I peek out at Kent from under my arm.
‘Now you sound like your brother,’ I complain, and earn myself a deep scowl. ‘I’m just going to sleep, Kent. What could possibly happen?’
He starts to shake his head but then shrugs instead.
‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, ‘I’m going to the dining room. See you later.’
The door clicks shut behind him and I snuggle back beneath the covers with a satisfied grin. My satisfaction soon turns into irritation though, as I toss and turn. Eventually, I give up trying to fall asleep again, throw back the covers and peer out of the window.
The sky outside is a shade of gray similar to when we had arrived, but without the drizzle. Below, cars come and go, dropping off additional guests for the afternoon’s ceremony and I see a few couples strolling through the rose gardens. I let my gaze drift beyond the gardens to where the lawns slope into the forest.
Abbey manor is certainly a beautiful place…but I can’t imagine living here. Would I be expected to live here if I marry Tristan? What would I do every day? The thought of whiling away my days throwing parties and having manicures like Mrs. Westwood, makes me want to run away – far, far away. If I have to live forever, I want to spend it doing something worthwhile.
I shake my head and flop down on my belly atop the unmade bed. What am I thinking? There’s no way I’m settling for a life that has been chosen for me by the Tanistry – a bunch of strangers who don’t even know me.
A light knock on the door interrupts my musings.
‘Come in!’ I call, pulling the white toweling hotel gown around me before I turn toward the door.
‘I’m sorry, I thought you were up,’ Tristan says, pausing just inside the doorway and turning back to leave. ‘I’ll just wait for you down -’
‘No.’ I jump up from the bed and gesture for him to come inside. ‘It’ll just take me a moment to dress, please sit.’
He nods and walks across the room to sit in the chair by the window while I slip into the bathroom. I shower quickly and eye the bright yellow thigh-length princess blouse and tights I’d packed to wear. After last night’s party, I’m sure I will be under-dressed again, but aside from the black number I’d packed for the ceremony, I have no other options.
I sigh and put on the outfit, add a dash of make-up, twist my dripping hair into a haphazard knot at the back of my neck and then I step into the bedroom where Tristan waits.
He stands and gives me an appreciative sweep with his eyes. ‘You hungry?’
‘Not really,’ I reply. My stomach chooses that precise moment to grumble loudly and blood rushes to my cheeks.
Tristan laughs. ‘Don’t feel like being the centre of attention again this morning, hey?’
I grin sheepishly and nod.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he says. ‘Wait here for fifteen minutes and then meet me at the back entrance by the kitchen. Use the second set of stairs down the hall.’ He winks at me and disappears out of the door, without waiting for a response. I follow his instructions, thankful that I don’t meet anyone else on the staircase.
When I emerge, Tristan grabs hold of my hand and pulls me onto a nearby golf cart with a mischievous smile.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask but he just grins.
‘You’ll see.’
‘But shouldn’t I tell -’
‘You’ll be safe with me, I promise.’
We head off around the back of the manor in the direction of a rustic out-building and as we near the white-washed stone structure, I realize it is the stables.
‘Do you ride?’ Tristan asks.
I shake my head. ‘I’ve never tried.’
He grins. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’
We stop at the entrance, where two saddled horses are chewing lazily on a tuft of grass. Two stable-hands greet Tristan and assist me to mount one of the two beasts. I bite my lip and pretend that sitting two feet height on a live animal doesn’t scare me. Tristan gives me a few basic pointers and promises that he’ll stay close and we won’t go far, then we head off at a leisurely pace.
For the first few minutes, I’m too terrified of the horse beneath me to notice anything else. While the mare I’ve been given to ride is much smaller than the magnificent black beast that Tristan sits astride, it is still a long way up.
After a while, I get the hang of it and begin to enjoy the gentle movement of the horse beneath me. I let my tight hold of the reins go a little and dare to lift my head.
Tristan leads us through the sparse copse of trees at the back of the stables, over a low rise and out into a wide, green meadow dotted with yellow wild-flowers. He twists in his saddle and points toward a black stallion grazing near the far side of the meadow. ‘See that one?’ he calls to me. ‘Just came in from Europe last week. Beauty, isn’t he?’
