by Dee Brice
“But not so grand as the receiving room for your wedding feast. Which will be in town.” Merry grinned at her husband who gave an exasperated sigh as he smiled back.
“It’s—” Kel began.
“Overwhelming,” Aren said, gently squeezing Kel’s trembling hand. “Excitement over our wedding.”
Kel laughed and swiped away her tears. “Aren blames every mood swing on…” She blushed.
Merry and Nicolas chuckled. “We know all—”
“About excitement. Six children taught us well.”
With that they went inside. Not through the ornately carved double-door grand entry but through the back, into a cook room filled with mouthwatering aromas and polished cabinets.
“I think Aren will be able to store all his pots and lids together,” Kel observed, running her hands along the countertop. It warmed her fingers. Fascinated, she touched it in another place and felt her fingers chill.
“Caton would love this cook room,” Aren said, lifting a pot lid and inhaling deeply.
“Rolt soup,” Merry told them.
“And yes, the countertop keeps it the perfect warmth.”
Moving to Kel’s side, Mary held up a large piece of pale pink flesh by its dark red tail. “And maintains the phirma perfectly cold. Taste.”
They did. Then Aren returned his attention to the countertop. “We have nothing like this on Ondrican.”
“We know,” Merry and Nicholas chorused.
“Not here a day and already scheming to trade,” Kel observed.
“I learned the trait from my wife…to-be,” Aren said mildly, as if heeding Kel’s warning glare. As if sensing she still clung to the notion they weren’t already married.
“We’ll leave you to explore,” Merry said as she took Nicholas’ hand.
“Please eat with us,” Kel invited, spying bowls and flatware farther down the countertop.
“Yes,” Aren agreed. “We would like to hear more about your planet.”
“Your planet, now, as well,” Nicholas said.
“What do you call it?” Kel asked.
“Home. We call it Home.”
“They’re charming,” Kel said as she and Aren watched the older couple stroll away, hand in hand.
“You don’t think them odd? Finishing each other’s sentences like that?”
“I did at first. Now I think it shows how two people from different worlds can come together. How they can manage to build a life together and a home. Together.” To her chagrin she sounded wistful.
Hugging her, he murmured, “Then there’s hope for us.”
“I’m beginning to believe that, Aren. That there’s always hope.”
* * * * *
Early the Next Morning
Lying in the massive canopied bed in their official town residence, Aren sifted a thick strand of Kel’s silky hair through his fingers, delighted with the various colors the candlelight exposed in it. A bit of gold at the tips, myriad shades of red and gold between, ruby near her scalp.
“What are you doing, Aren?”
“Learning more about my lady wife.”
“I am not your wife, m’lord.” Her voice contained a note of resentment.
“In ten hours you will be.” He refused to let her pick a fight—not on the eve of their formal wedding ceremony. After which she could no longer deny their marriage.
“We should not be together now. Basalia says—”
“Since your mother never wed, what does she know about marriage rituals?”
“Enough to know other worlds prohibit the bride and groom seeing each other before the ceremony.”
“Ever?” he teased.
Planting her sharp elbow in his belly, she sat up and frowned at him. “If we don’t get some sleep, everyone on three planets will know how we spent this night. All they’ll notice are the bags under my eyes.”
“Seeing my sated expression, every man will envy me.” He pulled her down and soothed her from nape to buttocks. “When we are very, very old we’ll think about this night.”
“Hmm.”
“Kel? Have you given any thought to what we shall do with ourselves once everyone goes home?”
“We do seem superfluous, don’t we?”
“Mostly, yes. Certainly on a local level.” It pleased him that their minds had taken the same path. But then they were accustomed to being involved with their people. Bred and trained to rule.
Her fingers stilled on his chest. “Then we should think in broader terms—planetary terms.”
“And interplanetary as well. The stones in our countertops are a valuable resource. While Merry and Nicolas think of them as natural accessories to their lives here, unscrupulous rulers elsewhere—”
“Like our parents?” Kel suggested, her tone wry.
