Season of Glory

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “That’s the best,” Bellona agreed.

  “Or we can simply use the Citadel sauna,” Tressa tried, rubbing her bare skin, which was covered in goose bumps.

  I handed her the comb after I was done. “Trust me, it’s worth a visit, even in snow.”

  “Maybe you can come with your husband,” Bellona said, arching a brow. “It’s long been used in the Valley as a spot for young lovers to steal away for … well, some bathing,” she said meaningfully, an uncommon grin on her lips.

  Tressa blushed. “Yes, well, we’ll see,” she said, wincing as she hit a particularly stubborn knot in her hair. “I still can’t believe the elders approved our binding,” she added. “But tell me. In Zanzibar, I’ve only known of betrothals, not bindings. I mean, on the streets, I heard of it. But I don’t know … What I mean is, does it …” Even flushed with the heat of the spring, we could see the blush rise on her cheeks.

  “You want to know how much intimacy bindings entail,” I said gently.

  She gave me the faintest of nods. “The elders bade us to remain chaste, but does that mean we cannot even … kiss?”

  “It’s up to the newly bound,” Bellona said gruffly. “Commonly decided between them. Some decide to avoid kissing. Vidar and I will definitely be making that decision, of course.”

  I smiled with Bellona, knowing how she chafed at what was to come, then looked to the swirling steam rising above the water.

  “Is it what you truly want, Tressa?” I asked her. “I’ve known I loved Ronan for some time. And I had the idea that you and Killian …”

  She took a deep breath, putting her fingers to her lips, thinking. “Yes. It is what I want. I simply had not allowed my mind to go there. But the thought of ever being without Killian … Of bonding with another man as I have my Knight …” She lifted her eyes to the quaking leaves above us, most of them already umber, and shook her head. “No, the choice is simple.”

  “But it goes beyond a Remnant-Knight bond between you, yes?” Bellona asked, sitting down on a rock a few steps away, naked from head to toe and yet utterly at ease as her skin steamed in the relative cool. “I am bound to Vidar. I admit that. But there is no way I’d ever want to bed him.” She shivered at the thought, and I laughed.

  “Yes, it goes beyond our Ailith bond,” I said.

  “Far beyond that bond,” Tressa agreed, in little more than a whisper, her big, blue eyes full of understanding, as if she were just coming to terms with it.

  Bellona sighed. “I don’t think I could take any more bonding with Vidar.”

  And that made the three of us laugh until we cried.

  We saw Vidar and Killian sitting on the rocks outside the Citadel, keeping watch on the path we returned upon. Bellona turned at once, hand tightening on the curve of her bow, until all of us recognized it was Ronan’s presence behind us. “I told the guard to tell you they were safe,” she grumbled.

  “Yes,” he said, grabbing my hand and turning me around, looking me over from head to toe. “I just had to be certain.”

  “You didn’t—” I started, horrified that he might have seen us.

  “No, no,” he said with an impish smile. “As much as I wanted to. I just kept watch on the far side to make sure you didn’t get any unwanted company. When I heard your voices fade toward the Citadel, I followed behind.” He reached up and pushed the hair out of my face. “You look beautiful. And clean. And rested. And … beautiful,” he repeated.

  “So do you,” I said with a grin as he interlaced his fingers with mine.

  “Yeah,” Vidar said, jumping off the rock as he fluttered his eyelashes in Ronan’s direction. “Bellisimo.”

  Killian was already tugging Tressa along a side path, probably intent on stealing a moment alone before supper. Bellona had continued along the trail, barely pausing, and Vidar trotted after her. “Some guardian she turned out to be,” he huffed, with no real malice in his tone.

  And at that moment, I realized we were alone ourselves. Ronan lifted his arm to the rock behind me and leaned in close. He closed his eyes, and let his lips drift a hair’s breath away from my cheek, my nose, my other cheek, and into my hair. “Dri,” he breathed. “Heavens, you smell wonderful.”

