrr has expressed the desire that he and King Celrin wish for us to remain in Haven, although we have other commitments in our home cities,” Arion said, his voice flat.
Tari whirled to face King Celrin. “My King,” she started, hesitating. “If you will pardon my impertinence, I am an Evening Star. I am aware that because of my unusual bond with the honorable Captain Arion I should stay in Haven for a time, but as an Evening Star it is my duty to remain in Gloria,” she said, pleading to the king with her eyes.
Seer Ringali would be furious if she stayed at Haven for an extended period of time, and it was very likely this ‘stay’ would last at least a season. He was going to burst a blood vessel when she sent news of this.
Arion nodded at Tari’s words. “If I may, Your Majesty, my squad cannot survive without my leadership for an extended period of time,” Arion said to his king.
King Celrin waited until King Petyrr addressed Arion before he spoke as well. “I do not argue against your point, for I am aware of the responsibility you bear. However, right now our country has great need of you. You, Tarinthali, and Captain Arion are the only bond we have historical record of, or even dreamed of, that upon bonding are immediately able to understand each other. I know your position as an Evening Star is of great importance, but at this moment the change you and the captain symbolize is of much greater magnitude.”
“He told you too that we must stay?” Arion asked. His words were so quiet Tari doubted the kings and their translators heard.
Tari nodded to the captain, who exhaled. “I thought as much. I have been pulled from the military and reassigned to an Honor Guard squad in Haven.”
Tari waited until the kings spoke to each other in a combination of sign language and translators before she said to Arion, “It seems we will have to sacrifice our personal lives for a time.”
Arion added, barely above a whisper, “We can only hope it is indeed for a time.”
“Here are the grounds upon which you can practice your magic and dancing, Lady Tarinthali,” the elf handmaiden said, gesturing to the nicely sized private garden, located in Rosewood Park—the handsome grounds and gardens kept by the elves who lived at the palace in Haven.
Tari nodded and walked the length of the garden. It was big enough that she could move about freely and was screened by a copse of trees.
“It will be available for your exclusive use,” the handmaiden said, stepping in front of the two guards that stood at the entrance.
Tari turned suddenly, making the velvet blue skirts of her dress swirl around her legs. She studied the morning sun and raised a hand to rub the back of her neck.
“Is the Lady Tarinthali not pleased with the gardens, or her rooms? Did you not sleep well last night?” the handmaiden ventured at Tari’s silence.
Tari smiled at the tentative young elf. “No, everything is beautiful. I am beyond pleased with my living quarters, and I am very much in debt to Our King Celrin for allotting me this space,” she said.
The previous evening Tari had hopes she would be allowed to live with her sister and brother-in-law in the city of Haven. She was shocked when her new attendant timidly explained that she was to live in the palace. Furthermore she was being bestowed a great honor by taking up residence in the wing reserved for elven royalty.
Tari had spent most of the evening and morning outlining the items and clothing articles she would need as long as she stayed at Haven. Tari hadn’t much time to dwell how she felt, but for most of the morning a vague sense of resignation had plagued her.
“Evlawyn, could you tell me where Captain Arion is?” Tari asked, pausing to stoop over a flowering bush of bleeding hearts.
The handmaiden was quiet for a few moments, drawing Tari’s attention to her. “Certainly,” the attendant smiled shakily. “I believe I know where Captain Arion’s new office is located, but I must apologize in advance: I am not certain I know my way there.”
Tari smiled and linked arms with the young elf. “I do not mind taking the scenic route. I know nothing of the palace. This will be an opportunity to view more of it.”
Tari knocked on the door of Arion’s office, flashing her nervous attendant a smile as the young elf gawked at the human soldiers loitering down the hallway. Clearly she hadn’t often been in the human half of the palace.
“Come in,” Arion said from inside the office, and Tari’s attendant startled when Tari opened the door and trooped in.
“I will wait outside, Lady Tari?” the attendant timidly asked.
“Yes, thank you Evlawyn,” Tari smiled before shutting the door behind her. She tipped her head when she beheld Arion seated behind a desk, looking vastly different than the previous day.
If possible he seemed even larger and more intimidating. Instead of wearing his formal wear, Arion was garbed in his captain’s uniform: a hauberk with a linen tunic of black and silver. Silver pauldrons with black accents covered his shoulders, and a large sword and assortment of daggers were buckled to his black belt.
“Good morning Captain Arion.”
“Good morning Tari,” Arion said, sparing her a glance before looking back to his paperwork.
“I see they have settled you in,” Tari said, awkwardly standing as Arion had not asked her to sit. “I did not think they would be able to find you a new squad so swiftly. Unless your old squad coming to Haven?”
“No. My previous squad was with the army and did scouting patrol for the Sacred Wood. My new squad is in the Honor Guard, and it will make patrols in the palace, and occasionally in the city,” he said, his voice emotionless.
Tari nodded and studied the bookshelves that lined the walls of Arion’s office.
Arion stopped shuffling papers and looked up for a moment. “What about you? Have they given you a new assignment?”
Tari shook her head. “No. At the moment I have no responsibilities, beyond that of speaking to the translators, wizards, and encha
nters of course,” she said, peering closer to inspect the book bindings. She couldn’t read them, they were written in the language of humans.
“Ah,” Arion said, scratching a note on a scrap of paper with a feather quill.
Tari studied a portrait of a hunting party. “Did you receive an invitation to tonight’s banquet?” she asked. Tari’s attendant had brought the stamped and sealed invitation with her morning breakfast of steamed buns, fresh fruit, and fruit preserves.
“For Princess Claire’s bonding celebration? I did. You and I are expected to attend it together.”
“So the invitation said. Shall we meet at the banquet hall?”
“If you don’t mind, that would be the most convenient.”
Tari was silent for a few moments before announcing. “My sister Kiva was bonded to Princess Claire. I imagine they matched them as Kiva already lives in Haven,” Tari said. She had barely registered the bond when she fled to Kiva’s side after the ceremony. It wasn’t until she dined with Kiva the previous evening that the realization sank in.
Arion grunted.
Tari glanced over her shoulder. Arion was bent over his paperwork, a slight frown on his lips. “Right, I shall see you this evening at the banquet then?” she said, making a beeline for the door.
Arion looked up, blinking in surprise. “Yes…,” he slowly agreed.
“Very well then, good morning Captain Arion,” Tari said before slipping out the door. She nearly ran into three armed guards.
All there were gangly young men with wide eyes that almost popped out of their heads as they rammed into each other and stared at Tari.
“My mistake, my apologies,” Tari signed, twisting her long fingers into the correct gesture. She repeated the signs when the soldiers did nothing but gawk at her.
“Lady Tari?” Evlawyn, her attendant, called from further up the hallway. The strapping young soldiers had probably forced the shy elf into a retreat.
“There you are. If you don’t mind, Evlawyn, I would like to return to my room to change and practice some of my magic and exercise routines in the gardens,” Tari said, starting down the hallway. Evlawyn trailed after her.