He felt her smile against his chest. “Yes and others even farther away. They may want the stones to develop weapons.”
“If I’m following your thoughts, we need treaties that clearly define prohibited uses. The danger in that is that those prohibitions may lead to unscrupulous rulers exploring the illegal possibilities. How can we prevent misuse?”
“Inspections at unscheduled times.”
“I’ve read about that approach. Even on one planet, it seldom worked. Perhaps we should wait awhile before trading that commodity.”
“Or build an army to protect it.”
Kel sat up, her eyes swirling with so many colors Aren could not determine her mood. “A sop to my vanity, m’lord?”
“No! A necessary development to protect our people and our resources.”
“Guan—”
“You promised, Kel. No more swearing.” The rebuke came out sharper than he’d intended.
“When you lie it’s difficult to restrain myself. Besides, we aren’t in public.”
“I didn’t lie.” He sat up as well, rising anger making him want to pace. But he wanted to show her that they belonged together wherever they happened to be, so remained on the bed. “Once the rest of the galaxy discovers Home, we will need to defend ourselves.”
“Then let us refrain from being discovered. Our people have lived here for decades without our knowledge.”
“Our parents knew. Their parents knew.”
“I have spent my entire life defending Amazonia. I’m ready—past ready—to put down my weapons.”
Her placating tone made him angrier. “Are you also prepared to surrender Home to our enemies?”
“What enemies? Ondrican’s enemies? Storr’s and your enemies?” Asperity laced her response.
“Amazonia has more ill-wishers than Ondrican. Other worlds have sent invaders to your homeworld. Other men have survived your torment and returned to their homes. Other rulers desire your women and your limited resources.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.
“Ondrican is our closest foe. Your homeworld is the greatest threat to Home and to Amazonia.”
“Our marriage makes us allies, Kel.”
“We. Are. Not. Married.”
“We are!” Aren waved away more reasonable arguments and seized Kel’s hands. “I’m willing to endure this second ceremony because I know it’s important to you. But as far as I’m concerned we are—”
“NOT!”
“Married.”
A thousand reasons why she shouldn’t leave rushed through Kel’s mind. But she was too furious to heed them. We’ve been through this so many times I’m sick of it!
Basalia’s voice entered the melee in Kel’s brain. I think you are afraid, Keleos. Afraid of these new responsibilities. And frightened to death Aren will never love you as you love him.
Guanshit! she thought as she jerked her hands from his and surged to her feet. Donning her robe, she strode to his hallway door. “In the morning I shall return to Amazonia. If I am pregnant… When our babe is born I’ll notify you of its sex. If a boy…” She choked on the tears clogging her throat. “I’ll send him to you. If a girl, you’ll never hear fro
m me again.”
“No matter our child’s sex, Keleos, I’ll take our baby home. And you’ll never hear from us again!”
“Guanshit blackguard!” she shouted as she slammed the door.
“Liar!” he roared. “You cannot even keep a promise not to swear!”
Chapter Thirteen
That Afternoon
Kel studied her reflection as Drew finished weaving realloppas into her shiny hair. “I am still amazed by how the shamwash makes my hair dry so quickly,” she told the young woman. She had no idea why she’d allowed this farce of a wedding ceremony to continue, but allow it she would. She owed it to her people, both here on Home and on Amazonia. For their sakes she would endure.
Drew grinned. “Tak the shamwash. You are beautiful, Kel.”
“Thanks to your skills, I feel beautiful.”
Sighing, Drew admitted, “I wish my hair were red like yours. Laurette told me there are dyes on Home that can change its color.”
“Your hair is lovely, Drew.”
“But I look like every other girl on Ondrican. No man will notice me amidst all the other blondes.”
Be grateful, Drew. A man’s attention brings only heartache.
“The right man will,” Basalia proclaimed, breezing into Kel’s dressing room, a gown of ivory silk draped between her arms. Hanging the gown on the curved door, she cupped Drew’s chin. “Your eyes are turquoise. A truly remarkable color, child. Run along now. I’ll help Keleos finish dressing.”
