Kyndan blinked. “You guys purposely scar? I thought your medicine was just not advanced enough to prevent them.”
Aidar gave a snort. “Our women do not bear scars, nor do those not of our caste, Kyndan.”
“Our caste? So now I’m part of the warrior class?”
“Of course.” Aidar said, surprised. “Only a warrior can take Challenge. You became one when you stepped into the Circle. You bore yourself bravely and would be counted one of us even if you had died there. And to turn your back on a warrior such as Jazan . . .” He shook his head admiringly as he finished the bandaging. “I have never seen such mad courage.”
Kyndan shifted. “I only wanted to knock him out.”
Aidar looked startled. “Why would you do such?”
“Because I didn’t want to have to kill him!”
Aidar’s gaze became hooded. “You did not hesitate to kill Az-kye before.”
“I was under orders to open fire on your ship,” Kyndan fairly spat. “My duty, my honor, requires me to follow the orders I am given—whatever they are. I will not apologize.”
“So you have come to regret it.”
Kyndan’s head came up. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” Aidar said mildly. “But you wouldn’t think to apologize at all if you did not.”
Kyndan looked away. “Do warriors get antibiotics?”
In response, Aidar pulled an injector from the medkit. “We are proud, not stupid.”
Fortunately the injection didn’t hurt at all. Of course that was about the only thing on him that didn’t. He was going to have a bunch of bruises, his lip was split, his face and arm were sore, but his leg was the worst of it. Despite the ointment slowly easing away the discomfort, his thigh still throbbed enough to make him queasy. Aidar had sent to arrange a litter to carry him back to the Az’anti clanhouse and he sure wasn’t looking forward to that trip. Sore, shaky with pain, and exhausted, Kyndan let his eyes fall shut.
The door banged open. Kyndan started badly, hissing against the shooting pain in his leg when he moved.
“How is he?” Kinara demanded, sweeping into the room, Tedah at her heels. Then she was at his bedside, peering down at him anxiously. She didn’t wait for Aidar’s response. “How are you?”
He gave them a smile and from their horrified expressions he was glad he hadn’t gotten a look in the mirror yet.
“I’m glad you killed him!” Kinara spat. “Saves me from having to do it myself!”
She was round bellied as a gourd, pudgy-cheeked from pregnancy, and dressed from head-to-toe in the glittering ensemble of an Az-kye lady. She looked about as menacing as a wide-whiskered baby snouse.
Still, knowing Kinara, she probably would have taken Jazan on. From the look on Aidar’s face his brother-in-law likely thought so too.
“I’m okay.” Kyndan sent a nod toward Aidar. “Apparently I’m a warrior now. And hey, I’ll have some nice scars to prove it.”
“Well,” Tedah said, “you’re a couple ahead of me but I’ll catch up.”
Kinara’s brow creased a little and he laughed inwardly at what must be going through her mind. Az-kye warriors bore their scars with pride but that didn’t mean she thought her brother should have them. Not that she’d want to say something to that effect in front of her Az-kye mate of course . . .
“But you’re Tellaran,” she said finally.
“Well,” Kyndan said. “I wouldn’t want to pass up an opportunity to honor my princess.”
Kinara exchanged glances with Aidar.
“What?” Kyndan asked.
Kinara wet her lips. “About that. You have a decision to make and not a lot of time to make it.”
Kyndan raised his eyebrows. “What decision?”
“Well,” Tedah said, shifting his weight. “If you want to be Alari’s mate or not.”
Kyndan frowned. “I fought for her. Don’t I have to marry her?”
“Alari declared publicly for you,” Aidar said. “You accepted Challenge and won but you have not declared for her.”
“In fact, honor is completely satisfied so you can back out,” Kinara assured quickly.
“You mean she has to show up for the wedding but I don’t?”
Aidar gave a nod.
“Hold on.” Kyndan’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me here?”
