The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set

by Sarah Ashwood

  Once that was done, I pulled on silk stockings and then stood to slip into my gown. Next came my shoes, which Rosean knelt to fasten for me. I dabbed a rich perfume, a gift from a visiting dignitary, onto my throat and wrists, allowed the servant girl to sprinkle a few drops onto my hair, and went to the mirror for a final check.

  I could hardly believe the image that presented itself.

  Rosean had done a masterful job with my hair, threading it with seed pearls before twisting it into an intricate knot on the back of my head. Several thicker curls fell from the artistic weave to drape over my left shoulder, while a few wisps floated around my pearl earrings.

  The Spinners had outdone themselves with my gown, which had been created especially for tonight. A shimmering silver-white, it hung in clean, simple lines to the floor, where it pooled softly at my feet. The flared hemline was embellished with tiny pearl-pink flowers and the off-the-shoulder neckline with soft, draping folds of chiffon. Wispy sleeves of the same material fell to my fingertips, and the back of the gown was laced up with silver ribbon. Matching slippers and pearl jewelry completed the look. Staring in the mirror, I felt red-carpet worthy, if not quite Artan worthy.

  Don’t know if I’ll ever feel worthy to fill those shoes.

  “You look lovely, my lady.” This from Rosean, who had come up behind me, her reflection meeting mine in the mirror. She reached up to tuck a stray hair into place, saying, “Doubtless you will be the loveliest woman present.”

  I shook my head, picturing Elisia the Spinner and Lady Tey. “I doubt it, Rosean,” I said, turning to her. “But thanks for the compliment.”

  Stifling any would-be protests with a quick hug and a sincere “thank you,” I made my way to the door, leaving the servant girl free to ready herself for the upcoming festivities.

  Aerisian custom dictated the new High Elder enter the Instating ceremony escorting the greatest lady available of either rank, wealth, position, or beauty. This was in homage to High-Chieftess Laytrii who, centuries past, had actually created the office of High Elder. Tonight, as the Artan, I had been chosen to play this role. As soon as I left my room, there stood Lord Ri, resplendent in formal robes of deep violet trimmed with gold.

  “My lady…” He sketched a deep bow. “There are no words to describe how honored I am that you are here with me at this time.”

  Touched, I replied, “Thank you, High Elder. I’m honored to be here.”

  “Not High Elder, not yet,” he warned playfully, offering me his arm. “Let us refrain from early use of the title, lest it call down bad luck upon us. Although,” he added as an afterthought, “with the Artan by my side, I believe all bad luck will surely stay away this night.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” I agreed. “I think we’re all due for a break.”

  I knew I was. Nevertheless, the way things had been going, even if tonight turned out to be peaceful, I sincerely doubted the respite would hold.

  The Instating

  His eyes met hers as he knelt to place his hands atop those of Lord Ri, swearing his allegiance to the man, Pronconcil to High Elder. The Simathe High-Chief had to force himself to turn his attention to the new High Elder, to look away from his lady’s captivating gaze…a task he was lately finding ever more difficult. Upon completing his oath, he rose, resuming his former station between the Cortain on his left and Spinner on his right. The Ranetron High-Chief, situated on Lady Tey’s other side, now stepped forward to make his own declaration to Lord Ri.

  The Instating ceremony was nearly complete.

  After swearing the fealty of himself and his men, Lord Garett would move back into place, the last to pledge. Afterward, all that remained was for the new High Elder to make his own solemn oath to the people of Aerisia, in which, as head of Council, he swore to lead, guide, and direct them with honesty, justice, fairness, and mercy. To do all in his power and wisdom to restrain the hand of The Evil while championing the cause of good.

