Red Rope of Fate

By: K. M. Shea

a Take Out The Trash! Publication

Copyright © K.M. Shea 2013

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Nodusigm

Chapter 2: Captain Arion

Chapter 3: Miscommunication

Chapter 4: Heroics

Chapter 5: New Vocabulary & Storming Teas

Chapter 6: Reluctantly in Love

Chapter 7: Attacked on all Sides

Chapter 8: Not a Lush

Chapter 9: Evening Star

Chapter 10: Separation

Chapter 11: Never Attack the Elf

Chapter 12: Red Rope of Fate

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter 1

Nodusigm

The bells hanging from Tari’s gold anklet jingled nonstop as she paced back and forth, unable to keep a smile from twitching across her face. Today was the day.

Today, Tari was going to be partnered with a human in the honorable custom of Nodusigm. Today she would—hopefully—forge a friendship with a human woman that would last for life.

“Who thinks Tari is excited and nervous? Anyone?” Kiva—Tari’s older sister—teased as she adjusted the bronze circlet nestled in her hair.

One of their female cousins sighed as she curled up on a bench. “We’ve been waiting forever for the ceremony to start, and they’re barely halfway through seating the guests.”

Tari briefly paused to inspect her hair, which was coiled in an elaborate braid, in a mirror. “Any ideas to pass the time?” she asked, renewing her march.

Talon—their only male cousin who was to be matched today—shook his head as he leaned against the door that led into the Celebration Hall, the location of the Nodusigm ceremony. “No, I’m not much in the mood for horseplay,” he said.

Tari stopped her pacing circle next to Talon and briefly leaned against him. “You are not pleased, Talon?”

Talon shrugged.

“Why not?” another female cousin asked. “To be selected for Nodusigm is a great responsibility. Only a small percentage of our people are given this honor.”

Talon leaned back on his heels, staring at the vaulted ceiling of the waiting room. “It is not the elves that worry me. This bonding reeks of human politics.”

“It is last-minute and rushed, which is something of a surprise considering the great length of time the young Prince Vincent courted Lady—excuse me—Princess Claire,” Kiva acknowledged.

“The human royals were not happy with Prince Vincent’s choice for a bride. They’ve been so obvious about it even the general population of elves knows of it. But what do we care? Our governments are separate,” a female cousin said.

Tari pushed away from Talon and walked until she stood in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. “It should matter to us because we’ve been selected. Is that what you’re getting at, Talon?”

“Exactly,” Talon said. “We are to be bound to Princess Claire and her four siblings. They were not bound to elves as children, which reveals their low standing in the courts of human nobility. That’s why the human royals were so upset with the marriage. Princess Claire hasn’t much power to her name. Of course, any human connected to the throne of Calnor—whether it be by blood or marriage—must be bound to an elf. I suspect they’re snubbing the new princess and her siblings by binding them to us.”

“Talon!” a female cousin said, swishing the heavy skirts of her dress in protest. “How can you say that? We are relatives of Our King Celrin! It is not shameful to be bound to us.”

“We’re distant relatives of our King, cousin. There are others in Lessa more appropriate. If we were so exalted, we would have been bound as children. Tari is an Evening Star and shouldn’t even be bound, but they’re doing it anyway because our next closest relatives who are not already bound are King Celrin’s direct niece and nephew,” Talon said.

“That means nothing,” Kiva said, hugging herself. “Everyone knows Tari always dreamed of being bound. Maybe she was selected because the elves on the selection committee are fond of her. Perhaps they chose her because she is an Evening Star. Whoever is bonded to her will be adored by us elves because of their connection.”

“It’s possible,” one of the female cousins said. “Kiva, isn’t your husband on the committee? And I believe his brother is a member of the Translators’ Circle?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the royalty of Calnor have been less than welcoming to the new princess, and I suspect they are using us for an ignoble purpose,” Talon said.

“Be that as it may, I’m not going to let it spoil the bonding. Let them try to snub Her Royal Highness Princess Claire’s family. In turn, we will rise to the occasion and dazzle and awe the humans even more than our already bonded kinsmen have,” Tari declared, lifting her chin.

One of Tari’s cousins chuckled. “That is quite the tall order. But you are an Evening Star; perhaps you can accomplish it. Do you hope to be matched to Princess Claire?”

Tari grinned. “I hope to be bound to the human with whom I am the most compatible.”

“I agree with Tari. As elves, we know better than to be petty. It is our responsibility to act so,” Kiva said, stepping back into the conversation. “And to whomever I am matched, I shall do my best to befriend, communicate with, and honor.”

Talon straightened. This was no longer a mere question of human politics. “Of course. The reason for the binding doesn’t matter. I will support my partner as well, and be of as much use to him as I can.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Tari echoed. Her cousins fell silent as they waited to be summoned into the Celebration Hall.

In the quiet, Tari brushed the soft material of her plain, white dress. The seamstresses who made the clothes for the ceremony had to rush to finish as Tari had found out a mere two weeks ago that she was to be bonded.

Tari reached up to tuck a strand of her creamy, butter-blonde hair back into her thick braid. As a child—the most auspicious time for a Nodusigm ceremony—Tari had hoped and wished to be bonded to a human. That was before she understood the depths of her role as an Evening Star. Now, at twenty-five summers, Tari was getting her heart’s desire. She was so happy, but at the same time her heart buzzed in her mouth like a ruby-throated humming bird.

Tari extended her warmest smile to her reflection and made the sign language gesture for “So pleased to meet you.”

“You’ve been practicing,” Kiva said, strolling up to her.

“I have. A few translators taught me some new gestures,” Tari said, pausing before folding her elegant elven fingers into the sign for “Help meet.”

Kiva’s smile deepened into dimples. “You would seek to learn more. I suspect you will be great friends with the human to whom you are bonded. How did you part with your teacher?”

Tari froze in the middle of making the gesture for “great honor.” “Seer Ringali was a little upset, but he knew I could not refuse the selection. It is surprising the selection committee chose me, given what Evening Stars mean to our country, but Seer Ringali felt perhaps they were planning to match me to one of Princess Claire’s sisters who will not visit Haven often.”

Haven was the sprawling city that straddled the borders of Lessa—the country of the elves—and Calnor—their human allies.

“If she were not at Haven, your attendance would not be required, freeing you to return home to Gloria and continue with your career,” Kiva nodded. “It sounds plausible. However, I must admit—I had hopes your binding would mean you would stay with my husband and me here in Haven.”

Tari flicked her eyes to look grimly at her sister, and Kiva sighed. “Yes, it is unlikely… your profession being what it is,” she said before scrunching up her nose. “But I can always dream.”

Tari smiled, and the gesture softened her sharp features. “Indeed. I always dreamed of Nodusigm, and look at us now,” she laughed, reaching out to hug Kiva.

As the two sisters embraced, someone knocked on the door that opened into the Celebration Hall.

“Are you ready?” Kiva asked, reaching out to straighten the neckline of Tari’s dress.

“Not hardly, but I am willing,” Tari said before they fell in line with their cousins.

The elves filed out of the room, moving to their assigned positions when they approached the immense maroon curtain that divided the platform in the front of the Celebration Hall.

The curtain blocked any sight of Tari’s future human partner—or her cousins’—but allowed a clear view of the guests. Tari took up her position at the base of the curtain. She was standing closest to the guests, and nervously looked to the human and elf translator standing a few paces from her.

The audience murmured, glancing back and forth at the two sides of the curtain. Something seemed to unsettle them, for they talked amongst themselves until the elf translator started the ceremony by banging his staff on the floor.

Tari couldn’t understand the elf translator; he was speaking in the language of Calnor, Calnoric, but she knew he was reciting a short history of the Nodusigm ceremony.

Simply put, Nodusigm—the bonding of an elf to a human in a symbol of friendship—was done to honor the humans and to favor the elves.

Centuries ago, the High Elves left the Continent to search for lands undiscovered and untouched. Their more fragile cousins, the Lesser Elves, knew they would not survive such a journey as they lacked the major magic and ferocity their cousins possessed. The High Elves promised to return for the Lesser Elves after establishing themselves in their new lands, but the Lesser Elves knew they would be wiped out long before their cousins’ return. The High Elves had done little to befriend the humans of the Continent and mostly fought with them, leaving humans wary of their kind. Unable to fight and wage wars like the High Elves, the Lesser Elves would no doubt be overtaken in a few decades.

The Lesser Elves fled to their last refuge—the country of Lessa—where they encountered the good will of the humans of Calnor. The royalty of Calnor offered to protect the Lesser Elves, not for any hidden agenda or gain, but because they admired the Lesser Elves, who were now the only elves of the Continent.

The Lesser Elves agreed, and friendship was forged between the two countries. The Higher Elves never came back and faded from human memory.

In honor of the sacrifice the humans made on their behalf, the elves traded exclusively with Calnor, and the two countries did everything possible to deepen their relationship. The major and perhaps only hurdle the two countries had to overcome was their inability to communicate.

Tari looked to the human translator—who spoke in the language of elves to the elven members of the audience, repeating the words the elf spoke to the humans.

Members of the Translators’ Circle were the only real means of communication between the two races.

The language of the elves was complex, lilting, and used pitches and sounds most humans could not mimic. Conversely, Calnoric was guttural and heavy—standing in direct opposition to the elves’ lighthearted nature. The Lesser Elves did not have the ability to learn multiple languages as the High Elves did, making the studies of languages arduous and difficult, and most humans were physically incapable of speaking Elvish, making communication exchange difficult, if not nearly impossible.

However, citizens of both countries were able to cross the language barrier. Any human who wanted to learn Elvish joined the Translators’ Circle. The guild would feed and house them for the twenty years it typically took humans to learn passable Elvish. The elves that set out to learn Calnoric were also forced to devote themselves to their studies for at least ten years. However, the human language took a physical toll on them, usually forcing the elves to retire from their translator positions at a young age.

Nodusigm was designed by human wizards and elvish enchanters to bypass the need for translators. It was supposed to serve as a bridge between two souls, allowing them to communicate heart-to-heart rather than through words.

Sadly, this desired connection had never been reached; but every few generations, there was a bound pair that was able to communicate to some degree.

Tari’s gaze trailed to the royal box: the separated, central location at which members of both crown families sat for any occasion in the Celebration Hall.

The kings were not in attendance today—even though the ceremony was for the human King’s daughter-in-law. The Calnor Crown Prince Benjimir and the Lessa Crown Princess Yvrea, however, were there. They were a bond pair, the two future rulers of their respective countries. They had been bound at the traditional age of ten. Rarely were people bound as adults.

Tari blinked when the elf translator banged his staff on the ground again and strode off, the human translator behind him. The human wizards and elf enchanters swept onto the scene. The elves started on Tari’s side of the curtain, one enchanter to one participant. The enchanter who approached Tari was tall and severe-looking with a fierce expression.

Slightly daunted by his intensity, Tari shifted in place as the enchanter placed a hand on her head. Although his hand was warm, he morphed his mouth into a frown as he spoke in the weighty tones of magic.

The magic twined around Tari like a pleased cat, rubbing against her calves and pulling on her hair. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel its satisfied purrs.

The enchanter removed his hand, fixing Tari with a grim look as the magic continued to twirl around her.

Finally, the enchanter nodded and swept off, joining the rest of the enchanters as they paraded to the other side of the curtain. The human wizards swirled to Tari’s side of the curtain, moving from elf to elf like a swarm of bees.

Tari was the last elf they encircled, buzzing around her before flicking their magic at her with large gestures. They murmured to each other as their half of the binding ceremony stuck to Tari like dog fur. When they exchanged nods, they shuffled off—still moving in a swarm.

A wizard—a short, squat man with impressive eyebrows—tarried in front of Tari, rubbing his fingers and studying her. Tari lowered her eyes to look at him, and the wizard smiled and merrily waved before scuttling after his comrades.

Tari straightened her shoulders and uneasily glanced to her relatives. All four of them were facing the curtain, waiting for it to be dropped.

The elf enchanters and human wizards stood at the front of the platform, finishing the ceremony’s binding ties.

Tari listened to the undecipherable words of magic as she stared at the curtain. The elf enchanters hushed to a quiet but continuous drone, and the human wizards increased their volume until they were shouting. A final chant, one last shouted word, and it was over. There was a thunderclap, and the air in Tari’s lungs was yanked out of her.

Tari almost pitched head-first into the curtain from the strength of the binding. Her bell bracelet jingled as she took in gasps of air. She could feel it. At the very back of her mind, she could feel the sense of someone else. The sensation was small, like a sputtering candle in the dark, but it was there.

Tari forcefully pushed herself upright, squaring her shoulders and ignoring her swimming senses that made her lightheaded and dizzy. The maroon curtain fell with the whisper of velvet, and Tari stared at her partner.

Tari’s mouth opened slightly, but she was unable to find words to express herself. Her partner was the last thing she expected.

“You’re a woman,” He said.

Tari shook her head in disbelief. “And I can understand you,” she said.

Chapter 2

Captain Arion

“You don’t speak Calnoric,” Tari’s partner said. He narrowed his storm-gray eyes at her the way a soldier studies the enemies’ battle plan.

“No, and you’re not speaking Elvish,” Tari said, tilting her head as she listened to his words. She could tell he was speaking human—she could hear the guttural consonants, but she could understand him all the same. “I am speaking Elvish,” Tari added, more to assure herself as she spoke the lilting words.

“How is this possible?” Tari’s partner asked, furrowing his black eyebrows. He was somewhat intimidating and incredibly massive compared to the company Tari usually kept. He was perhaps a little taller than Tari—a rarity, as humans were usually smaller than even the shortest of elves, like Tari—and he was rather broad.

He stood like a soldier—all angles and straight lines—and although he was alarmingly big, Tari could see he had not an inch of anything but muscle on his person. He made her feel small and unbearably fragile.

“It would seem that the ceremony worked,” Tari said, curling her hands into fists to keep herself from backing away or bristling; she was not one to enjoy feeling small. She tore her gaze from the grouchy man and glanced to her cousins.

They were all smiling and greeting their new partners with sign language as translators approached them, readying them for the official introductions.

A human translator approached Tari and her partner, slowing the closer he drew to them. He stopped all together and hunched his shoulders to his neck when Tari’s partner shot him a withering look.

Tari’s partner sighed and shielded his eyes for a moment with a gauntlet-covered hand. “Fantastic,” he said. He muttered more under his breath, but Tari could not quite grasp it before the massive man stood upright. “I am Captain Arion Herycian, eldest son of Fredrick and Angelica Herycian, Captain of the second squad of the northern army,” he said before performing a stiff but faultless bow.

Tari dipped into an elegant, elvish curtsey. “I am Tarinthali Ringali, youngest daughter of Elvaren and Kistwyn of Gloria, a Dancer of the Evening Star.”

“A pleasure—,” Arion cut off, frowning slightly at the difficulty of Tari’s name.

“Please, refer to me as Tari,” Tari smiled. “I believe it will be easier for you to pronounce, Captain Arion?” she said, turning her statement into a question.

Arion nodded curtly. “Very well,” he said, glancing at the watching guests—who were whispering to one another.

Tari could hardly believe the man’s nonchalance. “Are you not…excited at what this exchange means, Captain Arion?”

Arion turned his eyes back to Tari, who was starting to wish she hadn’t spoken. The captain was intimidating, even more so than any of the wizards, enchanters, and members of nobility Tari had met before.

“Perhaps,” he said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “But mostly I am aware of how exceedingly difficult life will be for us from now on,” he frowned.

The forgotten translator made a squeaking noise and plopped down on his rear, his eyes wide as he looked back and forth between Tari and Arion. He blurted a string of words. Tari recognized it as human but could not understand it.

“What did he say?” Tari asked as she and Arion turned to face the translator.

“He asked if I speak Elvish,” Arion said to Tari before addressing the translator. “I do not.”

The translator grasped his neck and yelled, calling half a dozen translators, elf and human alike, to his side. He spoke to them in Calnoric, pointing emphatically at Tari and Arion.

Tari looked to Arion, trying to decipher their words by gauging his reaction. He wearily eyed the translators, turning his back to the guests and members of the audience to face them head on.

Tari swallowed thickly, taking a step backwards as the translators surged towards her, pressing in on her like yapping dogs. Tari full-out retreated when a human translator reached out to grasp her wrist. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for a friendly face.

Arion was of no use whatsoever. He rubbed the back of his head with a scowl, mussing his pitch-black hair as his mood turned sour. Tari looked past the crowd of yapping translators and spotted Kiva, standing with Princess Claire.

“Kiva!” Tari shouted, dodging a translator before running for her sister, her bell bracelets jingling.

Kiva held out her hand, and Tari reached out to grasp it. Two of the translators tried to follow Tari, but Talon stood in their path. The rest of the translators circled Arion, speaking with great animation as the enchanters and wizards approached them.

The magic users were grave, staring flatly at the translators who switched back and forth between elvish and human.

Pandemonium broke out in the celebration hall when the translators finally got their message across to the enchanters and wizards. Everyone was shouting, and several of the more important guests stormed the platform.

Tari and her relatives shrank back as the humans pressed forward.

Finally, the hall went silent when a human shouted one, thunderous word.

The crowds parted, and Crown Prince Benjimir surveyed the platform with the air of royalty.

Standing at his side was Crown Princess Yvrea. The elvish princess glided down the open path, concern pulling at the corners of her mouth. She stopped next to Tari and Kiva and opened her arms. “Cousin,” she said to Tari.

Tari made the motion to sink in a curtsey, but Princess Yvrea stepped forward, protectively embracing Tari like she was a fretting child.

Tari felt both comforted and slightly embarrassed, although she was not completely surprised. Princess Yvrea had a mothering instinct that overlapped into her actions no matter where she was. Tari had met and dined with Princess Yvrea enough to know that as the Princess was a great admirer of Seer Ringali, Tari’s teacher, as well as her relative.