“Alari is the First Imperial Daughter but she is not the only child of our empress,” Aidar said. “She has a younger sister. Do you become Alari’s mate, the empress must make you part of the Imperial family but she will not tolerate a Tellaran consort on the Az-kye throne. Alari will be an Imperial Daughter but she will no longer be heiress to the crown does she take you as mate.”
“Okay,” Kyndan said, swallowing back the unexpected crush of disappointment. What was I thinking anyway? Me, marrying a princess . . . “So it’s in Alari’s best interest if I don’t show up?”
Tedah’s face was grim. “There’s something else.”
“The empress cannot permit such willful disobedience in her heiress,” Aidar said. “Your victory in the Circle is unquestioned and witnessed by many. Her Imperial Majesty is honor bound to permit the princess to take you as mate but the choice is now yours. Do you choose not to . . .”
Kinara put her hand on his arm. “Then the empress has decreed that Alari will wear the white.”
Kyndan was left speechless for a moment. “She’s going to disown her and make her clanless?” he got out. “Make her own daughter a slave?”
Aidar gave a nod and Kinara looked glum.
“Slavery or life bound to a barbarian, huh?” Kyndan gave a short, bitter laugh. “So Alari suffers either way and everyone sees what happens if you cross the line. That’s some empress you guys have.”
“The empress must first cleave to the throne or she cannot rule,” Aidar said grimly. “Such demands a certain ruthlessness.”
“Ruthless?” Kyndan’s lip curled. “The woman has the warmth of a Utavian desert serpent. Did you see the way she looked at me when I agreed to fight? You’d think she’d be flattered I was willing to die for her daughter.”
“She’d prefer you had,” Kinara said bluntly. “You defeated her handpicked choice for Alari and you’re Tellaran. And right now everyone is talking about how you took Jazan down. You did more to raise regard for Tellarans in these people’s eyes in a few hours than a hundred years of peace could.” She shook her head. “The empress is not going to make it easy if you become her daughter’s mate.”
“And what was that little game with the list of clan leaders?” Kyndan asked. “Why would the empress agree to let talks go forward with us then throw something like that out?”
Kinara chewed her lip for a moment. “I’m not sure. She might have really been concerned about seeing everything done right or she could just be playing this to delay the talks.”
Kyndan sighed. “Well, I didn’t go through all that to have Alari to wind up a slave. I’ll marry her.”
Kinara’s brow creased. “Oh, Kyndan, are you sure?”
He gave a shrug. “Yeah, I mean, if it doesn’t work out between us, at least we tried.”
“Uh,” Tedah put in. “That’s not how Az-kye marriages work. They mate for life.”
Kyndan frowned. “Well, Tellaran marriages are meant to be lifelong too, remember? But people do split up.”
Kinara looked at Aidar and Tedah. “He has to be told.”
“I don’t think he wants you here for this, Kinna,” Tedah said quickly. “We’ll tell him.”
Kyndan’s queasiness racketed up another notch. “Tell me what?”
What have I done?
Once First Imperial Daughter, now in disgrace, Alari knelt on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She had long ago learned to hide her true feelings, knowing her tutors and maids were also her mother’s spies.
But for the first time in her memory, Alari was completely alone.
Alari’s chest felt hollow. Her father
, dead eight summers now, had been a powerful warrior with a kindly heart and great love for his mate and children. He would have not have hesitated to intervene, even with his beloved mate, on their daughter’s behalf. He alone had the strength of heart and power to protect her from her mother’s wrath, but now there was none who would dare.
Bereft, rocking herself on the cold floor of her room, Alari again felt the scalding pain and aching sorrow of his loss.
The setting sun made harsh shadows in her silent, spacious apartments. Her attendants—even those who had been with her since babyhood—fled after her mother named her punishment. The fortunate among them would serve Saria now.
Her sister now was First Imperial Daughter and their mother’s heiress.
