Red Rope of Fate

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Red Rope of Fate Page 6

by Shea, K. M.


  The wizard smiled as he made the gesture for “good boy” to Arion.

  Arion blinked at the gesture but continued, “If you’ll excuse us, Tari and I were on our way to inspect the patrol route of my afternoon squad.”

  The wizard said something in Calnoric and smiled broadly.

  Arion frowned. “The wizard wishes to speak to you for a moment, Tari, while I continue on alone. I am not entirely certain how he means to communicate with you without me, though.”

  The wizard made a shooing motion and Tari removed her arm from Arion’s.

  “We’ll manage, somehow,” Tari said, moving to stand beside Wizard Edvin.

  “If you’ll excuse me, then. I’ll see you at the southern hall, Tari,” Arion said before sauntering off.

  Tari and the wizard watched him go before the wizard turned and smiled at Tari. When Arion was out of sight the wizard pointed to Tari and then made the gesture for “good boy” “move” and “the Continent.”

  Tari curtsied with the rustle of skirts.

  Wizard Edvin smiled, but Tari could see another emotion clouded his eyes. “Caution” he gestured, adding the motions for “not,” “all,” and “want.”

  “Be careful,” Wizard Edvin said in Calnoric, his grandfatherly face downcast.

  Tari stewed over Wizard Edvin’s warning for a moment. She had a feeling that not everyone was so pleased with her bonding as the monarchs and general public. The attempted kidnapping was all the proof she needed for that. However, Tari had hoped it was a small enough percentile that vigilance would not be necessary. Those who were against the match were probably few, but if a wizard was taking the time to warn her, they were most likely powerful.

  Tari gestured “understood,” and curtsied again. When she straightened up the wizard was smiling like a cheerful grandpa.

  He smacked his belly before laughing. “Arion… very lucky,” he said in human before gesturing, “well met.”

  Tari returned the sign, and the wizard hummed under his breath as he started down the corridor.

  Tari watched him go, jumping when she turned back to find Evlawyn had appeared at her elbow.

  “I received a letter for you, Lady Tari,” Evlawyn said, handing the sealed envelope over. “I noticed the seal and thought it might be prudent to give it to you as soon as possible.”

  Tari winced at the insignia stamped in the wax, it was Seer Ringali’s. “Well thought Evlawyn,” Tari said, smiling at her handmaiden before opening the letter.

  Tarinthali Ringali

  I am coming to Haven. You cannot grow soft and sloppy, even if the courts hold you up as a messiah. You will meet me at the Aquavi entrance to the palace on the second day of the feast of Stag Hallow at sunrise. Bring the human whelp they’ve you chained to.

  PS: I do not appreciate being your laundry service.

  The letter wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. Seer Ringali’s humor and personality were rather… unique for most elves.

  Tari exhaled. “Seer Ringali is arriving in two days. I am to meet him with Arion at sunrise.”

  “Shall we ready for battle, Lady Tari?” Evlawyn asked. They had been preparing for this for days.

  “Let’s. I am glad to have you with me, Evlawyn. You are quite the ally.”

  “I am with you until the end, Lady Tari.”

  “Thank you, this very well may be it.”

  Two days later Tari stood with Arion in the chill of dawn. Tari was in her best dress—a violet creation that brought out the soft blonde shades of her hair, which was carefully bushed and tumbled freely down her back.

  Arion was impressive as usual in his formal armor. Tari was secretly glad he was so massive. It would bring her comfort when facing Seer Ringali.

  “Seer Ringali is your teacher?” Arion asked, butchering the elvish name as he watched sunlight crawl over the white, limestone road that connected the city and palace.

  “Yes, and I am his protégé,” Tari said, curling her hands into fists to keep from wringing them. She glanced at Evlawyn, who was standing demurely on the grand staircase that wove up to the palace. The handmaiden nodded in encouragement.

  Arion nodded and squinted, still staring at the road. “You are nervous.”

  Tari exhaled. “Blast your mind reading.”

  “Emotion sensing. And it does not take our bond to notice that you are squirrelly.”

