by Lisa Daniels
“Is it gonna be a marriage deal?”
“Going to be,” Bethany corrected. “And yes, it looks like that might be the way forward. Usually is when dealing with eccentric nations like this. They want a connection, a legitimacy to our nation, and one of the best ways to do that is by forging a marriage bond.”
Which meant Father had finally arranged somewhere for Bethany to go. A pang of loss ate within. Kiara didn't want to see her big sister go just yet.
“Seems stupid,” Kiara said, folding her arms. “Everyone knows marriages don't always work out. You can't just shove two people in a house and hope they'll like each other.”
“It harkens back to the ancient tradition of treating the tribe where we've sent someone to marry, as family,” Bethany hissed. “So in hard times, that tribe comes to us, or us to them.”
“Yeah, but tribes have, like, three hundred people or whatever for their population. We're in the millions. I don't think it works like that.”
“It's a start.” Now Bethany nudged her little sister, forcing her to attempt to focus on whatever boring discussion went on. The king didn't discuss very loud, however. Seemed he only bothered projecting his voice when being disapproving of Kiara. Like they all did.
If only they just let her slip away. Her sisters did everything better anyway, no point following in their shadows.
Kiara noticed her father's eyes widen. He spluttered something to the ambassador. Mother looked as if she wanted to both laugh and cry at the same time. Bethany narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
So, of course, Kiara opened her big mouth again. “What's happening?”
Was that a flicker of guilt in her father's eyes? After some more rushed conversation, her father announced, “We have... come to an agreement. The people of Kanthus are interested in forming an alliance with us. And one of the conditions is to give the hand of one of my daughters in marriage to one of their Highborn.”
Bethany let out a low hiss. Kiara scrambled to remember her lessons on Kanthus, and why people hated trading with them. Something about some heathen religion, calling monsters Highborn or whatever. Too many rumors about that place, and most of them bad. They practised dark rituals. They were cannibalistic, they sacrificed babies to appease their twisted gods. But father said they needed to strike a deal with this kingdom.
By the way her father, mother and ambassador looked specifically at her, Kiara's stomach knotted uneasily. Oh no.
“You're not sending me, are you?”
Her father wiped his head, now beady with sweat. As if already regretting his decision. “Yes. We are.”
Even Bethany's jaw dropped. Her hand tightened on her sister's shoulder. For all Bethany's criticisms, the thought of sending Kiara away hadn't occurred to her either.
“What?” Kiara was unable to hide the utter shock, perhaps tinged with despair, in her voice. “You can't be serious! Who in their right mind would send me?”
Clearly uncomfortable, her father persisted with the madness anyway. “Don't resist me on this, child. The decision is final.”
And just like that, all of Kiara's dreams about becoming the first female huntswoman, of living a rogue life, swept under the nose of all those who mattered... ended.
The guards closed in on her. They knew her impulsive nature, knew she might try to flee.
Humiliated, she was escorted to her bedroom to wait for the negotiations to finish. To leave her home forever, to marry a stranger.
A monster.
Chapter Two
Father must be punishing her. No other reason for it. Fed up of her wandering around, always doing the wrong nightmarish thing, he'd finally snapped and sent her on her way to a foreign kingdom where people were convinced that the locals ate one another. Because who would possibly choose Kiara to go and get married over her bigger and better sister? Bethany knew what to do. Bethany expected a marriage of convenience. And she paid attention during the lessons.
Kiara left the next day. With little ceremony or pomp, or chance to say goodbye to anything she wanted. With a pang, she thought about the new litter of kittens in the cellars—a cat had given birth there, and she had her eyes upon a little black and white kitten with a black blob of a nose and pale blue eyes. Each kitten had been given a lightweaving from one of the kitchen weavers, so they had a faint after-shadow as they moved, making it easy for humans to track them.