Still holding Tari in her arms, Princess Yvrea turned. “Will someone please explain what has happened?”

One of the translators, a human, stumbled forward. “P-p-Princess,” he stammered.

A more assured elf joined him. “My Crown Princess Yvrea, we are not certain.”

Princess Yvrea nodded as a translator at Crown Prince Benjimir’s elbow whispered into his ear. “I see,” the Crown Princess said, releasing Tari to address her, although she placed her hands on Tari’s shoulders. “Are you upset that you were bonded to a male? Captain Arion is Princess Claire’s oldest sibling. I assure you he is honorable and full of dignity, although I must confess I am not sure why they made this rather untraditional pairing.”

Bond pairings were almost always of the same gender. The only exception was when it was unavoidable, as it was with Crown Prince Benjimir and Crown Princess Yvrea, who—as the future rulers of their countries—had to be bound.

Tari cleared her throat and curtseyed. “If you will excuse my impertinence, My Crown Princess Yvrea, it is not that Captain Arion and I find each other disagreeable. It is instead…it is merely,” Tari hesitated, as though admitting their mutual understanding out loud would somehow make it official. “We can speak to each other.”

The elves in the audience stood with gasps and smiles, speaking excitedly to each other. The translators went wild, hugging one another and joyously shouting. Prince Benjimir frowned as he spoke with his translator, and in the midst of the hubbub, Captain Arion walked across the platform to stand at Tari’s side.

Tari looked at the tall captain as Crown Princess Yvrea retreated. “What do you think?”

Arion wryly shook his head. “As I said, exceedingly more difficult.”

Tari sank into the cushions of the couch as Arion stood behind her in a stance of attention. They had been pulled from the Celebration Hall before order was restored and escorted to a small, stuffy office. Then, after hours of talking to translators, being pinched and prodded by enchanters and wizards, talked to, read to, questioned, and—oddly enough—sung to, Tari was left alone with her partner.

She exhaled and shut her eyes, reveling in the moment of leisure. “I can’t imagine they have any additional tests, unless they mean to test our physical abilities.”

“It is not likely,” Arion acknowledged.

Tari opened her eyes. “They are probably trying to decide what to do with us. Maybe they have sent for more members of the Royal families?”

“They already have,” Arion said, still standing behind Tari’s couch.

“What?” Tari asked, twisting to face the captain. “How do you know?”

Arion gestured to the open window behind them. “The flag of His Majesty King Petyrr and the banner of King Celrin fly above the Celebration Hall.”

Tari leaned back to get a glance of at the top of the vaulted Celebration Hall. She only caught a glimpse of the elvish banner, a rising sun, before the office door was thrown open.

First through the door was King Petyrr. Three assistants, two guards, and a translator trailed after him. King Celrin glided through the door after this small procession. He studied the already crowded room and spoke softly to his assistant who stood directly behind him, dismissing him before he stepped inside the room with a lone translator.

There was some fumbling before King Petyrr barked, and two of his assistants and guards fled the room.

Tari stood and dipped into an elegant curtsey. Arion was a moment behind her, offering a stiff bow to his monarch. Tari froze momentarily when she realized she knew Arion’s bow was stiff, not because of his posture, but because of some inner feeling that told her so.

The two Kings stood side by side—a translator standing behind each monarch—and made a striking picture of differences. King Celrin was tall and slim, clothed in flowing robes. He had long hair that was plaited into a braid, and he studied Arion and Tari with the scrutiny scholars afford to ancient texts. King Petyrr, on the other hand, had a large smile with deep smile lines. He was short, portly, and red faced, but while King Celrin wore dignity like a cloak, King Petyrr’s brisk manner commanded respect.

King Petyrr spoke, his voice booming and jovial.

Tari looked to Arion, as there was no translator present who seemed intent on translating for them. The captain bowed again and did not translate, as Tari hoped he would. “It was certainly a surprise, Your Majesty,” he said.

King Petyrr spoke again, this time with a large gesture and a peal of laughter.

Arion bowed his head. “If you say so, Your Majesty.”

Tari longed to ask Arion what the King said, but it seemed improper when royalty was addressing them.

The translator at King Celrin’s elbow translated for the ruling elf in whispers. The elf king nodded before turning to Tari. “Tarinthali Ringali, Elvaren’s youngest child, correct?”

“Yes, My King,” Tari said, inclining her head before whispering to Arion. “My King Celrin asked if I was the youngest child of my father, Elvaren.”

Arion shifted, and a frown twisted his lips for a moment before he nodded.

“Your sister was bound today as well, was she not? She did not experience this phenomenon.” King Celrin said, reflecting on his words more than informing Tari of the day’s events. “Your bonding, Tarinthali, has ignited a light of hope in our people. The enchanters and wizards are discussing your bond among themselves with the aid of the translators. It is to be hoped that they will be able to recreate such a bond, but we are not convinced it is something that can be repeated,” King Celrin said, looking to King Petyrr.

The human king nodded after his translator whispered the translation in his ear.

“My King Celrin has expressed the opinion that the wizards and enchanters hope to reproduce our unusual bond, but My King Celrin and His Majesty King Petyrr doubt they will be successful,” Tari rushed to tell Arion before King Petyrr spoke again in his loud voice.

Arion listened for a moment, his lips tightening, and translated when the human king paused to laugh and let King Celrin’s translator catch up.

“His Majesty King Petyrr has expressed the desire that he and King Celrin wish for us to remain in Haven, although we have other commitments in our home cities,” Arion said, his voice flat.

Tari whirled to face King Celrin. “My King,” she started, hesitating. “If you will pardon my impertinence, I am an Evening Star. I am aware that because of my unusual bond with the honorable Captain Arion, I should stay in Haven for a time, but as an Evening Star, it is my duty to remain in Gloria,” she said, pleading to the king with her eyes.

Seer Ringali would be furious if she stayed at Haven for an extended period of time, and it was very likely this “stay” would last at least a season. He was going to burst a blood vessel when she sent news of this.

Arion nodded at Tari’s words. “If I may, Your Majesty, my squad cannot survive without my leadership for such an extended period of time,” Arion said to his king.

King Celrin waited until King Petyrr addressed Arion before he spoke as well. “I do not argue against your point, for I am aware of the responsibility you bear. However, right now our country has great need of you. You, Tarinthali, and Captain Arion, are the only bond we have historical record of, or even dreamed of, that upon bonding are immediately able to understand each other. I know your position as an Evening Star is of great importance, but at this moment, the change you and the captain symbolize is of much greater magnitude.”

“He told you, too, that we must stay?” Arion asked. His words were so quiet Tari doubted the kings and their translators heard.

Tari nodded to the captain, who exhaled. “I thought as much. I have been pulled from the military and reassigned to an Honor Guard squad in Haven.”

Tari waited until the kings spoke to each other in a combination of sign language and translators before she said to Arion, “It seems we will have to sacrifice our personal lives for a time.”

Arion added, barely above a whisper, “We can only hope it is indeed for a time.”

“Here are the grounds upon which you can practice your magic and dancing, Lady Tarinthali,” the elf handmaiden said, gesturing to the nicely sized private garden, located in Rosewood Park—the handsome grounds and gardens kept by the elves who lived at the palace in Haven.

Tari nodded and walked the length of the garden. It was big enough that she could move about freely and was screened by a copse of trees.

“It will be available for your exclusive use,” the handmaiden said, stepping in front of the two guards that stood at the entrance.

Tari turned suddenly, making the velvet blue skirts of her dress swirl around her legs. She studied the morning sun and raised a hand to rub the back of her neck.

“Is the Lady Tarinthali not pleased with the gardens, or her rooms? Did you not sleep well last night?” the handmaiden ventured at Tari’s silence.

Tari smiled at the tentative young elf. “No, everything is beautiful. I am beyond pleased with my living quarters, and I am very much in debt to Our King Celrin for allotting me this space,” she said.

The previous evening, Tari had hopes she would be allowed to live with her sister and brother-in-law in the city of Haven. She was shocked when her new attendant timidly explained that she was to live in the palace. Furthermore, she was being bestowed a great honor by taking up residence in the wing reserved for elven royalty.

Tari had spent most of the evening and morning outlining the items and clothing articles she would need as long as she stayed at Haven. Tari hadn’t much time to dwell on how she felt, but for most of the morning a vague sense of resignation had plagued her.

“Evlawyn, could you tell me where Captain Arion is?” Tari asked, pausing to stoop over a flowering bush of bleeding hearts.

The handmaiden was quiet for a few moments, drawing Tari’s attention to her. “Certainly,” the attendant smiled shakily. “I believe I know where Captain Arion’s new office is located, but I must apologize in advance. I am not certain I know my way there.”

Tari smiled and linked arms with the young elf. “I do not mind taking the scenic route. I know nothing of the palace. This will be an opportunity to view more of it.”

Tari knocked on the door of Arion’s office, flashing her nervous attendant a smile as the young elf gawked at the human soldiers loitering down the hallway. Clearly, she hadn’t often been in the human half of the palace.

“Come in,” Arion said from inside the office, and Tari’s attendant startled when Tari opened the door and trooped in.

“I will wait outside, Lady Tari?” the attendant timidly asked.

“Yes, thank you, Evlawyn,” Tari smiled before shutting the door behind her. She tipped her head when she beheld Arion seated behind a desk, looking vastly different than the previous day.

If possible, he seemed even larger and more intimidating. Instead of wearing his formal wear, Arion was garbed in his captain’s uniform: a hauberk with a linen tunic of black and silver. Silver pauldrons with black accents covered his shoulders, and a large sword and assortment of daggers were buckled to his black belt.

“Good morning, Captain Arion.”

“Good morning, Tari,” Arion said, sparing her a glance before looking back to his paperwork.

“I see they have settled you in,” Tari said, awkwardly standing as Arion had not asked her to sit. “I did not think they would be able to find you a new squad so swiftly. Unless your old squad is coming to Haven?”

“No. My previous squad was with the army and was based in Sacred Wood. My new squad is in the Honor Guard, and it will make patrols in the palace and occasionally in the city,” he said, his voice emotionless.

Tari nodded and studied the bookshelves that lined the walls of Arion’s office.

Arion stopped shuffling papers and looked up for a moment. “What about you? Have they given you a new assignment?”

Tari shook her head. “No. At the moment I have no responsibilities—beyond that of speaking to the translators, wizards, and enchanters of course,” she said, peering closer to inspect the book bindings. She couldn’t read them; they were written in Calnoric.

“Ah,” Arion said, scratching a note on a scrap of paper with a feather quill.

Tari studied a portrait of a hunting party. “Did you receive an invitation to tonight’s banquet?” she asked. Evlawyn, Tari’s attendant, had brought the stamped and sealed invitation with her morning breakfast of steamed buns, fresh fruit, and fruit preserves.

“For Princess Claire’s bonding celebration? I did. You and I are expected to attend it together.”

“So the invitation said. Shall we meet at the banquet hall?”

“If you don’t mind, that would be the most convenient.”

Tari was silent for a few moments before announcing. “My sister Kiva was bonded to Princess Claire. I imagine they matched them as Kiva already lives in Haven,” Tari said. She had barely registered the bond when she fled to Kiva’s side after the ceremony. It wasn’t until she dined with Kiva the previous evening that the realization sank in.

Arion grunted.

Tari glanced over her shoulder. Arion was bent over his paperwork, a slight frown on his lips. “Right, I shall see you this evening at the banquet then?” she said, making a beeline for the door.

Arion looked up, blinking in surprise. “Yes…,” he slowly agreed.

“Very well, then. Good morning, Captain Arion,” Tari said before slipping out the door. She nearly ran into three armed guards.

All three were gangly young men with wide eyes that almost popped out of their heads as they rammed into each other and stared at Tari.

“My mistake, my apologies,” Tari signed, twisting her long fingers into the correct gesture. She repeated the signs when the soldiers did nothing but gawk at her.

“Lady Tari?” Evlawyn called from further up the hallway. The strapping young soldiers had probably forced the shy elf into a retreat.

“There you are. If you don’t mind, Evlawyn, I would like to return to my room to change and practice some of my magic and exercise routines in the gardens,” Tari said, starting down the hallway. Evlawyn trailed after her.

The soldiers stared at them until they turned a corner, stepping out of sight.

Chapter 3

Miscommunication

Evlawyn might be a timid guide and bashful of humans, but she is a fantastic handmaiden, Tari thought, twisting in front of a full-length mirror.

The younger elf had outdone herself. She had piled Tari’s silken hair on top of her head and woven a string of pearls through it, reflecting more human fashion than elf style. Tari’s dress—which was midnight blue and silver—was long and sweeping with billowing sleeves and full skirts. It was a nightmare to get into, but Evlawyn had helped Tari manage it.

Tari glanced out the windows of the waiting room—dusk settled on the horizon like a heavy cloak—and sighed. She had waited outside the banquet hall for perhaps half an hour, and Arion had yet to arrive.

They were not yet late, but all of the captain’s siblings and Tari’s relatives arrived some time ago.

Tari smiled at a pair of guests who glanced curiously at her before they entered the banquet hall.

She lingered behind them in the doorway, sighing in exasperation when she caught sight of a spot of black nestled among the brilliant court colors. Captain Arion had somehow evaded Tari’s notice and snuck inside. He was already seated, although there was an empty chair beside him for Tari.

Tari slipped in with a group of elf guests, walking with them until they were greeted by an official who moved to seat them. Tari slipped past and continued up the aisle, stopping only when she reached Arion’s table.

“Good evening, Captain Arion,” Tari greeted.

Arion stood and gravely bowed. “Good evening. You look splendid this evening, Lady Tari.”

“It’s just Tari, Captain,” Tari said as she shook her head in amusement. She felt beyond awkward approaching and speaking to the captain, but he was able to freely fire off niceties as if a bond like theirs was common. “And thank you. You look very fine as well,” Tari added, looking up and down the table.

Although the celebration was for Arion’s sister, he and his siblings were seated at a table that was considerably far from the Princess. Their table mates were mostly Arion’s family members and their bonded elves. Tari fleetingly recalled Talon’s prediction of snubbing Princess Claire, and she pressed her lips together.

Making up her mind, Tari turned to Arion, who hadn’t reseated himself but did not give off the appearance of being socially inclined. Ignoring that, Tari rather impertinently asked, “If you would not mind, Captain Arion, would you introduce me to your family? I believe we missed the introductions yesterday when we were whisked away.”

“Of course,” Arion said, stepping around his chair before pushing it in. He dutifully trekked around the table to stand at Tari’s side. “Eric,” Arion called.

A young man speaking to Talon through a translator looked up. Arion wriggled his fingers at him, and the young man came trotting, Talon trailing in his wake. “Lady Tari, allow me the dubious honor of introducing you to my younger brother, Eric Herycian. Eric runs our family manor with my father. Eric, this is Lady Tari of Lessa.”

Tari made the signing gesture for “well met.”

Eric smiled and said something before shaking his head and making an indecipherable sign gesture.

Tari stared at his hands before she looked to Arion for help. “I do not know what that gesture means.”

“Probably because he is doing it wrong,” Arion dryly said before forming the gesture for “thank you.”

Eric made a face and spoke again.

“What did he say?” Tari asked.

“He wishes he studied the signing language with greater diligence,” Arion said.

Tari laughed, making Eric smile.

“It is forgivable. I have been told it is easier for elves to perform the gestures, as our hands are more deft,” Tari said before making the gesture for “all is forgiven,” to Eric.

“Calling it easier is putting it mildly,” Arion said.

“Ah, I must beg for your forgiveness as I have failed to introduce you to my cousin. Talon, son of Galvedo,” Tari said, reaching past Eric to draw Talon forward.

Arion bowed slightly, and Talon mimicked Tari and formed the gesture for “well met.”

“You are Eric’s bond mate?” Tari asked her cousin.

“Indeed, I am,” Talon said, nodding for Arion’s benefit.

Tari opened her mouth, about to ask another question, when King Petyrr swept up to them. His entourage of three nobles, two footmen, a page, and a dog scurried behind him to keep up with his large strides.

King Petyrr laughed and roared with infectious joy. He slapped Arion on the back a few times before Arion and Eric had the chance to bow to their monarch. He folded his arms and continued to talk, batting one of his courtiers away. He turned to face Tari and extended his arms at her, speaking louder yet. The ruddy faced king then clapped his hands and elbowed Arion.

Arion bowed slightly. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he gravely said.

The king chattered away for a few moments, looking at Tari although he addressed his comments to Arion and Eric.

Tari whispered to Talon, “It seems no one feels inclined to translate His Majesty’s conversation?”

“I suspect they’ve forgotten about us, and your captain is not so rude as to speak over his monarch,” Talon said.

Tari was shocked when King Petyrr reached and grabbed Tari’s hand, patting it several times before winking at her and swirling off—exiting in a whirlwind of laughter and courtiers.

Tari breathed out, “I feel as though I have just survived a stampede of stallions.”

“His Majesty has a unique presence,” Arion acknowledged.

Tari watched the squat king march up to the table where his family sat. He ruffled the hair of his youngest son and sweetly kissed Princess Claire’s hand before moving down the line, plopping down in his chair in a careless manner that oddly conveyed a sense of power.

Tari found his conduct rather unlikely for a person intent on snubbing his new daughter-in-law, and then she set eyes on the human queen.

Queen Luciee was as cold as her husband was good-humored. Her face was a frozen mask of disdain starched to perfection. She was stiff, prim, and she glared in the direction of Tari’s table.

Arion briefly placed his hand on Tari’s elbow. “We should be seated. I suspect the banquet will begin soon.”

Tari nodded in agreement and followed Arion to their chairs.

