Red Rope of Fate

by Shea, K. M.

  “You return slights, you fight, you perceive human arguments and seek to finish them rather than ignore them. You are socially perceptive.”

  “In other words I am more cunning, ruthless, and blood thirsty than other elves, like, say, my sister,” Tari smiled slightly, a sad edge to her words. “Seer Ringali is another example. He is sarcastic, rude, and high handed. These traits are not necessarily good things, but they are indicators that we have the cunning intelligence of the High Elves. It means we will be able to handle bloodshed and war. The second requirement is that you must have the ability to use High Elf magic. Magic that can be used to destroy.”

  “Talon has magic, though. I saw him try to use it against you,” Arion argued.

  “That is so,” Tari nodded. “But Talon failed the last requirement, which is also, perhaps, the most important requirement: you must be loyal to humans.”

  Arion sat down, hard.

  Tari watched him for a moment before she continued. “Evening Stars are groomed for battle only when we prove to be fiercely protective of humans. Evening Stars fight for humans, not for elves. It would do no good to teach an elf that does not wildly love humans how to fight. Our entire existence is devoted to you.”

  Arion was silent for a moment. “I think I understand why there are so few of you.”

  Tari laughed and leaned forward, stretching her arms in front of her. “Usually loyalty to Calnor is not a problem. Talon is the only elf I have heard of that was turned away due to personal conflicts.”

  Silence stretched between Tari and Arion for several minutes. Tari slid her legs beneath her, readying herself to stand, when Arion startled her.

  “Why have you never told us this?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Why have the elves of Lessa never told us of their worries, or of the purpose of an Evening Star?”

  Tari shrugged. “It was never asked. We have always been upfront in our beliefs that High Elves will return. We never shy from it, but you humans have given up preparing for it. You guard us from the rest of the world; we will guard you from our cousins.”

  Arion laughed. “It is a bitter medicine to swallow; to be told by an elf that you are being protected.”

  Tari shrugged. “You humans are too easily offended. I, and all the elves of Lessa, view my job as an Evening Star as the highest honor. It is an honor to guard the seas.”

  “Yes, but we are supposed to be guarding you.”

  Tari laughed. “Now you have a savior complex.”

  Arion ruefully shook his head. He knew he was not the only human that would be shocked, and perhaps dismayed, to learn they underestimated the elves of Lessa. But Tari was laughing again, and it was better to let the matter go.

  “Would you like to join me for evening tea?” Arion asked, wincing slightly when his various weapons stabbed at him as he stood up.

  “Only if we’re actually going to drink tea. And I think I want something to eat. Let’s go back to my room, Evlawyn is a regular cat thief in food procurement,” Tari said, also boosting herself to her feet.

  “So that’s how you lured my men into language lessons.”

  “They told you?”

  “This morning. It was in their best interest to tell me, I assure you.”

  “Oh please. It’s not like you were going to give them a post in the desert.”

  “…”

  “Arion?”

  “I said it was in their best interest.”

  “ARION!”

  “Thank you for coming to speak with me, Eric. I was beginning to fear the translator would drag me off to a library to quiz me on human verbs and nouns,” Tari said with a weary sigh. It had been an arduous day and Tari longed for her soft bed and fluffed pillows, but it was the evening of Princess Claire’s tea. She had to come.

  “You can hardly blame him. You are the idol of the Translators’ Circle,” Eric pronounced as he snagged a handful of sugar glazed walnuts. “Learning human in a matter of weeks? That is impressive.”

  Tari smiled and nodded to the various elves that glided past her for the sole point of catching her eye and offering her a sympathetic nod. It was only a week ago that Tari had almost killed Talon, and the news was still spreading among the elves. The humans reacted to her no differently, which made her suspect Arion had told no one.

  Tari wondered why as she reached up and touched the pink chrysanthemum hair stick—the one Arion gave her—Evlawyn had styled her short hair with.

  “You doubt the accomplishment?” Eric asked at her silence.

