Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  Elbrion broke in. “Sheya, we are not asking you to wear dresses at all times. You may wear trousers and be the warrior, if you so choose. But for tonight, we wish to honor you as our daughter. Will you allow us that privilege?”

  Elena’s body relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I can’t tie my own bindings. Who is there to assist me with that?”

  Celdorn had to fight back a chuckle. Elbrion was much better at negotiating her moods than he was.

  Elbrion shared her grin. “I have devised and changed diapers for you, Sheyshon. I am certain I can manage a few laces and ties.”

  Her expression sobered. “And will you promise not to leave my side nor allow any man to touch me?”

  “We’ll be on your right and your left—and proudly so, I might add,” Celdorn replied. “We are announcing your adoption, Elena Celebriana.” Her smile returned at that. “You will be the center of attention.”

  Elena’s face fell. “It’s much better to blend into the background.”

  “A lord’s daughter doesn’t need to hide. Remember, tonight we celebrate you—unashamedly,” Celdorn said with a squeeze of her hands.

  Elena straightened her shoulders. “I will do my best to hold my head high,” though she gripped Celdorn’s hands as if she were dangling from a cliff, dependent on him not to let her fall.

  ~

  It felt like a lifetime since she’d last worn a dress. After wearing men’s clothes, even the undergarments seemed cumbersome and impractical.

  “It must have been a man who created these devices,” Elena said as Elbrion cinched the bindings. “No woman would have done this to herself. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were originally used as an implement of torture.”

  Elbrion laughed. “I must agree with you there. Breathe for me, so I can see if I have the laces too tight.”

  “I feel ridiculous.” Elena gazed in the full-length mirror they had brought to her room and frowned. How angry would Celdorn be if she changed her mind?

  Elbrion stood behind her and smiled into the mirror. “You are beautiful, even in just your underskirts.”

  Her face darkened. “I don’t want to be beautiful. I want to be ugly and fat and undesirable.”

  Elbrion met her gaze in the mirror. “There is nothing wrong with being beautiful, Sheya.”

  “There is everything wrong with it, Ada. Men tell you you’re beautiful as they paw at you and shove their filthy tongues down your throat—” She caught herself and stopped.

  “Did they not misuse uncomely children as well?” Elbrion asked.

  Elena glared at him.

  “The ones who hurt you and the other children would have done so whatever your appearance. It was not your beauty that drove them; it was their own appetites and perversions. You cannot take responsibility for that.” Elbrion gripped her shoulders. “I long for you to be free from their lies and control, Elena. I want you to enjoy this day without their chains dragging behind you. They have taken far too much from you already.”

  Elena looked up at him, surprised by the grief she felt in his words. “I’m trying, Ada, but it seems everything I do in this moment is wrapped in a hundred moments from the past. I don’t know how to disentangle them,” she added as tears pushed to the surface.

  “I know, Sheyshon. That is why I am saddened.” He squeezed her shoulders while kissing the top of her head.

  There was a knock on the door just as Elbrion finished buttoning the back of her dress. Celdorn entered. When Elena turned toward him, he suppressed a gasp and gaped at her, tears brimming his eyes. “You look stunning,” he finally whispered.

  “What’s wrong, Ada?”

  “You”—he swallowed hard—“remind me of my mother, though your coloring and size are so very different. It must be the dress. She wore one to a feast that was similar to yours. Perhaps that is why I chose this color.”

  He gave his head a sharp shake and stepped closer, a hesitant smile warming his face. “I brought you a gift.”

  “You’ve already given me too many.”

  “That is a father’s prerogative, little one.” His smile broadened. “Turn around.” As she faced the mirror, Celdorn came behind her and removed the medallion, which bore his family crest. Then he laid a dazzling emerald pendant against her bare skin and fastened it around her neck. It was cut in a delicate teardrop shape; the hue matched the dress and her eyes perfectly. “This was my mother’s.”

