by Meg Anne
Struggling to take a deep breath, she looked him straight in the eye, “How long have you known?”
She noted the guilty blush stain his cheeks.
“Darrin,” she said firmly, no longer asking.
“Since my tenth name day,” he muttered, his voice pained.
Betrayal spiraled through her. She wanted to scream at him: How could you not tell me? How could you keep this from me? But she remained silent.
“It was the same day that I was told that I was to spend the rest of my life protecting you. I am to be your Shield, Damaskiri,” his voice a fierce whisper.
“If I’m the one they speak of in this prophecy, why do you call me Damaskiri? Isn’t she,” Helena paused to correct herself, the tumble of thoughts racing through her mind making it difficult to focus. “Aren’t I,” she continued slowly, “fated to be a Kiri?”
Darrin nodded, “Yes, that is what the Circle believes, but since you have not undergone your trial any title is only honorary at this point. There’s no title for ‘next in line.’” Darrin joked.
Helena didn’t smile in response. More of the old stories rose to the surface of her memory. The Damaskiri has her own Circle of protectors. It is comprised of those that have been bound to her since her birth, loyal only to her. They have no mates or families of their own, and those they had prior to entering their service and training they must leave behind so that there will be no ties to bind them to any but her.
The Circle includes the Advisor, the Shield, the Master, the Sword, and the Mate. Each position is for life, if one should die in the midst of their service, a new one will rise to his place, except for the Mate. A Mate is for life, and there is only one.
Her eyes widened at what he had said. He was her Shield. Growing up he had been her best friend. Her confidant. He was either the one getting her into trouble or getting her out of it. They had grown up together, and she had never loved one as she loved him. She had always imagined that one day they would have a family of their own. Helena had never known anyone else, and could not imagine sharing her life with anyone other than him… even if they had never taken any steps towards such a relationship.
Noting her expression, Darrin nodded, his green eyes soft with understanding. He knew what she was realizing; it was the thing he had struggled with himself. He swallowed hard and averted his eyes before they could betray him further.
“Do you know the others?” she whispered, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.
He nodded again, still unable to meet her gaze. “All but the, your,” he corrected himself and cleared his throat before repeating more firmly, “your Mate.”
She closed her eyes, feeling lost and afraid. “Yes, I remember. There is a ceremony of sorts, is there not? As part of the Festival where the Mate is chosen? They are bound on that day, rather than the day of the Damaskiri’s birth, as with the others.”
Green eyes searched aqua, and he nodded. He saw her fear, and the battle to master it. Her skin had gone even paler than usual. Lips that were usually tilted in laughter were being worried by pearly teeth. “Helena, I will be with you every step of the journey. You are not alone in this,” he whispered his vow to her, begging with his eyes for her to understand.
“If it could be any other way… if it could be me,” he continued his voice hoarse with emotion.
She hushed him, “No, Darrin. We will not speak of it.”
He hung his head, understanding that she was telling him that she did not blame him and that she forgave him. They sat there quietly for a moment, neither so much as moving. He shifted, to look back up at a face that had always been dearer to him than any other. He wanted to promise her so many things, but he remained silent knowing that such promises would only hurt her. It was his duty to shield her from anything that would harm her, including his own desires.
Color had returned to her cheeks, tingeing them a soft pink. She was still biting her lower lip, lost in thought, her brows creased with worry. Her laughing aqua eyes were clouded with the torrent of emotions she was sifting through.
He saw the exact moment that she controlled herself. Her eyes darkened, and the crease between her brows lifted. Her gaze met his, and she asked coolly, “When do we go?”
He sighed and pulled himself upright. “As soon as you gather whatever belongings that you would like to take with you.”
She nodded, having anticipated his answer. She stood and made a move towards the back of the cottage where her room sat, “Darrin?”
“Yes, Helena?”
“I don’t suppose we have time for me to say goodbye to Anderson?”
He felt his stomach tighten with emotion, and shook his head, no.
She nodded, resigned, and walked out of the room.
In the weeks that followed, she had constantly been surrounded by people. Darrin was never far, but with all that she had to learn for the Festival, there was no time for the two of them to spend with one another. She was feeling the strain of many sleepless nights. Her emotions were raw, and she felt on edge. There were purple smudges under her eyes, which had not retained their laughing sparkle since arriving at the Palace.
“Damaskiri,” Alina called. From the tone of her voice, it was apparent that this was not the first time she had tried to get Helena’s attention.
Blinking rapidly, Helena pushed herself back out of the chair, “Yes, coming.”
She walked into the bathing room quickly. Alina smiled at her; blonde curls pulled high atop her head, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. Helena closed her eyes and took in the heady fragrance of jasmine wafting from the water. The familiar fragrance helped to relax her.
“I remembered that you had mentioned your preference for this scent, Damaskiri, I hope it pleases you.”
“Thank you, Alina. I think a nice soak is just what I need before the Festival commences.”
“Would you like me to stay and wash your hair?”
