Duality

by Renee Wildes

  “I was wrong about thee. Thou shalt make a beautiful bride, and a worthy queen,” he croaked. “Now go knock some sense into that ministry.”

  Loren’s jaw tightened. “Aye. Father…”

  “Go,” Cedric ordered. “Help me to my chair first. Faerris.”

  “Aye, Sire?” The valet appeared in the doorway. His face went white. “Oh, Sire, what have you done?”

  “Bow to thy new king and queen, Faerris,” Cedric ordered.

  Faerris helped him back to his chair by the window first, then turned and bowed to Loren and Dara. “Your Majesties.”

  Loren clasped his arm. “Not yet, Faerris, but soon.”

  Pari and Lorelei appeared in the doorway. The crown of Cymry was faster than any messenger. Lorelei stared at her husk of a son, and a mother’s tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Cedric, what hast thou done?”

  “This was my choice,” Cedric stated. “My last gift to my new daughter.”

  Lorelei turned to Dara. “Be certain thou art worthy of such a sacrifice.” Weeping, she fled the room.

  Pari’s jaw tightened. “Listen not with thy ears, youngling. Listen with thy heart and thou shalt do well.” He turned to Loren. “The ministry be gathered. We face them together.”

  He led the way down into the ministry chambers. All eyes widened at Dara’s glowing appearance. Raun’s face paled. “What is this?”

  “Cedric has decided to leave this world,” Pari choked. “This was his gift to Dara and Loren.”

  “The Lady released my vow,” Loren said. “As heir, I am free to rule after my father. Dara has agreed to stay and be my wife.”

  Lord Elio’s face softened, and he inclined his head to Dara.

  Surprised, touched, she smiled back.

  “She was born mortal,” Danaii protested.

  “No longer,” Loren retorted.

  “She was bastard-born,” Gioeli protested. “A peasant.”

  Dara flinched. The torque burned.

  “She is the daughter of the draconian queen Sheena and the human king Hengist,” Pari said. “Royalty on both sides. And thou shalt retract thy insult or leave this chamber for the last time, Minister.”

  Gioeli paled at the ice in Pari’s tone. “Forgive. I forgot my place.”

  Pari nodded, glaring.

  “She is not an elf,” Danaii said. “Thou said it thyself, Pari. She is a halfling.”

  “She is a princess,” Pari replied.

  “Immortal,” Loren added.

  “Fire mage.” Anika cackled.

  They had apparently forgotten that—everyone stepped back.

  “Asss if that could help the foolsss essscape.”

  “Be still,” Dara ordered.

  “Warrior,” Lord Elio put in.

  “Healer,” Benilo added.

  “She shall be my wife,” Loren stated. “If you would have me as king, then that makes her your queen. Accept her as such, or I step down here and now and you can find someone else. I shall not have one without the other.” He tore the crown from his head and tossed it on the table, squaring his shoulders. “We walk away right now, forever.”

  “How can queen of elves not be elf?” Danaii demanded. “Inconceivable.”

  “Is there some ancient law that prevents this?” Loren snarled. “If so, show me. If it is tradition, then the time has come for a change in the order of things.”

  “She brings more to the throne than any queen afore her, elf or nay,” Lord Elio stated. “I vote aye.” He bowed to Dara. “Your Highness.”

  Aletha and Everett had been silent until now. “Aye,” they chorused. “The Lady’s Hand be in all this,” Aletha added.

  “What of her dowry?” Gioeli asked.

  “I have the Isle of Mysts and everything on it as my own,” Dara said.

  “And it stays your own,” Loren stated.

  “I vote aye.” Anika winked at Dara and Loren. “Lightning bolts be harder to dodge than rain clouds, pup. Best be on thy best behavior.”

  Pari laughed at the expression on his grandson’s face.

  “I vote aye,” Benilo declared.

  “It must be unanimous.” Pari glared at the three undeclared ministers. “Tanet, thou hast not said a word. What be thy decision?”

  “I hath seen thy courage, and thou art not afraid to work or to stand for what is right,” the Minister of Builders said. “Being queen is not a figurehead position. Wouldst thou work as hard for a kingdom not thine own?”

  “Loren and his family are my family,” Dara replied. “This is my kingdom.”