I was going to have that little kitten. Kiara stared morosely outside the carriage. Her kingdom shrank in the distance, and their journey gave way to the light roads, passing through woven fields and woodlands. Usually, the multicolored hues in the enchanted forests fascinated Kiara. She liked some of the ways colors blended together, or when she squinted, the way her eyes blurred, changing the perception of the shapes around.
She already missed everything about home. And with the guards escorting her, both from her homeland and to Kanthus, she knew there would be no running away. Marrying a Highborn from Kanthus. Little was known about these so called Highborn, other than the fact that Kanthians treated these Highborn as the reason they kept away the night hordes from destroying their home.
They rattled along in the carriage, stopping to rest every latenight, moving in the daynight. The only real difference in these versions of night was that daynight was warmer, as a crescent slice of yellow appeared in the dark skies, adding a glimmer of red to a world that relied on weavings to survive.
Travel took them about two weeks, and Kiara was so done with it all. Her own guards preferred each other's company to hers. None of the Kanthians spoke to her. Except for the ambassador, once, but only to say to one of the guards, who passed it on to her, “It's considered bad luck for us to speak to the chosen bride before their wedding.”
Well then. So her new hosts wouldn't have the dignity to even address her. Great. Leaving her to hear second-hand accounts from the guards, who were reluctant to talk to the Kanthians as well.
Accounts of living in a grand city, with a lake enchanted by the finest lightweavers, and a palace above the lake that shone like a beacon of hope. They also talked about the Highborn that walked among them, and how blessed a woman was if she was selected to become the wife of a Highborn.
Not that Kiara felt particularly blessed. Cursed, more like.
When they arrived in Kanthus, she refused to let herself be taken in by the foreign city's beauty, though it did glow rather impressively in the distance. The city itself appeared to have several lakes, all of them a neon blue in color, with the glow of fish flitting under the surfaces, and the boats that bobbed on top, along with the canals and barges that wove between the city streets and bridges. Kiara's home kingdom of Fjorn had the Forest of Light surrounding it, along with mountain chains and uneven terrain. Kanthus loved its bridges and huge lakes that spotted along the city, along with marshy, boggy land surrounding the outer edges.
Fen lands rimmed the western side with a sickly green glow. The “Quaking Bogs” lay to the right, with that same awful color. And apparently, beyond the city, they needed to be wary of muskeg, a type of bog that sunk the unwary.
Appropriate, Kiara supposed, for a so-called kingdom of monsters to dwell in a swamp. Forests and shrubs saturated in brackish water, fed from an ancient sea.
No wonder the night hordes had difficulty invading this place. Nothing but swamp to trudge through. No sane person would even bother. From what Kiara saw, the Kanthians used the fens as part of their main agriculture. She saw glowing humans working in the segmented fields, others moving around the terrain in boats.
The wheels of the carriage were slick with mud, as were most of the disgruntled guards. The Kanthians, of course, didn't mind, which led Kiara's escorts to refer to them as “mud men.” For such a “grand” city, it did have an awful lot of bridges, though the lakes glowed prettily.
They ground to a halt after crossing a huge bridge that must have gone on for a good half-mile, the procession milling in front of a heavy portcullis manned by guards. Kiara l
eaned out the window to try and eavesdrop on what was happening, and some of her guards went up to see as well.
Instantly, one rushed back, red-faced. “They're going to send us away,” he blustered. “Only you're allowed to go in. But you won't have any protection.”
“I would think you to be glad of the opportunity to return home,” Kiara replied, trying not to let fear show on her face. “I will be fine. It is, alas... my royal duty.”
Perhaps she put on the voice too strong, and the hand motion to her head might have been a little overdone, since the guard rolled his eyes. “You're incorrigible. Princess, we're here for your protection. This is what we're paid for.”
“And you've just been told you can no longer protect me. Go and protect a tavern or something.” Kiara then sighed, turning serious. “I can't pretend I like it, but right now, we're at our host's mercy. Best not to push them any further than necessary. If you want, stay around for a few weeks. I'll try and send you messages to wherever you choose to lodge, and if all is well, then you may leave. Sound okay?”
