The Consort (Tellaran Series)

by Ariel MacArran

  Alari put the box on the table and sat beside him to reach for his trouser fastenings. “Here, I will help you—”

  Kyndan jumped away, on his feet in an instant. “Okay, you know what? We should get out to that festival while it’s still early.”

  “I have been taught to treat your wounds as a proper mate should,” Alari protested. “It is my duty to tend you.”

  “No, really.” Kyndan cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

  But he wasn’t and his leg obviously pained him. But why would he not let her attend to it? Did he think her disgrace left her utterly unfit to carry out even the least of her responsibilities?

  Her shoulders fell. “As you will, my mate.”

  “All right, look, I’m—” He passed his hand over his eyes. “Okay, but I can take my pants off by myself. Do you have a blanket or something?”

  She nodded and went to her bedchamber to fetch a quilt. It took some hard tugging to pull it free of the wide bed. Alari found the quilt heavy and unwieldy and she wondered how the maids managed their tasks so effortlessly. She returned to find he had still not undressed. Perhaps Tellaran climes were warmer.

  “You are cold?” she asked, glancing at the fireplace. She had never lit a fire before and she was suddenly annoyed at herself for not, in all her life, having watched closely enough to even attempt trying it now.

  “No,” he said, taking the blanket from her. “I need this to cover up.”

  “Cover up what?” she asked, then realized what he meant. She glanced down with frank curiosity. “Are Tellaran men’s staffs different than Az-kye’s then?”

  “You know,” Kyndan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s a question I’ve never had cause to ponder before.”

  Alari waited and finally Kyndan threw her a frustrated look.

  “Oh!” Alari turned her back to allow him privacy to undress, wondering if all Tellarans were so bashful and now very curious if he were indeed different than Az-kye men.

  Behind her there came rustles of fabric, then a creak of the chaise as he sat.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

  The quilt was arranged over his lap but he had left his left leg bare. She had to bite the inside of her cheek not to giggle at how carefully Kyndan had tucked in the edges around his hips, very sure to cover himself fully.

  His leg was well muscled but beneath the dark hair his skin was much paler than that of his hands or face.

  Very bashful indeed if the skin there has seen so little sun . . .

  Alari sat beside him and drew the table a little closer so that she might reach easier. He craned his neck to see inside the box when she lifted the lid. Alari rubbed the sanitizing solution over her hands, then eased the bandage on his leg away.

  “Who did such?” she asked, with a nod at the nearly mended flesh of his thigh.

  “Aidar. My sister’s hus—uh, mate.” He was staring at his leg. “Wow, whatever he used on me, it worked fast. I mean it’s aching but it looks a lot better than I thought it would.”

  “He did not use enough,” Alari said disapprovingly. “It should not pain you so much.”

  “I thought part of my job was to bear pain without complaint.”

  “Even so,” Alari returned shortly, deftly rubbing the ointment in, “you are deserving of better care than he has given.”

  “I guess Aidar will never be a proper Az-kye lady after all. He’ll be crushed,” Kyndan said. “Let me tell him, okay?”

  Alari looked up, her brow creased. “Why would he want—? Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Kyndan agreed. “Joking again.” He nodded at his leg. “So, what do you think?”

  “It will be a fine scar,” she said solemnly.

  “Actually I meant, how is it healing?”

  “Oh.” She examined the wound carefully. “It shall be fully healed in a day or so. Is the pain less now?”

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding surprised. “Actually it’s much better. What is that stuff anyway?”

  “Eshi ointment?” She wiped her hands clean and offered the jar to him. “A gift from the God Behur. His priestesses produce and distribute it in the healing god’s name.”

  “Maybe we should talk about setting up some kind of trade for it.”

  “Trade?”

  “Yeah, you know, trade it to the Tellarans. When the peace treaty is completed.”

