by M. L. Greye
Inside the palace grounds, men went completely barefoot. While females, herself included, wore tatted little things, reminding Emry of doilies, on their feet. They had a loop at one end that slipped over her middle toe and a much larger loop on its other end that wrapped around her ankle. They were crafted in complicated designs – incorporating beads or, for special occasions, jewels braided in. If Emry were being honest with herself, she absolutely loved them. They allowed her feet to breathe, and she’d always preferred going barefoot.
“Careful staying out in the sun for too long with those lovely pale shoulders of yours.”
Emry spun around in her seat. Trezim was leaning against one of the pergola’s supports. Arms folded across his sculpted brown chest, lean muscles bulging. His shoulder-length golden blond hair slicked back. His gold eyes were bright, and a smirk quirked up his lips. He was quite the picture of male beauty, and the look he gave her … he knew it. He knew just how handsome he was. Emry was torn between rolling her eyes and blushing from his attention.
He hadn’t spoken in Heerth. Everyone spoke to her in Heerth. It momentarily startled her. “I’ve been staying in the shade,” she replied in her Anexian accent, not even bothering to pretend to be Enn. Besides, Trezim had already heard her use it before.
She really had been in the shade. She’d been pulling and pushing the shadows around her for most of the past hour.
Clearly, her Heerth primer was not captivating.
Trezim nodded once before switching to his native tongue. “The sun shines kindly on your eyes,” he said slowly in Heerth – so that she would be able to understand him. His words were a common phrase. They meant she was looking well. Much of Heerth small talk involved the sun.
Emry offered him a tight smile and responded in kind, “You are as generous as morning rays of light.” From the way Trezim suddenly grinned at her, she suspected she’d butchered the accent. She groaned and went back to the language she actually knew. “One day I’ll speak Heerth like a native.”
He chuckled and responded in her own language, “Yes, but that’s a long ways off from today.”
She winced and dropped her gaze to the book on her lap again. This was the first time she’d been alone with Trezim since the night of Ewan’s Funeral Ball – when he’d suggested she come to Heerth. Trezim had disappeared the day after her arrival. This was the first she’d seen of him in weeks.
Emry could feel his eyes on her. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Where have you been?”
He glanced up at the jasmine above them. “This isn’t my usual residence. I was at home.”
That surprised her. The palace was huge. There was more than enough space for the prince. “Where do you live?”
His gaze dropped to her again. “Northwest of here. My ancestors named it our Eclipse Palace, in the city of Acoba.”
“Is it far from here?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
Emry shut her book and ran her hands along the soft, green leather of its cover. “When I learn enough Heerth, will I be allowed to see your Eclipse Palace?”
Trezim tilted his head to the side, an amused smile plastered on. “Probably.”
She nearly winced. By his tone, he obviously thought that was a while from now. “Great. I’ll look forward to that in six months.”
“It won’t take you six months to learn enough Heerth to make small talk with dignitaries.” He had the nerve to laugh.
“That’s all your father wants me to know?” Emry blinked.
“That’s all he expects you to learn,” Trezim corrected. “He just wants his little Enlennd emissary to put on a polite face within his court and keep mostly out of his way.”
Part of Emry felt like sighing in relief, while the rest of her was repulsed Krynto thought so little of her ability to pick up his language. Still, she wouldn’t be stuck on palace grounds forever. So there was that, at least. “That should be easy enough.”
Her response made him frown. “Is that all you wish to do while you’re here, Emry? Learn a little Heerth, visit our palaces, fade into the background?”
His voice made her freeze. Was that disappointment? And what was that about her fading? She bit the tip of her tongue. The whole reason he’d suggested she come to Heerth in the first place was because she’d admitted her frustration with how helpless she was.
