The procession traveled through the woods, stopping often to raise another veil or to close the one behind them. By the time they reached Lan Gyllarelle, the great lake of the Narthvier, Taryn had counted eight veils. Janeira greeted the two Eleri riders who met them at the lake with a hand over her fist and a low bow. Rhoane nodded to one of the men before giving a quick bow to the other. Lliandra emerged from her carriage, followed closely by Marissa and Myrddin. The empress curtseyed prettily to a young Eleri man and laughed at something he said.
Janeira stood beside the man, the same one Rhoane had bowed to, a protective look on her face. He had to be Rhoane’s brother. Carga had told her of the warrior’s commitment to the prince. Similar in features to Rhoane, Bressal’s hair shone like sunlight on water, a shimmering expanse of white and gold that flowed down his back. He wore a handsome circlet on his head that caught the light when he turned his horse to lead them on.
When Rhoane walked toward Taryn, she saw the misery in his eyes. Her hand moved to him instinctively. “Rhoane.” Her voice caught as she said his name. The simple acknowledgment was the first time since the battle that she’d spoken to him.
He glanced her way, shaking his head while he kept walking. Her gaze followed him and then she turned, only to meet Janeira’s unblinking stare. She lifted her chin and met the woman’s gaze. Janeira inclined her head to Taryn before moving off.
Chapter Thirty-Five
They passed through two more veils before reaching the heart of the Narthvier, the Weirren. It was not a single structure but a series of graceful buildings connected by arched walkways high above the ground. In the center of the Weirren sat an enormous tree that reached far into the sky—its trunk half as wide as Paderau Palace. Taryn followed Baehlon through a set of doors that dwarfed even the large knight. They stood in an immense entrance hall carved from the trunk of the tree, with passages leading off in every direction.
The interior was as ornately decorated as the Crystal Palace in Talaith, if not more lavish. Paintings and chandeliers hung from internal branches, and a grand staircase wound its way up the trunk, to dizzying heights. A page led her to a set of rooms even more spacious and opulent than the hall below.
She’d imagined the room would look like a hollowed-out burrow, but once inside, she couldn’t tell the difference between the rooms at the Weirren and Paderau. Only the bed gave any hint she was in a tree. A four-poster, it was made from living branches that arched above the mattress. A cascade of leaves and flower blossoms created an enchanted canopy.
A cry escaped her lips at the sight.
The page nodded appreciatively. “It is one of the wonders of the Weirren. These are Queen Aislinn’s rooms.”
Taryn looked at him, surprised. “Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here? I wouldn’t want to upset His Majesty.”
“It was he who bade me bring you here.” The man bowed to her. “I am King Stephan’s third son, Eoghan.”
He looked to be Eliahnna’s age, a young teenager. His eyes sparkled as he spoke, mesmerizing Taryn with their three shades of blue, dark to pale, with gold flecks around the irises. Their depths intrigued her.
Taryn curtseyed low to him. “I am Empress Lliandra’s second daughter, Taryn. Thank you, Eoghan, for escorting me to my rooms.”
“I was impatient to meet you, and now that I have, I am well pleased. You are even lovelier than the trees led me to believe.”
Two girls no taller than Tessa arrived, and Eoghan gracefully bowed in farewell, saying he would see her at dinner. The maids helped with her bath, applying a thick paste to her wound, followed by a soft wrap tucked around her midsection. Between her little Eleri and their broken Elennish, Taryn discerned they were sisters, Illanr and Carld. When she introduced herself, they gently corrected her.
“Nen, vu tendl Darennsai.” They kissed their thumbs before placing them to their foreheads and then over their hearts. Their greeting and Eoghan’s compliment left her hopeful about her meeting with the Eleri king.
The gown they laid out for her was, by far, more beautiful than anything she owned, save her coronation gown. When she touched the fabric, it moved beneath her fingertips like a living, breathing thing, seeming to react to her body heat. She ran a finger down one of the folds, gasping when the fabric drew in on itself like a sea anemone.
By the time they were done styling her hair, it hung straight down her back, nearly to her hips. The silver strands Nadra had given her were several inches thick, with only a hint of her golden hair shining through. The girls grinned and nodded to her, saying in their broken Elennish, “Princess pretty. So pretty.”