Half an hour of speeches and greetings started the banquet before roasted boar and geese were brought out for consumption. This seemed to break open the floodgates of food, for soon, after servers brought out jellied fruits, roasted nuts, strawberries dusted with sugar, several questionable puddings, hot rolls, a variety of greens, grilled vegetables, and more.

During the meal, Arion reluctantly introduced Tari to his parents, Lord Fredrick and Lady Angelica Herycian, and two of his sisters, Delilah and Belle.

Between dessert and the final round of drinks, King Petyrr came to laugh at Arion and Tari some more, this time with King Celrin in tow.

Although the formal elvish king spoke in tones far more subdued than King Petyrr, Tari suspected he was fond of the outspoken human monarch and found his peculiarities amusing. She said as much to Arion, who thought for a moment before replying.

“I suppose so. He does not seem horrified by His Majesty, although I find King Celrin difficult to read.”

“Perhaps it is the difference in our cultures, for I thought My King Celrin looked at ease,” Tari said as she slowly reached for her goblet. She wished for rose water, or grape juice, or even fresh water to drink. Instead, she was served dry human wines that tasted like beet juice. Tari held back a gag as she sipped at her wine and watched a portion of the guests abandon their seats for the dance floor.

A groan leaked out of Tari when she noticed a herd of translators edging their way towards her. They eyed Tari and Arion like hungry forest cats as Tari leaned back in her chair. “I thought this silence was too good to be true. Our questioners will soon descend upon us,” she predicted. “They drive me mad with their repetitive questions and endless hypothesizing.”

Arion followed her gaze to the translators. “Ah,” he said as they organized themselves. “You could inform them they have already asked you that question,” he offered.

“That would do no good; they’ll merely rephrase it or ask an even more absurd question. This morning during luncheon, one of them inquired if I have ever had a near-death experience which granted me special powers. That is ludicrous.”

“You cannot blame them; they are trying to find the reason for,” Arion gestured blankly at Tari.

“They could think a bit more before they propose their ideas. A human translator asked me during an interview if I thought it was possible that you and I are tied together by a red string of fate.”

“A what?”

“A red string of fate. It’s elvish lore: a red string ties together two people who are fated to be close friends. I’m not certain how he heard of it, but it was rather impudent of him to suggest it.”

Arion shrugged. “If you firmly asked them to leave, I doubt they would refuse you.”

Tari gaped at Arion. “Leave? But I couldn’t! The whole reason I’m staying in Haven is to help them.”

Arion sipped his goblet. “Then I’m not sure I understand why you’re complaining.”

Tari’s mouth dropped as she stared at Arion. Did he just accuse her of complaining? How rude could he be?

Arion straightened up as the translators bolstered their confidence enough to start storming towards their table. “What?” he asked, catching Tari’s stare.

Feeling ungenerous, Tari turned away from him to look longingly to her female cousins, who were smiling with Arion’s sisters. “If only,” she muttered before the first translator reached her.

“Lady Tari and Captain Arion, we have not been introduced, but I simply cannot keep my enthusiasm in check anymore. Could you please explain to me the intricacies of your relationship?”

A week after the banquet, Tari reluctantly stopped outside Arion’s office. She had made it a point to visit Arion on a daily basis even though they frequently attended state dinners and banquets together. Tari felt that even if her bond with the captain was untraditional, they still had a responsibility to attempt friendship. It was absolutely clear to Tari, however, that Arion did not share her sentiments.

Whenever she visited, the captain would continue with his work, rarely asking Tari questions or starting conversations. He answered Tari’s comments in as few words as possible, barked at anybody who stumbled into his office while she was there, and for the most part would not translate anything anyone said while she was with him.

Still, for the sake of their countries, Tari came.

Tari took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

Tari opened the door and slipped inside. “Good afternoon, Captain Arion.”

“Good afternoon, Tari,” Arion said, seated behind his desk, as usual.

“I hope your morning was pleasant?” Tari asked.

“Calamity has not befallen me, so I suppose it was,” Arion said.

Tari nodded and leaned against a chair, but Arion did not take the hint to ask her to sit. “I have received an invitation from the chief elvish enchanter for a meeting this afternoon. He wants to go over our Nodusigm ceremony again to see if we felt anything different than the rest of the participants. I told him I would be free for questioning, but you would undoubtedly be busy with your patrol responsibilities. I hope I did not overstep my boundaries?”

“No, you did not. Thank you,” Arion said, briefly looking up.

The pair was silent for some minutes. Tari was determined to make him speak first and looked wordlessly around the office, but Arion seemed oblivious to her presence.

There was a knock on the door, and Tari turned to face it.

“Leave it,” Arion said. “It’s the morning patrol leaders of my squad.”

“You can’t mean to leave them waiting outside?”

“I won’t. But they will wait until you leave.”

Is he embarrassed to be seen with me? Tari wondered as she stared at the captain. He shuffled papers.

“It’s fine,” Tari said, making her way back to the door. “I can see you are busy. I suppose I’ll see you later for a banquet or dinner or party of some sort,” Tari said, going to the door to open it.

“Tari,” Arion started, but Tari waved him off and stepped into the hallway. She smiled briskly at the gawking patrol leaders before walking away.

She was trying. She was trying so hard, and Arion seemed intent that they should remain total strangers. Very well. If Arion finds my companionship burdening, I will take care not to encumber him.

“Is something wrong?”

Tari looked up from her pensive reflections of the disgusting human wine and blinked at Arion. “I beg your pardon?”

Arion placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I was wondering if you are alright, or if something has happened.”

“No, I am perfectly fine. Why?” Tari said, looking up and down the table of food. For reasons beyond her understanding, the human royal family insisted on throwing evening drinking parties once a week. As the mythological Nodusigm pair, Tari and Arion’s presence was mandatory.

“It is nothing. It is merely that you have not stopped by my office in a number of days. A week, actually,” Arion said, studying the crowd.

Tari didn’t reply and selected a rice cracker.

Arion and Tari stood in resolute silence, watching the gaieties as they drank and ate. Tari was pulled out of her observer role when King Celrin approached her.

“If you do not mind my rudeness, please allow me to steal your partner from you, Captain Arion,” King Celrin said to Arion via a translator.

Arion gravely bowed in permission and retreated to an empty wall, where he was instantly accosted by no less than five human girls, all eager to talk to him. (Wonder of the mysterious brother to the new Princess had taken the human court by storm since the bonding ceremony.)

“You are subdued, Tarinthali,” King Celrin said as they walked the perimeter of the room.

“My King?”

“You do not seem pleased to stand with Captain Arion.”

“I must beg your pardon, My King, but I believe it is the other way around.”

King Celrin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You think Captain Arion does not enjoy your company?”

“I could not say for certain, My King. There is very little that I understand about Captain Arion.”

“Indeed,” King Celrin said, looking across the room to King Petyrr. The human monarch laughed loudly as one of his men relayed a story to him. “Perhaps you have mistaken his conduct. We come from a different culture, Tarinthali. Captain Arion may not be aware of what his gestures and actions mean to you.”

“Perhaps, My King.”

“You are not convinced?”

“If you say the captain is not aware, then I will trust your words, My King.”

A ghost of a smile flittered across King Celrin’s face. “Tari, for this moment, please think of me as your relative and not your ruler. Your relationship with the captain is of great importance, but you are not the only one who feels the weight of our expectations,” King Celrin said as he pointedly looked to Arion.

The captain was still surrounded by adoring females, but his eyes were on Tari and the elven king.

“Please keep trying,” King Celrin said. “I know you understand the words he speaks, but perhaps you have missed what he does for your sake.”

Tari stared at Arion for a moment before turning. “My King? What do you—” she trailed off. The king had left her and was standing at King Petyrr’s side.

The jovial human king was trying to explain with badly executed gestures what joke he found so funny. The elf lord smiled slightly and nodded in understanding as his translator spoke to him.

“Tari,” Talon called from a group of elves. “Tari, come walk with us.”

Tari hesitated and looked for her partner. Arion was conversing with the group of females arranged around him like pretty flowers.

For my sake? What a joke. “Coming,” Tari said.

Later that evening, after the party finally ended, King Celrin’s words still haunted Tari. She released her skirts, and they fell around her in a sigh when she cleared the corner of the gardens. It was dark out, but there were torches and lamps lit in the gardens, and it was faster to navigate through the greenery than to find her way through the maze-like palace at this hour.

“Drinking parties,” Tari said, shaking her head. “You would think they would serve more than one kind of drink.”

Tari ducked under a low tree branch, her shoulders slumping as she dwelled on King Celrin’s words. I should keep trying, she thought with a sigh. I cannot let Captain Arion’s taciturn temperament get in the way of progress. Perhaps I should visit his sisters to ask them for advice?

Tari had spent most of the night by Arion’s side. As usual, the captain had very little to say, but Tari supposed there were worse ways to spend an evening.

Tari stopped, her tapered ears twitching slightly as she looked out over the gardens. She could have sworn she heard a bush rustle.

Tari shrugged and started walking again, briefly folding her arms behind her back. Her muscles protested as she stretched her arms. I’m getting out of shape. I’ll have to practice longer tomorrow, Tari thought. She had yet to hear from Seer Ringali, but she expected a correspondence from him any day, and she was not looking forward to it.

Something moved behind her, and Tari ducked. The swinging wooden cudgel missed her by a hair’s width. Tari twirled, putting her back to a tree, her arms extended with hints of her light magic burning on her arms. She hesitated when she realized her assailants were human.

There were five of them, although Tari was willing to bet there were lookouts posted in strategic locations nearby. All of them looked to be from Calnor, although Tari couldn’t be certain.

That was a problem. If they were from Calnor, Tari couldn’t fight back.

Chapter 4

Heroics

They leaped at Tari, cornering her faster than she could slip away. She shouted, but one of them slipped a gag into her mouth while two others grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back.

Tari struggled like a wild horse. She kicked one of the men in the gut, kneed another in his back, and planted her shoe on another’s face. One of the smarter attackers pulled her legs out from underneath her, pushing her to the ground in a heap.

The men exchanged heated words as Tari tried to shout past the gag. They flipped her over and tied her wrists behind her back, angrily speaking again when Tari kicked out.

Tari’s white hot anger froze over when one of them held a dagger to her throat.

They hauled her to her feet, the edge of the dagger made a thin but painful slice on Tari’s neck when she moved too slowly. Tari clamped down on the adrenaline that threatened to rush her system. If she wanted to get out alive and keep her vows as an Evening Star, she would have be crafty.

Terror and rage howled in her, however, when one of the men stepped close to her, leaning into her and sniffing.

Tari tried to knee him and was hit in the back of her head for her efforts. She slumped forward, fighting to stay conscious as her attackers exchanged harassed whispers.

They tied her ankles together and carried Tari like a slain pig hanging between two men.

Tari tried to wriggle out of their grip and gave another muffled shout. They hit her in the head again with a wooden staff.

Tari went limp, numbly swinging between her kidnappers. Her eyes were drawn to the flickering light of a garden lamp, which just so happened to be the direction Arion came from.

It took Tari a few moments to recognize the nightmare descending on them as the stone-faced captain. He was nothing but a silhouette running down a path, but he moved like a hunting wolf. His sword, already drawn, glowed silver as the soft haze of the moon cast shadows on his face. His storm-cloud eyes were eerie and haunting in the darkness.

He patrols at night, how interesting, Tari vaguely thought as she swung, barely registering the panic of her kidnappers.

Arion was on them before they had a chance to react. He attacked without hesitation, drawing blood and screams as he devastated the kidnappers. His first target was the one closest to him. He purposely struck down on the man’s shoulder guard—getting a shout out of him—before kicking him in the kneecap, bringing him to the ground. Arion then slammed him in the head with his boot, knocking the attacker out.

Tari was abandoned, landing on the ground with a painful thud. Arion slammed the hilt of his sword into the gut of the attacker that previously held Tari’s legs and threw him against a tree.

Even in her stupor, Tari was pretty sure she heard the crunch of breaking bones.

A swing of his sword, and Arion disarmed the assailant with the dagger. He grabbed the man’s head and slammed it into a tree trunk before spinning around and nailing a fleeing attacker in the back with a dagger.

The last kidnapper shouted and turned to run. He stumbled over a tree root before Arion reached out and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming the man into the ground with a sickening crack.

It was over in a matter of seconds, before it started really. It was slaughter. Arion rushed the men like a wolf feasting on lambs.

Arion knelt next to Tari, cutting the ropes on her wrists and ankles carefully.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No,” Tari said, groaning when her head swam as she tried to sit up. “Not much,” she amended.

Arion blew a whistle as Tari settled back down on the ground, the stinging, smothering scent of blood grasping at her throat.

Tari yelped when Arion unexpectedly picked her up, carrying her easily.

The higher vantage point gave Tari an excellent view of the carnage. Although Tari was not certain Arion had killed any of the men, there was plenty of blood. Feeling ill, Tari turned and pressed her head against Arion’s shoulder. “I don’t feel well, my head…” she admitted in a small voice as a squad of the garden guards stormed into the area.

“It was an ambush,” Arion said to the soldiers as Tari focused on breathing. “Six men. All of them should be down but alive. Take them to the jail for questioning and medical attention. Signal for backup. There are probably lookouts in the garden. Spread out and search the area.”

Tari yelped and clung to Arion as he started walking, not so much in fear but from the sensations rolling in her stomach. “Where are we going?”

“To the palace infirmary. You’re bleeding.”

“I’d rather not. It’s not that bad,” Tari said.

“Your wits are not about you, and you’ve got blood all over your dress. It’s bad enough to warrant medical attention.”

“Then I don’t want to go the infirmary. My rooms, please. There’s an elf healer who has permanent residence in the royal wing for emergencies,” Tari said. She was surprised and pleased with herself. Thank goodness for Evlawyn’s habit of rattling off information when frightened.

Tari barely registered when Arion altered his course and breathed easier when they entered her quiet but welcoming wing. Tari did not think to ask Arion how he knew which rooms were hers as he stopped directly in front of her quarters and pushed open the door to Tari’s sitting room.

Arion talked quietly to the human guard he had abducted somewhere along the way as he carefully set Tari down on a cushioned bench.

“How did you know where to find me? How did you know what was going on?” Tari asked, briefly placing a hand to her temple as Arion stood.

She heard the hush of armor and cloth when Arion shrugged. “You don’t scare easily. I don’t think you’ve been frightened since we were bonded, and your terror was unmistakable.”

Tari removed her hand from her forehead. “What?”

Arion found a plump pillow and carefully eased it behind her head. “What is your ‘what’ in reference to?”

“What do you mean about my terror? Can you smell it or something? Were you in the area?” Tari asked.

Arion frowned slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean? Why would I need to be near you?”

Tari blinked rapidly as she strained her brain to understand what he was saying and failed. “I don’t understand how you would have known I was frightened.”

Arion hesitated. “You mean to say you aren’t aware of my…moods?”

“No. Are you aware of mine?” Tari asked with a great amount of growing dread.

“Slightly. It feels more like intuition.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Captain Arion, but it has been a long night; I am not as intelligent as I normally am, and this sounds potentially embarrassing. Can you please explain in more than a single sentence?”

Arion cracked a smile, drawing some awe from Tari. I don’t think he’s ever smiled before, she thought. It’s a shame. He looks very nice when he smiles.

“It’s not that I feel what you’re feeling,” Arion said. “It’s more that I instinctively know when you are feeling irritated, or tired, or, in this case, terrified, even if you are halfway across the palace. I assume it is a side-effect of our Nodusigm bond. You do not have the same sensations?”

Tari tried to feel for any sensations or moods beyond her own but felt nothing but haze. “No,” she said as the elf healer entered the room. She glanced at Tari before speaking quietly to her assistant.

“What happened?” Arion asked.

“When?” Tari dumbly asked.

“In the gardens.”

“Oh. I was walking, and they jumped me. I could tell they were from Calnor because of their clothes and the way they looked,” Tari said gesturing to her face. “You Calnor men tend to have bushy eyebrows. So, I couldn’t hurt them. Seer Ringali is already furious. If he finds out I raised a finger against a human from Calnor, I’m pretty sure he’ll hang me from my toes over the ocean for a full day,” Tari said, ending her explanation with a frown. “Everything feels really odd,” she announced. “Not so much feels as looks.”

“You were hit on the head?”

“Twice. I also landed on my head when they dropped me. That hurt. Can I have something to drink? The swill they served at the party was awful.” She made a face. “You have blood on you; I hope it’s not yours?”

“No, they didn’t have a chance to injure me,” Arion said, stepping aside when the healer bent over Tari.

“Don’t lose the hair pins, please. It took Evlawyn forever to get them just right,” Tari said as the healer carefully examined Tari’s skull, ruining her styled hair.

The healer spoke to Arion. He made the sign gesture for “cannot understand,” and the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed when an elf translator swept into the room. The translator stood in a corner with Arion, and the two spoke in hushed tones.

The healer finished going over Tari and offered her two freshly picked leaves before dabbing at the dried blood on Tari’s neck. “Chew the leaves; it will dull the pain. I don’t believe you have any serious wounds, but I suspect your head is going to ache when you wake up tomorrow. It would be wise if you tell Captain Arion this. He looks distraught,” the healer said, gently wiping Tari’s neck with a clean cloth before smearing a paste that smelled of peppermint on the cut. She nodded gravely to Arion and the translator before leaving.

Tari groaned as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

“Well?” Arion said.

“She said I’m fine. What were you talking about?”

“Arrangements for your safety. I would like to post a guard outside the door of your room, but I am afraid it would break propriety,” Arion said.

Tari frowned before she pulled herself into an upright position. “I fail to see how. Although that would be a rather uncomfortable posting for the guard, it would be better to have him stationed in my sitting room. After all, the next attempt may be to climb in through my window. If they do, I plan to throw a chamber pot at them,” Tari said before scowling. “I get the feeling I’m talking much more than I ought to.”