  He nodded. “Then I vote aye.”

  Danaii turned to Dara. “Wouldst thou raise thy children with our values and beliefs?”

  “I follow the Lady,” Dara said. “They’ll attend your schools, but I’ll teach them to follow their own conscience and hearts. Those goals aren’t so dissimilar, madam.”

  “Then I vote aye,” Danaii said.

  “Raun?” Pari turned to his son’s best friend.

  Raun had tears in his eyes as he stared at Dara. “He shalt not be coming back, shalt he?”

  “Nay,” Pari stated. “Cedric hast made his choice. Thy future stands afore thee. What dost thou say?”

  “Aye,” Raun whispered.

  Just that quickly, it was done. Dara swayed. So much had happened so fast, she could barely take it in.

  “Breathe,” the voices advised.

  Loren looked at the crown with distaste. “Guess I am stuck with this thing after all.” He plunked the heir’s crown back on his head.

  “Show some respect,” Raun snapped.

  “I have the utmost respect for the office, but crowns do not make kings. This is just a thing.” Loren turned to face Aletha and Everett. “We need to prepare for a traditional champion-choosing.”

  Everett nodded. “We interview the candidates, and there is a three-day fast and cleansing ceremony afore they enter the temple. The Lady chooses Her own champion.”

  Dara looked at Loren and smiled.

  ***

  “The candidates may now enter,” Everett intoned at the temple entrance.

  Cianan turned to Loren. “You and your bright ideas.”

  “You and your big mouth,” Loren retorted. “As I recall, unlike some of us you volunteered. This is what you get for taking such good care of Tegan.”

  “Are you all right?” Dara asked. “You’ve been fasting for three days.”

  “And here I thought it was your beauty making me lightheaded,” Cianan teased. Then he sobered. “Do not worry, vertenya. I have a feeling this shall all be over rather quickly.” He turned and strode away across the courtyard toward the temple.

  Dara and Loren watched all the candidates file up the stairs and disappear through the doorway. Everett trailed along behind. As the high priest vanished, Loren turned to Dara. “Now we wait.”

  An hour passed, then another, with no word or sign. Suddenly a great shout echoed from the temple, and the candidates began exiting the building. Dozens of the best and brightest their houses had to offer streamed from the temple, turned and formed an honor guard flanking the temple entrance and down the steps. At last, Everett and Aletha appeared. “Behold thy champion!”

  Cianan followed them out, glowing with Her Light and looking a bit dazed and disoriented in his new rising sun breastplate. Dara and Loren looked at each other and smiled. “I knew it,” they chorused.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “My lady. Riders approach,” Verdeen called from the tower window. “They bear the Eagle standard of Riverhead. Your father made it.”

  Dara settled deeper into the bathwater and closed her eyes. She’d felt the approach of her human family all day and knew when they’d reached the city walls. “Cianan and Lord Elio will greet them and bring them afore Loren. I’ll meet them in the hall.”

  Verdeen appeared in the doorway. “Are you not happy to see them, my lady?” she asked, approaching to kneel by the tub. “A father should be at his daughter�
�s wedding.”

  Dara shrugged. “The parents I remember as parents are Fanny and Rufus, and that is how it still feels to me. I’m glad Hengist made it for the wedding, but Rufus should be here. Damn the Boars.”

  “Well, my lady, if not for the damned Boars, you would never have met Prince Loren.”

  Dara sighed. “Oh, Verdeen, not you too. Enough about the Hand.”

  Verdeen scrubbed her future queen’s back. “It is like a minstrel’s tale, except it is all true.” Decades older than Dara in real years, Verdeen seemed so much younger.

  “Help me out.” Dara reached up a hand. “What have you found in that cavern of a wardrobe for me to wear this time?”

  Verdeen dried her and sat her afore the fire to dry her hair. While Dara ran the brush through, Verdeen held up the gown she’d selected for the family reunion—dark green velvet, with a scooped neck, long open-draping sleeves and a long trailing skirt. Gold embroidery in a running pattern of twining vines and leaves edged the neckline and skirt hem.

  Dara intensified the fire’s heat to dry her hair faster. Soon Verdeen braided it back, slipped the dress over Dara’s head and pronounced her fit to go.