She frowned at him. “No, Trezim. I intend on learning more than just a little Heerth.” She paused, unsure of herself. The Heerth prince was barely more than a stranger to her. But it needed to be said, and who knew how long it’d be until she saw him again? Emry took a deep breath and went on, “When you told me I should come here to learn how to no longer be helpless, I’d thought you’d be the one to help me. Since you don’t live here, who am I to train with?”
Trezim raised an eyebrow. “Train? What were you wanting to train in?”
Emry grimaced, feeling suddenly foolish. “I don’t know … Swords? Archery? That dance you once mentioned. Something useful in defending myself.”
The Gold watched her quietly for a moment. Emry could feel herself blushing. She’d traveled across the world for this yet still felt strange asking for his aid. The prince uncoiled and stepped to her side. He lowered himself onto the bench beside her and slung an arm across the back of it. “The dance I mentioned before is called the Turanga. That’s what you’ll be learning.”
“When?” She blurted the word out, too relieved he was still willing to train her to care if she was being rude or demanding.
“I thought you’d want a little time to settle in. My mistake. I had no idea how eager you’d be.” He grinned broadly.
“That didn’t answer my question,” she replied dryly.
He laughed. “Before you dive in, I think you should see it first.”
:::::
It was pouring rain. Declan pulled his knee-length, fur-lined coat closer around him. Not that it helped. He was drenched. Thoroughly. Everywhere. Rain had managed to seep through his layers down to his skin. It was in his eyes, dripping from the ends of his hair. He was starting to question if it was in his boots as well.
Tonight he was stationed on the actual border. Finally. New recruits were forced to watch the garrison, wandering along the gate throughout the night. It was dull as dirt, and required Declan to move at a normal speed. The only fun he’d had during all his nights up there had been the ones he’d spent with Ewan. It’d been almost two years since he’d first met his friend. His now dead friend.
Before the pain of Ewan’s loss could overtake him, Declan shifted his thoughts back to earlier this afternoon, when he’d at last been advanced from plebe to actual guardsman. It’d taken him nearly two months to get to this point, to gain the trust back from his superiors. Declan had been patient, knowing better than to complain. Still, it had been wearisome getting back to his former position.
But it was done. He was an average border patrol warrior once more. He was really living the dream now...
This was what he’d wanted. Out here along the border, he was free to run. Maybe not in this downpour, but on other nights. He always did nights. Usually, one worked up to the schedule of choice. The newer the warrior the worse the hours, or rather, the darker the hours. It’d taken him and Ewan practically a year to be able to work only day shifts. But now, Declan only wanted night shifts. He even took on extra shifts. The night called to him. There was just something soothing about being out beneath the moon and stars.
A few cool drops of water slid down the curve of his spine, making him shiver – which made the sword, bow, and quiver at his back poke against him. The weapons were more of a precaution. Quirl was currently an ally of sorts. During the day, on the roads, travelers were generally all permitted into Enlennd, and vice versa into Quirl. Occasionally the garrison came across some travelers at night but not on a night like this. The rain drove everyone indoors. Well, except for Declan’s patrol.
It was silly, really, that Anexia still did bo
rder control. Kruth and Glavenryl had ceased theirs long before Declan was born. The main reason Anexia held onto theirs was because it trained the next generation of Rioters. Or so, Declan had come to glean for himself. The Rioters, his people, had to raise up the next generation somehow. What better way than to do it on the Royals’ coin?
More rain managed to slither down the inside of his tunic. Declan winced. He was glad this was at least a summer rain. It was miserable, but it wouldn’t do any real harm. Any colder, though, and Declan would be freezing.
Just a couple more hours until dawn. And then he’d climb into his nice, warm bunk. Declan could last a couple more hours.
:::::
Emry felt giddy. It was All Sun’s Day – the longest day of the year. In Heerth, a country that practically worshiped the sun, this day was perhaps the most important one on the calendar.
Zyntar was hosting an enormous festival that began at sunrise and would go until sunset. A festival that had every home, business, and hovel adorned in orange, yellow, and gold banners and flowers. The banners were either long strips or squares strung along braids of rope and were crafted from paper, fabric, painted leaves, flowers, or whatever else the people could find in those three colors. The banners and flowers were everywhere throughout the city.