The guard remained silent a moment before nodding, jaw set grimly. “That's probably one of the most sensible things I've heard you say, Princess.”
“I try.” She grinned at him. Her grin faded when her father's guards were forced to march away, and her carriage trundled through the portcullis, rolling to that imposing palace all alone, surrounded by people of an unfamiliar culture. Most of her bravado threatened to vanish. Hard to be brave when she knew no one. When people refused to talk to her, because of the whole bad luck superstition. And, come to think of it, it was pretty darking stupid of them to send away people who might have been able to help her settle in better.
How exactly did they plan for her to do anything? Just point and grunt? Her eyes trailed over the shimmering lake below, filled with a pink illuminated flower, resting on a kind of pad. Lilies? Lotus? She didn't know. She tucked her hands into her heavy fur robe pockets, after popping the hood over her head. She readjusted the scarf to cover her face, though some tufts of hair poked through it like straws.
A kind of heat emanated from the lake on either side, and she scented that odd, warm water aroma wafting through the window, along with the faintest tang of salt. They stopped again at the main palace entrance. The whole palace itself had a somewhat uniform shape, except that the towers had domes instead of parapets. And attached from where Kiara saw on her right—three distinctive bubble shapes merged into the palace, holding what appeared to be a tiny ecosystem in itself, glowing and surreal because of the many colors used, and the way the glass distorted it.
Nope. Not going to be impressed by any of this. Not the way some of the boats were designed, clearly to show off rather than to be of any practical use when it came to sailing or fishing. The palace sentries all appeared to prefer red and blue colors over the browns and black of the Fjordans—and heavier armor, as well. Kiara sort of assumed heavy armor plus swampland would be a bad combination. Well, it was said that the Kanthians had been fighting back the night hordes ever since the sun went out.
Come to think of it, they had rather unusual weapons, too. The sentinels opted for flails with glowing tips, rather than the traditional sword and shield of the royal guards. Were they a more practical weapon in this area, or just something that caught popularity?
Kiara now clutched at her necklace, allowing some of the light to wisp around her pale hands. The types of lightweaving she knew was pathetic in comparison to these miracles people created. Or these Kanthians, with their odd yellow eyes.
Someone rapped on the wooden carriage door. It was a stone-faced sentry with yellow eyes, jaw tight as if he never planned to unhinge it to utter even a single word to her.
Yay, she thought sourly. She stepped out, flat-soled boots falling onto a smooth, tiled path where the cracks glowed.
The sentry in his blue clothes and red painted armor pointed roughly at the entrance. Follow him. Okay, then. She did so, and other strangers fell into stride behind, their flails clacking softly.
If no one was going to even talk to her before her wedding, either it needed to happen right now, or she'd go insane from boredom. Because dark take them if they thought she was remaining silent and placid about the whole matter. In a foul mood, she sought out the original ambassador, the gray-haired man with the yellow eyes, and fell back to him.
“Seriously. Is no one going to talk to me at all? Because this is going to irritate the life out of me.”
Without looking at her, the ambassador said, “Perhaps someone should tell the princess that once she has settled in her quarters and has visited the Domes of Delight, she will find eligible people there to talk to. Certainly not with poor commoners such as ourselves, with our unblessed tongues.”
Kiara blinked. “Is that your way of addressing me but not really addressing me?”
“The princess should be informed that she is indeed correct in her observation, may these unblessed words reach her ears.”
Oh good God, Kiara thought.
“If the princess should be annoyed by this, please remind her that it is punishable to lose our tongues if we are found talking directly to her.” The ambassador stopped talking, and Kiara swallowed hard.
Right. That might be a more reasonable explanation as to why people didn't dare breach whatever custom they held. But to threaten the removal of a tongue for speaking to a bride-to-be? Seemed like a rather extreme case of possession. Well. At least she hadn't seen anyone in the streets trying to eat one another yet, so the Kanthians probably didn't practise cannibalism.