  “No, but to me a translator is still more awe inspiring. I, what is the term, cheat? I borrow words and phrases from Arion. It is our bond that helps me learn so quickly.”

  Eric shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. But let us talk of more interesting things!”

  Tari nodded, her smile freezing. Was Eric finally going to ask where Talon was? (King Celrin sent him to the capital of Lessa. His other daughter, Princess Gwendafyn, was to deal with him. Tari almost felt sorry for Talon. If Gwendafyn hadn’t been a princess she would have been recruited as an Evening Star.)

  “How many admirers do you think Arion has?”

  Tari blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  Eric stabbed a finger in Arion’s direction—he was standing with a fellow captain, but the two military men were circled by young human ladies who clamored for their attention. “I think it’s disgusting how many girls are moony eyed over him. Arion said they’re just attracted to power. Pah!”

  Tari looked down at the Arion’s younger brother—he was much shorter than Arion, and thus Tari—and half grinned. “You are jealous?”

  “Me? What? No-I never! Tari that was an insult,” Eric sputtered.

  Tari laughed and patted Eric on the top of the head the way she would pet a dog. “Do not worry young bean sprout. Your time will come,” she said.

  “I am not young,” Eric protested.

  “You are just a babe.”

  “I am not. Lady Tari you are unfeeling, all I wanted was for you to commiserate that yes it is unfair. Maybe sympathize a little,” Eric complained.

  Tari turned her back to Arion. Although she had not yet sunk so low as to feel jealousy at Arion’s admirers—mostly because Arion’s body language always tattled how irked the situation made him—it did pain her heart to see that others could so openly pursue him. “Did I not just sympathize with you? I told you your time would come. What does sympathize mean?” she asked Eric, gently leading him away from the refreshment table and the decadent scents wafting up from it. (The sugared nuts were addicting.)

  “It means you agree with me and you tell me you like me better than Arion,” Eric said with a cheeky grin.

  “I do not think that is the true definition.”

  “And now you’re doubting me? How cruel! I must be consoled Lady Tari!” Eric sniffed before curling an arm around Tari’s shoulders as they strolled.

  “Very well, before I do so please be aware that the elvish meaning of console is to throw into a pond to mask your pained tears and sobs,” Tari said, turning slightly to Eric to mask her shrugging his arm off her. “I plan to follow the definition of my people in this case.”

  “Ummm,” Eric said, displaying exaggerated hesitation. “Perhaps not console then.”

  “Attend to, maybe?” Arion said behind the pair.

  Eric winced when he heard his brother’s voice, but he turned with Tari to face the captain. “Attend to?” Tari asked.

  “Attend to. It is a verb used to describe when someone is physically injured and he requires someone to keep an eye on him to make sure no further harm befalls him,” Arion flatly said.

  “Wow, is it this late already? I must go pay my respects to King Petyrr,” Eric said, edging away. “I must get going—oh, I almost forgot. Here, Lady Tari. Claire wanted me to give you this,” Eric said, retreating back to Tari’s side to hand her an envelope. He smiled when she took it before he glanced at Arion. �
�Yes, I’ve delivered it now so I’m free. Farewell,” he said before beating a hasty escape.

  “Why is he always so frightened of you?” Tari asked, inspecting the envelope with interest. It was address to her in elvish script—the princess probably had recruited a translator for the task. It was no small wonder the translators had no time to discuss scientific advancements between Calnor and Lessa—they barely had time to fulfill the translation duties at the palace!

  “Eric is not frightened of me, he is frightened when I find him with you,” Arion said, a slight but pleased smile folded on his lips as he led Tari to an open patio door.

  “I do not think I understand,” Tari said.

  “You don’t need to. You look beautiful this evening.”

  Tari blushed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Arion said, he leaned forward and invaded Tari’s space to softly kiss her on the forehead.

  Tari swallowed and did her best to control her pounding heart. Kissing on the forehead was permissible in elvish culture—but mostly it was between relatives. Tari had a feeling there was a different meaning behind Arion’s kiss, but none of the tea attendees gasped or pointed at Tari and Arion, so it was probably okay.