“A guard in your rooms would be inappropriate,” Arion said, shaking his head.

Tari and the elf translator stared at Arion. “Why?” the translator said in Elvish before remembering himself and speaking in Calnoric.

Arion cleared his throat. “Because he would be stationed inside your room.”

“So?”

Arion briefly shut his eyes. “I was always told your race was enigmatically pure and untainted, but I never imagined you would be this clueless in your chastity. Very well, for this evening, the guard will be posted in your sitting room. I expect direct protection will be unnecessary tomorrow.”

The elf translator nodded and bowed to both Arion and Tari. “I will inform Our King Celrin of the evenings’ events. Good evening to you,” he said before signing “farewell” to Arion.

Tari swung her feet to the floor as the translator slipped out of the room. Before Tari could push herself into a standing position, Evlawyn was there, supporting Tari’s elbow.

“Thank you, Evlawyn. Ah, Evlawyn, this is the honorable Captain Arion, my bond partner who apparently reads my mind.”

“Emotions.”

“Sorry, emotions. Although I’m not certain that’s much better.”

Evlawyn bobbed a quick curtsey in Arion’s direction before she went back to guarding Tari.

“I’m not going to fall, Evlawyn,” Tari said, the barest tick of irritation in her voice.

“I’m not certain you’re the best judge of your reactions right now,” Arion said.

“Of course I am. Go on, Evlawyn.  All I want is to climb into bed, but first I must finish speaking to the Captain,” Tari decreed.

Evlawyn looked unconvinced until Arion formed the sign for “all is well.” The young elf disappeared into Tari’s bedroom without protest.

Tari frowned as she inspected herself. “Curses, I’ve ruined one of my best dresses.”

“They must have knocked your mouth loose when they jostled your head,” Arion said. He raised his eyebrows at Tari and the corners of his lips quirked up in what could almost be mistaken for a smile before he unbuckled his dress chestplate and set it on the cushioned bench Tari had recently vacated.

“Perhaps a little, but my mentor has assured me I speak too much to be proper anyway. You’re planning to stay for long?”

“I will be the one guarding you this evening.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve been up all day; you can hardly stay awake all night as well.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Arion said, sliding his cape off his shoulders before rolling his shoulders in a stretch.

Tari watched for a moment. “Thank you, Captain Arion.”

Arion hesitated, and Tari tilted her head. “You can tell the thought of a guard is reassuring to me, can’t you?”

Arion slowly nodded.

Tari sighed and leaned against a wall for support. “This emotion sensing is not quite fair, but that was not all I was thanking you for. Thank you for coming, for rescuing me tonight. I’m afraid…I’m afraid I haven’t been fair to you, Captain.”

“Arion.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, call me Arion.”

Tari smiled. “Arion,” she said. “I owe you a great debt, perhaps my life. Thank you.”

Arion bowed solemnly at the waist. When Tari turned to leave, he spoke, “I apologize as well, for I believe I have given you the wrong impression.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I know I am not much of a conversationalist. I am usually slow to respond, and I use few words, but it is not that I do not enjoy speaking to you.”

Tari placed her cheek against the archway that led to her bedroom. “Do you mind when I visit you in your workplace?”

“No, but you don’t enjoy it,” Arion said with confidence.

Tari frowned. “What?”

“You are always so formal, and I know you visit with a great deal of reservation.”

Tari’s jaw almost dropped. That was his problem? He thought she was being formal? Tari swallowed her surprise and said, “I apologize if I am formal, but in elven culture it takes time to form friendships. They must be cultivated. It takes dedication, which I thought I was showing and, and…Your silence and brevity can be very intimidating.”

Arion nodded, taking in Tari’s words. “Although we can easily communicate, that does not mean the wide gap of our cultures was bridged.”

Tari leaned heavier against the archway. “So, you don’t mind if I chatter? I can bang about your office without fear of disturbing you?”

“Yes.”

Tari uneasily straightened. “This is going to be more difficult than I thought. We are, I mean.”

“It has been my experience that anything worth fighting for does not come easily.”

Tari smiled. “But, we must try,” She said. “We’re the first like this. Ever. We need to try. Imagine what it would mean if we really became partnered friends.”

Arion inclined his head in a slight nod.

Tari and Arion stared at each other for a few moments before Arion turned to place his chestplate on the ground. “You should probably retire, Tari. It has been a long day for you.”

“Yes. Thank you again, Arion. Good night,” Tari said before beating a hasty retreat.

This bond she shared with the captain, it wasn’t like the lovely stories or legends where they formed an instantaneous friendship. They would have to work at it, and Tari was very likely to be unintentionally insulted in the future by the quiet captain, but this was real, and the stakes were high. Arion was right. Their bond was something worth fighting for.

When Tari woke, it was to a storm of missives, worried officials (human and elf alike), and hot fruit bread.

“Where is Arion?” Tari asked, nibbling on a piece of warm bread. The butter had melted on top, and it was a perfect combination with the sweet berries in the flaky crust.

Evlawyn leaned against the buckling door of Tari’s rooms, armed with a broom. “He left at dawn, Lady Tari,” Evlawyn said before briefly opening the door and smacking whatever unfortunate official sat outside with the broom. “The Lady Tari must prepare herself for the day before she can receive visitors,” she shrilly announced before slamming the door shut.

Tari spread more butter on her bread with amusement. “That’s the spirit, Evlawyn. Thank you for facing them for me.”

Evlawyn mewled as she leaned against the door again.

Tari stood, taking her bread with her, and ambled to the massive wardrobe her clothes were stored in. She swung it open and reflected on her clothes as she ate more bread. “More of my things arrived yesterday?”

“Yes,” Evlawyn said from the sitting room. Tari pushed aside some of her clothes as Evlawyn added. “Your practice Evening Star clothes mostly, and some more morning dresses.”

“Did they happen to send any of my Evening Star official uniforms?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Would you like me to request that they be sent?”

Tari thoughtfully fingered the silky material of her practice clothes. “Yes, please. If possible, send word to Seer Ringali.”

“Your instructor? Does he have your clothes?” Evlawyn asked, bewildered.

“No, but I suspect he hasn’t sent me a scalding message because he’s coming to visit me. If he does, he can bring my clothes with him.”

At the noon hour, Tari stared at the door to Arion’s office. It seemed to loom and stretch above her like a dooming dragon. Tari swallowed and tried to bolster her sagging spirits. She took a breath and raised her hand to knock, but hesitated.

Arion wants me to be informal. I can do this.

Tari pushed the door open with such force it banged into the wall and bounced back. “Good Afternoon, Arion,” Tari said, entering his office before she could be told to come in.

Arion was standing behind his desk, speaking to two uniformed guards. “Good afternoon, Tari. How are you feeling?” he said.

Tari elegantly slumped into one of two chairs in the room. “Like I was kicked in the head by a horse,” Tari said. “Did you get enough rest?”

Arion nodded, and Tari leaned back and closed her eyes when he returned his attention to his men.

“I will relieve Cliver at the afternoon patrol. Alert the rest of the patrol leaders to the changes in the rounds. You are dismissed.”

The guards saluted in perfect unison.

Tari opened her eyes after the men trooped past. She offered Arion a smile.

He inclined his head, acknowledging it, and began paging through reports.

Tari rubbed the tender spot at the back of her head and straightened in her chair. “Can I call for tea?” she asked.

“Of course,” Arion said, briefly looking up from his papers.

“Would you like any?”

“No, no thank you.”

“Very well,” Tari said, rising to her feet. She poked her head in the hallway and smiled when she caught sight of Evlawyn, who was hiding in a pocket in the wall. “Evlawyn, could you call for tea, please?”

Evlawyn curtsied and scurried down the hallway as Tari ducked back into Arion’s office.

“Were you stormed with officials and written concerns this morning as well?”

“To a certain extent. It is only to be expected. I cannot believe you were attacked in the palace gardens by men from Calnor.”

“Perhaps they were hired by someone from a different country.”

“It does not matter. Calnor is the sworn protector of Lessa. We guard you from harm; we do not incite it,” Arion paused and looked up from his report. “You mentioned you could not fight back due to your attackers’ ethnicity. Why would you never fight a person from Calnor?”

“It is in the vows I take as an Evening Star. I am sworn to never use my magic against the men of Calnor.”

“Evening Stars are dancers, are they not? Surely defending yourself would not fall under such a vow?”

“It does,” Tari grimly said. “It’s an unbreakable rule that is the foundation of my position.”

Arion furrowed his eyebrows, but either he used his sneaky ability to pick up on her emotions, or he decided it was not worth pursuing and let the matter drop.

“Have you gotten any information from the men? Did they survive?” Tari asked.

“They did. Some of them are unfit to be questioned. Those that are have not been broken yet, but I am certain they will be willing to share information shortly,” Arion said.

Tari winced at the implication and moved to stand by the window. She turned her back to the sun, smiling as it warmed her bones.

Arion’s desk was covered in a mishmash of papers, reports, folders, and books. “That is a very interesting organization system you are following,” Tari smiled.

Arion quirked an eyebrow. “It works.”

“I’m sure it does,” Tari laughed.

There was a timid knock on the door, and Tari flounced through the room. “That must be Evlawyn with the tea,” Tari said before opening the door to Evlawyn. Internally, Tari wailed at the great amount of informality she was displaying in all of this—she was essentially using Arion’s room as if it were her own. However, the captain seemed content to give her free rule.

Tari took the tea tray from her handmaiden with a smile before she crossed the room to set the wooden tray down on a small end table crowded next to her chair.

Tari reclined in the chair and sipped her tea, apple spice flavored, while Arion quietly shuffled through his paperwork. When a soldier knocked on Arion’s door an hour later, Tari took her leave, feeling content—if not accomplished.

The following day, Tari and Evlawyn could hold off the interrogators no longer. Tari was cross-examined forwards and backwards during a rather intense interview with the head security captain of Rosewood Park. It was an elf, and he seemed to take Tari’s attack as a personal failing rather than a defensive misstep.

Tari’s assurances that she felt perfectly safe in the gardens did not seem to sit well with the captain, who gravely promised to double the garden security detail before bowing her out of the room.

“I apologize again for the shortcomings of our patrols. We shall double our efforts to ensure the gardens are a place of peace and sanctuary.”

“Thank you, sir, but the failing was neither yours nor your men’s. You cannot take the blame from those who sought to attack me; the fault is theirs,” Tari countered.

The captain looked unconvinced and bowed deeper still before shutting the door to his office.

Tari exhaled and set out in the direction she thought would lead her to Rosewood Park. She was still using it as her center point for transportation rather than attempt to learn the winding passages of the castle. It meant she took an awkwardly long amount of time to travel the palace, but Tari didn’t mind. The sunlight and open air corridors refreshed her.

Tari flicked her skirts in a pleased gesture when she found one of the open-air corridors that transversed the side of the palace and Rosewood Park. She went down one flight of stairs and was about to go down a second when she paused and instead started down the corridor.

This isn’t the direction I need to go in. Tari thought, even as she kept walking. There was something that pulled her along.

The corridor turned in a wide U shape—still following the palace and overlooking the gardens below. Tari glanced at the other side of the U and spotted Arion, walking briskly with three guards hurrying after him to keep pace.

“Arion,” Tari called.

The captain stopped, looked across the courtyard and nodded to her before he started walking again. They met at the bottom of the U.

Arion was dressed in his usual dark-colored tunic and military hauberk, his sword and daggers draped from his belt. There was a distinct wrinkle in his forehead, and his eyes looked stormy. His soldiers walked gingerly behind him, their expressions pinched with worry.

“Is everything all right?” Tari asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Arion barked. Behind him, his men jumped.

Tari leaned forward, studying Arion. “What are you doing out here?”

“Patrols. I check on my men stationed in the castle,” he said, turning slightly to cast a stormy look to the guards.

They shifted uncomfortably and said nothing.

Tari straightened up and took a step towards the captain. “Are you sure you’re fine? You seem…”

“Of course I’m sure,” Arion said.

One of his men winced at the thunderous voice Arion used, but Tari was not dissuaded. Whatever had been pulling her in this direction had quieted the second she set eyes on Arion. “How was your morning?”

“I dealt with inferior underlings. I’m no longer amazed by the attack against you. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a kidnapping on the palace grounds before due to the sloppy work of the Honor Guard,” Arion said.

The guard at his left blushed.

Tari tilted her head, still trying to interpret Arion’s body language. She could tell that something was off. “Will you still come to tonight’s drinking party?”

Arion finally cracked a half smile, but the gesture looked like it pained him. “It’s called evening tea.”

“We do not sip tea; we drink wine. It’s a drinking party,” Tari insisted.

“Yes, I will be attending tonight’s royal evening tea,” Arion said, briefly raising his gloved hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You have a headache,” Tari declared when it dawned on her.

Arion paused. “Pardon?”

“You have a headache. That’s why you’re acting like a grouch.”

“Perhaps, but it is not very bad—“

“Do not try to lie to me, bond partner of mine. I can’t read your emotions, but I can certainly tell when you are in pain. Now turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around. You have a headache because the muscles at the base of your skull are stiffened.”

Arion stared at Tari, who refrained from rolling her eyes and sighed. “You can be so thick. Very well, then. This is going to be awkward,” Tari said before moving closer to Arion.

Tari propped her arms on Arion’s shoulders, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she blindly ran her fingers along the back of Arion’s neck. When she found twin grooves at the base of his skull, she slid the thumb and pointer finger of her right hand in them and tilted Arion’s head backwards with her left hand.

Arion stiffened—the small muscles at the base of his skull were pinched between Tari’s fingers and the muscles of his neck.

“Relax,” Tari said. “The pain will subside.”

Arion swallowed—the only sign that the prodding was excruciatingly painful, and after several heartbeats, his muscles relaxed.

Tari held the position until her arms ached. She removed her fingers and rubbed Arion’s neck before stepping back. “Better?”

Arion inhaled and tipped his head slightly, staring at the ceiling of the corridor. “Much,” he said, surprised.

“When you’re tense, you stiffen your muscles—which can cause headaches. Relaxing the muscles gets rid of the headache,” Tari said.

Arion tentatively rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. Thank you, Tari,” he said before smiling slightly.

Tari couldn’t help but grin back. Arion’s rarely used smile greatly softened the stoniness of his features and added a light to his otherwise turbulent eyes.

Arion glanced at the garden in the courtyard before straightening. “I need to go, but thank you, Tari,” Arion said with a comely bow.

“I’ll see you this evening,” Tari said, stepping aside.

Arion started down the corridor, his steps quick but not nearly as heavy as his cape swirled behind him.

Tari nodded in satisfaction, but startled when she realized Arion’s men hadn’t followed him.

The three guards lined up in front of Tari. Tari could see they were younger than her with bright eyes and excited expressions. They chattered at her for a moment and Tari blinked before performing the “cannot understand” gesture, which silenced them with dismay.

“Ahh,” soldier one said playing with his hands for a moment.

The second soldier snapped and executed the gesture for “help meet,” before saying, “Hero.”

Tari laughed as all three guards nodded emphatically and repeated the gesture for help meet over and over.

“Hero,” they insisted as they babbled in Calnoric.

“Our hero,” the first one said.

“Men,” Arion said, his voice warning as he called to them.

His men rushed past Tari, crashing down the hallway like ungainly puppies. It wasn’t until they were around the corner that Tari realized she’d understood the Calnoric word for hero.

Chapter 5

New Vocabulary & Storming Teas

Tari sipped her tea before shifting her eyes to the teapot as the translator droned on in Calnoric. Truth be told, the refreshments were one of the main reasons she attended the meetings with the translators and enchanters—they brewed fantastic teas. There must be a way to ask for more without appearing rude.

Tari stared at the porcelain teapot, shocked out of her wits when Arion leaned forward from his position next to her on the settee. He plucked the teapot off the lacquer tray, refilled Tari’s cup, and replaced the teapot—earning a large smile from Tari.

Tari happily took another sip, looking up when the translator switched to Elvish.

“—cannot tell you how excited we are to have you two. We understand that a bond such as yours should not be abused, but we are hoping you will help us in the Translators’ Circle,” said an excited looking older man. His counterpart—a haunted looking scholar that had interviewed Tari and Arion for hours on end to search for any sort of connection between them—vacantly stared at the wall. He was badly in need of sleep, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.

An elf translator stood behind the pair, nodding in agreement as he fussed with his hair.

“What would you ask us to do?” Arion asked, narrowing his eyes.

Tari turned to her small plate of cookies as the translator switched back to Calnoric for Arion’s sake. She selected a lemon tart and transferred it to Arion’s empty plate before consuming a sinfully rich chocolate truffle.

“Safeguard,”

Tari looked up when she understand the random human word. Since meeting Arion’s men she had learned a handful of additional words. It always happened without warning, and the word choice was rather unusual. The last set of words Tari had learned was “Sweet cakes.” That particular pair was acquired from King Petyrr.

Arion ate the tart as he listened to the translator, his expressionless face giving nothing away. When the translator finished, Arion looked to Tari. The translator opened his mouth to restart the lecture in Elvish, but Arion beat him to the punch. “They want us to spend a day a week discussing topics picked out for us by the head of the Translators’ Circle and our monarchs.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a social engagement.”

“Agreed.”

“Tell them we’re too busy,” Tari suggested.

“Good idea.”

The haunted-looking translator coughed bashfully to draw their attention to him. He produced two lists written out in fine scripts on pieces of birch paper.

“Healing remedies, animal husbandry, cloth production, architecture, schooling systems,” Tari read in Elvish.

Arion read the Calnoric script. “Customs, festivals, history, music, I don’t understand. These sound like research topics.”

The elf translator nodded. “It is. We translators work diligently to grasp the foundations of our languages, and we devote most of our learning to every day conversation and the terms of politics. We do not have the time or ability to learn the specialized terms that are required for discussing these topics. It would take years to properly learn—or invent—the appropriate terms that would allow for information exchange.”