  Tari thoughtfully fussed with the gold linked belt that was chained at the waist of her dress. “Seer Ringali’s opinion is very important to me. I look up to him the way you would look to a general, although I know him on a very personal basis. I do not want to disappoint him, and I want him to like you as well.”

  “An action you are not entirely sure is possible.”

  “Perhaps. It is not that Seer Ringali dislikes humans—it’s quite the reverse, he has dedicated his life to them. It is more that he disapproves of setting my profession aside, even if it is only for a time, and he is very likely to see you as the catalyst for my decision,” Tari said.

  “Ah,” Arion said before nodding at the road. “A carriage approaches, is that his?”

  There was a clearly posted emblem on the carriage door: a large star circled by smaller constellations. “It is,” Tari confirmed, adopting her best posture.

  The horses, two pairs of dapple grays, pulled up to the paved circle designed for passengers to descend from their modes of transportation at. A footman and two grooms—previously arranged for by Evlawyn and Tari—rushed forward to take the horses and open the door.

  The carriage steps were kicked out, and Tari and Arion sunk into elaborate bows as a tall elf climbed out of the carriage.

  “Seer Ringali, it is my greatest pleasure to receive you at the Palace of Haven,” Tari said, straightening up from her bow.

  Seer Ringali stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, studying Tari and Arion from the superior angle. His hair was the rich color of chocolate truffles, partially tied back and ornamented by a gold clasp. He wore black robes, which dully gleamed in the morning light, and he held a black silk fan—which he twitched open and closed.

  “Hn,” he said before descending the stairs with the liquidity of water. He circled Tari and Arion, still snapping his fan.

  “Allow me to introduce you to my bond partner, Captain Arion Herycian,” Tari said, sweeping her hand in Arion’s direction.

  When Seer Ringali set his piercing eyes on Arion, the captain repeated his bow. “Welcome, Seer Ringali,” he said in elvish, pronouncing Seer Ringali’s name with perfect inflection.

  Tari almost dropped her hand in surprise as she stared at Arion. Since receiving her letter she had been coaching the captain in the correct pronunciation of Seer Ringali’s name. The stony man had persisted in slaughtering it. He had said it not two minutes ago utterly incorrectly! He’s holding out on me! Is he learning to speak elvish as I am learning to speak human?

  “Hn,” Seer Ringali sniffed, hiding the lower half of his face behind the open fan before turning to Tari. “I can see you have housebroken him,” he said. “But clearly he is too big to be of much use. Is he part wolf?”

  “Captain Arion is the captain of an Honor Guard squad here in Haven,” Tari said.

  “His title made that observation unfailingly obvious,” Seer Ringali said, studying Tari from head to foot. “Your wit has thickened, however you surprisingly do not seem to have grown flabby in my absence, but,” he shut his fan and struck out, brandishing it like a dagger as he aimed to hit Tari in the neck.

  Tari raised her arm and blocked the blow, but the blow would not have landed anyway as Arion—just as quickly as Seer Ringali—caught the elder elf by the wrist.

  Seer Ringali stepped back—pulling his hand from Arion’s grasp and Tari’s block. He blinked at Arion, as if viewing him in a different light, and tucked his arms in his sleeves for a moment. When he pulled them apart he held out a Berry Drop—hardened, brightly colored berry juice rolled in sugar—and dropped it in Ario
n’s hand when the captain slowly opened it.

  “Good boy,” Seer Ringali said, patting the top of Arion’s head with the fan.

  Arion looked to Tari, who nodded.

  Arion placed the treat in his mouth, frowning and looking down in thought as he sucked on the hard candy.

  Seer Ringali nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Tari. “You have still been practicing, good. I find it assuring your man toy is protective. That is also good. He will keep you alive when you cannot fight back. However, I can see your form has been slipping,” he said, reaching out with his free hand to correct Tari’s posture. “As long as I stay we will practice. For many hours.”