I turn my attention to the horse in question. His neck is gracefully curved, like a swan’s, and his sleek coat makes me want to slide my fingers down his muscled flank.
‘Do you breed them?’ I ask.
Tristan shakes his head. ‘No, but we do enjoy riding and my parents have made somewhat of a hobby of collecting ex-race horses.’
He makes a clicking sound and guides our horses off toward the other end of the meadow.
‘This is a good spot,’ he says, when he reaches a tall pine tree on the edge of the clearing.
Tristan dismounts in one polished movement, catches the reigns of my mount and steadies her so I can climb off. I eye him, without moving and his face splits into another grin.
‘Just swing your leg over to this side and I’ll catch you,’ he says, with a laugh, coming around to the side of the horse. I hesitate, take a deep breath and brace my hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me from the back of the animal. As my body slides against his to the ground, it sets off a familiar tingling sensation. My eyes go wide as my feet touch the ground and I look up into Tristan’s eyes, suddenly very aware that his lips are just inches away from mine. He smiles, a little secret smile, and steps back.
‘Help me spread this out, will you?’ he asks, pulling a thick blanket from a bag, pretending as though nothing has happened.
‘Another picnic?’ I ask, still flushed.
‘Yes. Although this one was very last minute so don’t expect too much.’ He gives me an almost apologetic glance. ‘I just thought it would be the best way to fill your stomach and keep you away from all your adoring fans at the same time.’
‘Oh, I think ‘adoring’ is a bit of a strong word, but it’ll be nice to spend some quality time with you,’ I say, and bite my lip when I register what I’ve said. Tristan gives me a surprised look and color rushes to my cheeks, but I realize that my words ring true. I do enjoy spending time with him. While I’m confused and afraid at times about the way he makes me feel, I really like being with him, and the more time we spend together, the more time I want to spend with him. I give him a tentative smile and he returns the gesture. We both shake out the blanket onto the springy meadow grass and sprawl out onto its comfortable weave.
Brunch consists of flaky croissants, strong cheese, sweet melon balls and salty crackers. I eat my fill, nibble on my last cracker and lean back on the blanket so that my face is under the shade of the tree, while my outstretched legs can soak up the snatches of sun that filter through the gray clouds at intermittent intervals.
I let out a contented sigh and survey the peaceful meadow.
‘This place is beautiful.’
‘Yes,’ Tristan agrees. His eyes move over the curve of the land in a loving caress. ‘I always loved coming here during the holidays as a child.’
I shift my gaze curiously to him.
‘You mean you didn’t live here?’
‘No, it’s too far out of town. We mostly stayed in the townhouse so mother could be close to the law firm.’
‘Oh, then who takes care of this place?’
‘My dad, mostly, although we do have a care-taker
and manager.’ Tristan’s gaze strays toward the edge of the meadow. ‘I think Dad was just glad to get away from Mother.’ He flashes me a strained smile. ‘I’m sorry about last night. Mother can be a little too much sometimes…’
‘It’s fine, really,’ I say awkwardly, and quickly change the topic. ‘So do you enjoy working in the firm?’
Tristan rolls over onto on his side and gives me a thoughtful look.
‘I didn’t at first,’ he admits, ‘It was Mother’s career choice, not mine. But I’ve actually grown to love it. I try to avoid the criminal cases – they’re more my mother’s cup of tea but I enjoy the environmental cases. Guess it’s my Maor side coming out. We’ve managed to make a bit of a name for ourselves amongst environmental groups since I started at the firm.’ He selects another cracker from the open packet beside us. ‘I enjoy the cases that involve travel the most.’
He frowns and I get the sense that it’s more the distance away from his mother that appeals to him. The two definitely have a strained relationship.
‘I guess I’ll have to limit the travelling soon though,’ Tristan says.
‘Oh, why?’ I ask.