The human translator spoke to Arion, giving him a similar speech no doubt, before adding for Tari. “Additionally, although our countries are so closely knit we do not often visit each other’s territories. This is partially because Haven makes it unnecessary—the seats of both governments most often reside here. Additionally, as your protectors and guardians, it would be…invasive if we humans were to enter Lessa for scholarly purposes.”

“These topics, they were chosen by our Kings? His Majesty King Petyrr and My King Celrin wish for us to share this information?” Tari asked.

“Yes. There will be no translation barrier between you two. You will simply know from your souls,” the human translator said, his eyes dewing up as he triumphantly clenched his fists.

Tari sipped her tea and looked at Arion.

The captain sighed and nodded to Tari.

“We agree,” Tari said to the translators. The humans and the elf exchanged smiles before standing to slap one another on the back as Tari returned her attention to Arion. “But I insist our first topic of conversation must be tea. This brew is simply fantastic. Do you have any idea what flavoring is it?”

“It’s breakfast tea,” Arion said. “Common black tea, we produce it by the boatloads. The flavor you’re referring to is the cream and sugar.”

Tari looked down at her cup. “You add cream and sugar to tea?”

“Yes, not the herbal and spice teas you elves make, but we add them to our black teas. They taste more palatable that way,” Arion said, rising off the settee.

“I must ask Evlawyn to learn more about it. It’s delicious,” Tari declared, also standing.

“Much better than our wine-swill?”

“You are never going to forget that, are you? Yes, a thousand times better than your wines.”

The following day, Tari walked the walls of the palace with Arion, her hands clasped behind her back as they followed an open-air corridor. They were on their way to inspect an afternoon patrol.

“Does anyone mind that I trail after you when you are working?” Tari abruptly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do your superior officers feel that I get in the way when I prance through your office and trail after you on your inspections?”

Arion cast Tari a glance. “Do you truly believe anyone would complain that we are spending time together?”

Tari smiled slightly. “No, not when you say it like that. But it is possible that some would think I am nothing but a distraction when you are on duty.”

Arion snorted. “I am sure even if someone was insipid enough to entertain such thoughts, they would never be stupid enough to voice them.”

Tari laughed and Arion’s lips quirked into a slight grin.

The captain paused before asking, “Do you mind that your life has been rerouted?”

“You mean do I mind that I no longer serve any real purpose?” Tari dryly asked. “…No. I would not trade being bonded for the Continent.”

Arion raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You think I am lying? Ah, then you must wish you were free, unfettered, and unbounded. How cruel!” Tari declared before chuckling at her own melodrama. Arion rolled his eyes as they turned a corner of the corridor, and Tari reached out to link her arm with his.

They almost mowed over a short, squat, elderly man who carried a staff as if it were a weapon rather than a tool for walking assistance.

“Wizard Edvin, we apologize,” Arion said, reaching out with his free arm to help steady the short man.

The wizard pushed his eyebrows—which were so thick they could almost be called bushes—up his forehead. “Arion,” was the only word Tari recognized before she was lost in a storm of human words.

Tari frowned slightly as she tried to place him. “Oh,” she said when it hit her. “You were—he was one of the wizards that served at our Nodusigm ceremony,” Tari said before quickly executing the sign gesture for “Nodusigm binding.”

The wizard nodded eagerly before speaking again. Tari was able to pick out some of his words. “Yes! I knew…. Arion….Tarinthali.”

“Wizard Edvin knew before the ceremony that you and I were to be bonded,” Arion said.

“You are acquainted with Wizard Edvin?” Tari asked before performing the gesture for “friends” and pointing back and forth between Arion and the wizard.

The older wizard nodded, but it was Arion who explained. “Wizard Edvin served in the city in which my unit was stationed. He worked with us occasionally to track some of the more disconcerting creatures we needed to eradicate before he received his post here last year.”

The wizard smiled as he made the gesture for “good boy” to Arion.

Arion blinked at the gesture but continued, “If you’ll excuse us, Tari and I were on our way to inspect the patrol route of my afternoon squad.”

The wizard said something in Calnoric and smiled broadly.

Arion frowned. “The wizard wishes to speak to you for a moment, Tari, while I continue on alone. I am not entirely certain how he means to communicate with you without me, though.”

The wizard made a shooing motion, and Tari removed her arm from Arion’s.

“We’ll manage, somehow,” Tari said, moving to stand beside Wizard Edvin.

“If you’ll excuse me, then. I’ll see you at the southern hall, Tari,” Arion said before sauntering off.

Tari and the wizard watched him go before the wizard turned and smiled at Tari. When Arion was out of sight, the wizard pointed to Tari and then made the gesture for “good boy” “move” and “the Continent.”

Tari curtsied with the rustle of skirts.

Wizard Edvin smiled, but Tari could see another emotion clouded his eyes. “Caution” he gestured, adding the motions for “not,” “all,” and “want.”

“Be careful,” Wizard Edvin said in Calnoric, his grandfatherly face downcast.

Tari stewed over Wizard Edvin’s warning for a moment. She had a feeling that not everyone was so pleased with her bonding as the monarchs and general public. The attempted kidnapping was all the proof she needed for that. However, Tari had hoped it was a small enough percentile that vigilance would not be necessary. Those who were against the match were probably few, but if a wizard was taking the time to warn her, they were most likely powerful.

Tari gestured “understood,” and curtsied again. When she straightened up, the wizard was smiling like a cheerful grandpa.

He smacked his belly before laughing. “Arion…very lucky,” he said in human before gesturing, “well met.”

Tari returned the sign, and the wizard hummed under his breath as he started down the corridor.

Tari watched him go, jumping when she turned back to find Evlawyn had appeared at her elbow.

“I received a letter for you, Lady Tari,” Evlawyn said, handing the sealed envelope over. “I noticed the seal and thought it might be prudent to give it to you as soon as possible.”

Tari winced at the insignia stamped in the wax: it was Seer Ringali’s. “Well thought, Evlawyn,” Tari said, smiling at her handmaiden before opening the letter.

Tarinthali Ringali

I am coming to Haven. You cannot grow soft and sloppy, even if the courts hold you up as a messiah. You will meet me at the Aquavi entrance to the palace on the second day of the feast of Stag Hallow at sunrise. Bring the human whelp they’ve you chained to.

PS: I do not appreciate being your laundry service.

The letter wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. Seer Ringali’s humor and personality were rather…unique.

Tari exhaled. “Seer Ringali is arriving in two days. I am to meet him with Arion at sunrise.”

“Shall we ready for battle, Lady Tari?” Evlawyn asked. They had been preparing for this for days.

“Let’s. I am glad to have you with me, Evlawyn. You are quite the ally.”

“I am with you until the end, Lady Tari.”

“Thank you. This very well may be it.”

Two days later, Tari stood with Arion in the chill of dawn. Tari was in her best dress—a violet creation that brought out the soft blonde shades of her hair, which was carefully bushed and tumbled freely down her back.

Arion was impressive as usual in his formal armor. Tari was secretly glad he was so massive. It would bring her comfort when facing Seer Ringali.

“Seer Ringali is your teacher?” Arion asked, butchering the Elvish name as he watched sunlight crawl over the white, limestone road that connected the city and palace.

“Yes, and I am his protégé,” Tari said, curling her hands into fists to keep from wringing them. She glanced at Evlawyn, who was standing demurely on the grand staircase that wove up to the palace. The handmaiden nodded in encouragement.

Arion nodded and squinted, still staring at the road. “You are nervous.”

Tari exhaled. “Blast your mind-reading.”

“Emotion-sensing. And it does not take our bond to notice that you are squirrelly.”

Tari thoughtfully fussed with the gold linked belt that was chained at the waist of her dress. “Seer Ringali’s opinion is very important to me. I look up to him the way you would look to a general, although I know him on a very personal basis. I do not want to disappoint him, and I want him to like you as well.”

“An action you are not entirely sure is possible.”

“Perhaps. It is not that Seer Ringali dislikes humans—it’s quite the reverse; he has dedicated his life to them. It is more that he disapproves of setting my profession aside, even if it is only for a time, and he is very likely to see you as the catalyst for my decision,” Tari said.

“Ah,” Arion said before nodding at the road. “A carriage approaches. Is that his?”

There was a clearly posted emblem on the carriage door: a large star circled by smaller constellations. “It is,” Tari confirmed, adopting her best posture.

The horses, two pairs of dapple grays, pulled up to the paved circle designed for passengers descending from their modes of transportation. A footman and two grooms—previously arranged for by Evlawyn and Tari—rushed forward to take the horses and open the door.

The carriage steps were kicked out, and Tari and Arion sunk into elaborate bows as a tall elf climbed out of the carriage.

“Seer Ringali, it is my greatest pleasure to receive you at the Palace of Haven,” Tari said, straightening up from her bow.

Seer Ringali stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, studying Tari and Arion from the superior angle. His hair was the rich color of chocolate truffles, partially tied back and ornamented by a gold clasp. He wore black robes, which dully gleamed in the morning light, and he held a black silk fan—which he twitched open and closed.

“Hn,” he said before descending the stairs with the liquidity of water. He circled Tari and Arion, still snapping his fan.

“Allow me to introduce you to my bond partner, Captain Arion Herycian,” Tari said, sweeping her hand in Arion’s direction.

When Seer Ringali set his piercing eyes on Arion, the captain repeated his bow. “Welcome, Seer Ringali,” he said in Elvish, pronouncing Seer Ringali’s name with perfect inflection.

Tari almost dropped her hand in surprise as she stared at Arion. Since receiving her letter, she had been coaching the captain in the correct pronunciation of Seer Ringali’s name. The stony man had persisted in slaughtering it. He had said it not two minutes ago utterly incorrectly! He’s holding out on me! Is he learning to speak Elvish as I am learning to speak human?

“Hn,” Seer Ringali sniffed, hiding the lower half of his face behind the open fan before turning to Tari. “I can see you have housebroken him,” he said. “But clearly he is too big to be of much use. Is he part wolf?”

“Captain Arion is the captain of an Honor Guard squad here in Haven,” Tari said.

“His title made that observation unfailingly obvious,” Seer Ringali said, studying Tari from head to foot. “Your wit has thickened; however, you surprisingly do not seem to have grown flabby in my absence, but,” he shut his fan and struck out, brandishing it like a dagger as he aimed to hit Tari in the neck.

Tari raised her arm and blocked the blow, but the blow would not have landed anyway as Arion—just as quickly as Seer Ringali—caught the elder elf by the wrist.

Seer Ringali stepped back—pulling his hand from Arion’s grasp and Tari’s block. He blinked at Arion, as if viewing him in a different light, and tucked his arms in his sleeves for a moment. When he pulled them apart, he held out a Berry Drop—hardened, brightly-colored berry juice rolled in sugar—and dropped it in Arion’s hand when the captain slowly opened it.

“Good boy,” Seer Ringali said, patting the top of Arion’s head with the fan.

Arion looked to Tari, who nodded.

Arion placed the treat in his mouth, frowning and looking down in thought as he sucked on the hard candy.

Seer Ringali nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Tari. “You have still been practicing: good. I find it assuring your man toy is protective. That is also good. He will keep you alive when you cannot fight back. However, I can see your form has been slipping,” he said, reaching out with his free hand to correct Tari’s posture. “As long as I stay, we will practice. For many hours.”

Seer Ringali turned back to study Arion once more. The captain was chewing on the hard candy, wrinkles spreading on his forehead. (He was probably trying to sort the complex emotions Tari was oozing.) “Yes, he’ll do,” Seer Ringali said before heading to the stairs. “I was afraid you would be tied to some insipid fool, as Our Crown Princess Yvrea was. You have gotten a much better deal,” the teacher said over his shoulder, pausing at the bottom step. “I am glad to see you again,” he finally said.

Tari beamed and ran the short distance before throwing herself at Seer Ringali in an exuberant hug.

Seer Ringali tucked the fan up his sleeve before patting Tari on the back and returning the embrace.

“I am glad you came, Seer Ringali,” Tari said, stepping back after a few moments.

“Yes. I imagine so,” Seer Ringali said, straightening his robes before turning to climb the stairs. “I would like to inspect my rooms. In the meantime, you can prepare yourself for practice. A long one. Oh, and Tarinthali—if you use me as a saddle pack for your clothes ever again, I shall string them from the roof like flags for the entire journey,” the teacher said when he reached the top stair where Evlawyn was waiting.

The handmaiden escorted the intimidating elf away, gesturing for the footman (who carried several bags) to follow.

Tari slumped her shoulders and turned back to Arion—who was still chewing the Berry Drop.

“That was odd,” Arion crunched.

“He likes you. Stars behold me, he likes you,” Tari sighed in relief.

“He likes those who keep him from attacking young elves?” Arion asked.

“I’m trained to respond; he was doing it to test me. But it did please him that you reacted on my behalf, yes,” Tari tilted her head and fixed her gaze on Arion. “When and how did you learn to pronounce Seer Ringali’s name?”

Arion finished the drop. “Yesterday. I asked one of the elf translators that constantly plagues us with requests for interviews for help.”

“He was willing to teach you?”

“I can’t say I gave him the option.”

Tari laughed and stretched her arms above her head. “That went well. The worst of it is over now—for you anyway. He’s going to be a regular nightmare in practice, but I have been slacking,” Tari acknowledged.

“This short meeting was what had you worked up?” Arion asked.

Tari wrinkled her nose at the man. “You have no idea how lucky we are that you impressed him so deeply. One of my fellow dancers married an elf Seer Ringali didn’t like. Seer Ringali only refers to the dancer’s husband as ‘the beast,’ gave her a leather collar and leash for her birthday celebration, banned her husband from all Evening Star practice and performance grounds, and had him thrown out of his housing accommodations when he proposed.”

“And you admire him?”

“He has a good heart. His wedding gift to the dancer was a new house, and she wasn’t even his protégé. He will be very pleasant to you since he likes you.”

“I’m not sure if he thinks of me as a man. He seemed to be treating me like a dog. What was he saying?”

“Ahaha, I must go prepare for practice now.”

“Tari!”

Almost a week later, Tari gingerly followed Seer Ringali down the hallway. The older elf looked refreshed and energized in spite of the late evening hour and hours of intense practice. Tari was fairly certain she was a sweaty mess, and she felt as if she had run with horses for a full day. Seer Ringali’s stamina was legendary.

Seer Ringali abruptly stopped and turned around to face Tari. “Eat a light dinner,” he advised, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Nothing too rich, or you will make yourself sick.”

Tari nodded and stretched her spine. Practice had kept them so late it was safe to assume dinner was no longer being served, but the kitchens would still be open for evening tea.

Seer Ringali reached into his sash and pulled out a tiny satin bag, which he passed to Tari. “You did well. Here is your treat. Share them with your wolf man.”

“Thank you, Seer Ringali,” Tari said, bowing slightly. After a cross-examination, Arion admitted “welcome” was the only Elvish word he had picked up. Tari hoped it remained that way for the duration of Seer Ringali’s stay, or she would have some very awkward explanations to give.

Seer Ringali nodded before separating from Tari, turning down a different hallway. Tari gripped the bag, flexing the soft cloth that covered her hands, and continued on her way.

“Tari?”

Tari looked up to see Kiva come around the corner. Her older sister was dressed in a beautiful peach-colored dress. Her hair was twisted and secured to the back of her head with a gold clip. She looked suspiciously lovely for a night that did not have a banquet scheduled.

“Did Seer Ringali have you practicing at this hour?” Kiva said.

“Yes, it’s cooler in the evenings. Was there a banquet or state event this evening? Blast, I must have forgotten it,” Tari sighed.

Kiva smiled archly. “No, there was no banquet.”

“Then why the finery?”

“I am meeting with Princess Claire.”

“In your best dress?”

Kiva sighed. “Once a week, Princess Claire hosts an evening tea. She is careful to schedule it on nights that do not contain state events, or on evenings when another member of the royal family is hosting a tea as well.”

“Oh,” Tari said, leaning back on her heels as she thought. “Wait, Princess Claire hosts the tea, and Arion and I are not invited?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. It seemed odd that Arion’s sister would not invite them. Their celebrity status made them coveted guests. Was she trying to distance herself from her family? Was the princess ashamed?

“Arion attends the teas,” Kiva said.

“What?” Tari asked. They invite Arion and not me?

“Princess Claire wished to extend an invitation to you as well, but Arion asked her not to,” Kiva quickly added.

“WHAT?” Tari repeated, her voice growing dark. Arion was the one who withheld the invitation? After all that pretty talk about friendship and informality?!

Kiva winced and took a step backwards under the pressure of Tari’s anger.

Tari squeezed a hand into a fist until it shook. “Where is this tea held, Kiva?”

Kiva swallowed uncomfortably. “The Crystal Hall.”

Tari twisted on her heels and started down the hallway as she attempted to shove the stabbing sensation of betrayal out of her ribs.

“Tari, you cannot possibly mean to go this evening,” Kiva called in protest. “You are dressed in your practice uniform! You haven’t been invited.”

“Forget it, I’m going!” Tari snapped. “If the humans want informality, they’re going to get it!”

Tari stormed to the Crystal Hall, a smaller but still grand hall that was meant for evening teas—or drinking parties, as Tari still called them—and small luncheons. She expected resistance when she reached the entryway—after all she bore no invitation—but the guards scrambled to open the doors for her when they saw her coming.

Tari blew through the doors, stopping on the small platform the hallway opened into to look for her bond partner.

Tari was aware there were several gasps from a few of the guests—there had to be only twenty to twent-five people present, odd considering a small royal drinking party usually consisted of at least a hundred people—but she ignored the stares and zeroed in on Arion.