  Elena gazed at her reflection, enraptured. The stone looked ablaze as the flames from the lamps reflected off the many intricately cut facets. A shadowy figure suddenly appeared in the mirror—a Rahima or eidolon, she did not know. It ripped the necklace from her throat and laughed maniacally as it burned in the reflection of the flames. Elena gasped and turned away. To cover her fear, she pretended to be deeply absorbed in the jewel and what Celdorn was saying.

  “The gem is from the mines of Queyon,” he added quietly. “It was the last gift my father gave my mother upon the celebration of thirty years of marriage. They died the following year. Fortunately, he was wise and kept the jewels in their chambers at Marach, or they would have been lost in the raid on Shefali.”

  “Ada, I can’t accept this,” Elena told him as she gazed at the stone, mesmerized by it. “You must keep it. It belonged to your mother.”

  “Who had no surviving daughters. You are her only female descendent,” he replied. “So, by rights, it belongs to you.”

  Elena stroked the necklace as her tears renewed. “Thank you, Ada,” she whispered.

  “You lack only one thing, Sheya,” Elbrion said. “If you are truly to be an Elrodanar briochella, you must wear this.”

  Elbrion pulled a delicately woven circlet from behind his back and placed it on her head. It looked like miniature ivy vines that had been dipped in silver and formed into a circle. Tiny diamonds were scattered among the leaves, making it shimmer.

  Elena’s tears continued to fall as Elbrion explained, “This is a gift from my mother who, like Celdorn’s, had no female heir until recently.”

  “I don’t even know your mother’s story, Ada, nor your father’s.”

  His face darkened. “Those are tales for another day. Today is a day for joy.” He dipped his chin, and his smile returned.

  Elbrion turned Elena back toward the mirror. Though afraid, she finally lifted her eyes and gazed at the men reflected there. “This must all be a dream. That person does not seem real,” she said, glancing at herself. “But if it is a dream, I pray I never awaken.”

  Chapter 2

  When it was time for the banquet, Celdorn and Elbrion escorted Elena from her room, knees shaking beneath her long gown. Her hands looked so tiny draped over the forearms of her adai. As they descended the stairs, the guards at the bottom dropped to one knee, mouths gaping. They had seen Elena dozens of times but always in shirt, trousers, and boots. They seemed genuinely shocked, and Elena felt a twinge of dread twist her belly.

  Similar reactions continued as they moved into the Great Hall. The men would glance at her, then look again, their breath catching, lower jaws dropping.

  Elena’s focus turned to the hall itself. The massive room, which ran most of the length of the northwest wing of Kelach, looked so different from the other occasions she’d been there. The first time with Silvandir and Mikaelin the room had been empty, and she’d had ample time to enjoy the tapestries that graced the walls, the polished wood floors, and the beautifully carved trim that was the work of a gifted artisan. This was also the place where she’d seen dozens of wounded men lying in their own blood after the battle with the Zakad in Rhamal. Not an image she wished to focus on just now.

  No, this was to be a night of celebration, and the room proclaimed it with vases filled with roses and other summer flowers. Vibrant colored screens had been placed over lanterns creating a rainbow of hues around the Great Hall. Guests were dressed in festive outfits, and even the Guardians had left behind their brown and cream clothes
for brighter hues. The room was primed for festivity. Elena, embracing the tone, lifted her head and strode forward.

  The gown, aided by the bindings, accentuated Elena’s shape. Though modest, the dress drew attention to her tiny waist and too-ample breasts that had been so well hidden beneath the men’s oversized shirts. Her hair flowed around her, freed from its usual braid. When she had dressed, she noticed the deep green of the gown heightened the glow of her hair’s fair color while bringing out the brilliance of her eyes. With her emerald pendant and delicate circlet, she had looked every bit the lord’s daughter, though now as she gazed around the crowded hall, she felt more like a sow washed up for slaughter. Her stomach twisted tighter.

  One by one, the men in the hall fell to their knees and bowed respectfully as her adai passed.

