by Viola Rivard
“Sorry,” Eloisa said. She tried again. “Jedora, cua ka kashshta?”
Jedora rolled her eyes. “Wrong.”
Goldrech was more benevolent. “You would have been correct, but that was a bit of a trick question. You see, kash, 'to prefer,' has an irregular verb form. Because it ends in the same sound as the possessive pronoun begins, the beginning of the pronoun is absorbed, like so.” He looked to Jedora. “Jedoraja, cues ka kash’ta?”
Jedora muttered, “Kashcre ka hak sorujna.”
Eloisa looked between them for a translation.
Goldrech gave Jedora a weary look, and then said, “It seems she has no food preferences. Any questions on the conjugation?”
“No, but there is one thing you could tell me. The way you say Jedora’s name. What is that sound you add to the end of it?”
“Ah, that would be ja. There are several suffixes you will hear on names, similar to how Atolians use prefixes such as Mister, Sir, or Miss. Ja is a suffix for women, and it denotes great fondness.”
“Oh.”
Her cheeks warmed at the memory of Caleth saying her name.
Eloisaja.
Just the thought of it made her suppress a shiver.
They were deep in a discussion of the differences between kets—to want—and metru—to need—when Graja came in to tell them it was time for dinner. Eloisa wouldn’t be dining in her room that night. She and Goldrech had been invited to dinner with the sovereign.
Chapter Eleven
As always, things at Cal’en Fasha were not as Eloisa imagined they would be. When they’d been invited to dinner, she’d envisioned a small, intimate dinner with Caleth, Jedora, and Goldrech, but instead she found a full dining hall with five long tables that were crowded with people dressed in what must have been their finest clothing.
She noticed Caleth right away, sitting at the end of the central table and flanked by the two generals she’d met at the arena. When their eyes caught, he stopped talking and stood, beckoning her over.
It was strange that even after the night they’d shared, which had been more intimate than anything she’d yet experience, Eloisa still felt nervous approaching him. Miraculously, her legs didn’t give out beneath her as she went to stand in front of him.
He took her hands in his, and Eloisa noticed that his long fingers were adorned with several ornate silver rings.
“Eshandru, Eloisaja,” he said in his sinful voice. “Hakshta ka fasyna, sa resun.”
Fasyna. She’d learned what that meant. Not pretty, but a mix of beautiful, fascinating, and mesmerizing. Not a word to be used lightly, according to Goldrech.
“Eshandru, asejan,” she said with a slight bow. Slowly, she added, “Sashta ka asakta. Ketcre ka kta.”
Thank you for the teacher. I like him.
It was quite literally the sum of all she’d learned in the evening, coupled with her vastly improved, but still flawed pronunciation. Of course, to the sovereign, Eloisa might as well have breathed gold for all of the bright yellow joy that burst over his aura.
He spoke to her rapidly in Cal’derache, but thankfully he didn’t seem to expect her to understand. He then spoke to Goldrech, who had just come up behind them alongside Jedora. Whatever he said, Goldrech’s aura was shining with pride as he bowed.
Eloisa had wanted to share in his excitement, but it was tough. Jedora’s aura was now boiling with resentment, her eyes focused squarely on Eloisa.
“Jedoraja,” Caleth said, greeting his daughter. “Rerastnesh ka shta ka asursuta.”
His tone was friendly, but there was hint of bite in it.
Jedora lowered her gaze. “Revasojcre.”
I’m sorry.
Without another word, she took her leave. Eloisa looked to Goldrech, hoping for a translation, but he only smiled and said farewell before leaving for another table.
Caleth helped to get Eloisa seated in the chair beside his own. It was distressing being at the end of the table and seeing dozens of pairs of eyes turning her way. Eloisa did her best to look neutral and unaffected by the scrutiny.
To their left sat General Dhtyr and his wife, Hysa. Dhtyr seemed genuinely friendly as Caleth reintroduced them, but behind his pale wife’s smile was an aura that resonated antipathy.