He was standing at the side of the hall, dressed in his formal armor, talking to Eric. Their sisters were not present, but Talon was. This only served to further infuriate Tari. The fact that Eric would invite Talon but Arion would not invite Tari spoke volumes.

Eric caught sight of Tari heading in their direction and dropped the goblet he was holding. It fell with a metallic clank, spilling his wine across the floor.

Arion turned to see what stirred such a reaction in him, and he blinked as Tari stopped at his side.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Tari asked, her voice quiet but dangerously cold.

“What are you wearing?” Arion asked.

Tari almost threw the satin bag from Seer Ringali at his face, even though it was a valid question.

Tari’s practice uniform was unlike any other clothing in the Continent. The outfit consisted of black suede boots that were molded to Tari’s calf, black pants with white stitching, a tight, black shirt, and a strange jacket/hood combination that started near the top of Tari’s ribcage, stretched back behind over her shoulders, and hooked down over her middle fingers. She wore black, mismatched gloves beneath that. Her left hand was completely gloved, save for a circular patch on the top of her hand. The fingers of her right glove were cut off, displaying Tari’s tapered fingers.

The clothes were designed to provide maximum support and flexibility, as the physical demands put on an Evening Star were rather weighty.

Combined with her hair—which was somewhat windblown, although the top half was pulled back in a bun and secured with a clasp—the look was eye-popping, and certainly unconventional for anyone who had not seen an Evening Star before. (Which was just about all humans. Ever.)

“Arion, why did you not tell me your sister hosted teas every week?” Tari thunderously said, ignoring the four footmen that scurried from the room.

Arion stared at Tari’s hair. “Hm?”

“Arion,” Tari said, stamping a foot. Her clenched hands shook under the force of her emotions. This lumbering ox can feel what I’m feeling. WHY ISN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING!?

Arion shrugged and set his goblet down as a servant mopped up Eric’s mess. “I wished to spare you.”

“What?”

Arion thoughtfully looked to the end of the room where Kiva was speaking to Princess Claire. “You are already forced to attend numerous banquets, luncheons, and events. I didn’t want to force another on you, nor did I want to use you.”

Tari tilted her head back and pushed an eyebrow up. “Please explain in further detail.”

“Our presence can be used as an attraction, as a weapon. If I invited you—and I knew you would say yes—our joint presence would attract a crowd at least three times the size of this. It would be excellent, socially speaking, for Princess Claire, but it would be thoughtlessly using you.”

Tari frowned as she looked around the room. “Isn’t Princess Claire choosing exclusive guests?”

Arion shook his head. “No. Princess Claire sends out many, many invitations. People choose not to come,” Arion said.

Anger drained from Tari as she realized what Arion wasn’t saying. The courts are snubbing her. She’s married the prince, and they’re still snubbing her.

Tari relaxed her stance, unclenching her hands. “I see,” she said, her voice returning to its usual warmth. She glanced around, frowning slightly when she realized almost all of the tea attendees were still staring at her.

“Perhaps it was a miscalculation to break into the tea dressed in my practice uniform,

then,” Tari said, turning back to Arion. Eric was still gape-mouthed next to him.

“That may have helped some, but it wouldn’t have done much. I don’t think any of us have seen an angry elf before,” Arion said, glancing at his brother.

“So they’re gawking at the rare emotion?” Tari asked, a ghost of a snicker in her voice.

“Not at all,” Arion said, shaking his head. “It’s the fact that you’re stunning when you’re angry. You look very different, not like the usual elves we see.”

Tari shifted, growing uncomfortable, but she was saved by Eric snapping out of his funk. “Lady Tari,” he said in Calnoric. “You look beautiful…,” he said more, but the words were too fast for Tari to understand. When finished, he turned expectantly to his brother.

“I am not translating poetry for you,” Arion told his brother before calling a servant over and speaking quietly to him.

The servant ran off as Eric grew bright red and turned to Tari to attempt to sign his admiration to her. Tari suspected he was trying to form the gesture for “beautiful”; instead, it looked more like the sign for “pregnant.”

Tari looked over to Arion, who was smiling quietly into his reclaimed goblet of wine. “You aren’t going to let him know he’s doing it incorrectly, are you?” she asked.

Arion thoughtfully sipped his wine before replying. “Not likely.”

Tari shook her head slightly and smiled to Eric before signing “Thank you.”

Another wave of gasps broke out, and Tari turned to look for the spectacle.

It was King Petyrr, storming the room with a bright smile, askew hat, and his usual procession. Today, trailing behind him were: four courtiers, six guards, two assistants carrying quills and scrolls, a footman, and one fat, orange tabby cat that sat on the King’s shoulders.

King Petyrr caught sight of Tari and Arion and brightened. He was thoroughly distracted, however, when his eyes happened to land on Prince Vincent and Princess Claire.

“Daughter!” King Petyrr said, descending the platform and bowling over his son to get to Princess Claire. His infectious laughter spread through the room like his procession, effectively removing all attention from Tari and Arion.

“Does His Majesty King Petyrr normally attend Princess Claire’s drinking party?” Tari asked.

“No. That would be your doing. He was sent for by one of the footman that left when you first arrived, I suspect,” Arion said as Eric stepped back to allow a servant holding a tray to approach them.

Arion took the lone tea cup that sat on the tray. “Here, your drink for the evening,” he said, passing Tari the cup and saucer.

Tari grinned in delight. “It’s tea,” she said, inhaling the decadent scent.

“I thought you would enjoy it more than the wine,” Arion dryly said.

Tari took a careful sip. It was an elf herbal tea, mint-based, but there was also strangely a hint of chocolate to it. “This tastes wonderful.”

Arion placed his hand on Eric’s elbow. “I am glad to hear it. If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, Tari, as Princess Claire’s siblings, it would be best for us to greet the guests,” he said.

Eric opened his mouth to argue, but Arion’s grip on him was firm. The brothers walked away as more members of the human courts trooped through the entryway of the Crystal Hall.

Within minutes, Princess Claire’s small group of 25 had turned into a bustling gathering of 80, and more were still arriving.

Tari exhaled, content with the evening as she sipped her tea, noting when King Celrin and Crown Princess Yvrea arrived.

“Tarinthali, you are gorgeous…usual,” King Petyrr said, chortling to himself as he approached her. He took a moment to cast off his orange tabby on a servant before joining Tari against the wall. “Captain Arion is one lucky…,” he chattered.

Out of all the humans, King Petyrr was probably the easiest to understand and learn new words from. Tari wasn’t certain if this was because the king was so easy to like, or if it was because he repeated similar words to her at just about every occasion.

“Always wanted a daughter. Instead…four sons,” King Petyrr grumbled before his face transformed into a brilliant smile when Princess Claire smiled at him from across the room. “Sons are boorish. Daughters are so pretty…such joys,” the monarch wistfully said. “Cannot wait…sons get married. Celrin is lucky,” he finished as the elf monarch and his daughter approached.

“Tarinthali Ringali,” Crown Princess Yvrea smiled, reaching out to lightly embrace Tari as King Celrin exchanged greetings with King Petyrr. “You have been practicing with Seer Ringali? I hope you will perform for us before he leaves. You are always such a treat to watch.”

“I’m not certain Seer Ringali would agree with you,” Tari smiled, pausing to curtsey to King Petyrr and King Celrin as they edged away.

“Nonsense. You are fantastic. Otherwise, Seer Ringali would not have named you his protégé,” Crown Princess Yvrea fussed.

There was a slight commotion when Crown Prince Benjimir appeared at the entrance of the Crystal Hall. He was blank-faced, but Tari got the feeling that anger stormed beneath his seemingly calm façade. Her suspicious were proven correct when the human prince spied Tari and Crown Princess Yvrea. For the merest second, his expression darkened, and the corners of his lips twisted ominously as he glared at them. The second passed—probably before anyone else noticed—and Crown Prince Benjimir was the picture of decorum as he descended the stairs.

“Benjimir has come too? Poor Princess Claire. I fear we have completely overtaken her tea,” Crown Princess Yvrea laughed.

“Were you invited to the tea, Princess Yvrea?” Tari asked. She did not think it likely—elves were not into the political games that humans were. Unless the princess had been previously engaged, she would not have said no.

“No,” Crown Princess Yvrea guilty admitted. “Neither Father nor I were invited. King Petyrr heard that you came to the tea wearing odd clothes from a footman, so he made up his mind to come. He sent word to my Father and me, asking us if we would like to join him for, let me see if I can use the same phrase he did, ‘a rousing good time.’ Father came because King Petyrr is his friend, and I came because I was hoping your odd clothes would be your practice uniform.”

Tari smiled at the confession. “I am glad you came. I think you have greatly heartened Princess Claire,” she said, nodding in the direction of the young princess.

Princess Claire was all smiles and laughter—clearly she was overjoyed that her tea had become so big.

Tari opened her mouth to speak again when Crown Prince Benjimir ghosted out of the crowd. Tari immediately sank into a curtsey, and Crown Princess Yvrea smiled.

“Ah, Benji,” she greeted before forming the gestures for “Good to see you,” and “Glad you’re here.”

Benjimir smiled at Crown Princess Yvrea—making Tari marvel at the way his face softened and his eyes glowed—before he bowed. “Princess Yvrea,” he said. He removed the smile from his face and offered Tari a second, stiff bow. “Tarinthali.”

Crown Princess Yvrea smiled, but Tari looked up from her curtsey in surprise. Crown Prince Benjimir had spoken with Elvish fluidity and inflections. He was quite good, surprisingly so for one who hadn’t devoted himself to the language as a scholar.

Crown Princess Yvrea did not look at all surprised, and she said—in horrible, mangled Calnoric, “It is a lovely evening, no?”

Crown Prince Benjimir nodded. “I agree,” he said again in Elvish, his pronunciation almost perfect.

Crown Princess Yvrea turned to Tari. “I’m sorry, this is something of a game Benji and I have developed over the years. We try to talk to each other in the other’s language. I’m very bad at Calnoric, but Benji has been getting quite good at Elvish.”

“How much can you speak?” Tari curiously asked. She had never heard that the heirs could communicate without a translator.

Crown Princess Yvrea’s smile dimmed slightly. “Very little,” she admitted. “We can only make observations about the day and the weather. We know a little less than a hundred words, and it’s taken us years to learn that many. It’s nothing like…,” she trailed off, the rest of her thoughts clearly hanging.

It’s nothing like you and Captain Arion.

Tari uneasily felt for her bond with Arion in the back of her mind as she searched for him in the crowd. It sputtered there like a flickering candle, and Tari had a realization. It’s because of Arion that I can learn human so easily.

As if feeling her thoughts, Arion straightened and looked to her, quirking an eyebrow. Tari ruefully smiled and shook her head, glancing back to Crown Princess Yvrea and Crown Prince Benjimir.

Crown Princess Yvrea smiled and raised her wine goblet to her lips. “Now that is what a Nodusigm pair should be like,” she praised before glancing to the Crown Prince. “Benji,” she trailed off before making the gesture for “translator” and “where.”

“Coming,” Crown Prince Benjimir replied via sign language.

Crown Princess Yvrea nodded and returned her attention back to Tari, clearly ready to settle in and converse for a lengthy time, when Crown Prince Benjimir said, “Yvrea,” again in nearly accent-less Elvish before he started signing, “Speak with,” and “Guests.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Give thanks” and a sign Tari thought stood for “person of honor,” but wasn’t certain.

“Later?” Crown Princess Yvrea asked in Calnoric with her terrible accent. She performed the signs for “speak,” and “want” before gesturing to Tari.

Crown Prince Benjimir gravely shook his head and signed, “Royal duty.”

Crown Princess Yvrea stooped slightly. “Benji is right. We really should greet the hostess,” she said, nodding to show her agreement. “I’m so glad we had a chance to talk. Please, call on me sometime,” she said, hugging Tari again before straightening the skirts of her forest green dress. She slipped into the busy crowd. Crown Prince Benjimir inclined his head to Tari, his face devoid of emotion, before joining her.

Tari smiled as she watched them go, nodding to a group of elves that wandered in her direction to exchange pleasantries.

The rest of the evening was spent talking, mostly with humans via a translator, but also to some of the translators themselves. (Surprise.)

Arion rescued Tari an hour later from the clutches of a duchess and a translator.

“Thank you,” Tari sighed, her arm linked with Arion’s as they walked the perimeter of the room. “I fear I’m starting to resemble a damp rag.”

“I doubt any elf can resemble something so low,” Arion said.

“If this party continues much longer, we shall certainly find out,” Tari grinned for a moment. Her smile faded, and she added, “Do not think you have completely wormed out of this. I am still angry with you for not telling me about this tea. I appreciate the thoughts behind the actions, but I do not like being left out of such decisions.”

Arion nodded, “I knew it would very likely provoke you, but I will not allow anyone—even my own kin—to use you.”

Tari and Arion stopped to watch Princess Claire and her husband, Prince Vincent. The princess was all smiles as she held her husband’s hand. The prince looked at her with deep affection and indulgence warming his eyes. “She looks very happy,” Tari observed.

“She is,” Arion said. “This is her eighth time hosting a tea, and she has never been able amass such a crowd. She is happily wed, but sometimes I suspect the political nature of it all drains her of her joy.”

Tari nodded, still watching the young couple—Vincent was barely 20 summers, and Claire was a year or two younger.

“Tari,” Arion said, drawing Tari’s attention.

When Tari looked to him, Arion pulled his arm from hers. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. I did not want to impose on you, but it has changed my sister. You are truly selfless,” Arion said.

Tari opened her mouth—about to joke that sweet talk wouldn’t buy her forgiveness—when she was shocked speechless by Arion.

The captain picked up her right hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her bare fingers, keeping his glittering eyes on Tari. Although he wore a ghost of a smile, his eyes were serious.

Tari’s thoughts screeched to a halt, and her mouth went dry. She slammed an iron door on her feelings and concentrated on nothing.

Arion lowered her hand and released it before studying the guests.

The two were silent for a moment before Arion spoke again. “Feel free to leave. I know you must be tired from your practice. Sleep well, Tari,” Arion said before departing.

Chapter 6

Reluctantly in Love

Tari watched Arion leave before turning on her heels and slipping through the crowd. She exited the hall without saying any goodbyes—she hadn’t even said hello to Princess Claire—and wove through the hallways until she reached the edge of Rosewood Park. She sat on a stone bench and stared at a sputtering fountain.

“I,” she said out loud to the chuckling water and comforting breeze, “am in love with Captain Arion.”

Her emotions rebelled in her heart when she said this, ready to create a tremendous upheaval, but Tari clamped down on them like a steel trap. If anything got through her defenses

,
Arion would sense it, and he would know.

Tari could feel her rational world crashing around her, but she would not emotionally acknowledge it. Instead, she tried to reason herself through it as her heart thundered in her ears.

“Elves take longer than a few weeks to fall in love with their intended,” Tari reminded herself. As odd as it seemed, Tari had only known the Captain for a month or so. Elves typically don’t learn human in a matter of days, or converse easily with their bond partners

,
Tari’s rebellious heart reminded her.

Tari stabbed the traitorous feelings. I cannot not let anything through!

Tari didn’t even want to imagine what the stone-faced captain would say to her if he knew. “Of course I would fall for Captain Emotionally Constipated. I could train a rock to hold more affection for me. What’s so good about him, anyway?” Tari said, instantly regretting her words when a million different thoughts of Arion’s strengths lined up in her mind. Tari mercilessly silenced them all.

Tari shut her eyes and cradled her head in her hands. Even breathing felt like work, and the ringing reminder that she was in love with Arion wouldn’t shut up.

“This isn’t good,” Tari grimly said. “For starters, elves and humans do not court each other.”

Elves and humans did not intermarry. No one knew when this rule was imposed (which was odd, as Lesser Elves were once upon a time the offspring of Higher Elves and humans), but since Calnor had become Lessa’s protector, there hadn’t been any exceptions. For elves, the very idea was laughable. For humans, it was a point of pride.

“And it’s Arion. Arion!” Tari groaned.

Prince Benjimir had a higher likelihood of loving Tari than Arion.

Tari had fallen in love with the most troublesome person she could find. Seer Ringali would die if he found out. Tari chuckled slightly at the thought but did not release her inner death grip on her emotions.

“I will hold it in,” Tari decided. “I am an Evening Star; it will be like practice. I can acknowledge it, but not feel it.”

Tari glanced down at her hand, which still felt the warmth of Arion’s lips. “I am neck-deep in horse crap,” Tari sighed in Calnoric.

“Evlawyn, I need your help,” Tari said the following morning, setting her breakfast tea down as she looked across her sitting room to her handmaiden.

Evlawyn curtsied. “I will help you however I can, Lady Tari,” she hesitated. “Is all not well with Seer Ringali?”

“No, everything is fine—if one ignores the fact that he works my spirit out of me on a daily basis. You have been a magnificent help there. What I require your assistance for is something more…secretive,” Tari said.

Evlawyn nodded. “I am at your disposal, My Lady,” Evlawyn simply said, offering Tari a smile.

My Lady—it was an honorable title in elvish society, one you bequeathed upon someone you were willing to follow and serve for life. Tari felt the weight of such an honor and nodded. Just like Tari and Arion were bound, Tari and Evlawyn would be bound for life.

“Thank you, Evlawyn,” Tari said, pausing before continuing. “It is nothing dire, I-I have the desire to learn some of the human language.”

Evlawyn blinked. “I see,” she carefully said. “Could we not ask a translator to tutor you?”

“I would rather not. I want to keep it a secret, and I don’t want anyone to find out about it,” Tari said.

After spending a great portion of the evening awake, pondering her traitorous emotions, it occurred to Tari that it was slightly odd that Crown Prince Benjimir spoke such passable Elvish when Crown Princess Yvrea slaughtered the human language. Learning languages was not a test of intelligence, but a trial of determination. If Crown Prince Benjimir spoke better, it was very likely he had practiced a great deal more.