  Seer Ringali turned back to study Arion once more. The captain was chewing on the hard candy, wrinkles spreading on his forehead. (He was probably trying to sort the complex emotions Tari was oozing.) “Yes, he’ll do,” Seer Ringali said before heading to the stairs. “I was afraid you would be tied to some insipid fool, as Our Crown Princess Yvrea was. You have gotten a much better deal,” the teacher said over his shoulder, pausing at the bottom step. “I am glad to see you again,” he finally said.

  Tari beamed and ran the short distance before throwing herself at Seer Ringali in an exuberant hug.

  Seer Ringali tucked the fan up his sleeve before patting Tari on the back and returning the embrace.

  “I am glad you came, Seer Ringali,” Tari said, stepping back after a few moments.

  “Yes. I imagine so,” Seer Ringali said, straightening his robes before turning to climb the stairs. “I would like to inspect my rooms. In the meantime you can prepare yourself for practice. A long one. Oh, and Tarinthali—if you use me as a saddle pack for your clothes ever again I shall string them from the roof like flags for the entire journey,” the teacher said when he reached the top stair where Evlawyn was waiting.

  The handmaiden escorted the intimidating elf away, gesturing for the footman (who carried several bags) to follow.

  Tari slumped her shoulders and turned back to Arion—who was still chewing the Berry Drop.

  “That was odd,” Arion crunched.

  “He likes you, stars behold me, he likes you,” Tari sighed in relief.

  “He likes those who keep him from attacking young elves?” Arion asked.

  “I’m trained to respond, he was doing it to test me. But it did please him that you reacted on my behalf, yes,” Tari tilted her head and fixed her gaze on Arion. “When and how did you learn to pronounce Seer Ringali’s name?”

  Arion finished the drop. “Yesterday. I asked one of the elf translators that constantly plagues us with requests for interviews for help.”

  “He was willing to teach you?”

  “I can’t say I gave him the option.”

  Tari laughed and stretched her arms above her head. “That went well. The worst of it is over now—for you anyway. He’s going to be a regular nightmare in practice, but I have been slacking,” Tari acknowledged.

  “This short meeting was what had you worked up?” Arion asked.

  Tari wrinkled her nose at the man. “You have no idea how lucky we are that you impressed him so deeply. One of my fellow dancers married an elf Seer Ringali didn’t like. Seer Ringali only refers to the dancer’s husband as “the beast,” gave her a leather collar and leash for her birth celebration, banned her husband from all Evening Star practice and performance grounds, and had him thrown out of his housing accommodations when he proposed.”

  “And you admire him?”

  “He has a good heart. His wedding gift to the dancer was a new house, and she wasn’t even his protégé. He will be very pleasant to you since he likes you.”

  “I’m not sure if he thinks of me as a man. He seemed to be treating me like a dog. What was he saying?”

  “Ahaha, I must go prepare for practice now.”

  “Tari!”

  Almost a week later Tari gingerly followed Seer Ringali down the hallway. The older elf looked refreshed and energized in spite of the late evening hour and hours of intense practice. Tari was fairly certain she was a sweaty mess, and she felt as if she had run with horses for a full day. Seer Ringali’s stamina was legendary.

  Seer Ringali abruptly stopped and turned around to face Tari. “Eat a light dinner,” he advised, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Nothing too rich, or you will make yourself sick.”

  Tari nodded and stretched her spine. Practice had kept them so late it was safe to assume dinner was no longer being served, but the kitchens would still be open for evening tea.

  Seer Ringali reached into his sash and pulled out a tiny satin bag, which he passed to Tari. “You did well. Here is your treat, share them with your wolf man.”

  “Thank you Seer Ringali,” Tari said, bowing slightly. After a cross examination Arion admitted ‘welcome’ was the only elvish word he had picked up. Tari hoped it remained that way for the duration of Seer Ringali’s stay, or she would have some very awkward explanations to give.

  Seer Ringali nodded before separating from Tari, turning down a different hallway. Tari gripped the bag, flexing the soft cloth that covered her hands, and continued on her way.

  “Tari?”

  Tari looked up to see Kiva come around the corner. Her older sister was dressed in a beautiful peach colored dress, her hair was twisted and secured to the back of her head with a gold clip. She looked suspiciously lovely for a night that did not have a banquet scheduled.