  Alari reached for a fresh bandage. “Yes, perhaps when the treaty is made.” She dressed the wound to the keep the ointment against it. “You must tell me if the bandage comes free. I will treat the wound and cover it again.”

  “I will.” He gestured at his leg. “Thanks.”

  “There is no need to thank me. I am your mate.”

  She held his gaze, her hands lightly resting on either side of his thigh, his skin warm under her palms. Jazan’s intent had been to torment this kind, brave man, to humiliate and shame him, to draw out his suffering for hours, if he could.

  She had not thought she should ever feel safe alone with a man again but she did now, with him.

  “I am pleased you won me, Kyndan,” she said softly.

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.” He tore his gaze away. “Let me get dressed and we’ll head out to the festival.”

  “I have no attendants to accompany us,” she reminded, her shoulders slumping. “I cannot even summon a litter to carry me.”

  “Well, that’s okay. We can just go on our own and walk around.”

  “Walk through the city?”

  “Sure, why not? Kinara says there’s lots going on in the temple district. It’ll be fun.” His blue eyes reflected puzzlement. “What’s the matter?”

  “I have never done such,” Alari said, struggling even to imagine herself doing it. “Gone outside without being concealed within a litter. Ventured out without my maids and guards. It is rare that I am allowed off the palace grounds at all. I have never left the Az-kye homeworld.”

  His brow furrowed. “Really?”

  “I am—was—First Imperial Daughter and as such considered too valuable to risk.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Well, I guess the up side to not being Imperial heiress is that doesn’t apply anymore. There’s no reason you can’t go now. I mean, if you’re already in disgrace, who’s going to care?”

  She blinked. Could she really do such? Walk through the streets at his side; see the capital without the gauze of the Imperial litter’s curtains obscuring her vision?

  He indicated the empty apartments. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to tell us no.”

  With a tingle of excitement, Alari realized she had not been ordered by the empress to confine herself to her quarters. She had not been given any orders at all. She was not First Daughter now; perhaps the unyielding boundaries and sharp confines of the life she had known were not longer in place . . .

  “Do you—is your leg well enough to do such?” she asked, her words coming out in a rush.

  “Uh, sure. It’s sore but stretching should help that. I can always hire a litter for us if it gets worse. Kinara made sure I had plenty of Az-kye currency for the mission.”

  Her heart was hammering. “I might be recognized,”

  “Well, if you didn’t go out much and were concealed most of the time you did—” He studied her for a moment, then gave a quick smile. “I have an idea, but we will need to hire a litter or we’ll miss most of the festival tonight.”

  “But how will we leave the palace grounds?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll just walk out. They’re going to be a lot more interested in keeping people from getting in than worrying about who’s leaving. Besides, I’m the Tellaran representative and you’re my wife. Keeping us here against our will is going make for one very ugly response from my government.”

  “All right,” she breathed, leaning toward him, her hands resting on his thigh again. “Yes. Yes, I want to walk through the city.”

  “Uh, okay.” He avoided her gaze. “Just let me get dresse
d.”

  Her brow creased at how he was suddenly, acutely disconcerted.

  “What is it?” She glanced down and her mouth twitched a bit seeing the cause of his shyness. “Truly, Kyndan, you are worried I will see your member is standing?”

  Alari had never seen any man blush so deeply. He looked so utterly and charmingly discomfited that, for the first time in nearly a year, Alari gave a full and openhearted smile.

  He went still and his blue eyes widened.

  “Gods,” he murmured hoarsely. “You’re beautiful, Alari.”

  She ducked her head; she was not dressed to her best advantage by any means. She looked at him sidelong, surprised to realize she hoped he found her posture flirtatious. “It pleases me that you call me such.”

  For a spare instant he glanced at her mouth then met her eyes again. “Call you what?”

  “Alari.”

  His brow furrowed a bit. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  “After I reached womanhood and was named First I was addressed only by one of my titles, even by my mother and father. Only you, and Saria, call me ‘Alari.’”