There was really no way to find out how much he knew.

The thought was almost as unsettling as Tari’s recent realization about Arion and her feelings, but at least it was a problem she could address. Exchanging tit for tat, Tari would learn human.

“Did you have any tutors in mind?” Evlawyn asked, shattering Tari’s thoughts.

Tari grinned, her first real smile since the previous night. “I do,” she admitted. “Three of them, actually, which is why I need your help.”

Tari frowned as she walked through the confounding hallways of the south wing. For the last half hour, she tried to find her way to the servant’s quarters, where Evlawyn would be waiting for her—hopefully with information on their targets.

However, instead of finding her way to the quarters, Tari was drawn like a moth to a flame to the south wing of the palace. She had been trying to exit it since she accidentally entered it, but something kept pulling her around and around the wing, unwilling to release her.

Tari sighed when she reached a familiar hallway. She had been avoiding it since this odd calling hooked her, but perhaps it was why she was here.

Instead of veering away from it as she had done for the past half hour, Tari glided down the hallway, making a right turn to a smaller passageway. She stopped in front of a familiar door and threw it open without ceremony, entering Arion’s office.

“This report is an embarrassment. You included no details on the physical characteristics of the thief, nor did you get the contact information of the victim. You are a competent patrol leader, but your reports humiliate our office. Do it again,” Arion crisply said, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he passed a pack of sheets to one of three Honor Guards standing in his office.

He set his eyes on the next patrol leader, who seemed ready to quake under Arion’s thunderous gaze.

“You,” Arion started, brandishing his words like a whip.

“Arion,” Tari said, walking deeper into the room. She edged past the patrol leaders, giving them an encouraging smile as she joined Arion behind his desk.

One of the patrol leaders audibly sighed in relief. The other two straightened and saluted her.

Arion looked over to Tari, his eyebrows still furrowed although he offered her a welcoming nod.

Tari leaned in Arion’s direction. “Dismiss them for a few minutes, please?”

Arion frowned but turned to his men. “You will excuse us. Wait in the hallway until I call you back in,” he barked.

The trio trooped out of the office, closing the door behind themselves, and Arion slumped in his chair.

“I don’t know why you insist on carrying on like normal when you get these headaches,” Tari said, sitting on the edge of Arion’s desk. “You are a bear to deal with when you get them. You could at least take something to relieve the pain,” she said as she reached around Arion and massaged his neck before sliding her fingers in the grooves at the base of his skull. Since her first run in with a migraine-stricken Arion, Tari had cured the captain of his headaches at least an additional four times.

Arion closed his eyes, his breathing deepening as relief started to hit him. “Before you, there was no way to relieve the pain.”

Tari chuckled. “Before me, I’m certain you did not get these headaches quite as often,” she teased, gently tilting Arion’s head to better get at the tense muscles.

When she was finished, Tari dropped her hands in her lap and smiled at her bond partner.

Arion opened his eyes half mast, the edges of his lips curling up in a barely imperceptible smile. “Thank you.”

“Next time you get, one send for me.”

“I would not want to burden you with such a trite thing. I will not have you at my beck and call.”

Tari swatted his words away with her hand. “Please, if I could release your pain and save your poor men some fright, I am happy to be of service. Unless I’m practicing with Seer Ringali. Then you’ll just have to wait,” Tari teased.

Arion’s smile transformed into a half smirk before it dropped off his face altogether. He groaned and opened his eyes all the way before straightening in the chair. “You are off?” he asked as Tari stood, straightening her soft dress.

“Yes. I’m late for a meeting with my handmaiden, although this might work out better than I thought.”

“Very well. Send the frightened pigeons back in on your way out, please,” Arion said.

Tari smiled at the apt description as she ducked back around the desk and headed for the door. “They respect you.”

“Perhaps,” Arion said, sounding unconvinced.

Tari laughed as she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Arion’s patrol leaders were lined up in the hallway. The second Tari shut the door, they all performed the sign for “life saver” and said “Our Hero!” in Calnoric.

Evlawyn appeared in the hallway at that moment, holding a sheet of paper. A very smug smile was pressed on her lips in an un-Evlawyn like display, but Tari also could not help the predator smile that bubbled up in her.

“Yes,” she agreed in Calnoric, making the patrol leaders slack-jawed. “Can you be my heroes?” she said, aware her accent was poor but hopefully passable.

The guards’ eyes widened, showing they understood as Evlawyn passed Tari the paper.

Tari glanced at it and smirked. She and Evlawyn slowly sauntered closer to the guards like wild cats closing in on prey. The soldiers gulped and clustered together, and Tari smiled. “Good afternoon, Patrol Leaders Grygg, Thad, and Wilford,” she said in Calnoric.

“Horses. Hor-ses. Those horses are a matched set,” Grygg said primly before he sipped tea from a dainty, porcelain tea cup.

“Those horses are a matched set,” Tari repeated in Calnoric, copying the patrol leader’s syllable stress.

“What time was tea served?” Thad asked, holding out his cup and saucer so Evlawyn could refill it.

“Noon,” Tari said.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Grygg said, shaking a finger. “Lazy reply.”

“The tea was served in noon,” Tari said.

“At, not in,” the last patrol leader, Wilford, corrected before selecting a macaroon.

“The tea was served at noon,” Tari repeated. Her tongue felt pained, but ever since Arion’s morning patrol leaders had agreed to help her learn human, her understanding had greatly increased. Her pronunciation needed work, as it was not something she could silently acquire a talent for, but Arion’s men were just as brilliant and hardnosed as their captain, and they never hesitated to correct her.

“Would you…black tea or green tea,” Thad asked, some of his words getting lost in the muddle Calnoric before he gestured to the tea pot.

“Please, once more, more slowly?” Tari asked.

“Would you,” Thad started, waiting for Tari’s nod, “Prefer…”

“Prefer?” Tari asked.

“Desire, want,” Wilford said.

“Would you prefer,” Thad repeated, “a brew of black tea or green tea?”

Tari hesitated. “Black, please, with fat cow milk.”

The patrol leaders blankly stared at Tari, their teacups held in various poses.

After a moment, Grygg turned away to cover up a snort of laughter with a cough. Wilford set his teacup down to hide a smile behind a fist.

Thad glared at the pair.

“Who taught you that phrase?” Grygg asked when he recovered. He spoke quickly, not expecting Tari to understand, although she did.

“Not us,” Thad emphatically said. “No, never say fat cow milk. It’s cream.”

“Black, please, with cream,” Tari repeated.

“Next,” Grygg said, nodding his thanks to Evlawyn when she topped off his cup of tea. “Halt in the name of the King,” he said carefully before sipping his tea.

“Halt in the name of the King? When is she going to use that?” Thad scoffed, adding a dash of sugar to his tea.

“Captain will kill us…she…goes…patrol,” Wilford said, slumping in the settee in Tari’s sitting room.

Evlawyn cleared his throat, and the young patrol leader jerked forward, correcting his posture.

Tari frowned slightly, inwardly disappointed with herself. While she was picking up human words and grammar rules, she wasn’t good enough! Whenever Grygg, Thad, or Wilford spoke at a normal speed, she had a difficult time picking out words she recognized, much less understood.

“Lady Tari,” Thad said, recapturing her attention. “You are doing great. Well done,” he said with an emphatic nod.

Tari shook her head. “Not yet. Hailt in the namane of the King.”

“Halt in the name of the King,” Grygg repeated as Thad shot him a dirty look.

“Hailt in the namane of the King.”

“No, halt. Halt. Name. Two parts, not three. Na-me,” he said.

“What…Tari?” Wilford asked.

Tari shook his head, his whole sentence was lost to her. “Please, once more, more slowly?”

Wilford thoughtfully frowned as he set his dainty tea cup down. “At parties, humans ask you what?” he said, executing a few sign gestures to get his point across.

Tari thoughtfully shifted. “Capetain Arion.”

“Captain,” Wilford corrected.

“Captain Arion, the food and drink, daughters, my bond, Captain Arion, and weather,” Tari listed.

“Daughters?” Thad asked.

“King Petyrr.”

“Ahh.”

“Food and drink? I see,” Thad said, thinking for a moment as he sipped his tea.

Wilford held out the tray of tea treats. “Would you like a cookie?”

“Yes, please,” Tari said, reaching for the tray.

Wilford held it just out of reach. “Ask a question,” he suggested before bringing the tray closer.

Tari thought for a moment before saying, “Which one tastes best?”

Thad nodded. “Well said. Good accent—but in royal company, you should say, ‘Which one do you recommend?’”

“Which one do you r-recommend?” Tari asked, stumbling slightly.

Wilford smiled to show his approval before replying. “The elvish green tea cookies taste…”

“Taste how?” Tari asked.

“Fantastic,” Wilford said, carefully pronouncing the word. “They taste very good.”

“Thank you, then I will try a green tea cookie,” Tari said, selecting a slightly green-hued cookie from the tray.

Grygg frowned slightly and straightened in his chair. “What hour is it?”

Tari leaned forward to glance through the open doorway that led into her bedroom, getting a look at the sunlight. “I think it is almost third hour,” she said.

Grygg brightened and grinned at Tari. “I say, well done Lady Tari! I am glad you caught that,” he said, clapping.

Wilford, however, set the treat tray down and stood. “We have to go then. Our patrol reports are due in two hours.”

Grygg said something that Tari didn’t recognize, but it sounded like an agreement.

The soldiers dutifully placed their emptied tea cups on the tea tray and straightened any cushions they might have flattened before inspecting each other’s uniforms for crumbs and creases.

“That was a lovely tea, Lady Tari. Thank you for inviting us,” Thad said, taking care to enunciate his words.

Tari smiled and also stood. “Thank you for coming. I shall see you for tea, again, tomorrow?”

All three of the patrol leaders bowed.

“We look forward to it,” Thad smiled, stepping out of Tari’s sitting room.

“Think of topics to discuss,” Wilford advised, following his friend.

“Halt in the name of the King,” Grygg, the last guard in the room, hopefully said.

“Halt in the name of the King,” Tari parroted back.

Based on Grygg’s beaming smile, she said it correctly.

“Grygg, stop that,” Thad called from the hallway, an accent of irritation to his words.

Grygg winked before hurrying after his fellow patrol leaders. “Coming!”

Evlawyn shut the door behind them before turning her attention to the tea dishes. “They seem to help you a fair bit, My Lady.”

“They do. Thank you for helping me convince them to tutor me,” Tari agreed, finally eating her selected green tea cookie.

“It was no trouble at all. I didn’t do much besides find out their names, families, and where they are roomed in the barracks from the human servants. The men agreed easily enough to help you,” Evlawyn smiled.

“Yes, but we wouldn’t be able to have our daily teas if you were not so crafty with procuring extra tea and treats for me,” Tari said.

Evlawyn curtsied in response.

The young guards were kept rather busy by their duties, but they were able to slip in a half hour tutoring session every day during their break period. In thanks to the soldiers for giving her their spare time, Tari served them tea and treats from the royal kitchens—something they delighted in.

“Have a cookie, Evlawyn. Wilford likes the green tea cookies, but honestly, I find the lemon tarts to be the best,” Tari advised.

Evlawyn hesitated before trying the lemon tart. Her eyes widened at the tangy flavor. “That is delicious,” she said, swallowing her mouthful. “How do you feel your Calnoric lessons are going?” Evlawyn asked after she finished the rest of the tart.

“It’s hard to say. I know I’m learning it quite fast, but it’s frustrating because I’m still not good enough,” Tari said, frowning again.

“You are good enough to hold conversations with the patrol leaders,” Evlawyn said.

“Yes, but my pronunciation is off, and I can’t understand them unless they speak slowly,” Tari said, folding her arms across her chest.

“It normally takes an elf scholar years to get as far as basic conversation,” Evlawyn said. There was no hint of reproach in her voice, but she spoke quietly.

Tari sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You are right, of course. Dear Evlawyn, whatever would I do without you?” Tari said, smiling at her handmaiden.

Evlawyn smiled brightly at the affection in Tari’s voice and curtsied again. “It is my pleasure to serve you, My Lady.”

Approximately a week and a half later, Tari stood with a number of elves at Princess Claire’s weekly evening tea.

Each week, there seemed to be more and more guests. Tari had yet to actually speak to the young princess and thank her for the weekly personal invitation that started showing up when Arion removed his block on the activity.

However, Tari made certain to express her thanks to Arion, and decided he would likely carry her words back to Princess Claire.

“How did you convince Seer Ringali to come, Tari?” Kiva asked, nudging Tari.

“Truthfully, I think he was curious,” Tari said, glancing to her teacher. He stood a short distance away talking to Crown Princess Yvrea. Crown Prince Benjimir was with them, a translator hovering behind his shoulder.

“All I did was extend the invitation. He agreed without any sort of pressure,” Tari added.

“How odd. I thought Seer Ringali would be above this kind of thing,” Talon said, thoughtfully rubbing the side of his wine goblet before drinking. “Although I suppose, this is Seer Ringali’s first time in Haven, yes?”

“It is,” Tari said, her tea cup clinking when she set it on the saucer she held.

A burst of laughter across the room from King Petyrr drew Tari’s attention for a moment.

The robust Calnor King was standing with King Celrin, who was smiling and nodding politely to an inquisitive guest that passed the two kings.

Ever since Tari first stormed the tea, King Petyrr and King Celrin were consistent guests. Crown Princess Yvrea had not come last week, but she clearly would try to attend whenever possible, and whenever Crown Princess Yvrea came, Crown Prince Benjimir attended as well.

In general, the human royals seemed to make a bigger effort to attend the tea. The two middle princes did not attend every week, but Tari had seen glances of them and their elf bond mates. The Calnor queen, Queen Luciee, however, had yet to attend.

As Tari studied the tea guests, she caught sight of Eric, who was approaching a party of ladies directly next to Tari and her companions.

“Talon, how do you like Eric?” Tari asked, glancing at her older cousin before returning her gaze to Eric.

“He seems nice, for a human. I don’t know why he is still in Haven. He runs the family manor since Captain Arion is unavailable to oversee it. I had hoped he would have gone home by now,” Talon shrugged before reaching up to scratch a tapered ear.

Eric smiled engagingly at the young ladies, who seconds ago were chattering animatedly with each other. They stared at the young man with blank faces. Tari discreetly edged closer to them, hoping to hear whatever Eric said to the girls.

“I suspect it has something to do with Princess Claire,” Kiva hesitatingly said. “Only one of her sisters has returned home—the married one. I think they’re staying for emotional support.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Eric warmly said.

“Good evening, Sir Herycian,” the girls said with stiff civility.

Talon and Kiva continued to talk, but Tari concentrated on the conversation taking place next to her.

“You all look beautiful tonight,” Eric said.

The girls exchanged looks before one of them, a blonde with pretty hair and a sneering nose, said in a derogatory tone, “Thank you.”

Tari noticed that Crown Prince Benjimir was also watching Eric and the ladies.

“Are the… to your liking?” he asked. Tari guessed he was referring to the food and drinks based on the fact that he gestured to the treat table.

“I suppose so,” the blonde, who was apparently the leader, said with a haughty sniff.

Eric’s smile did not falter, and he cheerfully forged ahead in spite of the ladies’ off-putting manners. “I am glad to hear it. Would any of you care to dance?” he asked, turning to give them a view of the few human couples that were dancing at the far end of the room by a string quartet.

The ladies laughed, but it wasn’t a kind, amused sort of laughter. It was mocking, high-pitched, and shrewish.

“No, thank you,” the blonde said. “We only dance with men from families of caliber.”

Somehow, in the depths of her anger, Tari knew it should be odd that she understood the words of the shrewish girl. However, it was something that would have to be addressed later because right now she needed to be corrected.

Tari looked to Crown Prince Benjimir. He drank his wine and watched Eric bravely smile, making no move to help him.

That solved it.

Tari wordlessly handed her tea cup and saucer to Kiva, who took them with a puzzled expression. “Tari?” she asked.

Tari ignored the call and sauntered in Eric’s direction, placing a taunting smirk on her lips.

She did not intend to reveal she could speak Calnoric for many weeks—not until she was fluent. But she would no longer tolerate this blatant mocking of Arion’s family. If the human royalty wanted to pretend the Herycians were lower class, two could play that game. Tari would fight back by flaunting her friendship with them, by being the best and brightest of the elves.

The humans had never encountered an Evening Star before; they had never encountered an elf like Tari. It was high time they learn this.

As Tari swept across the hall floor, it occurred to her that she did not know any cutting words in the human language. The patrol leaders mostly taught her basic conversation; they hadn’t bothered to teach her any slights or rebukes. What could she say to the ladies that would make it obvious how slimy she thought them to be?

At the back of her mind, Tari’s bond with Arion burned steadily. Tari felt it, reached for it, and savagely yanked on it when she stopped next to Eric. (Across the room, Arion stumbled unaccountably.)

Eric looked to Tari with some surprise, although Tari could see the hurt still echoing in his eyes. The simpering ladies looked at Tari with interest and perhaps a little envy. (Even the most graceful human could never be as elegant as the clumsiest elf.)

“Eric,” Tari said in perfect, accent-less Calnoric. “Why are you wasting your time on dried-up harpies when you could have asked me to dance?” she said, a lilting tease echoed in her voice.

All conversation around Tari stopped.

Crown Prince Benjimir almost spat out his mouthful of wine; the simpering ladies froze, their mouths open appallingly wide; and Eric stared at Tari, like everyone else around them.

Tari gifted Arion’s younger brother with a teasing smile and continued in perfect human. “You are too compassionate to those who don’t deserve it. Come, dance with me please? I would love to dance with you,” she said, extending her hand.

Eric swallowed and took Tari’s hand, carefully leading her to the dance floor. Silence stretched around them like a blanket.

