“Why the attitude tonight, brother?” Whyn asked. “So what if Father wants your hair down. Is that such a price to pay for becoming betrothed to the most beautiful girl in Tearia?”
Ruairi laughed. “Well, you could have had your chance with her, but you were too slow.”
“One minute too slow,” Whyn said, but by the expression on his face, he regretted it the instant he said it.
“What do you mean by that remark?” Ruairi asked. “Do you think she only wants me because I am first?”
“No, of course not. I only meant—” Whyn lowered his eyes.
“I know exactly what you meant!” Ruairi slapped Brina’s hand aside, then rose and stormed to the window.
“I—I am sorry,” Whyn said. “I did not mean it that way.”
Ruairi glanced at Whyn’s downcast face and felt a twinge of guilt. It was not his brother’s fault that his twin had pushed his way out into the world before him.
“I am sorry, Whyn,” Ruairi said stiffly. “I want these formalities over with, that is all.”
Whyn strolled over and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Just relax and try to enjoy it. It will be over before you know it.”
“Let us get on with it then,” Ruairi said, shrugging his shoulder away and heading for the door. He jerked it open and stepped into the hallway, then marched toward the steps that led to the torch-lit corridor below. Brina and Whyn followed silently at his back.
Ruairi arrived at the double doors leading into the reception hall and paused. The voices of hundreds of guests could be heard on the other side of it.
“I feel like I am going to an execution,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Oh, go on,” Whyn said. “It will be all right.”
Ruairi stiffened his spine and walked into the cavernous room, then made his way to the dais and the food-laden table that sat stretched across it. He seated himself in a great armed chair centered behind the table and stared at the sea of blond heads and pale faces bowed before him. To his way of thinking, they all looked alike. The only thing that set them apart was the color of their tunics, and that was determined solely by their status within society, not by any choice of their own. Regardless, it must be a pleasant thing to blend in like that. He forced a smile in their direction and motioned them to rise.
A place was reserved at his immediate left for his father who could be seen consulting with two temple priests in the back of the crowded room. Ruairi watched their moving mouths, trying to decipher their words. But then his attention was diverted to his mother who was making her usual grand entrance. Isola lifted her beautiful chin, demanding the attention of all in attendance, and strolled to the ornately carved chair to the left of the King’s. Whyn and Brina, who had waited for the Queen to be seated, entered to take their places on the other side of her. Further on, a place was reserved for Mahon, Brina’s husband, no doubt delayed by his duties as Commander of the Guard. Ruairi leaned around and looked down the table at Whyn who winked in his direction, and Brina who offered an encouraging smile. But his mother did not look at him at all.
He felt a movement to his right and glanced up to see Cinnia taking her place in the chair next to him. He took her hand in his, squeezing it tight.
“You are so tense,” she whispered.
He smiled and nodded, feeling the source of his uneasiness pleasantly redirected. His eyes scanned Cinnia’s flawless face, then trailed down her neck to the golden ringlets that spilled across her shoulders. Her silky, mint-green gown was cinched at the waist and barely concealed her fully developed figure. Gazing at her, he felt his heart soften, even while the rest of him could not.
His thoughts turned back to the room. The rest of the families had taken their places at the table and the crowd was now staring at him, silent and ready. The tedious business of ceremony was about to begin.
Ruairi and Cinnia rose and made their way to the priests who now stood before the room. Cinnia’s hand was draped across Ruairi’s outstretched one, and she walked with all the grace and splendor of a future queen. Ruairi’s heart could not help but swell. He stole a glimpse at the audience and was proud to note they were equally mesmerized by her beauty. It was one of the few times attentions were focused on something other than the color of his hair.
The ceremony was a long one, fraught with chanting, proclamations, and incantations to the gods. Ruairi thought it all terribly outdated. As soon as he was King, he determined, rituals far less painful would replace the antiquities. For now, though, he would just have to endure.