Outside the Empress’ city erupted into the joyous noise of the first night of the festival of Ren’thar. In the coming days young warriors would seek to prove themselves in the contests and win renown enough to attract a highly placed mate. The opera houses would be packed to bursting as troupes performed tales of the god, his battles, his courtship of Lashima. Public entertainments provided free to all as the empress’ gift to the city would bring joy even to the poorest of her people. Families threw open their doors, thousands of lanterns spilled light into the streets as clans gathered for lavish feasts.
The court would be feted for days on end with banquets, plays, musical performances, and parties as the city celebrated. Alari would know none of those pleasures.
Her mother had been livid at her defiance. She would not have escaped entirely unscathed even if Jazan had won but now . . .
“You would have this Tellaran?” her mother had demanded coldly as Alari knelt, her forehead pressed to the floor at the empress’ feet. “You would be mated to one who is not even Az-kye? So be it. Only pray, Daughter, that this barbarian bothers to claim you at all!”
Tomorrow Alari would be publicly disowned by her clan, thrown into the street to be sold as a slave in the Empire she had been raised to rule.
Or she would be mated to the Tellaran.
Jazan had been an Az-kye warrior, subject to an ancient code of honor, and that had not stopped him from—
The last daylight slipped away, plunging the rooms into darkness. Alari pressed her hands hard against her mouth, her whimpers echoing through the empty rooms.
Kyndan looked between Tedah and Aidar.
“Fracking hell,” he managed. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
Aidar folded his arms. “We are not joking.”
Kyndan turned to his best friend. “Tedah, we’ve known each other since primary and I’m telling you right now, my leg is fracking killing me so—”
“Not joking,” Tedah interrupted.
Kyndan shook his head a little. “So you’re saying we make our vows then we go someplace private—”
“Yeah,” Tedah put in. “Believe me, you’re going to want private.”
“Then Alari and I drink this binding wine stuff and . . .” Kyndan shook his head.
“Look, I’m sorry, you just can’t—It’s not physically possible to have sex, nonstop, for a whole day—”
“Or more,” Aidar said.
“—is it?” Kyndan finished.
Aidar and Tedah both gave a nod.
“I really can’t tell if you’re joking!”
“We are not,” Aidar said firmly.
“Uh, there’s more,” Tedah said, shifting his weight. “After that, well . . .”
“After that what?” Kyndan demanded.
“You’re not going to be able to have sex with anyone else.”
Kyndan let his shoulders fall. “Right. We’ll be married.”
“No.” Tedah cleared his throat. “Because you won’t be able to.”
“Wait, what?” Kyndan breathed.
They looked back at him solemnly.
“Ever?” he asked weakly. “With anyone?”
“Not as long as your mate lives,” Tedah said. “That’s why before people take vows here, sex is pretty casual. Once you make that commitment, well . . . it’s a lifelong one.”
“What about her? Will she be able, I mean, with someone else—?”
“Nope.”
Kyndan looked between them. “And . . . and you did this when you got married?”
They both nodded.
Gods knew he wasn’t about to ask Aidar but Kyndan gave Tedah a questioning look.
Tedah gave a laugh, clearly reading what he wanted to know from his expression. “Kyndan, better than you can even imagine. And it stays that way between you two but . . .” He sobered. “This is a very serious decision. You can’t just walk away. I loved Lianna and I knew what I was doing. I can’t imagine the hell it must be to be bound to someone you hate.”
“Or fear,” Kyndan murmured.
Gods, no wonder she did it.
Kyndan wet his lips. “Look, I don’t know anything about Alari and I’ve spoken to her all of once. I thought at worst we could try it and if didn’t work out we would have our marriage dissolved but now—” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just don’t know if I can do this.”
He is not coming.
Alari had declared publicly for him and there was no recanting. By her mother’s decree the Tellaran had until midday to claim her. She stood alone at the door to Lashima’s sanctuary now, shunned by the court gathered on the opposite side of the hall, her hands clasped together to hide their trembling as she waited.