  “You are in a splendid mood this evening,” Tari said, reaching out to link her arm with Arion’s.

  “I am,” Arion acknowledged.

  “Why, if you do not mind my asking,” Tari said.

  Arion’s slight smile grew crocked. “I was treated to a good sight. You like your flower hair stick?”

  Tari beamed. “I do, I still think it is pretty. I have received four compliments on it this evening. And no, they weren’t all from elves,” Tari said, purposely turning her nose up in the air.

  Arion chuckled. “I am glad you like it. I am sorry, but I must also leave you to mingle.”

  “I understand. Go ahead, leave, I would like to read my letter and it would be bad manners to read in front of another.”

  “I see, you find a letter to be better company than I?”

  Tari could detect the teasing lilt to his voice—Arion lilted much more now since he spent half his day with her—and grinned as she held up her letter for inspection. “Only when the letter happens to be from the sister of my much treasured bond partner.”

  “Enjoy your letter,” Arion said before leaning in again to brush his lips against Tari’s temple. He turned on his heels and left, his cloak snapping behind him.

  Tari watched him leave before returning her attention to the envelope. She opened it, and read the letter printed in graceful elvish script.

  Lady Tarinthali,

  I hope you will overlook the impudence I take, for I know we have never been introduced, but it would please me greatly if you would join me for tea tomorrow afternoon in my rooms. I have much longed to meet you, and I look forward to speaking with you.

  Princess Claire

  Tari refolded the note and slipped it back in the envelope. Princess Claire was inviting her to tea? Contact with the princess was not surprising—Tari had actually been feeling seeds of guilt that she so readily crashed Princess Claire’s tea every week without ever meeting the royal hostess—but a private correspondence was rather… over the top.

  “If she wanted a mere introduction she would have asked Arion. And why did Eric deliver the letter, and not Arion?” Tari murmured.

  “Lady Tarinthali!”

  Tari looked up and smiled at Crown Princess Yvrea, who was sweeping in her direction, clothed in a beautiful dress that was the shade of the mid afternoon sun. “I am so gladdened to see you. I spoke with Father about Talon, and I’ve wanted to speak to you ever since to express my apologies,” Crown Princess Yvrea said, reaching out to embrace Tari.

  Tari returned the gesture and smiled. “What’s done is done. I am only glad we were able to discover it was Talon who betrayed us rather than allowing the human royalty to blame citizens of Calnor.”

  Crown Princess Yvrea nodded and linked arms with her. “I agree, come and walk with me please? I promised Benji a dance later, but I told him I wanted to devote this time to you.”

  “As you wish, My Crown Princess Yvrea,” Tari smiled.

  Chapter 10

  Separation

  Tari checked her dress and hair again in a large mirror that was just down the hallway from Princess Claire’s quarters. Her hair had not slipped from the artful twist Evlawyn had made, although Tari’s hair was barely long enough for the style and pulled at her scalp. Her dress—white with gold hemming on the neckline—needed no ornaments besides the gold belt that hung from her hips.

  Tari woefully glanced up and down the hallway. Although her dress was pretty it did not seem lavish enough to match the ornate, and perhaps gaudy, hallway decorations.

  “I like the soft, understated elvish ways of decorating,” Tari muttered, looking for the princess’ royal seal—which would mark her rooms.

  Some distance down the hall she found it, a wooden insignia of a dove nestled in a rose hung over a door.

  Tari perfected her posture and pushed her shoulders back before knocking. The door opened and a mousy looking lady’s maid opened the door and curtsied to Tari, leading her inside without meeting her eyes.

  Princess Claire—a young girl of a mere 18 summers—was already seated in her sitting room. The room was vastly different from Tari’s, mainly because the décor attempted to be flashy and impressive but mostly came off as over the top.