  Celdorn’s pride showed as he escorted her. According to Elbrion, he rarely wore the robes of his nobility or the coronet of his position, but tonight he was regal in the burgundy and royal blue of the Malgion line. His coronet bore the family crest in the center, encircled by ten stones just like the crest on her scabbard.

  Elbrion was resplendent in the white robes of the Elrodanar that magnified rather than cloaked the pulsing light that emanated from him, which made it difficult for anyone to look directly at him. Encircling his white hair was a headpiece similar to the one he’d given her, except his bore a single crimson stone set in its center, the only color visible on his entire body.

  Elena found it increasingly difficult to move forward through the hall. The more the men gawked, the more self-conscious she grew. The way some of them looked at her body made her want to hide.

  “Holy stars, she looks gorgeous in that dress. Who knew she had curves like that.” Elena frowned at the brazen young man. With a lurch, she realized his mouth hadn’t moved. Elena shook her head sharply, unnerved, as the voice of one man after another filled her mind.

  “What is troubling you, Sheyshon?” Elbrion asked, laying his hand over hers.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” The noise in her head increased as more and more voices overlapped. Elbrion frowned and glanced around as if searching for the source.

  Celdorn put his arm around her waist and steered her toward a seat at the head table. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your body is trembling.”

  “I-I think I’m hearing the men’s thoughts,” she replied as she sat. “I can’t silence them.”

  “Trust me,” Elbrion whispered in her ear before he placed his hands on her shoulders and stood tall to welcome those gathered. The warmth of his touch spread downward, calming the rapid beat of her heart. “We are here this evening to honor our new daughter, Elena Celebriana, and to celebrate her adoption. I would like to begin with a song that tells a precious and much lauded bit of our Elrodanar history, The Anthem of the Briochellai.” Chuckles broke out around the hall, and Elena looked up to see a glint of mirth in her ada’s eyes. “We men especially appreciate this song.” He gazed down at Elena and gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “This is the song that recounts the coming of the briochellai, the maidens, into Queyon at the dawn of the Nasara.”

  When Elbrion began his mesmerizing tune, the men of Kelach, still on their knees, gazed around at the light that emanated from the rock walls, illuminating the tapestries that clung to them. The voices in Elena’s mind gradually grew quiet. Images of what she knew must be Queyon filled her vision, transporting her to another time and place.

  Elbrion had once told her that, according to Elrodanar tradition, after the uproar of the renewal and the establishment of Queyon, the Briochellai—daughters of the Briellai or angels—descended from the heavens in the cooling rains. The maidens dropped down the falls of Ellisia and stepped forth into the newly formed obsidian canyon in response to the cry of the Roddan, whose women had been swept away along with Yabwana, never to return. As the Briochellai moved among the ancient men, the maidens’ gentle touch brought ecstatic joy and intensified the illumination that had entered the men in the dawn of Queyon.

  As Elbrion’s chant continued, Elena suddenly felt pulled to her feet like a marionette whose strings were manipulated by some unseen puppeteer. Light pulsed outward from her as she heard herself singing an unfamiliar Elnar refrain in response to Elbrion’s verses. Elena was terrified—and awed—unable to control what was happening.

  A host of distant female voices suddenly joined hers, startling Elena. The men exchanged puzzled glances and scanned the perimeter of the room as if they too heard the maidens’ song converging with hers. Elena couldn’t silence her voice nor stop her hands from lifting toward the sky, finding herself a spectator in her own body.

  Her hands throbbed just before beams of light exploded from her palms and pierced through the vaulted ceiling as if reaching toward the night sky. In the luminous shafts, Elena thought she saw tiny forms take shape, dancing and sprinkling what looked like miniature stars around them.

  Elbrion sang each of the five verses while Elena responded with the chorus, joy soon overriding her fear. Her elation seemed to be infectious, spreading throughout the Great Hall, until all had been sung and only the echoes of the distant Briochellai reverberated in the room, gradually fading.

  No one moved or spoke. Elena lowered her hands, stunned by what had emerged from her. Suddenly self-conscious, she staggered and sat down hard.