Helena shook her head quickly. While it was nice having someone to take care of all the little chores she had always hated, Helena had not and could not get used to the idea of someone bathing her like she was a child. Alina smiled a final time and walked out of the room.
Letting her robe pool on the floor around her feet, Helena stepped into the warm water and laid back against the cool marble tub. Trying to silence her mind, at least for the moment, she let her eyes close and hummed the old lullaby her mother sang to her as a child. She tried to ignore the pang in her chest at the thought of her mother, who was not actually her birth mother. It was one of the few things that she could not accept. Miriam had raised her, kissed all of her hurts, both real and imaginary. Miriam was her mother, even if it was only the mother of her heart. Her hands fisted in frustration at her sides in the water, and a wave of longing for her old life washed through her.
After a moment, Helena took a deep breath and told herself firmly it was the last time she would look back. Rolling her neck, she let the water lap at her, willing it to help relax her muscles. Warmth suffused her strained limbs, easing the ache that had built up over the last few weeks. She let out a soft sigh of contentment. The stress ebbed, and she felt the first true sense of calm since arriving in Elysia. It matters naught what you fear, or that you find yourself wanting. If you were born for this as they say, then you can do whatever is asked of you.
With a final deep breath, Helena stood from the now cool water and stepped from the marble tub. Despite her personal wish to remain safely hidden away in here for the foreseeable future, she knew that the only way to get through this was to meet it head on. Determined to do so, she began the process of drying her body and hair.
There was a discreet knock on the door. “Yes?” Helena called, quickly wrapping the towel around her body.
“It is time to get ready, Damaskiri.” Alina’s melodic voice floated through the door.
Steeling her shoulders and setting her jaw, she opened the door. It’s time.
Chapter Two
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After an hour of pampering, although she would argue the process of dressing was more akin to torture, she was declared a vision. Alina was beaming with pride at the Oohs and Aahs from other of the Palace servants. Helena blushed under the scrutiny and tried not to drop her eyes to the floor.
‘You must learn to control your emotions, Damaskiri,’ Timmins had gently admonished. ‘One of the royal family would never shy away from any considered lesser than they.’
‘Furthermore, they do not waste time with public displays of emotion. To be ruled by your emotions is to be unable to rule justly and impartially.’
‘A Damaskiri must be both, and they must remain unyielding. You should never show that another has the power to affect your judgment.’
If there was an etiquette lesson that was deemed most crucial, it had been that one. Her Circle’s Advisor had been kind, but very insistent that her years away from the court would be the greatest detriment to her rule. Conversely, Master Joquil had insisted her complete lack of understanding magic, and her questionable ability to wield it, that would see her surely fail. She bit back a smile at the thought of the two older men arguing the point during her first formal meeting with the Circle. It had been a relief to finally meet the men that would be responsible for her safety, education and overall well-being from now on. She had instantly liked them all.
Timmins held the position of Advisor. He was a tall, well-fit, older man with yellow hair that had begun to fade to white in the last few years. His blue eyes had crinkled with a warm smile when he shook her hand and spoke the vows that would formally bind his life to hers.
‘I vow to uphold and obey your beliefs and take them as my own. I will be your voice, spreading your wisdom so that all may know your edicts. I will spend the rest of my days in service to you and your will, until such a time as the Mother reclaims me or the blade of war strikes me.’
Despite his age, she could feel his strength and the power that radiated from him in waves. He reminded her greatly of Anderson, she had thought with an all-too-familiar pang in her heart.
She had turned then to her Master. Joquil had studied her with cool amber eyes beneath thick black brows. He wore his raven hair, lightly flecked with gray, short; his close-cropped beard enhanced the firm set of his jaw. He was also tall, but slender compared to the others. He had spent years training in all aspects of magic and would be the one to teach her how to use her gift. His power had intimidated but also comforted her. He too had taken vows before her:
‘I vow to uphold and obey your beliefs and take them as my own. I will be your light, teaching you the ways of the Mother and her Chosen. I will spend the rest of my days in service to you and your will, until such a time as the Mother reclaims me or the blade of war strikes me.’
Next came Darrin, more serious than she had ever seen him, with the candlelight reflecting in his bright green eyes. He had knelt before her, holding her hand tightly in his.
‘I vow to uphold and obey your beliefs and take them as my own. I will be your shield, protecting your life and light from any that would seek to destroy it. I will spend the rest of my days in service to you and your will, until such a time as the Mother reclaims me or the blade of war strikes me.’
She saw him swallow and clear his throat before releasing her hand and standing. Her heart had clenched with affection at his promise. He had looked after her since before she could walk, and knowing that he would be by her side now was a constant source of comfort. She could find little to fear, other than worries of her own ineptitude, knowing that he would always be watching out for her.
Finally, she had turned to Kragen, her Sword. The sheer size of him was overwhelming. He was a solid wall of hard, sculpted muscle that towered several heads above the others. Each massive arm had a band of black symbols swirling around them and disappearing up into his shirt. She had made a mental note to ask him what they meant if she had survived this whole fiasco. Unlike the others, he had no hair, opting instead for a skin lightly dusted with stubble. He had soft wrinkles near his eyes and mouth, showing that he spent most of his time smiling. Despite his size, she knew she would never have to fear him. If anything, he would tease her mercilessly and become an annoying older brother who always wanted to tell her what to do.