The priests droned on and on, and Ruairi found it difficult to stay focused on what they were saying. The righteousness of their tones sounded monotonous, and their words seemed all but meaningless. Ruairi’s mind wandered, but he managed to respond as expected, though oftentimes after a long, somewhat awkward pause. Finally he and Cinnia were allowed to return to their seats, and Sedric took his place before the guests. The King’s speech was particularly long-winded as he took the opportunity to interject politics, business, and various affairs of the state.
While the guests listened to Sedric with rapt attention, Ruairi stifled yawn after yawn. He counted the torches on the walls, squinted at the details of the frescoes across the room, and analyzed the intricate mosaics beneath the hundreds of sandaled feet. Then he felt hopeful. It was now Labhras’s turn to address the hall, and Cinnia’s father, he knew, would be the last to speak. To his utter disappointment, the man’s speech made all the others seem short in comparison.
Ruairi squirmed in his chair. It was hot and he had been sitting there for what seemed like hours. When was the agony going to end? He looked down the sprawling table toward Whyn who was being his usual self: watching Labhras with great interest, laughing at the boring jokes, applauding in all the right places. It was most annoying. Ruairi intensified his gaze, hoping to capture his brother’s attention. Whyn glanced his way and mouthed a silent “what?” Ruairi grinned and popped a grape into his mouth. Whyn’s eyes widened with horror.
Ruairi sucked in his cheeks and winked. If he aimed the grape just right he could probably pelt the back of Labhras’s head with it. The man was standing before the crowd, his back to the table, extolling the virtues of the royal family and his future son-in-law who would one day lead Tearia to further greatness as the Red King. Ruairi was tired of it all and knew that the grape, now primed for battle in his mouth, could add a bit of interest to the otherwise boring speech. But an icy stare of disapproval from his mother brought his plans to an abrupt halt. He scowled and spit the grape onto his plate.
The reaction from the crowd brought his attention back to Labhras who was now holding a wine goblet in the air. The long-winded toast was over at last. Ruairi straightened his aching back and smiled, nodding to the crowd that had turned their eyes to him and Cinnia rather than to her father. He stood and took Cinnia’s hand in his and kissed it. The guests clapped and cheered their approval.
But Ruairi’s relief was short lived and hope for a private moment with Cinnia on hold. The reception line had formed to their right. He surveyed the room, contemplating a quick escape, but one look in his father’s direction quickly doused the notion. The man was watching him, his brows raised in warning. Clearly he had no intention of letting his unpredictable son spoil an otherwise lovely affair.
Ruairi groaned for the thousandth time that evening and walked down the steps of the dais to the eternal line of well-wishers. An hour of handshaking, small talk, and forced smiles left him with the overwhelming desire for fight or flight. While fight was not possible, flight certainly was. The instant the last guest departed the line, Ruairi turned, grabbed Cinnia’s hand, and pulled her from the stifling room and out to the fresh air of the gardens beyond.
The yard was bathed in silvery moonlight, and the scent of the botanicals that enveloped the garden filled Ruairi’s senses. But it was the essence of Cinnia that made his head spin.
“Gods, I thought we would never get out
of there,” he said. He took her face in his hands, pulling it toward his eager mouth, and kissed her deeply. The concerns of the day evaporated.
Ruairi had kissed Cinnia many times before, and though she always left him wanting more, he had never taken it much further. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; he was a healthy young man, after all, and was more than ready for the intimate touch of a woman. But he was patient with the desires of his body, believing it best to wait until the time was right. That time, he knew, could only be with Cinnia. And that time would hopefully be tonight.
Cinnia pulled back and glanced over her shoulder. “Someone might see us,” she whispered.
“But Cin, we are betrothed now,” Ruairi said, leaning in for more.
“You know I want to,” she said, “but it is too risky. What if we are found out? My father would be furious. And your father—”
“Oh, who cares about them. They are nothing more than a couple of old men who have long forgotten what it is like to be kissed by a beautiful woman.”
Cinnia laughed. “Oh, I doubt they have forgotten. They do have beautiful wives after all.”