To their right were General Aenek and his wife, Katia. Katia was a Reduran transplant, though as she was quick to tell Eloisa, she was a century displaced from her native country and had no strong feelings either way about the Atolian Wars. Because the Reduran language was a dialect of Atolian, Eloisa had no difficulty understanding her, even with Katia's acquired Cal’derache accent. Once the men realized that the two of them could communicate in Atolian, Aenek and his wife switched seats so that she and Eloisa could be closer together.
“How are you liking the north?” Katia asked.
Her elbows were on the table, something that would have earned an acolyte in the tower a scolding or a smack. However, as Eloisa had noticed, the Cal’derache had no such qualms about etiquette, and even Caleth had his elbows on the table and his chin resting on laced fingers.
“It’s terribly cold,” Eloisa said.
Katia wagged her blonde brows. “I’m sure the sovereign is keeping you warm.”
Eloisa was almost certain she wasn’t talking about her hearth, and her eyes darted around to see if anyone had heard Katia.
“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Katia said.
She had a high, almost childish voice, but there was the faintest hint of wrinkles around her blue eyes. Just like Goldrech, she had just enough human in her to make her immortality drip away.
Katia went on, “Between the four of them, they speak about ten words of Atolian. Damn, I’ve been married to this one for near on two centuries now and the bastard doesn’t even pronounce my name right. You see, they love themselves a warm, southern woman, but they loathe our languages—unless we’re screaming it in bed.”
While Eloisa stared in stunned silence, Katia grabbed a pitcher and poured purple juice into Eloisa’s crystal glass.
“Here, drink up, Princess. It’s best to have it on an empty stomach. It makes the conversation more palatable.”
Eloisa wasn’t keen on drinking anything but water, but it seemed like juice was all that was being served. She also didn’t want to be rude. Despite how shockingly candid Katia was, the Reduran woman was the first person to talk to her as though they were on the same level.
To Eloisa’s eyes, the gorgeous southerner seemed leaps and bounds ahead of her. She had a wide smile and teeth so white they seemed to glow. Her hair was was long and blonde, and came down in soft, layered waves around her bare, bronze shoulders. Glittering jewelry adorned every part of her, and her aura was a mischievous shade of pink.
The juice was somehow both sweet and sour. Eloisa took only a few sips before setting it aside. She examined the aftertaste, not sure how she felt about it.
She listened for a few minutes to Aenek talk animatedly to Caleth. Eloisa didn’t know how any of the men could stand to hold a conversation with the sovereign. He would stare directly at whoever was talking, his eyes seldom blinking and his expression never changing as he listened.
Eloisa would have been unnerved just watching him except that a couple of times his gaze slid over to her. He would give her only the barest curve of his lips, but his aura would shimmer with attraction, causing her to blush.
“What are they talking about?” Eloisa asked Katia.
Katia gave her husband a sideways glance, and then said, “Oh, dear. Don’t even concern yourself. It’s all dull nonsense that basically boils down to the fact that my husband is a general, but only by merit. You see, he’s strong and intelligent—for the most part—but he was born to a poor family. Being a general affords him an obscene amount of money, but he’s had his sights set on earning a title for longer than you and I have been born. Now, he seems to have it in his head that having a southern wife will give he and the sovereign some sort of special bond.”
>
Katia fingered her large, hoop-like earrings. “You see these? Aenek gave them to me because I agreed to make friendly chat with you this evening. He’s going to import a whole new wardrobe for us if you request for me to sit near you at your wedding.”
On impulse, Eloisa peered over at Aenek, but Katia’s husband was none the wiser. Still, she had to lower her voice as she asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”
Katia gave a careless shrug. “I don’t know. You just have one of those sweet faces. You look like someone who can be trusted. Also, the sovereign’s two other generals aren’t married, so if you say anything that ruins Aenek’s prospects, you’re gonna be stuck with Ice Bitch over there.” Katia sent a friendly smile in Hysa’s direction. “Look at that face. If not for the men, she’d jump over this table and wring our necks.”
“Why does she dislike me?” Eloisa asked, taking another sip of juice to hide her lips.
