“Don’t you dare let Hol-Opah steal Wynsill from us.” The base cook was a favorite among the Guards and for very good reason.
“I already told Salomen that was not an option. Actually, I told her that a moon ago, when she had Wynsill make horten soup for our second date.” A wistful smile crossed her face. “We never did get around to a third.”
“It has been a bit busy. But I suggest you take Salomen out once this feast is over and she’s able to concentrate on something else. Otherwise, your bonding ceremony will end up being your third date.”
“Good Goddess, what a terrible thought.” Tal banked the transport as they exited the Blacksun flight path; now they were making a straight shot over the golden fields and green hills to Hol-Opah. “You’re right. I need to make that happen. There’s just been so much else going on, especially with the replacement of two caste Primes.”
Micah nodded. He had never seen Blacksun so chaotic, but then again, they had never lost one-third of the High Council in a single day. The campaigning among the merchant and warrior castes was ferocious.
“Do you think Ehron has a chance?” he asked.
“Well, he has no established power base and no experience on the more important committees. But this may be the one time that lack is actually an advantage. The warriors are looking for new blood. They want someone as far from Shantu as they can get.”
“Ehron certainly fits the description.” Micah didn’t know much about him, but he had looked up his record while sitting in the healing center, catching up on news. He seemed to be a man of integrity, and right now the Council needed that more than political experience.
“I think the merchant campaign is more clear-cut. There’s no question in my mind that Stasinal will get the nod.”
“She’ll make an excellent Prime Merchant,” Micah agreed. “But that would mean no more shouting matches across the chamber floor between the Prime Merchant and the Prime Warrior. What will we do for entertainment?”
“You’re not one of those who thinks this peace and mutual goodwill is going to last, are you?”
“Your cynicism is showing, my friend.”
“I’m not a cynic. I’m merely a realist.”
“And the Chosen,” he muttered, just loud enough to be sure she heard it.
CHAPTER 62:
Autumn feast
It was almost like old times, Tal thought. Salomen, Shikal, Nikin, and Jaros were all waiting outside as she brought the transport down behind the main house. But now she had no compunction about greeting Salomen with a warmron in front of anyone who wished to see.
“I missed you,” she said.
Salomen gave her a quick kiss and pulled back to smile at her. “I only left the State House this morning.”
“And it was an emptier place without you.”
“You had Colonel Micah.”
“Micah almost didn’t make it here in one piece.” Tal narrowed her eyes at him.
“Colonel.” Salomen’s voice took on the tone it often did when she spoke to Jaros. “What did you do this time?”
“I merely referred to the Lancer by her new title as an act of respect,” he said. “It’s not my fault she interprets it otherwise.”
“Respect, my backside,” said Tal, and Salomen laughed as she stepped over to touch palms with him.
“I am so glad to have you on Opah land again,” she said.
“I’m very glad to be here. And ready to eat.”
Tal’s arms had no time to feel empty, as a small body instantly filled them.
“You’re here!” Jaros grinned up at her. “Now the feast can start.”
“You were waiting for us?” Tal looked over at Salomen. “You never said anything about delaying the start until we could get here.”
Shikal stood behind Jaros and touched Tal’s palms over his head. “Believe me, we’ve started. But this feast takes a long time; we’re still on the appetizers. Jaros is just eager for the fantens to be pulled out of the cooking pits.”
“Whole fantens,” Jaros explained. “Six of them!”
“Speedy,” Tal said.
Next in line, Nikin laughed as they clasped hands. “I see you’ve picked up some new vocabulary.”
“Part of my job. Warriors are actually part scholar, you know.”
“The good ones, anyway.” He grinned and turned toward Micah. “Well met, Colonel. And welcome back to Hol-Opah.”
“Thank you. It’s a welcome relief after Blacksun, I can tell you.”
“A bit busy these days, eh?” Shikal asked. “Perhaps later tonight we can wind down with a bottle of spirits in the parlor.”
Micah’s face split into an enormous smile. “I’ve been dreaming about that bottle and a crackling fire for nearly half a moon.”
“And the nights are cold enough now for the fire,” Shikal said. “I think we can make your dream come true.”
As the group moved away, Tal caught Salomen’s hand and held her back. “We’ll join you in a few ticks,” she said, waving them on.
“The kiss wasn’t enough?” Salomen asked.
“Never, but that’s not why I want you alone. I brought you a gift.” Tal opened the rear door of her transport and pulled a small, flat package off the seat. “Micah mentioned our third date, and I know this isn’t it, but…it’s a special night for you. I wanted to acknowledge that.” She held out the package.
“Thank you.” Salomen accepted it with a careful touch. “I didn’t expect anything tonight.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a gift if you expected it.”
Salomen shot her a quick smile as she broke the seals and lifted the lid off the box. A sudden intake of breath marked her recognition of the contents.
“Oh, Andira…” Reverently, she lifted the tiny bouquet from its cushioned bed. Each flower bore five white, pointed petals and a deep green circle at its center. “Windstars! In autumn? Where did you find them? Glasshouses don’t grow these.”