“None as beautiful as you,” Ruairi said. He traced a finger down her breastbone and felt her shiver at his touch.
Cinnia glanced around, then turned back to him and smiled. “Very well, meet me in my room later. I will leave a candle in the window to let you know when it is safe.”
Ruairi glanced toward the window that arched above them. Cinnia’s room. He would have no trouble finding his way there. He was well acquainted with Labhras’s great estate; in his childhood, Ruairi’s family had spent a great deal of time there. It was in this very maze of a garden that he, his brother, and Cinnia had played hiding games and planned fantastic adventures together. But the adventure Ruairi had planned with Cinnia tonight would be his greatest yet.
“There are still many courtesies to attend to with the guests,” Cinnia chattered on, “and mother will be twittering on about me of course. But I will try to slip away and then—”
“Yes, then,” Ruairi said, and kissed her once more.
They strolled back into the reception hall together, their faces masks of innocence. Before long, they found themselves separated by a crowd of well-wishers, but their knowing eyes continued to communicate with each other across the room.
Ruairi excused himself from a talkative guest and worked his way to the nearest refreshment table. His mouth was parched from too much talk, and a mind-altering drink sounded particularly good. He reached his hand toward a wine vessel, but a sudden grip on his arm kept him from his goal. His first thought was that it was his father, angry about something he had done, but he was surprised to discover it was Whyn.
“What are you doing?” Ruairi asked indignantly.
Whyn did not reply, but instead dragged him into the corridor beyond the room. “I thought your dalliance with Cinnia would never end,” he said.
“Who says it has?” Ruairi replied, grinning.
Whyn frowned. “Wipe that foolish grin off your face. There is trouble brewing.”
“Oh gods, what now?” Ruairi jerked his arm away.
A few guests who lingered in the corridor glanced over, then bowed and excused themselves. Whyn’s eyes darted back and forth as he opened a nearby door and pushed his brother through it and into the room on the other side.
The room was small, but elegantly furnished. A tall, carved rack towered against a whitewashed wall, its numerous compartments filled with rolled up parchments. An ornate chair backed the gray and pink marble table at the room’s center, and a couch inlaid with gold threads rested along one wall. A great tapestry was displayed behind it, and thick drapes of the finest material separated the room from the atrium beyond. Oil lamps lit the space in a golden hue.
Ruairi glanced around the room. It was Labhras’s office, and he didn’t like the idea of being there. He rubbed his arm and scowled at his brother. “I have no interest in hearing about any troubles tonight, Whyn. I have just begun to actually enjoy myself.”
“Well you had best show some interest, dear brother. Father found out about your latest adventure and he is not happy about it.” Whyn narrowed his eyes and stared hard into Ruairi’s apathetic face.
“Which adventure?” Ruairi said. “The one where I urinated in the wine vessel in the temple or the one where I switched out the—”
“No, the one where you sneaked into the holding cell and almost got yourself killed by a Jecta.”
“Oh, that,” Ruairi said with an indifferent wave of his hand.
“Oh that? Oh that?” Whyn said, struggling to keep his voice down. “Do you not understand what could have happened to you? Do you not realize you could have been injured, or worse?”
“Nothing happened, Whyn. The foul creature grabbed my tunic, nothing more. I told you.”
“Crymm reported you and was demoted because of it.”
“Crymm? Demoted?” Ruairi crossed his arms and stared at his feet in momentary contemplation. “Well that is what he gets for opening his mouth.”
“He has been your bodyguard for thirteen years, Ruairi. You could show a little sympathy.”
“Why should I? The man hates me.”
“Who can blame him? You have led him on one merry chase after another all these years, and his job has been on the line more times than not. You should at least be grateful he saved your neck.”
“Humph! I was not in any real danger. Crymm was just trying to make himself look good. That is probably why he said something to Father about it, so he would come out looking like some kind of hero. If he had been doing his job like he was supposed to, it would never have happened. He got what he deserved.”