“Thank you.” She searched her scant knowledge of Eleri for anything that might convey her gratitude. “Celaina.”
They nodded again. “Yes, celaina. Thank you.”
She slipped into a pair of silk slippers, welcoming the softness against her callused feet. Eoghan arrived just as she finished dressing.
His eyes widened when he saw her. “Princess Taryn, you are a vision to be sure. Like a forest nymph emerging from a budding flower to greet the sweetness of the day.”
She blushed furiously and curtseyed a thank you before taking his arm. They passed several Eleri, who greeted them with polite interest. “You look a lot like your brothers. Do you resemble your mother or your father?”
“It is difficult to tell. All Eleri look alike.”
Taryn shook her head. “Not my maids. They don’t look like any of you.”
“That is because they are not Eleri. Carld and Illanr are faerie folk.”
“Aren’t they supposed to have wings?”
“Carld and Illanr are woodland faeries. They do not have wings, as such. Only air faeries do.”
“I didn’t know there was a distinction.” She sighed. “Just when I think I’ve got it figured out, something new pops up.”
Eoghan looked down at her. “You are a very curious creature, Taryn ap Galendrin.”
“I get that a lot.”
They stood outside two enormous doors carved with detailed pictures of the Narthvier. Taryn studied the images to keep her mind occupied and nerves settled. If her mother feared the Eleri king—Taryn shuddered—what must he be like? The chamberlain announced Eoghan first and then simply, the Darennsai. She was so accustomed to hearing her name and titles that when the doors opened, Taryn stood awkwardly, waiting for the rest of an introduction that never came.
Eoghan nudged her, and they entered the Great Hall. The Eleri elite wore gowns in every color, but no ornamentation in their long hair, or around wrists or necks. Slim gold chains hung from a few hips, but that was the only decoration Taryn saw. The only jewels that sparkled in the room came from her dress and what her family wore.
Eoghan led her to the high table, taking the seat to her right. Beside him sat Bressal and next to him, Rhoane. At another table sat her mother, Marissa, Eliahnna, and Tessa. The rest of her friends sat directly in front of them. An empty, ornate chair occupied the space between her and her family.
The chamberlain banged his staff three times, and everyone in the hall rose. “His Majesty, King Stephan of the Narthvier, Ruler of the Eleri, and trusted son of Verdaine.” The doors opened, and King Stephan entered. Tall, with hair the color of freshly fallen snow, he held himself with such authority that even without the chamberlain’s announcement she would’ve known he was the Eleri king. His people made an elegant bow to him, sweeping their right legs and arms out to the side. Taryn stood with the others at the high table, keeping an eye on Eoghan for any clues as to what she should do.
King Stephan made his way through the crowd, stopping to greet a few of the nobles. When he reached Myrddin, he patted the man on the back. They shared a few words, and then Stephan moved on to greet Duke Anje. He made his way past Taryn’s sisters, giving Lliandra a warm embrace before standing in front of his great chair to address the gathered crowd.
“Friends,” he said in Elennish, “we have gathered here this evening to
mark an auspicious event in our lives.” He turned to his left, gesturing toward Rhoane. “My son, the sheanna of Verdaine’s prophecy, has returned.” The crowd mumbled under their breath. A few of them made a figure eight in the air. “With him, he brings Empress Lliandra, Lady of Light.” Lliandra gracefully bowed to the nobles. “With her, come her daughters. They are my guests in the Weirren and therefore should be shown every courtesy.” His voice was tense.
The Eleri’s distrust of the newcomers thrummed throughout the room. Stephan raised a hand for silence. “With them also travels the gyota of Verdaine’s prophecy.” Their stares traveled to Taryn. She kept her eyes trained on the king. “Who presents her to our court?”
Taryn expected Rhoane to speak, but he remained silent. Her face flamed with indignation at his slight. Myrddin stepped forward, as did Eoghan, the duke, and Lliandra, but it was a clear voice from the crowd that made Taryn’s heart stop.