“Oh, it’s not just you. All northern women loathe it when their men take southern wives and concubines. I bet tonight, when her husband is pounding into that ice pit of hers, he’ll be thinking of you.”
Eloisa gasped just as she was trying to swallow. Juice went down her airway and somehow, out of her nose. As she coughed to evict the liquid from her lungs, Katia covered her face to hide her laughter.
“Vasashta?” Caleth said, putting a hand on her back.
“I’m fine,” she said, once she caught her breath. “Sorry, um, revasojcre.”
He caught her off guard when he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. He soon returned to the conversation with Aenek, reverting back to his stoic expression. However, he kept his hand on her back, his thumb occasionally drawing circles against the fabric of her dress.
Eloisa had a difficult time focusing. Her heart fluttered in her chest like the wings of a bird, and her head felt warm and fuzzy.
“He really likes you,” Katia said, her eyes dreamy.
“Do you think so?”
She still felt nervous talking about him when he was right there, but by now she was fairly confident that he didn’t understand her language. If he did, it would be quite the ruse.
“Mhm. I’ve never seen him handle a woman so gently. Though, you do have a delicate look about you.”
“You’ve seen him with a lot of other women?”
Katia arched a brow. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
Eloisa couldn’t rightly say no, so she feigned interest in her goblet, drinking a sizable gulp of the juice. Strangely, she found it more palatable the more she drank.
Laughing, Katia said, “Don’t you worry about other women. You’re—well, I can’t say the word in their language or I’ll turn heads, but basically, you’re the sort of pretty little wife a man takes once he’s done foxing around. All you have to do is hang on his arm, look fasyna, and keep things interesting in the bedroom and he’ll never stray.”
“You sure know a lot,” Eloisa said, downing the rest of her drink.
Katia poured her another glass. “And, if you invite me to sit with you at your wedding, I will tell you precisely how you can be the best lover he’s ever had.”
Eloisa was glad she wasn’t drinking, because it would have surely come out of her nose again.
“I see,” she said, for lack of anything better to say.
“So sweet,” Katia mused as she polished off the rest of her own glass.
Eloisa drank her second glass quickly as well. The sourness no longer bothered her. She’d forgotten how pleasurable a sweet drink could be.
Katia continued to chatter at her about obscene things, up until Jedora returned, at which point she abruptly changed the subject to fine jewelers in the city.
Jedora took the empty seat directly between Eloisa and Katia, ignoring her father’s greeting as she sat down in a huff. She had changed from her unbecoming outfit into a lovely dress of green and silver that looked odd on her, despite her feminine figure.
“Fuck you,” Jedora said to Katia, completely unprompted. “You aren’t talking about jewelers, you dumb wench.”
To Eloisa’s surprise, both Katia and Jedora burst into laughter.
Katia said, “Actually, I was just telling Eloisa how you-know-who’s husband will probably be getting a southern mistress for the wedding service. Now that the sovereign has made his preferences known, Atolia is going to be quite fashionable.”
“Ha. You don’t know the half of it,” Jedora said, helping herself to a glass of juice. “Goldrechfa is already up to his beard in requests for tutoring ever since this one has arrived.” She jabbed a thumb in Eloisa’s direction. “We’re going to have to watch what we say soon.”
As their conversation progressed, it became clear that the pair were very close friends. It was bizarre to Eloisa, as they couldn’t have been more different, aside from their biting wit. Jedora was so grouchy and bullish, while Katia was bright and cheery, even when she was being mean.
“Do you want more wine, Eloisa?” Katia asked. “This one drinks like a fish, so best you fill your goblet while you can.”
“Wine?” Eloisa asked, holding up her half-empty glass. It was her fourth drink. “This is wine?”
“What did you think it was?”
“I thought it was juice that was a bit past its prime.”
Katia laughed, as if she’d made a joke, but Jedora frowned.
“Haven’t you had wine before?”
Eloisa shook her head.
“What?” she exclaimed, loud enough to draw the sovereign’s attention.
“Cues ka hak?” he asked.
