by Cayla Kluver
“Just what?” He sat up, placing a hand on his neck where I had been playing with his hair.
“When we have a child, what will happen? I mean, the High Priestess told me, when she was our prisoner in the cave, that the powers of the Empress of Cokyri were supposed to pass to her firstborn daughter upon the child’s birth, but that they were split between her and her brother when she was born a twin. The possibility of the powers reuniting and passing into the High Priestess’s firstborn daughter gave us our negotiating leverage with the Overlord.”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you have powers, too. I’m wondering…”
A shadow fell over his face. “You’re wondering if my powers are unique to me. Or might a child of ours inherit them.”
“Yes, or if…” I took a deep breath. “Could they pass from your body and into the child upon birth, like the magic of the Empress of Cokyri?”
From the expression on Narian’s face, it was plain this was the first time he had ever considered the question.
“I don’t know, Alera. The source of my power derives from an ancient legend and the circumstances surrounding my birth.” He touched my face, then added, “Perhaps it’s time we took another look at the origin of the legend—and we should find out if anything else was ever written about the powers I was destined to have.”
I sighed. “I wish London were here. He uncovered the scrolls that foretold your birth, hidden somewhere in Cokyri. He would know what else was written.”
Narian nodded, but said nothing more, and I tried to imagine what he must be feeling. Were his powers a blessing or a curse? Would he want them to pass to a child of his? And if a child held them, what manner of life would he or she lead? Then I asked myself the same questions, and an overriding answer became startlingly clear.
“It would be good to know, Narian. But it doesn’t matter. I want children with you, and I do not fear the powers you hold, nor would I fear them in the hands of our own child.”
He nodded, then settled on his back. I snuggled against him, lost in thought. At some point, I would fall asleep; it did not appear that he intended to do the same.
* * *
The second day of the festival showcased a wide variety of performers—tumblers, jugglers, singers and musicians; dancers and play actors; men who handled whips and fire; magicians and mummers. The list was never-ending, and we enjoyed it all from our seats in the royal box atop the hillside overlooking the military training field.
Two stages facing us had been erected in the bowl-shaped field for use by the performers, and bleachers had been built during the night on the north side of the hill. Other spectators sat on the ground, the slope itself providing a form of tiered seating. The laughs, jeers and applause that rang out from the audience on all sides felt like manna from heaven—only it fed my soul, not my stomach. My sister, father and Semari were almost bouncing up and down in an enthusiastic show of appreciation, while my mother, Alantonya and I less flamboyantly indicated our delight. Koranis and Temerson were quite vocal, tossing out taunts and cheers with the rest of the crowd. The only people we had invited who had not yet joined us were Cannan and Faramay. When I inquired after the captain, no one had information on his whereabouts, and I did my best to dismiss my concern.
“Perhaps he’s ill,” I suggested.
“The man hasn’t been ill in all the years I’ve known him.” My father chortled. “He’s never missed a day of service. And if he had taken sick, he would have made sure it was on a day when he was off-duty!”
Other than Narian, who seemed lost inside his head, we all laughed at the joke, then went back to observing the festivities.
Another hour passed, along with lunch, which was served to us within the royal box. I received a few odd glances from my father for conversing freely with Narian throughout the meal, but he didn’t address it, perhaps because of the looks my mother was sending his way.
Once servants had removed our plates and dishes, Temerson stood and stretched.
“I think I’ll step out, if you don’t mind, love,” he said to Miranna, who nodded, then he turned to my father and Koranis. “Would anyone care to join me?”
They both agreed, and all were soon departing through the door behind us. I chuckled at their odd behavior, and Semari came to sit by Miranna, taking up Temerson’s seat. It was then that I noticed Alantonya had been left a bit stranded. She didn’t seem to mind, but I nonetheless pointed this out to Narian. Though he looked almost like he was swallowing medicine, he rose to his feet and walked to his mother, ignoring Semari’s stare.
“Do you mind?” he asked Alantonya, gesturing to the vacant chair beside her.
“No,” she said, surprised. “No, not at all.”
With one final glance at me, to which I responded with an encouraging nod, he took a seat.
“Are you enjoying the festivities?” he asked the Baroness, beginning some small talk, but their voices gradually dropped lower, their conversation more private. Though I could not hear their words, their postures relaxed. Then Alantonya reached out to place her hand over her son’s where it rested on the arm of his chair, and he smiled.
CHAPTER THIRTY:
GOOD MEN
SHASELLE
I spent the first day of the festival hand-in-hand with Grayden. Mother had been more than willing to bless my attendance with the young man, even though with Dahnath accompanying Drael, it left her hands full with the other children. We explored the market, and dodged Lord Taether when I spotted him coming toward me down the street. I told Grayden of my misadventure with this suitor of mine, and he laughed, recalling the subsequent dinner during which I had spilled wine on his father.