She knew this because just the day before, her Heerth instructor had deemed her passable enough to finally leave the palace grounds. It’d only taken her the better part of the two months since she’d arrived.
About a minute after her tutor had approved her of society, Emry had set out into the city with her three Heerth handmaidens, as chaperones and guides. Apparently, Heerth princesses didn’t have just one maid – they were given three. Emry was required to have hers as shadows any time she stepped off palace grounds alone – as a means of protection and escort. Inconvenient, but better than being stuck inside the palace as she had been for weeks.
So the day before, she’d led her collection of exquisitely dressed females through the market until it closed at dusk. It was absolutely wonderful – the sights and smells, the foods she’d sampled. All of it.
Zyntar was so big – much more expansive than Breccan. She’d only had time to roam a portion of the market, and that had cost her most of the day. She couldn’t wait to explore more of it.
It wouldn’t be today, though. The festival was a public affair for the royal Heerth family, and with Emry’s temporary status as a princess of Heerth, that included her. She would be following the king out to the festival along with his children.
With the improvement of her Heerth, she’d gotten to know some of the princes and princesses closest to her age. She liked a couple of them more than others. She hadn’t seen Trezim, though, since that afternoon beneath the pergola over a month ago. She still had yet to witness the Turanga in person. Trezim had told her when she was able to see it, meaning knew enough Heerth to get out and see it, then she would be ready for him to begin teaching her.
Maybe Trezim would be back in Zyntar today, so he could see she now knew enough. It would be nice to spend her time learning more than just a language.
“Please, sunflower, hold still,” one of Emry’s handmaidens – Siva – pleaded.
In Heerth, women were addressed as flowers rather than Miss. Different flowers meant different ranks. To be referred to as a sunflower meant Emry was of royal blood. It was the highest rank. Emry had grown used to being called trynpyla – the Heerth word for sunflower. It was much better than dearest princess as she was called in Enlennd.
Siva was working on Emry’s thick black hair. It was currently the fashion in Heerth to have her hair piled right on top of the middle of her head in a bun and wrapped at its base with bright strips of fabric that complemented whichever outfit she wore. Today, in honor of the occasion, the fabric in her hair was a dark orange.
Against the black of her hair, it was a striking pop of color. Her hair was so much darker than the varying blond hues of the people here in Heerth. Their lovely golden locks against their dark brown skin were so stunning, Emry was so pale compared to them, even with the hours she’d spent outdoors growing tan. The people of Heerth were so vibrant. She felt a little drab in comparison.
Her coloring was why her maids had chosen a deep, mustard yellow top and the dark orange skirt with a pattern the same shade of yellow as her top. The lovely bright oranges and yellows, or even golds, her handmaids wore would have washed Emry out. Emry looked better in darker shades of the Sun’s Day colors.
Siva finished with her hair in mere minutes. She stepped back and Emry’s other two handmaids stepped forward to assess Siva’s work. They apparently didn’t find fault with her appearance because, after a moment more, they too stepped back.
“You look radiant, sunflower,” Tawna, the shortest of the three, exclaimed, hands clasped in front of her.
“Yes, radiant,” Patice intoned. She was not only the tallest, but the only Gold in Emry’s little group, which meant she held the highest rank. Golds were valued above all others in Heerth.
“Thank you.” Emry plastered on a smile. She agreed with them that she looked pretty in the extravagant clothes, but sometimes their excessive compliments grated on her nerves.
“Trynpyla,” Siva inclined her head respectfully, “it is time to go to the solarium. The king will not wait for you.”
If Emry didn’t exit with the king then she wouldn’t be permitted outside at all that day. Some Heerth protocol. Emry had no desire to be trapped in the palace while everyone else celebrated. “Very well,” she said, rising to her feet.