  He did too. I lifted my hands to his new, clean shirt and tugged him closer, kissing him then, ignoring how it reminded me of my healing ribs. His other hand pressed against my lower back, pulling me firmly against him. On and on our kiss went, and I realized that a few years from now I wouldn’t blush when I thought of him seeing me naked by a pool. We could know one another fully, as husband and wife, at that time. Feeling my desire for him—along with his for me—I began to not only sense both our emotions, but I could almost see them in explosions of color. Vermillion red. Verdant teal. Valley green … I swallowed hard and edged away. “We should … we should go back,” I said.

  He nodded, his eyes full of desire, before resolutely stepping back. “We should. Because here … in private … it’s hard to keep that chaste boundary firmly in place.”

  I smiled mischievously. “Agreed.” I stepped closer and went to my tiptoes to kiss him once more, softly on the lips.

  “This is going to be harder than I thought,” he said softly, his voice nearly cracking from feigned strain. He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked into mine. “The Maker will give us the strength. We will figure out what we can do and what we cannot, and wait until our true betrothal.”

  “We will,” I said, offering my hand.

  He took a firm grip of my hand and matched my easy stride back toward the Citadel. “Ever think you were given the gift of sensibility over empathy?”

  “Oh no,” I said, letting out a deep, long breath. “Because I just felt every bit of my desire and yours. I’m most definitely an empath.”

  And that made him grin all the wider.

  CHAPTER

  9

  ANDRIANA

  On the appointed evening, everyone in the Community dressed in shades of white—a far better choice than the Pacificans’ matrimonial blue, I thought—and trekked to the high meadow on a wide path that was easily lit by the massive moon above us. Mom and Dad walked beside me, arms entwined with mine, their collective emotions almost a burden, even though it was mostly joy. I knew Ronan walked directly behind us. Fear and consternation, as well as wonder and bliss, swirled like a tornado within my chest, until I concentrated on asking the Maker to show me what I felt myself. Alone. And what I discovered there was simply joy and peace.

  We reached the top of the hill and gazed out at the wide meadow, full of thigh-high grass that was now brittle brown, the green of its blades long spent. Our trainer had brought us here over the years, to spar and perfect our methods of crawling through grass undetected. Even as children, we’d recognized it for what it was and avoided fully looking each other in the eye until we’d left it. But now all I wanted was to look Ronan full in the face, and have his look into mine.

  Dad led us to the far side of the meadow, where the hillside fell away to a spectacular view of the mountain ranges that protected our valley and the silver, winding river at the center of it, now glittering in the moonlight. We could see all the way to where the desert sands met the first trees, and beyond that to the bumpy dunes of the Central Desert. It was a rarity, such clear skies and horizons—but as pretty as it was, I couldn’t wait for what was about to unfold, right here.

  Mom, Dad, and I faced Cornelius and Ronan, all of us in a fit of smiles. Another elder was on one end, and Kapriel and Azarel on the other. I didn’t know how Raniero had talked the elder out of his own binding to Azarel, but there had been no further word of it. I was too focused on Ronan to think about it for more than a moment. Around us, countless other couples faced one another, each surrounded by those closest to them among the Community. Three women in long, white gowns moved to the center of the meadow, each carrying a torch and a triangular bell that dangled from their wrist. When they reached the center, they stood back to back. Toget
her, they rang their triangles three times, and the sound stilled us all.

  “Ronan of the Valley,” Cornelius said, the timbre of his voice warm and joyful. “Andriana of the Valley.” He nodded to each of us in turn. “Long have you both been loyal servants of the Community, and tonight you pledge to love and serve the other for life, as thoroughly as husbands and wives taking their full matrimonial vows do. Are you prepared to do so?”

  “I am,” Ronan said.

  “I am,” I repeated with a smile, looking up into his wide, kind eyes, wishing this were the night we took our full vows. At least it was a step in the right direction. Such a sweet step.