  Lord Ri Wy’ Joisten delivered the words solemnly and slowly, taking care that each syllable was pronounced distinctly and clearly. The ceremony was complete. However, before any congratulations could be offered or cheers raised, the newly instated High Elder did a new and unprecedented thing. Turning from the people, he slowly lowered himself to the floor, genuflecting before the woman at his side. Taking her right hand between both of his, he peered up humbly into her face. Speaking loudly enough for all to hear, he said, “And to you, my lady Artan, I pledge every assistance it is in my power to give, both this evening and for the remainder of my life. Ever have the High Elders looked for the promised Artan. Now you have come, and with all the influence of my station, I vow to assist you as you rid this land of the Dark Powers and the taint of The Evil. This I swear to you, upon my honor as a lord of Aerisia and my oath as the High Elder.”

  To end his speech, the man bent over the hand he clasped, pressing a kiss upon it to seal his vows.

  Ilgard, watching the young Artan closely throughout, saw as well as felt the rising of her emotions. After she had been doubted and scorned as Artan not many days past, to have the new High Elder publically align himself with her was cause for tremendous relief. Though she restrained herself, he could see tears glittering like dewdrops in her mismatched eyes as she stooped to pull the new lord of Aerisia to his feet. Together, facing the people they both served, the pair was met with loud, raucous cries of tribute.

  They descended arm in arm from the dais where the ceremony had been held to the floor of the Grand Chamber, passing between the lines of Council and Pronconcil members bordering both sides of the steps. All were cheering, lending their voices to the happy cries of the throng. Save himself. Still, as she passed him by, he caught the scent of her perfume and could not help noticing that tonight she was beauty itself.

  First Council, then Pronconcil, fell into step by twos behind the lead couple, descending to the ballroom floor in similar fashion. Ilgard found Lady Tey at his side. The Cortain Pronconcil, lovely in summer-sky blue, graced him with a fleeting smile as she accepted his proffered arm for the descent. At the bottom of the staircase, they parted ways, she going to the other guests, and Ilgard taking up a stationary post against the far wall. With the ceremonies over, the festivities would now begin. Rather than join in, he contented himself by playing the onlooker, letting his eyes follow the progress of his lady as she wove in and out among the crowd.

  His Chief Captain soon joined him, fixing himself silently at Ilgard’s side. Like his lord’s, Norband’s eyes were also constantly moving as he observed the throng, alert for any signs of danger.

  Should you not be at her side?

  I sense no danger to her person.

  To this Norband made no reply, accepting the assessment as it was stated. Ilgard felt a measure of surprise, even so, when the man next remarked casually, She is very beautiful tonight.

  He did not ask who his friend meant, though he did question why he would say such a thing. Did he seek a reaction? Or was he merely remarking on the obvious? Rather than seek an answer, he contended himself with a straightforward agreement.

  Aye, that she is.

  His Chief Captain fell silent then, busy with his own thoughts and watchcare, leaving his High-Chief to his.

  Ilgard found his eyes straying again toward the place he had last seen the young Artan. She stood there still, situated between two slender, fluted columns, chatting with her friend Moonkind Rittean. Raising her chin, she laughed merrily at something the other woman said, and he could hear the chords of it even from here. The soft light given off by moonstone chandeliers and scores of candles illuminated her profile, highlighting her smile. She reached up to brush the hair from her face, the movement graceful in its casualness.

  His Chief Captain’s words rang true. She was indeed lovely this night—to him, breathtakingly so. Perhaps it was the peculiar color of her hair and eyes, marking her clearly as a child of Earth. Perhaps it was remembering how she’d come alive in his arms when he
had kissed her during that rare moment of self-surrender. Perhaps it was knowing that she had visited him when he was laid low, that she had cared enough to come, had cared enough to shed tears. Perhaps it was all this that set her apart and made her so beautiful.

  The things he had once failed to notice or had outright ignored could not be overlooked now. His mind was so entwined with her that he could scarce tell where he ended and she began. Nor could he say how this had occurred. Was it the Joining? Surely that was a part of it, but could not be all. The Joining alone did not explain how this woman from Earth had managed to ensnare him, making him think and sometimes even act in such uncharacteristic ways.

  The answer to his questions came soon after as she chanced to turn his way, catching his eyes upon her despite the distance and crowd separating them. Rather than frown, turning away in cool disdain or with a shiver of fear as an Aerisian woman might have done, she waggled her fingers in an inconspicuous, playful little wave and smiled. Such a beautiful smile, and only for him. He could feel its warmth from across the room and found himself faced with the temptation of smiling in return.