  A knock sounded at the door. Verdeen opened it to admit Lorelei and Sirona. “We thought you needed a little moral support,” Sirona said. “Moira is resting. Hengist and Trystan are in the conservatory with Pari and Loren.”

  “Fear not, youngling.” Lorelei’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “These are joyous times.”

  Except for your dying son. Dara still couldn’t believe Cedric had done such a thing. “My lady—”

  “Hush.” Lorelei’s lips quivered. “Do not get me started. Hast thou ever seen a water mage cry? Floods of epic proportions.” She shook her head. “Cedric made his choice, and soon he shalt be at peace with Ayala. The next age of the elves is upon us, and I for one am going to celebrate. I intend to watch my great-grandchildren slide down the banisters, youngling, so do not keep me waiting long.”

  “I do not think there shall be much of a problem there.” Sirona laughed. “Shall we?”

  The three women strode arm in arm down the hall, Dara in the middle, and entered the hall afore the footman announced them. “Here we are.” Sirona announced them herself.

  Falak kissed his wife and laughed. “If we ever need a city crier, I know whom to conscript. Princess Dara, you look beautiful as always.”

  “Aye, you do, daughter,” Hengist said.

  Loren came over to put an arm around her waist as Dara flinched at the unfamiliar titles. “I’m glad you made it here safely. How is Moira?” Dara asked.

  “Resting. She’s had her hands full.” There was a flinty edge to Hengist’s voice.

  Dara swallowed hard. “What of the dungeons?”

  Hengist’s jaw tightened so, she thought his teeth would crack. “I filled it in with every piece of rubble we dredged up and mortared together. ’Tis sealed forever. Sezeny’s troops decided to stay on, and I sent Conn and Artur to Westmarche.”

  “I believe thou shalt find most of that nation the same as thine own,” Lorelei said. “Ordinary people with no choice in their master.”

  “I hope so.” Hengist sighed. “Once Westmarche is secured, I’ll journey there myself to settle things. It’ll be a lean winter. Both lands’ crops were destroyed.”

  “I believe we can help with that.” Loren pulled Dara closer. “We have had a good harvest and surplus to share.”

  Hengist gripped Loren’s free arm. “I’ll never be able to repay what you’ve done.”

  Loren shook his head. “We are family. Families help one another.” He kissed Dara’s temple. “All I have ever wanted is right here aside me. If I had naught else, she would be enough.”

  Dara smiled up at him. “I love you too.”

  Hengist nodded. “She has chosen well. I am content.” He turned to Pari. “So, the ceremony is in two days? I brought the token of childhood as you instructed.”

  Dara wondered what it could be.

  Pari nodded. “Dara wished to follow human customs. Thou shalt give the bride away. The rehearsal is tomorrow afternoon, a small dinner for family and wedding participants tomorrow night, then the wedding ceremony is the following afternoon, with a formal dinner and reception following.” He frowned. “A one day celebration hardly seems fitting for a royal wedding.”

  “Bride’s prerogative,” Dara retorted. “I want things simple. The coronation next week will be enough of a melee.”

  Loren grimaced.

  ***

  After the rehearsal and the dinner, Loren, Cianan and Brannan spent a night of purification and vigil in the Lady’s chapel.

  Lorelei found Dara in the moonlit gardens. “I could not sleep the night afore my wedding, either,” the dowager queen confessed. “I was so nervous, but he was such a handsome devil and very kind. I soon got over my shyness.” Loren’s grandmother looked at her future granddaughter. “I am sorry thy mother not be here for thee tonight. Marriage is a big step for any girl, let alone one so far from home and from a different culture. I know they explained the ceremony, but about tomorrow night…”

  Dara blushed. Her body tingled in anticipation of the night to come. “I’ve been a healer long enough to know where babies come from and how they get there. I may not have practice, but I’m not going in blind.”

  “I do not just refer to physical joining. The binding of true life-mates goes beyond physical. Loren said he felt when thou wast hurt. Canst thou feel his emotions as well?”

  Dara hesitated. “It started when Deane died. He was so wracked with guilt and shame. He blamed himself. I felt it.”