“Tak, Drew. I’ll meet you downstairs in a little while,” Kel said. She smiled, hoping to ease Drew’s obvious resentment at being dismissed. “Please see if you can find our bouquets.”
Bobbing a brief curtsy, Drew left.
“A bit high-handed even for you, Basalia.” The scolding sounded mild, just as she’d intended. If her mother sensed Kel wanted to run away and hide until Aren went back to Ondrican… Only the Goddess knew what havoc Basalia might wreak.
“Where were you last night, Keleos? I waited up for you until after two o’clock.”
“Did you? For a woman without much sleep, you looked remarkably well rested. Or should I say well mated?”
“That is none of your business.”
Good! Haughtiness Kel could deal with. “As my whereabouts last night are none of yours.”
Surprising her, Basalia laughed. “A true queen. At last!”
“Was I that terrible a child?”
“Willful. Overconfident. A bit vain perhaps—for which I blame myself. I too am vain and since you look like me…” She shrugged then cupped Kel’s chin. “You did not sleep, Kel. Nerves, or did you and Aren argue?”
“Nerves,” Kel quickly avowed as she removed her mother’s hand from her face. She desperately wanted to burrow into Basalia’s arms and bawl like a babe. But she wouldn’t—could not. The argument she’d had with Aren was between them and only them. If Basalia leaned of it, she’d try to convince Kel to reconcile with Aren, apologize for her irrational behavior and do as her husband bade her.
As if Basalia had ever or would ever submit to a man!
“Mother?” Kel said before she could bite her own tongue in half and render herself incapable of speech.
“Keleos? What troubles you, daughter? Surely you don’t fear your wedding night.”
“Not that. It is only… By all the gods, I already sound like Aren!”
“And don’t think to distract me. Something distresses you. I will know what.”
“H-how important is this peace with Ondrican?”
Basalia shot her a surprised look. “It means an end to conflict between our planets. It means safety for all our people.”
“What…?” Kel licked her suddenly dry lips. “What about our other enemies, Mother? Will peace with Ondrican free us from the threat of other invaders?”
“Storr… Ondrican will protect us with weapons we can never hope to build. We lack the resources, both natural and technological.”
“And Storr gains what? If he has such formidable weaponry why hasn’t he already conquered us?” There! A logical excuse to seem unsure, Kel thought with pride in herself.
Basalia laughed. “Believe it or not, Keleos, Storr respects our sovereignty. We have waged a personal war for decades, during which he could have reduced Amazonia to rubble. I believe this treaty—your marriage to Aren—will ensure survival for both our worlds.” Once more she cupped Kel’s chin and looked into her eyes. “Having second thoughts, Kel?”
Surprised that her mother had shortened her name, Kel blinked and leaned her cheek more firmly in Basalia’s hand. “A few doubts. We…Aren and I will work through them.”
Looking as if she disbelieved her, Basalia kissed Kel’s forehead. “As for being a terrible child… You were and are exactly what you need to be. I’m proud of you, Keleos.”
Startled by the tears sparkling in Basalia’s eyes, Kel stood and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Tak.”
“I wish you’d allowed to your cousin Gracilina to attend you.” Basalia eased from Kel’s arms.
Knowing Basalia resorted to imperiousness when tender emotions struck her, Kel simply smiled. “’Lina and I were never close. Drew is my very special friend.”
“You love her as you would a sister.” Basalia looked indifferent but her voice resounded with those tender emotions she tried to mask.
“Yes. Which is why you’ll send her to me on your way to greeting our guests. No one is better, Mother, at mixing oil and water than you.”
“Yes. Then you know about the building brouhaha between the two tribes on this planet.”
“A delegation from Snow greeted us soon after we returned to Sun.”
“They won’t create a scene today?”
For once Basalia resembled the bride’s mother who wanted nothing to mar her daughter’s wedding day. Smiling, Kel said, “They vowed they would not. But tomorrow is a different matter. You see why I’m counting on your diplomatic skills, Mother.”