  “Saria?”

  “My sister. She who is now First Imperial Daughter. She was in attendance today to Her Imperial Majesty when you came to claim me.”

  “I might have been a little distracted just then. Maybe you can point her out later.”

  The very idea of having to “point out” the Imperial heiress made Alari smile again. “I have never met anyone like you, Kyndan.”

  “Well, you’re my first princess.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “Man,” he muttered, “did that come out wrong.”

  Alari gave a startled giggle.

  She could not even think when she had last laughed . . .

  “I will let you dress now, Kyndan,” she said, and stood, turning her back. Smiling, she clasped her hands in front of her as she waited, fighting against the impulse to peek.

  “Well?” Kyndan asked, his voice muffled by the dull green curtain between them. “Is it okay?”

  “I do not know,” Alari answered honestly, regarding her reflection. “I have never worn any color but Imperial black.”

  “Come out,” he urged. “Let me see.”

  She brushed aside the rough fabric and shyly stepped out from the curtained dressing area. The shopkeeper and her mate remained at their place near the shop’s entrance but they craned their necks to watch as she emerged. She was unused to having people of the merchant class meet her eyes at all and, as neither had bowed to her, it was plain they did not know who she was.

  But they seemed agog at having a Tellaran in their establishment.

  Kyndan smiled. “You look great.”

  Alari smoothed the skirt of the dress, flushing at his appreciative look. She, too, thought the pale pink gown with threads of gold shot through it—a color scandalous on an Imperial Daughter—very pretty. Free of the heavy beading and embroidery that enriched her court gowns, this dress was both light and comfortable to wear and she very much liked the way his eyes lingered on her body.

  “It’s perfect,” Kyndan said. “Let’s settle up and have some fun.”

  “What about you?” Alari asked with a nod at his blue and white clothes.

  “I think I’m going to look Tellaran no matter what I wear,” he said, his blue eyes amused.

  Alari glanced through the shop window at the pedestrians strolling in the lower city. “But it will soon be dark,” she pointed out. “And even by lights of the festival none will be able to make out your eye color until they draw very close but—”

  “But my uniform will be spotted a half-kilometer off,” Kyndan finished, then gave a nod. “All right, I’ll get something too. I can probably pass for a merchant.”

  Alari blinked. “But you are a warrior! You should dress so.”

  “And last time I checked,” Kyndan reminded in a conspiring whisper, “you’re a princess.”

  “So we shall both be disguised?” Alari asked, smiling as she touched the soft fabric of her gown.

  Kyndan winked. “Our secret.”

  While Kyndan found clothing Alari looked hungrily around the shop. She had never been anywhere so crammed with delightfully jumbled things. There were clothes, shoes, statues of the gods, sweets, and garishly bright bead necklaces. One of the shopkeepers’ little daughters smiled at her, her bright clothing and missing front teeth giving her grin an impish look. Alari smiled back at the child.

  “Well?” Kyndan asked.

  He had changed into loose, dark clothing, not too different from what the shopkeeper’s mate was wearing. Despite his wavy hair he did indeed look very like one of their class—save his sky-color eyes, of course.

  Alari gave an approving nod. “You are perfect, Kyndan.”

  The shopkeeper was pleased to have the sale. She also readily accepted additional payment to have one of her older children deliver the bundle containing his uniform and Alari’s dress to a house in the upper city.

  “Where did you send our things?” Alari asked as they stepped out into the paved street. The stones were uneven and broken in places; she had to step carefully in the gathering darkness of early evening.

  “My sister’s clanhouse,” Kyndan said. “I wanted to get quarters for myself at one of the inns for the stay planetside but she wasn’t having it. I’m kind of glad I gave in now and made her happy. I’ve been a lot of trouble to her on this trip already.”

  “Because of me,” Alari said, her voice quiet.

  “Nah,” he replied airily. “I’m usually a lot of trouble.”