“It may be autumn here, but it’s spring in southern Pallea.”
“You had these flown in from southern Pallea?”
“Mm-hm. I’m afraid they won’t last as long as the book you gave me—” Tal’s speech was cut off. By the time the kiss ended, all words had fled her head.
“I cannot believe you remembered.” Salomen brought the flowers to her nose and closed her eyes, her pleasure washing over Tal’s senses with a golden warmth. “They smell like spring. I love this scent.”
“I remember everything you told me that morning. It was our first morning together.”
“Yes, but it was also right before everything fell apart.”
“Your favorite tree is the cinnoralis. Your favorite place on Hol-Opah is right over there.” Tal pointed in the direction of the small waterfall on the southern border. “And you love windstars because they’re the first flower to bloom in spring, when nothing else can survive.”
“You do remember it all.”
“When you told me that, I thought it was the perfect flower for you.”
“Why?” Salomen sniffed the flowers again, a lovely smile bringing out the lines beside her mouth.
“Because it’s both beautiful and strong. It blooms when you think it should not. And it’s easy to overlook if you only look for the bigger, showier blossoms.” Tal ran a fingertip along the edge of one petal, impossibly soft yet able to withstand the last winter winds. “But once you’ve seen one, and felt it, you cannot forget it.”
Salomen was looking at her with her heart in her eyes. “That describes you as well, tyrina. With one exception.”
“Which one?”
“You’re impossible to overlook.”
Tal had no ready answer for that, but a kiss worked just as well. Possibly better.
/> When they broke apart, Salomen tapped the bouquet clip to activate the molecular grip and pressed it to the lapel of her coat. “Perfect,” she said.
It was. Her long coat was a patchwork of autumn colors, reds and tans and black, and the windstars stood out against it like a beacon. Tal thought she might be excused for feeling smug about her success.
Hand in hand, they walked around to the other side of the house, where the land between the front porch and the gates had been transformed into a scene of chaos. The Opahs had rigged up part of a field cover, and beneath it was a forest of tables, chairs, smoking grills, bottle carts, and ninety people milling around and talking so loudly that Tal could already pick out voices she recognized, even at this distance. Though a light mist was beginning to fall, the revelers were dry and comfortable beneath the field cover, and the atmosphere of celebration was almost physically palpable.
She had been nervous about this, dreading the possibility of having to make some sort of speech or otherwise acknowledge her status. Of all places, she did not want to be held apart here. These were her friends and coworkers, and she really just wanted to walk in, pick up a drink, and start chatting with them.
Salomen sensed her reticence and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry,” she said in a low voice. Then she shouted, “Hoi, everyone, look who came for the fanten!”
“Salomen!” Tal would have ducked behind a tree had one been handy.
“Look!” someone cried from the edge of the crowd. “Salomen’s brought her bondmate!”
Heads turned and there was a chorus of greetings as Salomen pulled Tal the rest of the way. When they arrived beneath the shelter of the field cover, someone pressed a drink into Tal’s hand, someone else was telling her that she had to try the mallowfish before they were all gone, and in moments she had been swallowed into the crowd.
She relaxed as the conversations all seemed to center on Salomen. How was she getting on in the State House? Had she thrown any Councilors out of her office yet? Heads nodded all around as Tal explained Salomen’s new policy of independently meeting with every single Councilor and how most of them were, for now at least, completely charmed.
“We knew she’d do just fine,” said one.
“As long as they don’t make her angry,” said another, setting off a round of laughter.
“Aye, Salomen will straighten them out,” commented a third, and everyone seemed to agree with that wholeheartedly. Tal raised an eyebrow at her tyree, who gave her a sweet smile and sipped her drink.
It took some time for Tal to understand what was really happening, and when it finally hit, she had to laugh at herself. She had been so wrapped up in the events at Blacksun that she had bought into that Fahla’s Chosen concept herself, even while she railed against it. But this wasn’t Blacksun. It was Granelle and Hol-Opah, and it was where these people lived out their lives. They hadn’t gathered like this since the last day of harvest, and there was a new baby to be talked about, and gossip as to who had been seen dating whom, and discussions about the harvest and the weather and the plantings next moon. To be sure, there was also a great deal of gossip about the arrest of Withernet, Parser’s local spy, but even so, they spoke more about the local effect of the arrest than its ties to the greater issues. Parser and Shantu were merely names in the news, distant figures who had caused problems both in Blacksun and to the Opahs. But everyone knew Withernet. His betrayal was personal to them.
And Salomen was personal to them as well. She, not Tal, was the figurehead of this feast.
“I just realized something,” Tal said when she found a temporary lull with Micah.
“Me too,” said Micah. “I realized that I’ve never tasted fanten like this before. Can you believe how tender this is?” He took a vast bite and chewed happily.
“Great Goddess, were you raised in a mud puddle? You’re eating like Jaros.”
His smile was unrepentant, and when he had finally chewed enough to clear his mouth, he said, “I have more sympathy for Jaros these days. So what was your great realization?”
“I’m not the Lancer here. I’m Salomen’s bondmate.”