  Celdorn took his seat and leaned toward her wide-eyed. “What was that?”

  “D-did you see them? Hear them?” she asked. Celdorn nodded. “It was real then.” A chill raced up Elena’s spine.

  Elbrion wrapped his arm around her. “Perhaps there are others who wanted to join in our celebration. Whatever it was, it was a gift.” Her ada’s serene smile chased away any residual fear.

  The rest of the men took their seats, stealing furtive glances at the head table as they whispered to one another.

  ~

  Hours passed. The opulent feast had been served, and the men and their guests were enjoying the ale and wine, which flowed freely. Conversations and bursts of laughter filled the hall. Elena had never seen the men so relaxed and in such good humor.

  From time to time, a Guardian approached the head table, introduced himself, and pledged his fealty to Celdorn anew, vowing service to Elena as well. For the most part, she received the honor well, with no compulsion to hide, but then her mind would drift to Yaelmargon again. She wondered anew what he’d seen inside her that compelled him to leave.

  She thought back to the children trapped inside the first hallway in her mind and sighed. Why was she so different from everyone else? She wanted to be like her new adai, not like Anakh or her grandmother. She didn’t want to be a Rahima, or whatever that ugly thing in the mirror had been. And she certainly didn’t want to do bizarre things like she’d done here in the hall this night. Where had that come from? How she wished she could just be normal.

  Elena fought to bring her mind back to the present, sloughing off the shame that again threatened to consume her, not wanting to disappoint her adai. She held her head high and did her best to play the role of the lord’s daughter, while an intense fear grew that one day they would all awaken and realize they had made a grave error and cast the wrong person in the part.

  Shortly after dinner, a small band of musicians with flutes, timbrels, drums, and odd stringed instruments, big and small, set up in the far corner of the hall and played lively tunes that made Elena’s foot tap. Some of the men whose wives or sweethearts had joined them for the evening moved to the open area in front of the musicians and started to dance. Elena was enthralled. She studied their movements, wishing she were bold enough to join them.

  “Would you like to dance with me, little one?” Celdorn asked.

  Elena blushed and shook her head. “I don’t know how. At least not that kind of dancing.”

  “I will teach you,” he said, undaunted. “That is a fatherly responsibility, is it not?” He rose and held out his hand to he
r.

  Elena almost refused, afraid she would make a fool of herself, but the yearning to fulfill a long-held fantasy won out.

  The dancers had just finished a group dance done in two long lines. Elena was relieved she’d missed that one; it looked too complicated for a first dance. The dancers broke into pairs as the new song started.

  “The one they are doing now is a basic step, a traditional one seen throughout the realm. Watch their footwork.”

  The partners faced each other, the woman’s left hand on the man’s shoulder—which would be quite a reach for Elena—and the other hand clasping her partner’s. Elena watched the woman’s feet until she thought she could do it. She took Celdorn’s hand, but the steps, which looked so simple, turned out to be impossible for her feet to imitate. She kicked Celdorn several times before she stopped, her face hot with embarrassment.

  “Be patient with yourself, little one, this is your first time. Here,” he said, pulling her closer, “stand on my feet.”

  “No,” Elena objected, “I’ll hurt you.”

  Celdorn let out a hearty laugh. “You weigh next to nothing, and I’ve got good, sturdy boots on.”

  Elena studied his feet. Then, with a giggle, she stepped on top of them.

  “Now relax and feel the rhythm of the music and the flow of our bodies.”

  At first, Elena clutched tightly, almost fighting the movement, but as she relaxed and felt the cadence in her body, the pattern of the steps began to make sense. “I think I can do it now,” she said, climbing off Celdorn’s feet.

  As they moved around the dance floor together, Elena was exhilarated. This was her fantasy come true. Her heart nearly burst with elation.

  A large hand appeared on Celdorn’s shoulder, stopping them. “Excuse me, Celdorn,” Silvandir said. “May I dance with the lady?”

  Celdorn stepped back with a broad smile. “Of course.”