  Even when her attention slipped, flitting back to her companion, his did not vacillate. Impervious to anything else, he kept watch on her during the next few hours as she wove through the guests, chatting with visitors, accepting tidbits of food and flutes of wine offered by busy servers, or stood aside to observe the dancing. At one point he followed, undetected, as she slipped away from the Grand Chamber and into a side hall on some private mission. To his amusement, once out of sight of any milling guests, she sank down onto an elegant chair and kicked off her shoes to rub her feet before slipping her footwear back on and returning to the gathering.

  Witnessing that, he hid a smile. There she was, the long-awaited Artan, embodiment of prophecy and legend, whom many, including himself, had rather expected to arrive like a goddess in human form. Instead, she was simply a girl from another realm, a girl who made missteps, grew ridiculously stubborn, and whose feet hurt at celebratory occasions. She was the Artan, bold and brave as a dragon, yet so very human, too. And that, he realized, enchanted him more than all the magic and power she possessed.

  Under the Moon

  Standing off to one side of the vast, gorgeous Grand Chamber, I surveyed the intricate dance patterns winding about the ballroom floor. The gowns of the women and richly embroidered tunics or coats of the men made for a swirling sea of color. The dancers wove in and out, spun, dipped, curtsied, and bowed in elaborate configurations too difficult for me to decode. Although the scene was a far cry from the dances I’d attended back home, it was fascinating to watch, and I half wished I was more adept on my feet so I could join in.

  Smiling, Elisia, in a gown of green velvet that brought out the color of her eyes and red sheen of her hair, whisked past me on the arm of Garett, who was dressed in muted tones of red and black. The air was stirred by their passing, and I rubbed my bare forearms to ward off goose bumps.

  “Cold?”

  The deep voice caught me off guard, making me start. Turning my head, I looked up into the face of the man I’d been trying all evening to sneak glimpses of.

  “Ilgard, hey, don’t you look nice all dressed up?” I approved.

  He really did. To say he and his clan weren’t fashion conscious was a major understatement, so to see him wearing something other than functional tonight was definitely a change. His white shirt beneath a dark coat set off the bronze and black of his skin and hair, and while he still wore boots and a sword, they were more decorative than what he typically wore. Along with his customary earring, glimmering around his neck was a gold medallion portraying what looked like the tower at Treygon where we’d been Joined. I liked the look, but maybe I was comparing him to some of the other guys in attendance.

  Whereas the clothing of many men tonight was tasteful and masculine, others were wearing some pretty strange stuff. Their women’s was equally bad. I didn’t even have anything to compare some of the strange clothing choices I saw tonight to, but Rittean had assured me that most of the more outlandish sorts were worn by visitors to Laytrii who had different customs, manners of speech, and styles of dress.

  I didn’t doubt it. Apparently the Instating of a new High Elder was a momentous occasion. Already this evening I’d spoken to several people with unfamiliar names and accents from unfamiliar places. Of course, my knowledge of Aerisian geography was limited, to say the least, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out tonight’s event had drawn many visiting dignitaries.

  Speaking of dignitaries, the one standing beside me took my compliment in stride—meaning he said nothing at all. I hadn’t really expected a response, and lifting the wine flute I held, I had brought it to my lips for a sip when out of the blue he said, “You are exceedingly beautiful tonight.”

  What?

  Startled, I inhaled some wine, which made me cough.

  Did he really say that? In front of a room full of people, no less?

  I tried to hide both my shock and coughing by pressing a napkin to my mouth and turning my back, but several heads still turned our way. I smiled as best I could and waved to signal I was okay.

  Definitely not going down as my classiest response to a compliment.

  “You are well?”

  The Simathe’s question cut into my self-berating as he reached over to slip the glass from my hand. I drew a few deep breaths to calm both the coughing and my racing heart.

  “Uh, yes, just fine, thanks,” I croaked, dabbing at my chin with the napkin and hoping there was no wine on my face.