“Of all the potential marriage partners I’ve been introduced to, I haven’t had a single experience as memorable as either of yours.” He paused a moment to ponder, a twinkle in his green eyes. “But then, it has to be acknowledged that you are the common factor in these peculiar occurrences.”
“I don’t know what you mean to suggest,” I replied, fingering the golden horse that hung from the chain around my neck, the horse that seemed to give me permission to be a free spirit. Grayden noticed what I was doing, and he smiled.
When evening fell, we left the faire to attend dinner at Grayden’s home with his family. He had three younger siblings, a mother from whom he had inherited his slight build, and a father who had not forgotten nor forgiven my conduct toward him. He tossed frowns in my direction throughout the meal and asked about the well-being of my mother and siblings, unconcerned with my own.
“Your father dislikes me, doesn’t he?” I whispered to Grayden in the parlor, noticing that I was offered tea, but not wine.
“He has a tendency to hold grudges,” Grayden muttered back. “I should know—he’s been holding one against me for nineteen years.”
I stifled a laugh with my hand, earning yet another glower from Lord Landru.
The second day of the Harvest Festival was a literal carnival, with entertainers at every turn. I hesitantly approached the military training field, the site of my father’s murder, afraid I would hear the echo of the Overlord’s voice and relive the images of that macabre scene. Grayden held my hand, but to my relief, the happy babble of the crowd, the flash of bright colors, the smells of food, wine and ale, and the raucous laughter transformed the landscape, and I put another fear behind me. He and I settled on the hillside to boo, his
s, clap and cheer, and in the midst of it all, he put his arm around me. I didn’t recoil. I didn’t even mind.
Evening fell, and the delicious aromas of the Commander’s Banquet drifted on the air, arousing appetites and calling everyone to the feast. Torches were lit, and a group of musicians assembled to play, ensuring the festive mood would continue throughout the meal. I stood in line with Grayden, awaiting a share of the generous spread. Meat of every sort—boar, venison, pheasant, peacock, lamb—sizzled on spits, with hot soups, crisp vegetables and several varieties of bread for accompaniment. Fruits, sweet breads and candies were heaped on a table for dessert. Wine, ale and mead flowed freely. No one would have reason to go to bed hungry this night.
Those who had been first in line finished eating before the last comers were served, and soon a circle of young women rose to stamp their feet in rhythm with the music. As Grayden and I settled on a bench with our plates, shouts rose to encourage them, and an area for dancing was cleared. By the time we had eaten our fill, several couples had taken to the floor, and Grayden pulled me to my feet and into their midst.
I was warm from the glass of ale I’d enjoyed, and the light from the torches wavered with the breeze, casting strange shadows and overloading my senses. We finished two dances, and I would have taken a break had the musicians not begun to play a lament. Grayden drew me close, swaying side to side, but even with the slower pace, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
“Would you like to know something, Shaselle?”
“Just don’t tell me I have food in my teeth.”
“No, silly,” he said with a grin. “It’s just that I’ve never been happier than I am now. And I was wondering…that is, I was thinking…” He took a deep breath and blurted, “I’d like to ask your uncle for permission to court you.”
“I thought we were courting. Or is that a secret?” I felt euphoric from his closeness, my head swimming, my heart light. So naturally, I had to tease him.
“I just want to do things the right way.” He hesitated, gazing into my eyes, before softly adding, “But if we are courting, then I believe certain liberties may be taken.”
He touched his lips to mine in a kiss so sweet that it threatened to halt my breath altogether.
“What do you say, Shaselle?” he murmured, raising his hands to my face, his touch tender. “May I speak with your uncle?”
I scanned his dark hair, sparkling green eyes and upturned nose, thoughts of other suitors I had met, of Saadi, of my mother’s and Cannan’s plans for my future tumbling over each other. In the fallout from everything that had happened, I had never expected to feel truly happy, wasn’t certain I deserved it. But this was the course my life was supposed to take, and if the fates were willing to include happiness along with it, I wasn’t going to pass it by.
“Yes,” I said with a wistful smile. “I think courting is an intriguing possibility.”
He threaded his fingers through mine and led me aside, an exuberant grin affixed in place. Then the world exploded. Fires lit the sky and loud blasts rent the air from several directions. Mothers ran with their children, their screams and cries tearing at my ears. Metal flashed and clashed as sword-wielding Cokyrian soldiers engaged Hytanican men armed with broken bottles, farm hoes, meat cleavers and other makeshift weapons, on occasion brandishing a sword wrenched from the enemy. Grayden held my hand tightly, crushing my fingers together and pulling me out of the fray of blood and pain and death. He turned to say something to me, but I never heard a word—not due to the bedlam surrounding us, but because of the ringing in my ears as I sank to my knees, the world going black.
