by Shea, K. M.
The soldiers stared at them until they turned a corner, stepping out of sight.
Chapter 3
Miscommunication
“Evlawyn might be a timid guide and bashful of humans, but she is a fantastic handmaiden,” Tari pronounced, twisting in front of a full length mirror.
The younger elf had outdone herself. She piled Tari’s silken hair on top of her head and wove a string of pearls through it, reflecting more human fashion than elf style. Tari’s dress—which was midnight blue and silver—was long and sweeping with billowing sleeves and full skirts. It was a nightmare to get into, but Evlawyn had managed it.
Tari glanced out the windows of the waiting room—dusk settled on the horizon like a heavy cloak—and sighed. She had waited outside the banquet hall for perhaps half an hour and Arion had yet to arrive.
They were not late yet, but all of the captain’s siblings and Tari’s relatives arrived some time ago.
Tari smiled at a pair of guests who glanced curiously at her before they entered the banquet hall.
She lingered behind them in the doorway, sighing in exasperation when she caught sight of a spot of black nestled among the brilliant court colors. Captain Arion had somehow evaded Tari’s notice and snuck inside. He was already seated, although there was an empty chair beside him for Tari.
Tari slipped in with a group of elf guests, walking with them until they were greeted by an official who moved to seat them. Tari slipped past and continued up the aisle, stopping only when she reached Arion’s table.
“Good evening, Captain Arion,” Tari greeted.
Arion stood and gravely bowed. “Good evening. You look splendid this evening, Lady Tari.”
“It’s just Tari, Captain,” Tari said as she shook her head in amusement. She felt beyond awkward approaching and speaking to the captain, but he was able to freely fire off niceties as if a bond like theirs was common.“And thank you, you look very fine as well,” Tari added, looking up and down the table.
Although the celebration was for Arion’s sister he and his siblings were seated at a table that was considerably far from the Princess. Their table mates were mostly Arion’s family members and their bonded elves. Tari fleetingly recalled Talon’s prediction of snubbing Princess Claire, and she pressed her lips together.
Making up her mind, Tari turned to Arion, who hadn’t reseated himself but did not give off the appearance of being socially inclined. Ignoring that, Tari rather impertinently asked, “If you would not mind, Captain Arion, would you introduce me to your family? I believe we missed the introductions yesterday when we were whisked away.”
“Of course,” Arion said, stepping around his chair before pushing it in. He dutifully trekked around the table to stand at Tari’s side. “Eric,” Arion called.
A young man speaking to Talon through a translator looked up. Arion wriggled his fingers at him, and the young man came trotting, Talon trailing in his wake. “Lady Tari, allow me the dubious honor of introducing you to my younger brother, Eric Herycian. Eric runs our family manor with my father. Eric, this is Lady Tari of Lessa.”
Tari made the signing gesture for “well met.”
Eric smiled and said something before shaking his head and making an indecipherable sign gesture.
Tari stared at his hands before she looked to Arion for help. “I do not know what that gesture means.”
“Probably because he is doing it wrong,” Arion dryly said before forming the gesture for “thank you.”
Eric made a face and spoke again.
“What did he say?” Tari asked.
“He wishes he studied the signing language with greater diligence,” Arion said.
Tari laughed, making Eric smile.
“It is forgivable. I have been told it is easier for elves to perform the gestures as our hands are more deft,” Tari said before making the gesture for “all is forgiven,” to Eric.
“Calling it easier is putting it mildly,” Arion said.
“Ah, I must beg for your forgiveness as I have failed to introduce you to my cousin. Talon, son of Galvedo,” Tari said, reaching past Eric to draw Talon forward.
Arion bowed slightly, and Talon mimicked Tari and formed the gesture for “well met.”
“You are Eric’s bond mate?” Tari asked her cousin.
“Indeed, I am,” Talon said, nodding for Arion’s benefit.
Tari opened her mouth, about to ask another question, when King Petyrr swept up to them. His entourage of three nobles, two footmen, a page, and a dog scurried behind him to keep up with his large strides.
King Petyrr laughed and roared with infectious joy. He slapped Arion on the back a few times before Arion and Eric had the chance to bow to their monarch. He folded his arms and continued to talk, batting one of his courtiers away. He turned to face Tari and extended his arms at her, speaking louder yet. The ruddy faced king then clapped his hands and elbowed Arion.
Arion bowed slightly. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he gravely said.
The king chattered away for a few moments, looking at Tari although he addressed his comments to Arion and Eric.
Tari whispered to Talon, “It seems no one feels inclined to translate His Majesty’s conversation?”
“I suspect they’ve forgotten about us, and your captain is not so rude as to speak over his monarch,” Talon said.
Tari was shocked when King Petyrr reached and grabbed Tari’s hand, patting it several times before winking at her and swirling off—exiting in a whirlwind of laughter and courtiers.
Tari breathed out, “I feel as though I have just survived a stampede of stallions.”
“His Majesty has a unique presence,” Arion acknowledged.
Tari watched the squat king march up to the table where his family sat. He ruffled the hair of his youngest son and sweetly kissed Princess Claire’s hand before moving down the line, plopping down in his chair in a careless manner that oddly conveyed a sense of power.