“Finally figured that out, eh?” He took another bite.
“Oh, so you already knew? Good of you to share.”
He waved a hand. “Some things you have to learn on your own. It has never been my obligation to spoon-feed you.”
She glared at him, but there was no heat in it and she soon gave it up. “Not a single person has asked about the ritual combat. I thought they’d be full of questions.”
“I think they would consider it rude to ask you about that. You nearly died, and they all saw Salomen being carried down by Nikin because she was too weak to walk. That’s not a topic to be explored at an autumn feast. That would be like Varsi coming up to me at our base feast and asking me how I felt when I was shot in the basement.”
“I see your point.” Tal took a bite of her own fanten and rolled her eyes skyward. “Fahla!”
“Told you,” Micah said with satisfaction.
The feast went on until well after dark, the crisp night doing nothing to dampen the spirits of people so full of excellent food and a significant amount of drink. Someone began tapping out a rhythm on a drum, which appeared to be a signal of sorts as everyone rushed to push tables aside and pull out the chairs. Another field worker began playing a windpipe, a third produced a ten-string, and before long most of the crowd was sitting and rocking their heads in time to the music, while those whose stomachs weren’t overly full found the energy to twirl and sway in front of the players.
Tal was sitting between Micah and Salomen. As she held Salomen’s hand, she thought back to the day when she had first seen Delegate Norsen’s impromptu replacement in the State House. Impulsively, she squeezed the hand in hers, then brought it to her lips and planted a soft kiss on it.
Salomen looked over and smiled. “What are you thinking?” she asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.
“About the day we met. And how you looked at me with such disrespect, and I wanted to toss you out of the room, but I couldn’t because you turned out to be the most useful delegate in the whole meeting.”
“I’m still disrespectful, my Lancer.” Salomen leaned farther in and gently bit Tal’s earlobe. “When I need to be.”
“Salomen!” Tal pulled back and looked around, but Micah was entranced by the music and the dancers, and no one else had noticed. When she turned back, Salomen was laughing.
“Are you afraid people might see me being affectionate toward you?”
“That wasn’t affection.” Tal shifted uncomfortably, to Salomen’s greater amusement.
“Certainly it was. And love, and a little bit of lust, and since when is any of that a problem? Have you noticed what’s happening at the edges of the field cover?”
She had, but thought it impolite to look at any of the couples taking advantage of the darkness. “We’re sitting in the front.”
“And you still think everyone is looking at you?”
For a moment Tal was irritated by the question, but then she shook her head at herself. “I suppose I’m just not used to being one of the crowd.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.”
Tal looked at her, sensing the honest desire to know. Salomen was doing her best to give Tal what she wished for. It certainly wasn’t her fault if Tal herself wasn’t clear about those wishes.
“It’s exactly what I wanted,” she decided, and leaned in to give Salomen a proper kiss. She sensed a small emotional ripple in the people around them; this kiss was not one that was likely to go unnoticed. But when she straightened, all she saw were a few quick smiles as people went back to their conversations or watching the dancers.
“Amazing,” she said. “I really am anonymous.”
“You most certainly are not. You’re my bondmate. That’s what Chosen really means, Andira. Fahla chose you for me.”
Tal’s next kiss was much more difficult for anyone to ignore, but this time she didn’t care.
CHAPTER 63:
Damage control
By the time the feast wound down and the last guests departed, it was well past Jaros’s bedtime, though he was wide awake from all the excitement. Tal and Salomen left the others packing up the food and brought him in to prepare for bed. When he was in his pajamas and had brushed his teeth, Salomen led them down the back stairs to the kitchen and sat him down with a cup of gassy water. “Andira and I will be in the parlor,” she told him. “Come find us when you’re done. And drink all of it.”
He nodded and silently began to sip his water.
“Digestive aid,” Salomen said as she and Tal walked through the dining room and into the parlor. “He always eats himself sick at these feasts. A little gassy water before bed saves everyone a lot of trouble during the night. Takes him a while to drink it, though. He’s never liked the taste.” She sat in one of the two armchairs flanking the empty fireplace and looked up. “We need to talk.”
Tal took the other chair. “What’s wrong?”
Several pipticks of increasingly uncomfortable silence passed as she watched Salomen search for the right words.
“We’re going to show Jaros the recording of the ritual combat.”
“Wh—” Tal fell back in her chair with a thump, staring at the woman who just two ticks ago had been perfectly sane.
Salomen watched her, waiting.
“All right,” Tal said. “I can feel that you’re already certain about this, and I know you would not make that decision lightly. So tell me what it is that makes you think this is a good idea, because from where I’m sitting it has disaster written all over it.”
“It has disaster written over it from where I’m sitting, too. But I have to agree with Father and Nikin. It’s the best thing we can do.” She sighed. “Jaros has become obsessed with it. When it happened, he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to watch, because none of us knew how to explain that you might not survive. So Father took him into the lobby, but of course the chamber proceedings are shown all over the State House. Father managed to find a place where Jaros couldn’t see it, but he still heard it. He heard everything.”
Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3) Page 48