  Seeing the humorous glint in his eyes, Alari laughed.

  “Hey, I’m getting better at this!” he enthused and, as if were the most natural of things, took her hand in his.

  She flushed at the feel of his skin against hers, acutely aware of the radiating heat his big body against her side.

  Kyndan’s warm blue eyes met hers and her heartbeat sped up.

  Perhaps, if he were to go very slowly, perhaps we could—

  “Come on,” he said with a gentle tug on her hand. “The temple district’s only a couple streets over.”

  “There are many rituals I attended as First Daughter in the temples.” She was suddenly anxious to safeguard their adventure, their time alone. “Perhaps we should go somewhere else.”

  “No one’s going to recognize you. Not dressed in pink with your hair loose down your back.” He threw her a grin. “Not walking around with some no-account ruffian like me.”

  Alari bit the inside of her cheek as they joined others walking in the direction of the temples but he was likely right. She wondered if even Saria would recognize her like this.

  And what would any of them do in any case? He was right, she was already in disgrace.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed as they entered the boulevard near Lashima’s temple. “It looks so different!”

  The air was fragrant with the smell of warm confections and cooking meat. Many booths, some garishly decorated, lined the district for the selling of food, drink, and trinkets. Brightly colored lanterns were strung everywhere for the festival and there were a number of small, temporary stages set up beside the temples to provide music or plays in tribute to Ren’thar. Tumblers and jugglers moved through the square to entertain and people moved about with an air of happy anticipation.

  It was so odd to simply walk, to be able to move without the half-dozen maids that had always accompanied her everywhere, hemming her in. The freedom of it was exhilarating—to be relieved of keepers and tutors and courtiers eager to befriend the Imperial heiress for the power she would someday wield.

  It made her wonder too. How much could she truly have understood of her own people when she had been so sheltered she had even never walked among them?

  “You haven’t been down here for the festival?” Kyndan asked. “Kinna said this is the place to be.”

  “No, I have always been kept to the pal—” She broke off, suddenly conscious of th
e crowd around them. “Home,” she finished.

  Kyndan nodded toward a grouping of food sellers. “I’m hungry. How about you?”

  Many stood about, enjoying offerings from the food stands, some even ate as they walked.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Any preference? I don’t know much about Az-kye festival food.”

  Freed from the isolation of the court and its stifling protocols, she suddenly felt giddy, almost like a child again and eager to explore.

  Alari glanced around then nodded at a nearby booth. “That one.”

  “What are they selling?”

  “I do not know.”

  Kyndan looked puzzled. “Then why do you want what they’re serving?”

  “Because whatever it is, I know I have never had it before,” she said, pulling on his hand to urge him that way.

  “Okay, Princess,” he said with a surprised laugh. “A—whatever it is—coming right up.”

  At the booth Kyndan gave the proprietor a friendly nod. “Two.”

  The merchant inclined his head and provided two pastries, each wrapped in festive iridescent paper. The man stopped short as he was handing back Kyndan’s change, astonished at find himself looking at a blue-eyed Az-kye.

  “I—” the man began.

  “Enjoy the festival,” Kyndan said cheerfully, dropping a few coins in the tip bowl.

  He handed Alari one of the pastries, heading off before the man could get another word out.

  “Now that,” Kyndan confided once they were out of the man’s earshot, “was funny.”

  She laughed.

  Kyndan bit into the pastry. “Not bad,” he said around a mouthful.

  Alari took a careful bite, surprised by the meat-filled dough. It was spicier than the cuisine she was accustomed to and very greasy. It was like nothing she’d ever had before.

  It was like nothing she’d ever done before—standing in a happy throng of brightly garbed people, her gown as light as a jaha feather, eating in the middle of the street under a good-humored blue gaze.

  Standing so close to Kyndan, her skin tingled and Alari felt a rush of attraction that she had thought long since razed by pain and humiliation.

  “This is wonderful,” she said softly.