“I do, Your Majesty.” Janeira, ethereal in white silk, her dark hair framing her tanned face, strode to the high table.
The king gestured to her. “Janeira, tell us why you believe we should accept this girl as our Darennsai.”
Rhoane glared so hard at his kinswoman, Taryn worried his eyes might pop out of their sockets.
“I have had the opportunity to observe this girl. Although she may be impetuous at times, she has shown herself to be among the bravest of fighters I have ever known.” The crowd twittered, and a few nobles looked at Taryn with newfound respect.
“That is quite a claim, warrior Janeira. What is your proof?”
Rhoane’s fists clenched and released as Janeira continued. “Without so much as a season of training under her belt, this girl destroyed a vorlock with her sword. Nothing more. She bears the mark of the vorlock’s venom even now.” Janeira paused, taking in those gathered in the hall. “It was not for her own safety that she risked this injury.” Finally, Janeira looked at Rhoane. “It was to protect the Eleri prince, who was under attack.”
Rhoane continued to glare at Janeira. Obviously, they had spoken about this, and he disagreed with her telling the story in front of the Eleri Court.
King Stephan held up a hand for silence. “Is this true, Prince Rhoane?”
“It is as Janeira says. Princess Taryn risked her life to slay the beast that attacked me.”
“Were there other witnesses to this event?” the king asked the group.
Baehlon stepped up from the crowd. “Aye, Your Majesty. About a hundred of Duke Anje’s and Empress Lliandra’s best soldiers, as well as myself.” He bowed low. “Your Majesty.”
Tessa spoke up, as well. “I saw everything. She jumped from her horse and stuck that creature right in the gob!”
“Tessa!” Lliandra scolded, but Taryn’s youngest sister grinned cheekily at her before stepping back.
Myrddin spoke in a voice even those in the back could hear. “The event happened as has been told. Princess Taryn showed remarkable courage that day in battle.” He held out his hand to show a small glass orb and replayed the scene for the court. Somehow, he managed to project the event above their heads, as if on a screen. Everyone in the room watched in silent fascination as Taryn leapt from her horse to stab the vorlock.
Taryn’s mouth watered with impending sickness as she relived her actions. To see it displayed was far more ghastly than the actual doing.
Myrddin tucked the glass ball into a pocket. “She showed great courage, yes, but what she also showed, Your Majesty, is her devotion to your first son, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri, sheanna of Verdaine’s prophecy.”
The crowd grew silent. That was what the night was truly about. King Stephan wanted to get the measure of her as far as his son was concerned. Whether she was the Child of Light and Dark was only secondary.
Stephan leaned on his fingertips, looking out at Myrddin. His face gave nothing away until finally he turned to Rhoane, saying in a near whisper, “Do you accept this girl, the gyota of Verdaine’s prophecy, as the Darennsai of the Eleri?”
“Yes.”
Stephan’s eyes glistened as he stood before his first son. “So be it.” He beckoned to Taryn. “Girl, come here.”
Heart pounding in her ears, legs quivering as if they would give out, Taryn stood beside Rhoane. The king took their hands in his, looking into her eyes, through her to the very depths of her being. His thoughts brushed against hers. She let him in to wander through her mind. Good, bad—she let him see it all. Where she came from to what brought her to his Great Hall that night.
When he finished, he looked tired and drawn. His eyes were filled with immense sadness, and she wondered what he’d found in her memories to hurt him so.
“I do not envy either of you your paths. If you join together, your trials will be lessened. Do you, Taryn ap Galendrin, wish to have Rhoane at your side always as a friend, a lover, a companion, and Verdaine willing, as a shepherd to your final resting place?”
A moment of panic seized Taryn as she realized he was going to bond them, taking her one step closer to finalizing her union with Rhoane. “Yes.” Her cynfar buzzed in her mind, but she shut it out.
Stephan turned to Rhoane. “Do you, Rhoane, First Son of the Eleri, wish to be joined to Taryn ap Galendrin in battle, as well as peace, to look to her for comfort and diminish her pain, to keep her safe always, and to live your life knowing none other but her?”
“I will honor my vow as before. Yes.”