  The stone floors were covered with tapestry rugs, but rather than having one large rug Princess Claire had layers upon layers of them. A scene of an elf taming a unicorn was half covered by a hunting motif, which was partially eclipsed by a rug of the night sky. The walls were a beautiful ruby red color, but one could barely see the gorgeous cloth that covered the room thanks to the collage of paintings and statues.

  It felt crowded.

  The princess matched her room to a certain extent. She was a pretty girl with deep dimples, soft brown ringlets, and chocolate eyes. Her pretty features, however, were drowned out by her excessively loud dress—which was a pretty apricot color although the waist, sleeves and collar were lined with so many gems the end result was ridiculous.

  In the few moments it took Tari to observe Princess Claire and her garish room, Tari realized that the poor creature before her was, as Arion suspected, feeling the burdens of trying to fit in, and as a result tried entirely too much.

  “Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” Tari said in crisp Calnoric, performing an elegant curtsey.

  Princess Claire stood and indecisively bit her lip. She looked to her mousy maid, who inclined her head.

  “Ah, good afternoon Lady Tari,” Princess Claire said, inclining her head to Tari. “Please, sit with me.”

  “Thank you,” Tari said, selecting a wooden chair to sit in as she continued her carefully rehearsed talk. “It was very kind of you to invite me to tea.”

  “Oh not at all, I am delighted you could come,” Princess Claire said, reaching for the porcelain tea set arranged on a tea caddy in front of her with intense concentration.

  “I feel that I must apologize. I crashed your evening tea some weeks ago, and my attire was not necessarily proper for the situation,” Tari said.

  Princess Claire laughed before she silenced herself with wide eyes.

  Poor thing. Yes, she is trying too hard.

  Princess Claire swallowed and carefully poured Tari a cup of tea. “Not at all, I am in debt to you for coming,” she hesitated and set the tea pot down before extending the cup to Tari. As Tari reached out to take it the princess continued, “I wanted to invite you ever since you were bonded to Arion, but he forbade me. He said I would be using you like bait to call the courts to my teas. He was right, of course, so really it is I who must extend the thanks.”

  Tari blinked, somewhat surprised by the blunt confession. “I am glad you feel my presence made a difference.”

  “Your Calnoric is much better than I thought it would b
e, even though Eric told me you were good. You are truly remarkable, Lady Tari,” Princess Claire said, pouring a cup of tea for herself.

  Tari watched, still somewhat shocked by the informality Princess Claire adopted with her. Perhaps she felt Tari’s close relationship with Arion meant formality was unnecessary?

  This little one takes more after Eric than Arion, that much is for certain.

  “Thank you. While I would like to claim the credit for myself Arion deserves your praise, for I learned mostly from him and his subordinates,” Tari said, accenting her words with a smile.

  “Truly? You do not speak the way Arion speaks. I’m not sure how you would describe it. Eric says when you speak your words glitter. Would you like any tartlets or cookies?” Princess Claire asked, her hand hovering above the tray.

  Tari was going to refuse, but she could tell the princess was doing her very best to be an excellent hostess, and would probably deny herself any refreshments until Tari ate first.

  “Yes, thank you. What do recommend?”

  “The buttermilk pie is divine.”

  “Then I would like a slice of that, please,” Tari said, falling silent as Princess Claire used a tiny silver fork to lift a tartlet to a small plate before she gave it to Tari. “And Eric paints a very pretty picture of me, but I am afraid it is untrue. I am sure Arion has told you horror stories, his myths are probably closer to the truth.”

  Princess Claire carefully selected a chocolate cookie for herself. “I have not heard any stories from Arion as I do not speak to him much,” she said.

  Tari, about to take a forkful of her pie, paused and stared at Princess Claire.

  Princess Claire caught Tari’s surprise. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “That is not to say that I do not love him, or that we do not get along much. It is just that,” she gestured blankly in the air. “There is roughly a 15 year distance between Arion and I. He is the oldest child of my family, I am the youngest. He was already in the military when I was born. I did not see him much growing up, and now… Arion is very solemn,” Princess Claire hesitantly said.