“It is not just the issue of Crymm, Ruairi. It is the fact that you allowed yourself to be touched by a Jecta, and the wretch is to have his hand cut off for it.”
Ruairi rolled his eyes. “What concern is that of mine?”
“You should be at least concerned for the fact that your precious skin could have been damaged.”
“But it was not.”
“But it could have been. And you know a damaged prince cannot be prince at all.”
“What are you implying, Whyn? That if I was marked I could no longer be prince? Father would never allow that to happen.”
“Father would have little say in it, brother. It would be the decision of the Priestess. You know the law requires Tearians to keep their bodies as pure as possible. It is the will of the Goddess and is written as commandment. You know what the consequences are for one who blatantly disregards it.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do about it now? What is done is done.” Ruairi turned from Whyn’s icy stare, then strolled over to the desk and ran his fingers along its smooth surface.
“I heard Father talking,” Whyn continued. “It seems the Priestess is most unhappy about your behavior. One of the priests said she does not think you are suited as a prince, much less a king. I fear the Temple will work against you if you do not change your ways. Father has been listening, Ruairi. And I think he is beginning to agree.”
Ruairi scoffed and eyed the wall of scrolls and parchments. Whyn was surely overreacting and his paranoia had begun to bore him. Perhaps a distraction was needed. He pulled out a large scroll and unrolled it, then scanned its contents with pretended interest.
“What are you doing?” Whyn cried.
“These scrolls must be really important,” Ruairi said. “Probably some invaluable record of Labhras’s business dealings.”
“Put that back!” Whyn demanded, taking a threatening step in his brother’s direction. He glanced over his shoulder at the door they had closed behind them. “You know Father’s temper. If he catches you . . .”
But Ruairi ignored him, caught up in the adventure of the moment. He stepped toward the desk and lifted the oil lamp. “You know, these lamps are a hazard. I cannot believe Labhras would keep this thing lit unattended in a room full of documents.” He squinted hi
s eyes at the parchment. “I can barely make out these words. Perhaps if I were to bring the flame a bit closer.” He glanced up at Whyn, whose face had turned a ghostly white, and grinned, delighted by the sudden horror he saw there.
Whyn took a step forward and reached out a hand. “I said put that down,” he said between gritted teeth. “This is not the least bit amusing.”
“Oh, you worry too much.”
Whyn took an unexpected leap and grabbed for the scroll. Ruairi jerked it out of his reach and laughed. “Do you want it?” he said. He circled the table, keeping it between him and Whyn, who was still struggling to reach him.
Whyn leapt again and threw himself across the table, knocking inkwells, quills, and documents to the floor. Ruairi jumped back, but his thigh rammed into the arm of the chair, sending his feet out from under him. He flipped and rolled off the chair toward the floor, his arms flailing as he fought his descent. The lamp flew from his grasp and into the drape, and oil and flame spilled down the beautiful fabric.
Ruairi gaped at the burning drape as flames raced toward the ceiling and the cubby of scrolls nearby. He pushed himself up and reached for the curtain, intent on pulling it down, but Whyn grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Do not touch it, fool!” Whyn screamed, shoving him aside. “You could get hurt!” Whyn rushed toward the door. “I will get help,” he called back as he ran from the room. “Do not do anything stupid!”
Ruairi nodded in silence, his lips unable to form a single syllable. As he watched his brother disappear into the hallway, he felt his limbs begin to shake. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, he was only joking around, but for the first time he genuinely regretted his foolishness. He twisted his body around and scanned the room for something to douse the flames, but there was nothing. The fire swept along the ceiling and toward the parchments.
The rack of parchments ignited and roared into a billowing explosion of flame. The smell of smoke filled Ruairi’s senses; the crackle of flames echoed in his ears. He backed toward the door, coughing and wiping smoky tears, but he suddenly felt himself yanked through the doorway and shoved against the opposite wall, the breath nearly knocked out of him.
Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light Page 4