  “Did Seer Ringali have you practicing at this hour?” Kiva said.

  “Yes, it’s cooler in the evenings. Was there a banquet or state event this evening? Blast, I must have forgotten it,” Tari sighed.

  Kiva smiled archly. “No, there was no banquet.”

  “Then why the finery?”

  “I am meeting with Princess Claire.”

  “In your best dress?”

  Kiva sighed. “Once a week Princess Claire hosts an evening tea. She is careful to schedule it on nights that do not contain state events, or on evenings when another member of the royal family is hosting a tea as well.”

  “Oh,” Tari said, leaning back on her heels as she thought. “Wait, Princess Claire hosts the tea, and Arion and I are not invited?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. It seemed odd that Arion’s sister would not invite them. Their celebrity status made them very enviable guests. Was she trying to distance herself from her family? Was the princess ashamed?

  “Arion attends the teas,” Kiva said.

  “What?” Tari asked. They invite Arion and not me?

  “Princess Claire wished to extend an invitation to you as well, but Arion asked her not to,” Kiva quickly added.

  “WHAT?” Tari repeated, her voice growing dark. Arion was the one who withheld the invitation? After all that pretty talk about friendship and informality?!

  Kiva winced and took a step backwards under the pressure of Tari’s anger.

  Tari squeezed a hand into a fist until it shook. “Where is this tea held, Kiva?”

  Kiva swallowed uncomfortably. “The Crystal Hall.”

  Tari twisted on her heels and started down the hallway as she attempted to shove the stabbing sensation of betrayal out of her ribs.

  “Tari, you cannot possibly mean to go this evening,” Kiva called in protest. “You are dressed in your practice uniform, you haven’t been invited.”

  “Forget it, I’m going!” Tari snapped. “If the humans want informality, they’re going to get it!”

  Tari stormed to the Crystal Hall, a smaller but still grand hall that was meant for evening teas—or drinking parties as Tari still called them—and small luncheons. She expected resistance when she reached the entryway—after all she bore no invitation—but the guards scrambled to open the doors for her when they saw her coming.

  Tari blew through the doors, stopping on the small platform the hallway opened into at the top of four stairs to look for her bond partner.

  Tari was aware there were several gasps from a few of the guests—there had to be onl
y twenty to twenty five people present, odd considering a small royal drinking party usually consisted of at least a hundred people—but she ignored the stares and zeroed in on Arion.

  He was standing at the side of the hall, dressed in his formal armor, talking to Eric. Their sisters were not present, but Talon was. This only served to further infuriate Tari. The fact that Eric would invite Talon but Arion would not invite Tari spoke volumes.

  Eric caught sight of Tari heading in their direction and dropped the goblet he was holding. It fell with a metallic clank, spilling his wine across the floor.

  Arion turned to see what stirred such a reaction in him, and he blinked as Tari stopped at his side.

  “When were you going to tell me about this?” Tari asked, her voice was quiet but dangerously cold.

  “What are you wearing?” Arion asked.

  Tari almost threw the satin bag from Seer Ringali at his face, even though it was a valid question.

  Tari’s practice uniform was unlike any other clothing in the Continent. The outfit consisted of black suede boots that were molded to Tari’s calf, black pants with white stitching, a tight, black shirt, and a strange jacket/hood combination that started near the top of Tari’s ribcage, stretched back behind over her shoulders, and hooked down over her middle fingers. She wore black, mismatched gloves beneath that. Her left hand was completely gloved, save for a circular patch on the top of her hand. The fingers of her right glove were cut off, displaying Tari’s tapered fingers.

  The clothes were designed to provide maximum support and flexibility as the physical demands put on an Evening Star were rather weighty.

  Combined with her hair—which was somewhat windblown, although the top half was pulled back in a bun and secured with a clasp—the look was eye popping, and certainly unconventional for anyone who had not seen an Evening Star before. (Which was just about all humans. Ever.)

  “Arion why did you not tell me your sister hosted teas every week?” Tari thunderously said, ignoring the four footmen that scurried from the room.

 

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