Stephan wound a thread of green ShantiMari around their wrists. Taryn heard the trees sighing around them, as if they, too, held their breath in anticipation. When Stephan finished, new runes glowed brightly against their skin. He bent to kiss her forehead. “Welcome, Taryn ap Galendrin, Darennsai of the Eleri.”
She curtseyed as she’d seen the Eleri do when he entered the hall. “Thank you, King Stephan of the Eleri, most favored son of Verdaine.”
He seemed pleased with her reply and gestured for his sons to move down, allowing Taryn to sit beside Rhoane. To the gathered crowd, he said, “Tonight, we drink to the Darennsai.”
Doors opened and servants rushed in to place steaming plates of food before the guests. Taryn sat beside Rhoane, toasting her cup each time a noble or courtier raised their glass to her. She sipped her spiced grhom while nibbling at her food. In the eyes of the Eleri, she was married to Rhoane, but he sat silent beside her. She tried to engage Bressal in conversation, but his frown dissuaded any comment from her.
So Taryn sat between two brooding Eleri, trying to look content in the Great Hall of the Weirren. Once the plates had been removed, tables were pushed back and a group of musicians entered the hall to great applause.
“My lady, would you honor me with a dance?” Taryn looked up at Rhoane in surprise. They were the first words he had spoken to her all evening. Since that terrible day with the vorlocks, even. She put her hand in his, and they made their way to the floor. Already a few Eleri were arm-in-arm in a complicated dance.
She faltered in her step. “I don’t know this one,” she whispered to Rhoane.
“Just follow my lead.”
Her body matched his, her feet deftly touching the ground before finding air again and again. They moved as one, the music flowing through them. Rhoane’s jaw no longer held the tension she’d become used to, and a small smile played at the corners of his lips. When the dance ended, he held her tightly against him, unmoving. In his eyes, her chaotic emotions reflected back to her. She raised her body a few inches until her lips met his. Their kiss was hesitant at first. Then weeks of frustration and unspent emotions coiled and snapped, manifesting in an all-consuming kiss that blocked out all sight or sound. The court no longer existed. The great tree dissipated. The world came down to only them.
When finally they parted, the room was silent. Taryn looked at the astonished faces, feeling her own grow hot with embarrassment.
King Stephan stood at the high table with his glass raised. “Cynfarran teldielle!”
The Eleri cheered. “
Cynfarran teldielle!”
Taryn curtseyed, having no idea what he’d said. Rhoane bowed to his father and then the court. Taryn glanced at her mother. Tears glistened in her beautiful blue eyes. Eliahnna and Tessa also had wet cheeks. Rhoane led her out of the Great Hall, up several stairways, before she finally found her voice.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere private.” He smiled down at her. “Unless you would rather go back to the hall?”
“Not really.”
“Good,” he said. “Because there is something I want to show you.” He led her up and up, until she thought she couldn’t take another step.
At the top of the tree, he opened a hidden door, leading her on to a pathway of branches covered in leaves. The only thing above them was the clear night sky and twinkling stars. She clutched at his arm. “How high are we? Could we fall?”
Rhoane laughed, and it sounded like rainfall after a drought. “You are afraid of heights? A great warrior like you is afraid of something as insignificant as falling?”
“Don’t tease. Yes, I’m afraid of heights, if you really must know.” They made their way along the branch to a cluster of leaves that created a bower of sorts. “Will it hold us?”
“We are perfectly safe. Come here,” he commanded, pulling her to him. “No one will disturb us.” His lips sought hers with a hunger she returned. Their ShantiMari tangled around them, uniting as one strength—hers new and untried, his as ancient as the tree they stood upon.
When their heat became too much, she pulled away, afraid of the powerful emotions that swept over her with a speed she fought to control. Afraid of the dark tempest that swirled just under the surface, ready to break free.
Rhoane stretched out on the leaves, beckoning her to follow.
“Why didn’t you speak up for me tonight?” She carefully lay down beside him, hampered by her wound.
“I am sheanna; my word is not recognized at court.” The sadness in his voice cut Taryn in two.
“I should have known. I’m sorry.”
The Stones of Resurrection Page 33