‘Well, the new firm offices in Lydney will require a lot of my attention and besides,’ he reaches out and puts his hand over mine on the blanket, ‘I think I’m going to want to stay close to my new bride.’
I look down at our hands, ever-amazed at the liquid sunshine that shoots up from my fingers to my chest. I glance away to the stallion at the other end of the meadow and bite my lip.
I don’t know how to feel about Tristan’s last comment, let alone how to react, so I ignore it and focus on his previous sentence.
‘You have offices in Lydney?’
Tristan nods and squeezes my hand. ‘Since I’ll be moving to Lydney after the wedding, my parents thought it best if we establish an office in advance. It’s quite close to the mansion though so I’ll be able to spend a lot of time at home.’
‘Mansion? You have a mansion in Lydney?’
‘We do,’ Tristan says. He sits up straight, eyes full of excitement and I follow suit, sitting cross-legged before him, trying to hide my growing unease. He takes both my hands in his and links my fingers through his. His whole face is animated as he continues:
‘You should see it – I’ll take you when we get back. It’s really lovely. Right on the river’s edge with plenty of acres for horse-riding and a huge garden for the wedding -’
‘Whoa,’ I say, pulling my hands from his and stumbling to my feet, ‘you need to slow down.’
I turn away and take a few steps toward the buildings in the distance but Tristan is suddenly there, blocking my way. He reaches for my hand again but I flinch away. It’s just too much. He talks like we’re already standing at the end of the aisle and I can’t make head or tail of what I’m feeling right now.
‘What is it that frightens you so much about getting married?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you feel something for me?’
‘Tristan -’
‘Because I was sure you felt something when I touched you -’
‘It’s not that, Tristan,’ I say, looking down at the thick weave of the blanket. ‘It’s just…’ I make a frustrated sound in the back of my throat and meet his eyes. ‘I had my life all planned out, you know. I was going to study at Rhodes next year, do a bit of travelling, write a book and start auditioning for some dance productions. This isn’t what I’d planned at all.’
I fold my arms and stare at my feet.
‘My whole life, I’ve been waiting for this chance, to turn eighteen, to be able to make my own choices, choose my own career path, my own life partner…and now - I can’t.’ I shake my head and bring my gaze back to his. ‘It’s not marriage that frightens me; it’s never getting the chance to live my dreams.’
There’s a lot more to it than that but I’m not about to admit to Tristan that he and Kael have put a spanner in my dream-works. When I’m with either of them, I’m not even sure I know what I want anymore and that terrifies me.
There is a beat of silence, and Tristan says: ‘I can’t pretend to understand how you feel, Shaylee,’ he says. ‘I’ve never known anything other than this path that was chosen for me.’ He puts one hand on my shoulder and peers at me intently. ‘But if I had a choice, I wouldn’t change a thing. This bond we have is…well I just can’t explain what it’s like. I can only hope that after this afternoon – after you witness the ritual that binds us, maybe you’ll start to understand how I feel about you.’
Chapter 33
Self-conscious
Tastes like: Spaghetti and meat-balls when you’re the guest of honour at a banquet.
Smells like: The sweetest perfume in a gym-hall full of sweaty students.
Sounds like: An off-key voice in a choir.
Feels like: A zit in the middle of your forehead.
Looks like: A blinding spot-light on the centre of a stage.
The ceremony takes place in a large banquet hall downstairs at the lodge. Garlands of white lilies and fern wreaths hang from the ceiling and along the make-shift aisle, lending their delicate fragrance to the rose-scented breeze that circulates from the open French doors.
All the guests are in eye-popping evening-wear, and once again, I feel like the peasant in my black-suede, ankle-length number. I’ve tried to dress it up a little with my red silk shawl, but it’s much too warm inside for a wrap.
I let the shawl drop from my neck and loop it around the crook of each arm as I take my seat near the middle of the room and watch the guests file in. When Tristan walks in, he catches my eye and motions for me to move to the other side of the room, behind Katelyn’s family on the right. I follow his instructions and slide into the chair beside him. He compliments me on my appearance and I do the same for him, although I suspect there is more truth to my words than his. He really does look incredible in a grey suit and when I notice his red silk tie, I pull my wrap a little further up my shoulders.