Basalia eyed her suspiciously. “Mother, pah! You only acknowledge our relationship when it suits you.”
“It’s your queenly skills Aren and I require now. Storr’s bluster may serve on Ondrican but Home’s people owe him no consideration.”
“Sly child. Very clever.” Brushing a kiss on Kel’s cheek, she swept out.
Drew appeared scant seconds later.
“You must stop eavesdropping, Drew,” Kel gently scolded.
Obviously unrepentant, Drew grinned. “How else am I to learn? Besides, I changed my gown.” She pirouetted, setting her turquoise overskirt and ivory petticoats flaring. Even the lace on her sleeves and around her neckline fluttered as if sharing her delight. “And found our bouquets, Majesty, just as you commanded.” She held up two bouquets of caills, one with bell-shaped chiords arranged throughout.
“Tage picked them at Aren’s direction and Laurette arranged them just for us.”
“We are blessed in our friendships.” Kel inhaled the fragrances and thought of Aren’s pride in his gardens. Perhaps some of his flowers would grow on Home. Perhaps they could have a greenhouse built or even plant…
“If you don’t dress soon, Kel, you may attend your wedding garbed only in your bouquet, shoes and realloppas. Tage is trying to muscle Aren to the altar, but your groom is very stubborn.”
As if to lend credence to Drew’s observation, Aren’s bellowed “Flame” carried up the staircase to Kel’s dressing room.
“It’s my wedding day,” she shouted back. “I’ll not be harried.”
“It is my wedding day as well. You’ll hurry or I’ll—”
The sudden silence fired Kel’s imagination. Had Tage gagged Aren? Hit him on the head? Killed him? Perhaps the old tales of bride and groom not seeing each other before the ceremony were more valid than Kel had wanted to admit.
“Don’t worry, Kel. I sent six footmen to carry your groom where he belongs,” Drew told her, looking smug at having Aren under her control for once.
&n
bsp; “Clever girl. Help me with my gown, please.”
Drew fetched the gown then held it out to Kel. “Step here, between these folds. The cloth will form around your body.”
“Not too well I hope. My belly precedes me everywhere. Or so it seems.”
Laughing, Drew picked up a corner of the heavy cloth and placed it at Kel’s shoulder. As they watched, the cloth flowed up her body, creating a shimmering drape over her as it went. A single strand of realloppas accented the low-cut neckline. A triple band of them circled beneath her breasts. Her skirt fell in soft folds to her ankles.
“Beautiful,” Kel said.
Placing her bouquet in Kel’s hands, Drew retrieved her own then guided Kel downstairs.
I will do this. For my people’s sake, I will marry Aren.
* * * * *
Feeling the perfect idiot, Aren stuck his finger between his neck and the knot Tage had tied. His cousin had grinned evilly when he fashioned the neckwear. No doubt he’d intended it to feel exactly as it did—a noose around Aren’s neck. A minute-by-minute reminder of his impending marriage.
He looked down at the rest of his attire. From the brief glimpse in a full-length mirror Tage had permitted, Aren had seen that his blue velvet coat sported gold buttons at his back waist and also had split tails. His trousers hugged his buttocks and thighs and outlined his personal wealth in the same manner he prayed Kel’s hands would this night. Golden buckles gleamed on his spit-shined shoes. Shimmering gold-flecked white hose encased his feet and calves. Drew had woven them herself and presented them to him as he finished dressing. His only consolation for his clothing lay in knowing Tage appeared equally ridiculous in his groomsman finery.
Now it felt as if he’d been standing under Home’s hot sun for hours. Now it felt as if he would melt into a puddle of sweat or embarrassment before his bride deigned to appear. Panicked, Aren knew Kel had run away. She intended to disgrace him before their people. Pay him back for taking her to The Choosing. Humiliate him because he’d argued with her last night.
He suspected Kel had deliberately picked the fight. But he admitted he had allowed it to progress. He should have explained to her what peace would mean to Ondrican and Amazonia…even Home. Especially Home.