After being confined to the palace for two months, Emry knew it almost as well as the actual Heerth royalty. She led her maids out of her rooms onto the railed hallway and balcony that overlooked the solarium below. As always, the moment she stepped out of her door, the scent of citrus and spices confronted her. She took a deep breath, savoring it briefly before beginning down the brightly tiled floor to the nearest stairwell.
Her sandaled feet jingled as she walked. It’d been so long since she’d worn shoes, and never sandals, that the soft leather beneath her feet felt foreign. Even though in a way it’d been a ploy to confine her to the palace grounds, she’d actually enjoyed being essentially barefoot for the past nine weeks. Shoes tended to make noise. The lack of them made for easier sneaking and exploring.
Emry made her way down to the solarium where the rest of Krynto’s children were present. She counted six of them. There were more of the royal offspring in Zyntar, but only the king’s adult children would be joining him in his descent into the festival. Emry padded across the blue, green, and gold mosaic beneath her feet. Toward the front of the courtyard, she paused beside one of the pillars holding up the balconies above and stared into the nearby fountain.
Her maids fanned out around her as she watched the water trickle over the stacked tiled pottery of the fountain into its basin. It matched the other three fountains in the solarium, except for one tiny chip in the upper most pot. Hardly recognizable. She doubted anyone else had noticed it, but Emry had spent many hours beside it. The chip in the fountain made it stand out from the rest of the water pots – it was what made this particular fountain Emry’s favorite.
Patice and Emry’s other handmaidens clasped their hands behind their backs. A common position for them. It was a symbol of their occupation as Emry’s protective barrier. Emry clenched her jaw. She hated that her maids knew more on how to protect her than she did herself.
Sabine Hera Niroz pulled up to Emry’s side – her own array of maids blending in with Emry’s. Sabine’s long blonde hair was the same gold as her eyes. Not quite the same shade as Trezim’s, but close. Sabine was his only full sibling. Emry could tell they were full siblings from the first moment she laid eyes on Sabine. Both Sabine and Trezim shared the same mouth and nose. She was only thirteen months older, which made her seven years older than Emry. Despite the age gap, Emry had grown closest to her out of the king’s children in Zyntar.
As was common for Heerth women, Sabine had married at fifteen. The age of adulthood for females was lower in Heerth than it was in Quirl and Enlennd. Sabine’s marriage had been arranged by her father with one of his generals, who was twice her age at the time. They were only married for six months, though, before her husband had died in some skirmish with the outer clans of Heerth. Sabine now lived off her late husband’s fortune and her own enormous dowry. She claimed her husband’s death blessed her with the freedom to live as she pleased. For half the year, she resided in her late husband’s estate in Acoba and the other half was spent in Zyntar at the palace in her father’s court.
Today, in honor of the festival, Sabine wore a vibrant orange top and a pale yellow skirt with a square and triangle pattern embroidered along its hem in the same color orange as her top. Because she was currently single, her right shoulder was bare, like Emry’s. However, to show she’d once been married, she wore a belt of gold coins that had been formed into a chain around her hips. With the belt at her hips, the gold bangles on both wrists, and the jeweled sandals on her feet, Sabine couldn’t sneak up on anyone. Every swish of her hips, arms, and feet jingled.
“Joyous Sun’s Day, Emerald.” Sabine inclined her head slightly in greeting. One princess to another. She’d spoken in Heerth, as she always did.
“May the long rays of the day reflect the radiance of your face,” Emry repeated the customary response in kind. If she were being honest with herself, it was a ridiculous phrase. Heerths were as obsessed with flattery as they were the sun.
“Are you excited?” Sabine smiled out one side of her mouth – a sultry, teasing smile that hinted of secrets and scheming. It was Sabine’s favorite look when she wasn’t in a group, when she spoke directly to someone. It drew her companions in – eased them into confiding with her, giving them the illusion she did the same with them, while hiding what she actually thought.