Jedora pointed at Eloisa. “Mesresune ka Eloisa ka vysna!”
“Cues?” Caleth looked between them skeptically.
“Vayt,” Jedora said. To Eloisa she asked, “I thought Atolians loved their wine? What did you drink, if not that?”
“What anyone drinks,” Eloisa said, feeling both nervous and embarrassed. “Water.”
“Ackju? Water? That’s all?”
Eloisa gave a curt nod.
To the sovereign, Jedora said, “Halkta ka duyodre ka ackju.”
Caleth’s brows lifted. “Ackju?”
Jedora asked, “What about malt, beer, or ale?”
Whether it was the wine, or her mind projecting drunkenness, Eloisa had a difficult time following the course of the conversation, especially with the two different languages. She looked helplessly up at Caleth, whose hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist.
“Jedoraja,” he said in a warning tone. “Dajae.”
Jedora pressed her lips shut.
Eloisa spent a while wondering if she’d been wrong to turn to Caleth to censure his daughter. There seemed to already be enough friction between the pair, without Eloisa adding to it.
Dinner arrived in six courses. Most of the meals were Cal’derache delicacies, such as seaweed soup and poached whale meat, though there was a distinctly southern course of chopped fish and mangoes. Caleth prodded her to try everything, but with that meal in particular, he wasn’t satisfied until she cleared her plate. It was quite good, and she told herself that it wasn’t wicked to eat it, so long as she was under duress.
Though she didn’t badger her anymore, Jedora made certain to keep Eloisa edged out of her conversation with Katia. Early on, Katia tried to talk over Jedora, but as she drank more and more wine, she became increasingly oblivious to anything that wasn’t the inside of her goblet.
With no one to talk to, Eloisa could only lean back in her chair and watch the auras of the guests. The wine had made her mind and her vision fuzzy, but she could still make out various colors and noticed each time an aura turned gray with a lie. It seemed that at any given time, at least two people at the table were engaged in falsehoods.
She’d been taught long ago why their kind was so maligned in societies. It was the nature of humans and dragonkind alike to be inauthentic, and so they feared anyone that could remove their masks and show them for who they were.
As tired
ness began to tease at her senses, the colors about the guests’ heads started to swirl and dance. Katia’s pink aura and Jedora’s pine-colored one appeared to blend together into little bubbles that popped into a strange brownish gray color.
A kick to her shin jarred her from her stupor, and her gaze snapped to Jedora, who was glowering at her in her usual, unpleasant manner.
“Excuse you,” Eloisa said, intrigued to find that at the moment, she didn’t feel intimidated by Jedora.
“No, excuse you,” Jedora said, her voice going low. “Watch where you’re staring.”
Deciding to test her newfound confidence, Eloisa pursed her lips and said, “What? I can’t look at you now? Really, what is your problem?” She leaned forward and even had the nerve to put her elbows on the table. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant the way you’ve been treating me.”
Jedora let out a heavy sigh. “That is not what I meant, you little lush. Whether you realize it or not, all eyes are on you tonight. If you keep staring above people’s heads, someone is bound to catch on.”
Eloisa’s blood ran cold. “I…”
“Of course, I know,” Jedora whispered. “In fact, it’s disturbing how bad you are at hiding it. Didn’t your mother teach you any finesse?”
“My mother?”
“That’s where you got it from, right?” Her eyes darted to Caleth, and then back to Eloisa. “Can you please stop panicking? He’s going to think I upset you again.”
Eloisa did her best to calm her breath, but she could do little to slow her galloping heart.
“How did you know?”
“You’re embarrassingly obvious. The real question is how did you know about me? Because I’m not obvious. I’m exceedingly careful.”
“You have it, too?” Eloisa breathed, her eyes widening.
Jedora looked around to make certain no one was listening. “You didn’t know?” She searched Eloisa’s face. “If you didn’t know, why haven’t you tried to lie? I haven’t seen that shiny halo of yours turn gray once since you got here.”
“I… I just value truth,” Eloisa said lamely. “Have you told anyone else about me?”