Hopefully.
Perhaps they were more discreet about it.
Now accepted through the main entrance of the palace, Kiara was quickly bundled into what would be her new quarters, located in the lower left wing of the palace, which sparkled with riches beyond anything Kiara had ever seen before. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceilings, woven with complex lightweavings that allowed the colors to diffuse into others, changing the tones of the main hallways constantly. She saw parts of what appeared to be a poem engraved upon the marble walls, though didn't get much of an opportunity to guess whether she knew it or not before they dumped her in her quarters.
Servants, clearly informed ahead of time, jumped to duty when she entered. They wore black and white robes, and plain white necklaces like Kiara's, and instantly waved in frantic silence, pointing towards a room in her quarters that had steam emitting from it. Instantly, Kiara stiffened. Aside from the fact that there were rather artful decorations in this room, such as paintings of the glowing lakes hanging upon the walls, or luminous leather sofas and golden striped walls that provided most of the color strength she saw by—the steam definitely grabbed her attention.
She didn't need to be asked to take a decent bath after two weeks of rigid traveling and hard grounds. Though when she went into the bathroom, her jaw dropped.
Okay, she'd promised herself not to be impressed, but the sight of that square-shaped, steam-laden pool managed to render her speechless. One of the servants was kneeling by the pool, and red threads of heat came out of her fingers, suffusing the pool with the tantalizing warmth that beckoned. Sure, people could use hot stones to warm up a pool, pre-heated water, or the natural chambers of a hot spring. But if you had a skilled lightweaver, then why bother? Lightweavings were cheaper than the alternatives.
And at least thirty percent of the population in Fjorn had the talent to lightweave. Probably the same ratios here. A smaller percent reached the stronger magic, but it wasn't exactly a rare ability.
Kiara grinned, stripping off shamelessly, glad to see that the servants weren't shy about this fact either. They took her clothes, and she almost skipped to the pool, easing herself into the warm waters with a sigh. “Amazing,” she said.
The woman who had performed the lightweaving gave her a small smile. Pretty woman, Kiara thought. Short, red hair, a wide, friendly mouth. Pea-green eyes. Some of the women had yellow eyes, but this one ap
peared to be normal. Her green eyes locked with Kiara's brown, before the woman beckoned to Kiara's necklace.
Kiara smiled and held up her fingers, allowing the magic to dance around her fingertips. Yellow orbs sparkled around her like fireflies. “This one isn't done by me. I'm not very good with any of my lightweavings yet,” Kiara admitted. “Always got too bored sitting in on the lessons.”
The woman pursed her lips.
“Perhaps,” Kiara said, “if you address one of the other women with what you might be interested in saying to me, I might eventually hear it.”
A small grin. She nodded. “Jenet,” the red woman said, calling to one of the dark-haired servants, “don't you think learning lightweaving is quite simple? So simple, that even I could teach it to someone who might be willing to learn?”
“I don't know, Winifred. Maybe. I don't have the ability myself, so I wouldn't know.”
“Oh, that's okay. Perhaps we should wait until our bride has been initiated in the Dome of Delights before such lessons can begin.” Winifred smiled at Jenet, who was rather shy in returning it.
Clumsy way to get around the whole personally addressing Kiara issue, but if it worked...
Well, maybe she should let this Winifred try to teach her. Not like it could be any worse than what the tutors did back home. And she didn't want to be the laughing stock of where she went. Especially since she'd been so rudely ripped out of her world and forced into a new one.
Thinking of the old world... “I wonder if Winifred knows where I can get a kitten. Before I left, I was going to have a beautiful kitten from the castle cellars. If she happens to know of any recent litters, I would be most interested in seeing the kittens for myself, and keeping one.”
Winifred blinked, slightly confused, before nodding. Kiara allowed herself to lie blissfully in the waters, naked, letting her hair flow beneath her like the water it touched. She should try giving the servants some really awkward requests, just to see how they handled it. People always expected princesses to be difficult, right?