Late into the night she wept in the dark emptiness of her apartments. Her whole life she had been attended to, cared for, waited upon. Alari had never had to fetch her own breakfast or dress herself but none wished to serve a princess who might see the next sunset as a slave.
He had fought so bravely for her yesterday and left the Circle on his own two feet after facing the fiercest warrior to be found within the Empire.
His sky eyes were so earnest when he had promised to be a good mate . . .
His kindly gaze when she’d passed him in the hall yesterday, her one shining hope that he would keep his vow in the Circle, gave Alari the courage to face the court this morning. Without maids to help her enhance what few charms she possessed, she wore her hair simply; she did not know how to arrange it herself. She intended to wear the gown she had worn here yesterday with its many jewels and elaborate beading, hoping to please his eye so that he might find her worthy still, despite her disgrace.
She dissolved into tears to discover she could not fasten that dress, or any of her other fine gowns, unassisted. In the painful silence of her rooms, wiping at her face, Alari searched for even one dress in her wardrobe with fastenings at the side and front she could manage to put on unassisted. The gown of Imperial black she wore now was far too plain for the occasion, her hair unadorned, her cosmetics scant. She felt ashamed that he would see her attired so poorly.
But she had labored, weeping, for nothing. He would not see her at all.
She held herself proudly as she had been taught; her features schooled to conceal her true feelings, to hide how fear churned her stomach.
By the empress’ order the court would bear witness to her humiliation and many were eager to be on hand to view the fall of one so high. The bows at Alari’s approach had been shallow this morning and few dropped their eyes. Most had not even bothered to acknowledge her until she was a handbreadth from them.
And none spoke to her.
In whispers that carried through the arched hall to where Alari stood alone, some of the courtiers cast wagers on if he would appear, and the odds offered that he would were long. Alari’s face flushed when one courtier—correctly— noted that the princess was so badly outfitted she had even forgotten her hand fan on her supposed mating day.
High Priestess Celara had been granted, due to her advanced age and status, the privilege of a chair to sit upon but no other had.
The empress waited with her courtiers, on the opposite side of the sanctuary doors from where Alari stood, alone. Her Imperial Majes
ty’s back remained unbowed as the morning wore on, her head held high, showing neither sorrow nor regret for the punishment she lay upon her eldest. The Empire she ruled was her true heart’s child and she would do anything to protect it.
Its needs would always come first.
Saria, First Imperial Daughter, stood at the empress’ side, nearly as sumptuously arrayed as Her Majesty. She shamefacedly avoided Alari’s gaze, wise to fear their mother’s anger if she were caught sympathizing and helpless to save her. Alari knew her sister well, saw the drawn, frightened look on her face, and knew she was not alone in not sleeping the night before.
Saria was heiress to the Imperial throne now but that came with its own dangers, its own sacrifices.
The sun climbed higher and still he did not come.
Perhaps the Tellaran had risked his life only in hopes of being mated to the First Daughter or, at the very least, an Imperial heiress, and now she was neither . . .
But no Az-kye warrior would have come to claim her now either. To be mated to a disgraced daughter who had lost her inheritance—even a princess—was a fate not to be envied and her mate would share her shame. Alari would be held up as an example of how the empress would strike back if crossed. She would stand as a lesson for heiresses throughout the Empire and future Imperial Daughters of the dangers of defiance.
But it was only when the High Priestess stood, her aged face drawn and sad, did Alari surrender all hope.
High Priestess Celara, leaning heavily on her jeweled cane, slowly crossed the polished floor and her eyes showed nothing but sympathy. She made her way to where Alari stood alone, the first to speak to her that day.
“I am so, so sorry, my child,” she said softly.
Tears stung Alari’s eyes.
High Priestess Celara laid a gentle hand on her arm. “May Lashima’s gaze always rest kindly upon you.”
Alari’s throat closed and she could do no more than give a shaky nod of thanks. Trembling she turned toward the empress for the pronouncement that would cast her out of her clan, her home, and take even her name from her, forever.
The Consort (Tellaran Series) Page 5