The ritual begins much like a wedding, with Katelyn’s mother carrying her daughter, dressed in a silver-white silk and lace Baptismal dress that drapes almost to her mother’s knees, down the carpeted aisle. Justin’s mother stands at the end of the aisle, with the infant in her arms, squirming in a black pants and white shirt, complete with miniature black bow-tie.
I think it’s all a bit much. They’re babies for heaven’s sake, they don’t even know what’s happening and those outfits look mighty uncomfortable. The lack of participation of the babies’ fathers is also glaring for me. They just sit in the second row, behind the royal guests, watching the proceedings from a distance. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I’m realizing that the Maor society is highly matriarchal.
As if to underline my train of thought, an elderly woman steps forward to stand before the two mothers. She eyes the room with a regal stare, her light green gaze pausing on me for a moment, sitting beside Tristan in the fourth row, before she flicks her eyes back to the two infants.
Tristan nudges me and makes a gesture with his chin at the eagle-eyed woman.
‘That’s Tabitha Fern – Queen Tabitha Fern,’ he whispers into my ear, ‘one of the seven members of the Tanistry.’
I give a slight nod and turn my attention back to the front of the room as Tabitha speaks. If I had to close my eyes and just listen to her voice, I would have guessed her age much closer to thirty.
‘‘Ta failte romhat,’ she says.
‘Mo Bann Ri,’ the assembly replies.
‘Welcome, to the promising of Katelyn and Justin,’ Tabitha says. ‘Many of you have witnessed this ceremony before, some have part-taken in it, and all of us know its importance. It is this very ritual that has ensured the continued existence of our kind.’
She gestures toward the audience with both hands outstretched.
‘You’ve all come to bear witness to the promise that will be made between these two families; a promise that can never be broken; a promise sealed in blood.’
; She motions to Katelyn’s mother to step forward.
‘Terryn McQuire of the Glen Kielder, as Katelyn’s guardian, do you promise to see your daughter wed to Justin Farrell of Glen McKoul. Do you promise to enable this union that will, God willing, result in children of pure blood to ensure our survival?
‘I do,’ Katelyn’s mother replies.
Tabitha repeats the ritual with Justin’s mother, and then she addresses the guests.
‘Do you, as witnesses, confirm that these parents have promised before all to wed Justin Farrell of Glen McKoul to Katelyn McQuire of Glen Kielder and will you ensure, when the time comes that this promise is honoured?’
Only the row with the royals reply: ‘We do,’ and I wonder with a shiver, just how exactly they will be ‘ensuring that the promise is honored’.
Tabitha motions to one of the royals in the front row, who steps forward, carrying a red silk pillow. The Maor leader lifts a small silver dagger from the pillow and raises it reverently into the air. The thin blade gleams in the sunlight and on it, I see intricate engraving but I can’t quite make out the patterns. Just looking at the dagger makes my wrist tingle in a familiar way.
Tabitha moves in front of Katelyn, takes the right arm of the infant firmly in her hand and uses the tip of the dagger to prick a tiny, shallow cut into her wrist. The baby lets out a loud wail as Tabitha quickly makes an identical incision into Justin’s left wrist. The Tanistry leader presses the infants’ wounds together as she whispers a strange incantation in a language I don’t recognize.
When the ritual is complete, Tabitha separates the infant’s arms and lays the flat blade of the silver dagger first over Katelyn’s and then Justin’s wound and I watch in amazement as the skin closes, leaving only a feint pink scar.
With a nod from Tabitha, the two mothers step apart to sit down, and Tristan nudges me with his shoulder.
‘Watch.’
I glance curiously at him, and back at the two mothers. My eyes widen as Justin reaches his tiny arms toward Katelyn and begins to whine. His mother smiles tenderly down at him, shares a knowing look with Katelyn’s mother, and goes to sit beside her, instead of on the opposite side of the room.
Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) Page 18