  We fell into silence, waiting until the other couples and their presiders grew quiet too. At that moment, the women at the meadow’s center rang their triangles three times, and then in sequence, each note a step higher.

  “Ronan and Andriana,” Cornelius continued, “do you pledge to love and honor each other, just as you love and honor the Maker?”

  “I do,” Ronan said.

  “I do,” I said.

  Once more, we awaited silence. I knew that what was to come was where our binding vows differed from the betrothal vows that others would share. The women rang their triangles—this time, three rounds of sequential notes.

  “Face each other, dear ones,” Cornelius said, “and place your right hands together.” I set my palm atop Ronan’s wide, warm hand and smiled up into his eyes. The elder took a long, green sash from a young girl at his side and set to wrapping our hands together. Those who took their betrothal vows were wrapped in white sashes. “This agreement will hold until the time when you mutually agree to disband and come to an elder for formal unbinding or decide to take your betrothal vows after your second decade. Agreed?”

  We both said yes.

  The women at the center began to play their triangles, at first slowly, then building in tempo as the elder spoke and wrapped our hands in the silken cloth. “May your hearts become even more deeply entwined with each day you share,” he said, making the first loop. “May you use your bodies to serve the other in protection and care,” he said, making the second. He continued wrapping and speaking. “May you use your tongues to speak words of kindness and encouragement. May you choose the same path and may your paths never diverge. And may you use your lives, together, to serve the Maker,” he said, tucking the end of the ribbon under the last fold.

  Ronan looked into my eyes with such tenderness that it made me tear up. “May it be so,” he whispered.

  “May it be so,” I repeated.

  All around the meadow, each small gathering erupted into applause as couples completed their vows.

  “These are good promises, children. Keep them sacred, and your union will be strong forever. You may kiss now. Briefly.” But there was an edge of indulgence to his tone, more than warning. With that, he untucked the ribbon and gently let it slide from our hands.

  Ronan grinned and wrapped his fingers around the back of my head, and his other arm around my waist, pulling me close. Hovering near, he searched my eyes, clearly seeing the joy that pulsed from us both in such clear waves, I thought the emotion might actually make a sound.

  And then, unable to stand it any longer, I rose up on my toes and kissed him.

  From there, we returned to the Citadel, where we had a fine celebratory dinner and then were ushered to our various “matrimonial” apartments. The chamber I was to share with Ronan in the days ahead was spacious, with a tiny airshaft that brought in a hint of a breeze. But we had two separate beds, on opposite sides of the room.

  “We could push them together,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind and pulling me close, nuzzling my neck.

  “Probably not the best idea,” I said, turning to kiss him and then hug him close. “This is going to be challenging enough, isn’t it?”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Something I’ll have to pray about day and night, Wife.”

  “As will I, Husband,” I returned, kissing his nose.

  He laughed under his breath. “Maybe we should just kiss each other’s noses.”

  I smiled. “That would probably keep the heat at bay.”

  “That’s it,” he grinned, pulling me closer. “Five seasons of nose kisses until you’re mine and I’m yours, completely.”

  “Or … not,” I said, lifting my lips to meet his.

  CHAPTER

  10

  ANDRIANA

  The days passed in a blur of activity and joy as we continued to rest and settle into our new roles as bound pairs, as well as Ailith family. Gradually, I became accustomed to this new claim I felt on Ronan, and he upon me. Somehow, it made things easier, this understanding between us. The promise. Anything that had kept us apart was gone. I’d never felt closer to him. Safer.

  “We have someone we want you to meet,” Niero said.

  His grave tone made us all share concerned glances before rising to join him in the hallway. Moments before, we Remnants and Knights had all been sitting around a long dinner table in the hall, with hundreds of others, laughing as Vidar shared a meandering story that got progressively funnier as he went on. It was good, so good, to be back in the Community. Every one of us was showing improvement after our days among them. We all had more color in our cheeks, renewed strength in our veins. And even though six of us were now bound by our vows, never had I felt more bonded to my fellow Ailith. This was elation, I decided, unable to stop smiling. Even with the ongoing threat beyond our Valley, there was a collective deep, abiding joy within us that I could not ignore.