Tari found his conduct rather unlikely for a person intent on snubbing his new daughter-in-law, and then she set eyes on the human queen.
Queen Luciee was as cold as her husband was good-humored. Her face was a frozen mask of disdain starched to perfection. She was stiff, prim, and she glared in the direction of Tari’s table.
Arion briefly placed his hand on Tari’s elbow. “We should be seated. I suspect the banquet will begin soon.”
Tari nodded in agreement and followed Arion to their chairs.
Half an hour of speeches and greetings started the banquet before roasted boar and geese were brought out for consumption. This seemed to break open the floodgates of food for soon after servers brought out jellied fruits, roasted nuts, strawberries dusted with sugar, several questionable puddings, hot rolls, a variety of greens, grilled vegetables, and more.
During the meal Arion reluctantly introduced Tari to his parents, Lord Fredrick and Lady Angelica Herycian, and two of his sisters, Delilah and Belle.
Between dessert and the final round of drinks King Petyrr came to laugh at Arion and Tari some more, this time with King Celrin in tow.
Although the formal elvish king spoke in tones far more subdued than King Petyrr, Tari suspected he was fond of the outspoken human monarch and found his peculiarities amusing. She said as much to Arion, who thought for a moment before replying.
“I suppose so. He does not seem horrified by His Majesty, although I find King Celrin difficult to read.”
“Perhaps it is the difference in our cultures, for I thought My King Celrin looked at ease,” Tari said as she slowly reached for her goblet. She wished for rose water, or grape juice, or even fresh water to drink. Instead she was served dry human wines that tasted like beet juice. Tari held back a gag as she sipped at her wine and watched a portion of the guests abandon their seats for the dance floor.
A groan leaked out of Tari when she noticed a herd of translators edging their way towards her. They eyed Tari and Arion like hungry forest cats as Tari leaned back
in her chair. “I thought this silence was too good to be true. Our questioners will soon descend upon us,” she predicted. “They drive me mad with their repetitive questions and endless hypothesizing.”
Arion followed her gaze to the translators. “Ah,” he said as they organized themselves. “You could inform them they have already asked you that question,” he offered.
“That would do no good; they’ll merely rephrase it or ask an even more absurd question. This morning during luncheon one of them inquired if I have ever had a near death experience which granted me special powers. That is ludicrous.”
“You cannot blame them, they are trying to find the reason for,” Arion gestured blankly at Tari.
“They could think a bit more before they propose their ideas. A human translator asked me during an interview if I thought it was possible that you and I are tied together by a red string of fate.”
“A what?”
“A red string of fate. It’s elvish lore: a red string ties together two people who are fated to be close friends. I’m not certain how he heard of it, but it was rather impudent of him to suggest it.”
Arion shrugged. “If you firmly asked them to leave I doubt they would refuse you.”
Tari gaped at Arion. “Leave? But I couldn’t! The whole reason I’m staying in Haven is to help them.”
Arion sipped his goblet. “Then I’m not sure I understand why you’re complaining.”
Tari’s mouth dropped as she stared at Arion. Did he just accuse her of complaining? How rude could he be?
Arion who straightened up as the translators bolstered their confidence enough to start storming towards their table. “What?” he asked, catching Tari’s stare.
Feeling ungenerous, Tari turned away from him to look longingly to her female cousins, who were smiling with Arion’s sisters. “If only,” she muttered before the first translator reached her.
“Lady Tari and Captain Arion, we have not been introduced but I simply cannot keep my enthusiasm in check anymore. Could you please explain to me the intricacies of your relationship?”
A week after the banquet Tari reluctantly stopped outside Arion’s office. She had made it a point to visit Arion on a daily basis even though they frequently attended state dinners and banquets together. Tari felt that even if her bond with the captain was untraditional they still had a responsibility to attempt friendship. It was absolutely clear to Tari, however, that Arion did not share her sentiments.
Whenever she visited the captain would continue with his work, rarely asking Tari questions or starting conversations. He answered Tari’s comments in as few words as possible, barked at anybody who stumbled into his office while she was there, and for the most part would not translate anything anyone said while she was with him.
Still, for the sake of their countries, Tari came.
Tari took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before knocking on the door.
“Come in.”
Tari opened the door and slipped inside. “Good afternoon, Captain Arion.”
“Good afternoon, Tari,” Arion said, seated behind his desk, as usual.
“I hope your morning was pleasant?” Tari asked.
“Calamity has not befallen me, so I suppose it was,” Arion said.
Tari nodded and leaned against a chair, but Arion did not take the hint to ask her to sit. “I have received an invitation from the chief elvish enchanter for a meeting this afternoon. He wants to go over our Nodusigm ceremony again to see if we felt anything different than the rest of the participants. I told him I would be free for questioning but you would undoubtedly be busy with your patrol responsibilities. I hope I did not overstep my boundaries?”
“No, you did not. Thank you,” Arion said, briefly looking up.
The pair was silent for some minutes. Tari was determined to make him speak first and looked wordlessly around the office, but Arion seemed oblivious to her presence.
There was a knock on the door, and Tari turned to face it.