* * *
Sometime later I awoke in the front parlor of Grayden’s home, a cold cloth on my forehead, having no idea how I had come to be here. I looked around to see his mother ministering to him, for he was likewise laid out on a sofa, barely stirring.
“What happened?” I croaked, and she came to my side, offering me a cool drink.
“You’re fine,” she soothed. “Both of you are fine. Just lie still.”
“But…how did I come to be here?”
“You and my son passed out. No one knows how or why, but a lot of people lost consciousness. The Cokyrian commander summoned physicians to treat everyone, then my Lord Landru found you and brought you both here.”
“I need to go home. My mother must be frantic.” I struggled to sit upright, then fell back, my head pounding, nausea sweeping through me that was so debilitating I would have gladly traded it for a hangover.
“Shaselle, are you all right?” It was Grayden, his voice weak and confused. His mother replaced the damp cloth on my brow, then went to offer him something to drink.
“I think I will be,” I managed in response.
I heard voices in the foyer, then Lord Landru strode into the parlor.
“She’s there, Cannan,” he said, and my uncle approached, his atypical worry lines relaxing when he realized I was conscious.
“How are you, Shaselle?”
“Never better.”
He laughed in pure relief. “I’m going to let you rest here for a while yet. Then I’ll return and take you home. But you’re going to be just fine.”
“What went wrong, Uncle? Everyone was so happy, and then…it was chaos.”
“I know. There was a disturbance—Hytanican caused, I’m afraid. But the Cokyrians were only too eager to respond. Feebly armed Hytanicans in various stages of inebriation were no match for sober, well-armed and well-trained Cokyrian soldiers. It would have been a bloodbath had it not been for Commander Narian.” Cannan shook his head, as if trying to figure something out. “I’m not sure what he did, but he must have been anticipating trouble. He released some type of poison—no, not a poison. But some type of airborne substance that knocked everybody off their feet. Shut the fighting down at once.”
He placed a hand on my cheek, brushing away a few wisps of my hair.
“You no doubt feel poorly right now, but I’ve been told the effects wear off in a few hours. You’ll be back to normal after that.”
“Captain, sir?” It was Grayden.
My uncle gazed over at him in surprise. “Yes?”
“This may not be the ideal time to ask, but, would you please permit me to court Shaselle?”
There was stunned silence in the room, then loud laughter.
“I’d be a fool to deny you a chance with my niece. Assuming Shaselle favors the idea.”
“I do, Uncle,” I assured him, easily slipping back toward sleep, images of Grayden and Saadi drifting through my head. Then a remembrance of Queen Alera and Commander Narian came to the forefront—how deferential he had been with her when I had been caught with that dagger, how she had looked at him. And I knew two things with absolute certainty. She was in love with him, and he had to be a good man.
* * *
Refusing to be intimidated by what had happened the previous evening, I ventured forth to spend the final day of the Harvest Festival with Grayden. My mother tried her best to keep me home, but the weather was splendid, and the worst everyone had feared had already occurred. Besides, there were to be horse races, even if no tournament was to take place; even she realized that, short of tying me down, she would not be able to keep me from attending.
Grayden and I sat again on the hillside, sizing up the horses and the riders, choosing our favorites, wagering between us. The crowd was abundant, but more subdued, in part because no alcohol was being ser
ved—Commander Narian had decided to shut down certain aspects of the celebration rather than closing down the entire event. For once, I agreed with him.
After the races had ended, the faire wound down, and Grayden tugged me toward a stand where the vendor’s wares were rapidly depleting.
“Come!” he exclaimed. “I want to get you something—a remembrance.”
I laughed, for he was pulling me toward a display of headpieces made of woven flowers and ribbons, but he was not to be deterred. He worked toward the front of the stand, extracted a coin from his money pouch and flipped it at the woman in charge.
“I’d like your best one for the girl I’m courting,” he proclaimed, and I suspected the real truth was that he wanted to say the words.
“They are all finely made, young sir. Which one is best is a matter of the color you desire.”
Grayden studied me, trying to choose. I struck a pose to help.
“Green,” he decided. “For she has the loveliest hazel eyes.”
His words shocked me into silence, and a strange notion flashed in my brain. He had said my eyes were lovely. Could he possibly think I was beautiful?
“Shaselle?” he faltered, probably afraid he had offended me. “Would you prefer a different color?”
“Not at all! I adore green!”
His grin resurfaced and he nestled the chosen crown into my hair, which fell in a simple braid down my back. I beamed at him, the world seeming brighter, less tainted and revitalized, for somehow my uncle Cannan had come through—he had found me a young man that Papa would have been proud to know. When Grayden continued to gaze at me, adoration in his eyes, my cheeks pinked, then he abruptly turned me to face away from him, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“Your cousin is over there. Would you like to share the news?”