  Niero led us to a large meeting room several corridors down. Inside were two Valley guards as well as an older man with olive skin and black hair streaked with gray that was tied at the nape of his neck. He wore thick furs, but they were styled differently than the Aravanders typically cut and sewed theirs. Slowly, he rose to his feet and cautiously nodded, as if in deference.

  “I am Barrett of the Uintah Range, high country to the north and east of your valley,” he said. “I have come to discover if the stories are true. If you are truly the foretold Remnants, gathering to lead us into a new age.”

  “We are,” Vidar said, taking the lead, inherently telling us that we had nothing to fear from this individual.

  “But if you are from the Uintah Range,” Kapriel said, giving his clothing a second look, “then you have traveled a very long way indeed.”

  “Yes,” the man said, with a sober nod, squinting at Kapriel. “You know of my land?”

  “There was once an emissary in Pacifica who visited my father. I remember how excited my father was.”

  “Pacifica?” Barrett muttered, frowning. Almost subconsciously, his hand went to his belt, but I saw that the Valley guards had relieved him of his weapon.

  “You have nothing to fear in this one,” Vidar interceded. “This is Prince Kapriel of Pacifica, himself a Remnant.”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he nodded, a half smile lacing his lips. “Kapriel,” he repeated, as if wanting to make certain he’d heard correctly.

  “Yes,” Kapriel said.

  Barrett’s wondering smile widened. “I believe we’ve met before. I was that man who came to your father. But you and your brother couldn’t have been more than a decade old.”

  “Just about,” Kapriel said, stepping forward to take his arm. “It is good to meet you again.”

  “And you as well, Majesty. Your father and mother were good people,” he said, a trace of sorrow passing behind his eyes.

  “Indeed, they were,” Kapriel said.

  My mind turned then, unbidden, to Keallach. Where was he? What was happening to him? Was he still feeling the pull of the Ailith?

  “Now, please,” Kapriel was saying. I forced myself to focus on him, our prince … not the prince I had once known. “Tell us of your land. Your people.”

  Barrett turned and went back to the table, where he pulled a scroll out of a leather tube and spread it flat. It was
a map, hand drawn, with the finest detail we’d ever seen. “I am a cartographer,” he said, “and my life’s mission has been to travel the land we’ve been left since the Great War. It’s allowed me to go far,” he said, “in all directions. I’ve traveled for an entire season northward, until snows as deep as my waist turned me back, even in the midst of Harvest. And I’ve traveled south, to where the ocean spreads as far as the eye can see. To the east, where mountains give way to plains, and to the west, where your brother now reigns.”

  “But I suspect you do more than map the lands you travel,” Niero said, crossing his arms.

  “Well, of course,” Barrett said, his dark eyes twinkling as he raised one brow. “I, my friends, am your servant, a brother of the Way. And I can be of service to you as emissary. There are villages to your east that have long waited for the rise of the Remnants. They understand Pacifica’s greedy intent, and they will back you in fighting for the Trading Union’s freedom and autonomy.”

  Hope surged within us all. “Are there many?” I asked. “Close at hand?”

  His dark eyes fell on me. “It is a struggle, survival, as you yourselves have seen in the Valley. Most tribes are not many in number. But those who remain are strong. And if we gather them all together … It’s a force of note.”

  I nodded, but all I could think of was Pacifica, with her well-trained—and armed—soldiers and Sheolite scouts.

  “The good, Dri,” Vidar whispered, squeezing my elbow. “Concentrate on the good, not the bad, in this. It’s excellent news, really. The Valley couldn’t sustain thousands of others. But a few hundred more? Absolutely.”

  “What do they trade in, these tribes?” Niero asked, waving in the direction of the Plains.