  He handed back the wine flute. “Perhaps you have had enough.”

  “I’m not drunk!” I declared, embarrassed. “I just swallowed wrong, that’s all.”

  He saw right through the fib. “Of course…which is why I do not give compliments.”

  Had I offended him? I felt terrible until I looked up into his face and saw actual humor in his eyes.

  Oh, he’s making a joke.

  I felt some of the humiliation slip away and quipped, “Maybe if you did it more often, it wouldn’t come as such a surprise.”

  “Perhaps I shall.”

  “Yeah, I can see that happening.”

  He fell silent then, and so did I, but that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t a beehive of thoughts, most of them along the lines of, I can’t believe he said I was beautiful!

  True, he’d at least intimated it once before, but that was under the sort of circumstances where a person could easily slip up and say things they didn’t mean. Or didn’t mean to say. This, however, had been said while he was healthy and in full command of his mental faculties. It couldn’t have been a mistake, and it wasn’t like he was given to flattery or fawning. Which meant…what? That he was softening toward me, even as I was falling for him?

  Uh oh. Are you?

  I’d told Elisia a few days ago that I cared for him, but caring for and falling for were two very different things. This was the first time I’d dared admit the latter, even to myself, which made me wonder if he could decipher what I was thinking. Suddenly, he was standing much too close and the room was much too warm. My cheeks felt hot, and I quickly took a sip of wine to conceal what I could of my face as well as to calm my nerves.

  This is insane! You can’t think about this now; you can’t do this now. He’s immortal, and you’re the Artan. Besides, he’s Simathe, remember? He’s not for you. He’s not for anybody. It doesn’t matter that he kissed you or said you were beautiful. That’s hardly a marriage proposal. What are you, twelve? You’ve got to get over this.

  The wine flute still at my lips, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge what, if any of this, he might be picking up on. Unfortunately, his consistent Simathe demeanor gave nothing away, but, as if feeling my perusal, he shifted, looking my way. I dropped my eyes hastily, but I knew I’d been caught in the act. Fortunately, he chose not to comment on it, remarking instead, “You do not care to dance?”

>   I couldn’t figure out if he was making polite conversation or trying to ease my embarrassment over all the inner turmoil he must be sensing. Regardless, tilting my head to the side, I peered up at him. “Do you?”

  “I do not dance.”

  “I do. Well, truthfully, I like dancing, but I’m not very good at it. I don’t know the steps to what they’re doing anyway.”

  “You did not dance on Earth?”

  “Oh, I did, but it was nothing like this. These kinds of dances have been out of fashion for years.”

  “Strange. Then how is dancing done on Earth?”

  I shook my head, grinning. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Let’s just say the good folks here would be pretty scandalized by what passes for dancing back home.”

  He gave me a look that I interpreted as him not being able to figure out why I thought scandalizing people was funny. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the wine, but that struck me as even more funny. For a fleeting moment, I considered really scandalizing the Aerisian muckety-mucks in attendance, not to mention the Simathe High-Chief, by asking him to dance. But that was a bit too wild even for me.

  To get things back on course, I said, “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? I think I’m going out in the gardens to cool off.”

  “I shall accompany you,” he offered.

  It was no more or less than I’d anticipated. Handing my drink to the nearest server, I wove my way through the crowd, heading toward the nearest side exit. The Simathe warrior-lord followed as I left the noisy, stuffy ballroom, exchanging it for the peaceful calm of the palace gardens.

  Out here, moonlight flickered down through towering hedges, ivy-grown arbors, and the limbs of the Living Tree, casting shadows that swayed and dipped like the dancers inside. We walked in silence for a time, the only noises being the sighing of the breeze, the rustle of leaves, and the crunch of our footfalls on gravel paths. Although part of me was almost painfully aware of the man beside me, the other part was relieved to be away from the eyes and attention of so many who’d come to meet or simply look upon the promised Artan. Never in my life had I expected to achieve any sort of celebrity status, yet here I was, in as unique a position as I supposed it was humanly possible to be.