  “Loren is a powerful receptive empath, more so than his mother. But he is not projective. Thy sensing his emotions is just one more piece of proof of true life-mate bonding. Thou share feelings and thoughts as well as bodies, two halves of the same whole.”

  Dara flinched. “You mean feel everything each other feels? Read each other’s thoughts? Always?”

  “There can be no secrets betwixt life-mates. I did not think thou wouldst wish to enter such a union without forewarning. It happens with the physical joining, and can be startling even when thou know it is coming.”

  Dara’s mind swam at the implications. The torque stirred. Her life had always been a series of secrets. To have her soul laid bare to another, to see into another’s…

  “Dost thou trust my grandson?”

  Dara trembled. “Aye, but—”

  “That is all that matters. Thou art true partners by the Lady’s Hand. Love and trust. All shalt be well, youngling.” Lorelei rose and returned to the palace.

  Dara found herself heading toward the stables. “Hani`ena?”

  “Wondered when you would think to ask me, vertenya,” the mare replied. “Cross the bridge and follow the fence line behind the stables. I shalt meet you.”

  The mare glowed in the moonlight, like a messenger of the Lady Herself. Dara climbed over the fence and placed a hand on Hani`ena’s neck.

  “You spoke with Lorelei,” the mare said.

  “I’m scared,” Dara confessed.

  “Of Loren?”

  “Never.” Dara’s retort was unthinking and instantaneous.

  Hani`ena radiated confidence and satisfaction. “Of course not. He would never hurt you. You are his heart and soul. I know you would never hurt him.” The mare blew into Dara’s hair. “Do you have any secrets he does not already know? Anything he cannot know?”

  After everything they’d been through? “Nay. He took the transition from bastard peasant to dragon to fire mage to princess rather well.” She bit her lip. “Better than I did.”

  Hani`ena snorted. “And you managed not to kill him when your merc went from prince to king. I know why you ran. Why did you come back?”

  “To say goodbye.”

  “Liar.” Hani`ena flattened her ears. “Rule number three—you cannot lie mind-to-mind. Care to try again?”

  Dara’s shoulders slumped.
“I looked for a reason to stay. I wanted him to ask me to stay.”

  “You made him beg.” Hani`ena glared at her. “Beware that pride, dragon. He has his too. You cannot always have it your own way. You are partners. You both must bend, or break.”

  “I was scared. I’m still scared.” Dara straightened. “But I love him.”

  “So do I. Good enough. Spine, vertenya. Courage. Remember—love and trust. Honesty always.” Hani`ena nudged her. “You should sleep.”

  “Good night.” Dara returned to the palace.

  ***

  The morning of the wedding found Dara, Sirona and Pahn in the royal spas. Pahn muttered about “spoiled elvish nonsense” when Dara dragged her into the milk bath, but even she enjoyed the massage. The dwarven mage and the elven countess dressed in their gowns and veils, then met in Dara’s chambers where Lorelei and Verdeen helped Dara into the glowing silky layers of her wedding dress.

  Elvish custom demanded the bride wear Goddess white instead of the traditional human pale blue for new beginnings, but neither was a good color for Dara. She’d compromised with a long-sleeved, high-necked gown the ivory of rich cream, embroidered with hundreds of tiny seed pearls.

  “Loren is going to hate this dress tonight.” Sirona’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she buttoned the endless row of pearl buttons up the back.

  Pahn laughed as Dara blushed. “I don’t see a veil for the bride,” she observed, tugging on her own head covering.

  “Nay, I rebelled at that rule,” Dara admitted as Sirona held out the bridal wreath—vines, leaves, and red and white flowers twined together. She placed it on Dara’s head.

  Dara stood at the mirror and stared at her reflection. She stood surrounded by fire—Verdeen, orange, Lorelei, gold, and Sirona and Pahn, red. They wore sheer head veils that matched their gowns.

  Dara wore only the veil of her flame-colored hair. “Do you have my things?”

  “Relax.” Sirona handed her a single white rose. “We have everything under control.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Verdeen opened it to admit Hengist. Rather than midnight blue, he was resplendent in a red and gold surcoat, with his golden eagle emblazoned on the front. Dara swept into a low curtsy. “You honor me, Father.” It didn’t feel as unnatural to say as she’d feared it might.