“Leave it,” Arion said. “It’s the morning patrol leaders of my squad.”
“You can’t mean to leave them waiting outside?”
“I won’t. But they will wait until you leave.”
Is he embarrassed to be seen with me? Tari wondered as she stared at the captain. He shuffled papers.
“It’s fine,” Tari said, making her way back to the door. “I can see you are busy. I suppose I’ll see you later for a banquet or dinner or party of some sort,” Tari said, going to the door to open it.
“Tari,” Arion started, but Tari waved him off and stepped into the hallway. She smiled briskly at the gawking patrol leaders before walking away.
She was trying. She was trying so hard, and Arion seemed intent that they should remain total strangers. Very well. If Arion finds my companionship burdening, I will take care not to encumber him.
“Is something wrong?”
Tari looked up from her pensive reflections of the gross human wine and blinked at Arion. “I beg your pardon?”
Arion placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I was wondering if you are alright, or if something has happened.”
“No, I am perfectly fine. Why?” Tari said, looking up and down the table of food. For reasons beyond her understanding the human royal family insisted on throwing evening drinking parties once a week. As the mythological Nodusigm pair, Tari and Arion’s presence was mandatory.
“It is nothing. It is merely that you have not stopped by my office in a number of days. A week, actually,” Arion said, studying the crowd.
Tari didn’t reply and selected a rice cracker.
Arion and Tari stood in resolute silence, watching the gaieties as they drank and ate. Tari was pulled out of her observer role when King Celrin approached her.
“If you do not mind my rudeness, please allow me to steal your partner from you, Captain Arion,” King Celrin said to Arion via a translator.
Arion gravely bowed in permission and retreated to an empty wall where he was instantly accosted by no less than five human girls, all eager to talk to him. (Wonder of the mysterious brother to the new Princess had taken the human court by storm since the bonding ceremony.)
“You are subdued, Tarinthali,” King Celrin said as they walked the perimeter of the room.
“My King?”
“You do not seem pleased to stand with Captain Arion.”
“I must beg your pardon, My King, but I believe it is the other way around.”
King Celrin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You think Captain Arion does not enjoy your company?”
“I could not say for certain, My King. There is very little that I understand about Captain Arion.”
“Indeed,” King Celrin said, looking across the room to King Petyrr. The human monarch laughed loudly as one of his men relayed a story to him. “Perhaps you have mistaken his conduct. We come from a different culture, Tarinthali. Captain Arion may not be aware of what his gestures and actions mean to you.”
“Perhaps, My King.”
“You are not convinced?”
“If you say the captain is not aware, then I will trust your words, My King.”
A ghost of a smile flittered across King Celrin’s face. “Tari, for this moment please think of me as your relative and not your ruler. Your relationship with the captain is of great importance, but you are not the only one who feels the weight of our expectations,” King Celrin said as he pointedly looked to Arion.
The captain was still surrounded by adoring females but his eyes were on Tari and the elven king.
“Please keep trying,” King Celrin said. “I know you understand the words he speaks, but perhaps you have missed what he does for your sake.”
Tari stared at Arion for a moment before turning. “My King? What do you,” she trailed off, the king had left her and was standing at King Petyrr’s side.
The jovial human king was trying to explain with badly executed gestures what joke he found so funny. The el
vish lord smiled slightly and nodded in understanding as his translator spoke to him.
“Tari,” Talon called from a group of elves. “Tari, come walk with us.”
Tari hesitated and looked for her partner. Arion was conversing with the group of females arranged around him like pretty flowers.
For my sake? What a joke. “Coming,” Tari said.
Later that evening, after the party finally ended, King Celrin’s words still haunted Tari. Tari released her skirts, and they fell around her in a sigh when she cleared the corner of the gardens. It was dark out, but there were torches and lamps lit in the gardens, and it was faster to navigate through the greenery than to find her way through the maze-like palace at this hour.
“Drinking parties,” Tari said, shaking her head. “You would think they would serve more than one kind of drink.”
Tari ducked under a low tree branch, her shoulders slumping as she dwelled on King Celrin’s words. “I should keep trying,” she sighed. “I cannot let Captain Arion’s taciturn temperament get in the way of progress. Perhaps I should visit his sisters to ask them for advice?”
Most of the night Tari had spent by Arion’s side. As usual the captain had very little to say, but Tari supposed there were worse ways to spend an evening.
Tari stopped, her tapered ears twitching slightly as she looked out over the gardens. She could have sworn she heard a bush rustle.
Tari shrugged and started walking again, briefly folding her arms behind her back. Her muscles protested as she stretched her arms. “I’m getting out of shape. I’ll have to practice longer tomorrow,” Tari decided. She had yet to hear from Seer Ringali, but she expected a correspondence from him any day, and she was not looking forward to it.
Something moved behind her, and Tari ducked. The swinging wooden cudgel missed her by a hair’s width. Tari twirled, putting her back to a tree, her arms extended with hints of her light magic burning on her arms. She hesitated when she realized her assailants were human.
There were five of them, although Tari was willing to bet there were lookouts posted in strategic locations nearby. All of them looked to be from Calnor, although Tari couldn’t be certain.