As if following her thoughts with his, he smirked and had stepped away from the wall to move towards her. His voice had been a deep rumble as he unsheathed the weapon at his side and laid it at her feet:
‘I vow to uphold and obey your beliefs and take them as my own. I will be your sword, exacting your vengeance and slaying any who would seek to harm you. I will spend the rest of my days in service to you and your will, until such a time as the Mother reclaims me or the blade of war strikes me.’
Mother help those who would seek to harm me, she had thought, imagining Kragen wielding the broadsword as he sheathed it. She had found herself feeling oddly emotional at the promises of these relative strangers, and tried to convey the depth of her feeling in her promise to them.
‘I will strive to be true and just, worthy of the gift of service that you have vowed today. I promise to be a light in the dark days to come, using my power to protect and nurture, rather than dominate or destroy. I will be the exemplar of our people acting in their best interests, rather than my own. I further vow that I will never take for granted your service to me, or what you give up, nor will I forget the gift you are to me. Above all, you are dear to me, and I shall seek to be worthy of your gift.’
Her voice had rung out over the stone walls of the room, and the four men in front of her had not so much as blinked while she spoke. No others had been allowed in the room for the ceremony, and so she was unaware the effect her words had had on them. She improvised slightly when she promised to seek to be worthy of them, straying from the traditional vows of the Damaskiri to her Circle. She understood the sacrifice they had made when they bound their lives to hers, and she wanted them to know that she likewise was bound to them.
Timmins shifted first, his eyes suspiciously shiny. Kragen cleared his throat, and Joquil seemed to lose some of the aloof superiority she noted when she first met him. Darrin alone was unable to contain his smile of approval. She had impressed them with her warmth and sincerity. She was a Damaskiri that they were proud to serve.
Making eye contact with each of them, she lifted the chalice that had been waiting on the table next to her and held it aloft, speaking the final words of the ceremony;
‘Blood of my blood these four shall be, my voice, my light, my shield and my sword. I take them unto me, as my own, to cherish and protect as I would myself, until such a time as the Mother reclaims me.’
Each man, in turn, drank from the ceremonial chalice, which had been filled with wine – not blood as she had originally feared. As the ceremony concluded, she looked around the room at them and asked, “…so now what?”
Kragen had thrown his head back in laughter, slapping Darrin’s back. Darrin had flinched at the contact but chuckled too. Timmins and Joquil wore identical looks of surprise but eventually joined in. Feeling foolish, but knowing that they were not laughing at her, she laughed along with the rest of them.
“Now, Damaskiri, we prepare you.” Timmins had smiled.
Coming back to the present, Helena fervently prayed that she would not let them down. Squaring her shoulders again, she forced herself to be still until the servants moved out of the room. Head high she began her descent into the main wing of the Palace and through the doors that would lead her into the garden and the Festival. The torrent of information that had been forced on her in the last few days was swirling in her mind, and she was desperately trying to remember it all. There was so much she hadn’t known, such as the fact that the Festival lasted a full seven days beginning at sunrise on the first day and concluding at sundown on the seventh. Nor had she realized that the selection of her Mate was intrinsically woven into the entire fabric of the Festival.
Helena had anticipated tha
t she would be introduced to her birth parents upon her arrival at the Palace. However, she had been informed that neither her mother nor father had survived her birth. Helena found it difficult to mourn for parents she never knew but was saddened that she truly was without family. Timmins had been vague when informing her that their death was one of the essential elements of the prophecy that had come true, and no one else had deigned to enlighten her as to those other essential elements.
Luckily, this evening’s ceremony was strictly a formal beginning of the event. She was only expected to greet the important guests and then after a few from her Circle spoke, a formal dinner and ball in her honor would begin.
Forcing herself to focus on the present, Helena took in the surroundings of her new home. She had yet to have time to explore properly, but the Palace was comprised of five wings, each representing a branch of magic. The Wings met in the center of the structure but were also connected by walkways between them to symbolize how magic bound everything together. She had been told that each wing was decorated in the style of the branch it depicted. The Earth Wing was styled in neutrals and greens, enchanted to appear as though you were outside. Different rooms reflected different times of day or regions of the realm. Others were magicked to change according to the current time of day or season. It was there that all of the royal guests were kept.
The Water Wing was swathed in blues and grays, rooms enchanted to appear as though submerged, or to have streams flowing through them. Due to Water’s ability to soothe, this was predominately where the healers and their families resided.
The Air branch was comprised of soft whites and golden yellows. These rooms were known for their vaulting ceilings and soaring towers. Each room had large outdoor areas connected to them with invisible walls so that when one walked out onto the balcony, they felt as though they were floating. This wing housed many of the Palace’s libraries and ceremonial meeting rooms as well as the royal craftsmen and their workshops.