When they reached the dance floor, Tari glanced at the string quartet—which was something of an anomaly in Lessa. Most elvish musical instruments were lap harps, drums, and pure vocals.

As if on cue, the musicians switched to a quicker song.

“We are fortunate—this is one of the few human dances I know,” Tari said, listening to the song as she moved into position.

“You speak Calnoric?” Eric finally blurted, standing like a stick.

“I do,” Tari said, pulling Eric forward and into the first dance steps.

“This whole time you’ve known Calnoric?” Eric said, the pitch of his voice hiking up.

“No,” Tari smiled, glancing at her dance partner before directing them along the correct path. “I’ve been studying hard these past few weeks. I’m not really that good at it yet. Perhaps my anger is being usefully directed,” she said, a slight edge to her smile.

Although her words were careless, Tari was curious. She could understand the whispers and the mutters that swirled around her. It would have worried Tari, but she kept her emotions in check because, even more worrisome, Tari could feel her bond with Arion. It wasn’t a sputtering candle—it was a roaring festival fire, burning tall and hot.

If Tari could speak perfect Calnoric when their bond was stronger, Tari wouldn’t put it past Arion to be able to read her thoughts.

“You’re angry?” Eric said, almost stopping in surprise.

Tari whisked him through the dance. “I am. I cannot believe the courts reject your family. Crown Prince Benjimir was four paces away, and he gawked like a peasant instead of defending you,” Tari said, her eyes narrowing fractionally.

Eric let Tari continue to lead. “I thought elves don’t get the whole political intrigue, feuding families thing.”

“We don’t. I don’t. But while the majority of my race would shrug it off as a human peculiarity, I am one of the few that will dig in and end it,” Tari said, glancing over her shoulder at the still-stunned crowd.

“Why? Why would you bother yourself? Our conduct is embarrassing. Elves would never squabble. Why involve yourself?” Eric asked.

“Because,” Tari said, somewhat distracted as she tried to maneuver through the next bit of the dance. “Arion is my bond partner. He is an important person in my life, and it pains me to see his family dishonored.”

“King Petyrr is right,” Eric sighed. “Arion is the luckiest man in Calnor.”

Tari laughed. “I am honored you think so.”

“It is not just me; everyone says so,” Eric earnestly said. “You’re beautiful, gracious; you put up with Arion, and now you speak Calnoric? You are an incredible person. Elf.”

They whisked past the snobbish girls Tari had slighted. The girls looked both shocked and furious. “I’m certain not everyone feels that way,” Tari said wryly. “But I thank you for your kind words. I believe you are a, what did you call me? An incredible person, too,” Tari nodded with conviction.

Eric blushed bright red. “Oh,” he said, stumbling in the dance. “I’m just, I’m nobody special.”

“Yes, you are,” Tari argued. “Your friendliness and affability are admirable.”

“Thank you,” Eric said, growing redder still.

“If you will excuse my interruption, I suspect you have flirted with my bond partner long enough, little brother” Arion said, his deep voice wry and unimpressed.

“Arion!” Eric said, stopping the dance and taking a leap back from Tari.

“Hello, Arion,” Tari said, linking her arm through his. “Why the interruption? We were having such a wonderful time dancing.”

Arion eyed Tari. “It looked to me like only one of you was dancing. The other was drooling like a dog.”

Eric edged away from the bonded pair, avoiding their eyes. “I think I hear our sister calling me. Yes, I’m sure she is. I’ll go see what she wants,” he said before walking away at a brisk pace.

Tari watched him go with a slight smile.

“You are mad at me because I—feeling that my family would be abusing your presence—fail to invite you to a tea. Yet you learn Calnoric and do not think to tell me?” Arion asked, one eyebrow pushed up in an inquisitive arch.

The faintest hint of pink tinged Tari’s fair skin. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone until I spoke it perfectly,” Tari said, some of the awkwardness in her pronunciation returning. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Why learn it? Truthfully, I imagine it would be more useful to us if I learned Elvish,” Arion said, strolling from the whirl of dancers, Tari at his side.

Tari internally constructed her response before she spoke. Tari would never doubt her rulers. She knew the elvish Royal Family was honorable to the last drop of their blood. It would be rude to imply that the human royals were not on the same level. Later, much later, maybe she would share her observation about Crown Prince Benjimir. “I wanted to learn it. I noticed I could start picking out words, and with a little work I could understand common phrases, like ‘The weather is nice,’ and such. I thought if I dedicated myself to it and received some help, I would be able to learn it quickly.”

Arion narrowed his eyes. “Someone is helping you.”

“Yes.”

“You won’t tell who?”

“Correct.”

“Hmm,” Arion was silent as they drew alongside a table of refreshments. “The fact that you can speak so fluently in a matter of weeks is…unheard of,” he said.

Tari nodded and took great pains to speak in Calnoric, very much aware of all the eyes trained on the captain and her. “I thought so, too. Truthfully, I do not normally speak so well. I told your brother it was because of my irritation, but I think it has something to do with our bond. It feels…stronger.”

Tari hesitated and studied Arion, who was thoughtfully nodding. “Can you sense more than my…emotions, now?”

A wry smile decorated Arion’s features. “You mean can I read your mind? No. My comprehension of you is on the same level it has always been.”

Tari almost sighed in relief before catching herself. “I see.”

Arion and Tari walked away from the refreshment table and continued on, silent in spite of the cloud of gossip that surrounded them. “You do realize the Translators’ Circle will probably badger you for more interviews now?” Arion said after a few moments of silence.

“That occurred to me. I never thought I would say this, but I’m glad Seer Ringali is here. The elf translators know better than to interrupt an Evening Star practice when he is present, and they will instruct the human translators to stay away as well. His presence will shelter me from the worst of it, I think.”

Arion nodded and watched King Petyrr barrel in their direction. “I believe we are about to be interrupted, but Tari,” the captain gravely said, spinning Tari to face him. “No more surprises?”

Tari nodded. “No more surprises,” she agreed.

If only…

Chapter 7

Attacked on all sides

The following day Tari winced, her joints creaking as she hobbled across her sitting room. “By all that is good on this Continent, I hurt,” she moaned, going lax before allowing herself to flop face-first on a backless couch. “Seer Ringali is vindictive.”

Somehow, the older elf had learned of Tari’s prediction that the translators would leave her alone if she was with him. He agreed this to be true, but told her he was going to make her wish for the translators.

“It worked,” Tari said, getting a mouthful of cushion.

Evlawyn swept into the room, throwing the door open with such force it cracked on the wall. “My Lady!”

“What.” Tari said, her voice muffled.

“Captain Arion has asked that you would meet him at his office. Now,” Evlawyn said, hurrying to Tari’s side.

Tari picked her head off the couch. “What?”

“He used gestures to communicate this. I’m not certain I correctly translated all the sign language, but I feel I got the base of the message,” Evlawyn said, helping Tari to a standing position.

“I’m still in my practice uniform. Do I have time to change?” Tari asked, rubbing at her covered arms.

Evlawyn shook her head. “I don’t know—I’m not certain. The captain…he, he seemed upset.”

Tari shot out of the room, moving at the fastest walk she could muster although her muscles screamed at her. She swept through the palace, taking the shortest route possible to Arion’s office in the southern wing.

When she finally arrived, she opened the door. “What is it? Evlawyn said you seemed upset. What’s going on?”

Arion looked up from reading a letter. His expression was an odd mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “I would not say I’m upset, but I have received some interesting news,” Arion said, holding up the letter as he leaned back in his chair.

Tari sagged in relief. Of course he’s not upset. Arion doesn’t get upset.

“What news?” Tari asked, walking across the room.

“I’ve been reassigned to my previous army position and squad in the northern army at Sacred Wood,” Arion said.

Tari stopped walking. “What?” she asked, her face growing numb.

“The Guard Commander has given me leave to return to my post,” Arion said, dropping the letter on his desk.

Tari swallowed and internally froze her wailing emotions. “They’re asking you to, or they’ve informed you?”

“A little of both. The letter says I’ve been reassigned, but my position is high enough that I can refuse the post,” Arion said, finally standing. His chair scraped as he pushed it back.

“You will be going,” Tari said. She was fighting a battle on all sides. She wanted to cry and be reduced to a snotty mess—but she couldn’t—and she wanted to internally rail and despair—which she wouldn’t.

Arion walked over to Tari. “Not necessarily. Would you like me to go?”

“W-what?” Tari asked, rapidly blinking to keep herself from crying as Arion stopped an arm’s length away from her.

“If I accept the post and leave Haven, you would be allowed to return home as well.”

Tari almost laughed. Go home? She was ashamed to admit it, but missing her home port city of Gloria hadn’t even registered in the last few weeks. Yes, she longed to see the ocean again, but she wanted to stay with Arion more.

“But—” Tari started before falling silent.

“Do you want me to take the post?” Arion asked. His voice rumbled like the roar of a wave.

Tari opened her mouth, intending to ask Arion if he wanted to. She shut her mouth with a click. Why stretch it out when she could genuinely end it here? “No,” she quietly admitted, lowering her eyes.

Tari went from numb to painfully aware of everything when Arion took a step forward. “Then I won’t,” he said simply before sliding his arms around Tari’s waist and pulling her into an embrace.

His arms were heavy on her back, but she felt sheltered. The edges of his shoulder guards uncomfortably poked Tari’s face until she squirmed, nesting her head against his neck. She could hear every whoosh of air he breathed, and his chest was warm and broad—in spite of the chainmail that covered it.

Tari sighed and relaxed her stance, letting Arion bear more of her weight as she shut her eyes and rested in the warmth of his presence. The captain eventually snaked one hand up her back, combing his glove-covered fingers through Tari’s loose and messy hair.

This is bliss.

Tari was barely aware of Arion lowering his head. When she could feel his warm breath on her neck, the door opened.

Arion released a strange combination of a roar and a bark, and someone—Wilford probably, based on the pitch—squealed and slammed the door shut.

“Never get a moment’s peace around here,” Arion muttered. He was standing straighter, and Tari could almost feel the captain narrowing his rain-cloud eyes at the door.

Tari chuckled before cutting off her snicker and popping her eyes open. She suspiciously took mental inventory of herself, hoping Arion hadn’t read more off her than joy that he was staying. She took up the reins to her emotions—snapping the whip at the nagging reminder she was in love with the captain—and stepped back from Arion.

She smiled at him, hoping the only thing he could feel was happiness. “I’m sorry. You obviously have work to do, and I need to change,” she said, wrinkling her nose as she looked down at her clothes. “I’ll leave.”

Arion nodded, reaching out to nudge a lock of Tari’s hair over her shoulder. “I’ll see you at the banquet tonight.”

“I am looking forward to it. We can lure King Petyrr into mooning over Princess Claire again,” Tari laughed before opening the door and ducking out of Arion’s office.

She avoided eye contact with Wilford and one of his patrol guards and swept down the hallway.

“Tari.”

Tari almost fell off the tree branch from which she was hanging upside-down. “Arion?” she blinked as the captain navigated his way through Tari’s practice garden.

“What are you doing?” Arion said, his image upside-down as Tari hung from the tree.

“Hanging sit ups.”

“What?”

“Watch,” Tari said, hanging from the tree by her curled knees. She folded her arms behind her head and curled her head and upper body up over her waist, pausing a moment before curling back down.

“That looks torturous,” Arion said.

“They’re rather difficult,” Tari admitted, swinging slightly. “Did you need something?”

“Is Seer Ringali around?” Arion asked, momentarily turning to inspect the gardens.

“No. He gave me the day’s exercises and left. He’s performing for some of the bonded elves.”

“I see. There is a problem.”

Tari grabbed the branch with her hands and flipped off it, landing in a graceful crouch. “What?”

Arion held out a piece of paper. “The Guard Commander vetoed my refusal.”

“What?” Tari said, reaching out to snatch the paper from Arion, only to remember that although she could speak Calnoric she couldn’t read it. She handed the paper back. “What does it say?”

“It admits that they cannot veto my refusal—it would be a different story if we were in the middle of a war, but we are not—but it says if I refuse, they will end my military benefits and cut my salary. I’m surprised they did not threaten to demote me.”

“What are your military benefits?”

“Free housing in the palace, meals, an absence pay to my family, all my mounts are technically owned by the military, my uniforms…There are more, but those are the main benefits,” Arion listed. He did not sound much bothered by the idea that the benefits would no longer be available to him.

“What?” Tari yelped. “Basically they would give you the boot and make you work for very little.”

“Indeed. It seems that someone is very anxious to see me leave Haven,” Arion said, calmly folding the letter.

Tari grabbed the tip of her braid and tugged. “Do you want to leave?” she weakly asked.

“No,” Arion said. “And I’m not going to.”

Tari exhaled in relief. “I am glad,” she said before puffing up. “But there is no way we can allow this bullying to continue. Come on,” Tari said, storming out of her garden.

“Where are we going?”

“To see My King Celrin.”

“Perhaps we humans do not give you elves enough credit,” Arion said, shifting in his formal armor.

“Why do you say that?” Tari asked, brushing the long sleeves of her gown down so she could adjust her hair.

“We see you as being a defenseless race. One without cunning and guile. I no longer think that is true.”

Tari snorted. “It is. If anyone with a decent amount of organization attacked us, we would be overtaken. Few of us can fight, and there are not nearly enough of us to form more than an offensive strike or two. We can be cunning, yes, but we haven’t the stomach for war tactics and the useless squabbling in which you humans entrench yourselves,” she said, peering around the corner. “We still are very much in debt to Calnor for protecting us. We would be long gone without you.”

“I do not doubt you need us. Your race is too noble for something like war, but I never had the chance to admire elf brilliance before our bond. Nor did I think King Celrin could have such a degree of shrewdness in him.”

“His plan is perfect, but only if they do take this route, as My King Celrin thought they would,” Tari cautioned before she turned to stare at the images sculpted and chipped into the wall.

It was a war scene, one between the men of Calnor and the High Elves. Tari grimaced, studying her war-prone cousins. Even in the stone record, their beauty was cold, powerful, and cruel.

“If it weren’t for the Lesser Elves, I would think the High Elves to be nothing but fairytales, told by mothers to inspire caution in their children,” Arion said, leaning against the corridor railing as he, too, studied the wall scene.

“They’re real,” Tari promised, casting her eyes over a tribe of gorgeous elves who were hurling spears shrouded in lightning at the defenseless humans.

“Do you believe the legends that say they will return to the Continent? It’s been centuries since they left,” Arion said.

Tari looked away from the wall, as if the scene pained her. “Regardless of what I believe, I do not think it is wise to forget them.”

Arion shrugged. “All traces of their bloodlines are gone. There is not an elf left on the Continent that has the ability to fight as they did.”

Tari did not answer and instead tipped her head back to listen, her tapered ears twitching.

Arion shifted into position after glancing at Tari’s face.

“Someone is coming,” Tari said, tilting her head to hear better. “It’s they,” she said before bolting across the corridor to stand next to Arion.

As the footsteps drew closer, Tari slumped against the corridor railing. She thought of Arion leaving, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She sniffed and spoke earnestly in Elvish. “Perhaps we could write. Although, I do not know the written code of Calnoric…and I have been told learning the written language of elves is even more difficult. Oh, Arion. What are we going to do?” she said, her voice colored with anguish.

“Tari,” Arion said, halting Tari’s flow of words as the walkers rounded the corner, coming into sight. “We will find a way.”

Tari nodded, the tears in her eyes finally spilling from her eyes. “But, I will miss you so,” she said, taking a step towards him.

The walkers stopped. Fantastic!

“I will miss you, as well,” Arion said.

“What, what?” King Petyrr puffed. “Why on earth would you two miss each other?” he asked, not at all embarrassed for listening to what was clearly a private conversation. At his side was Crown Prince Benjimir. Surprisingly, the Crown Prince was the only member of King Petyrr’s procession for the moment.

Tari elegantly straightened herself from her slumped posture, taking care to flick the tears from her eyes before smiling “bravely” at King Petyrr. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” she said in Calnoric. Arion murmured the same as he bowed, and Tari sank into a curtsey.

King Petyrr jiggled his portly belly. “Why would you two miss each other? What is wrong, Lady Tari?” he asked, approaching the pair and taking Tari’s hand, patting it like a fond grandfather.

Tari smiled at King Petyrr before redirecting her gaze as Arion spoke—as if she couldn’t bear to face the news.

“I have been reassigned, Your Majesty, to my previous post in Sacred Wood. They require my immediate presence.”

King Petyrr stopped patting Tari’s hand and puffed like a porcupine. “What?”

Arion bowed slightly. “I will be leaving Haven, and Tari, within the week.”

King Petyrr’s face grew dark as he dropped his cheerful, good natured façade. He growled under his breath like a badger. “Stupid Honor Guard idiots, give me the army any day,” he said as he adjusted his grip on Tari until they had linked arms—following elvish custom. He abruptly turned, hauling Tari with him. “Benjimir,” King Petyrr called, scowling at his son. “Are you aware of this? Did that Guard Commander of yours ask you beforehand?”

Benjimir shifted. “No, I was never approached about transferring Captain Arion.”

Tari inhaled, making the gesture deep and somewhat shaky.

King Petyrr absent-mindedly consoled Tari. “There, there, dear. Have no worries. It is Benjimir who is in charge of the Honor Guard. That idiot commander of his will have to stuff it, or we’ll skewer him. Honestly, what dunce tries to separate our one translating bonded pair?” he said, his words eventually growing deeper and quicker as he groused rather than attempted to comfort Tari.

“Your Majesty,” Arion started. “I understand that we cannot be given preferential treatment—,”

King Petyrr swatted his free hand. “Nonsense. You two are more mythical than a pair of unicorns. What good are you to us if you’re separated? Benjimir! This is a result of your dull-witted men. Fix it! Captain Arion will be serving at the palace, indefinitely,” he barked.

“Oh really, Your Majesty?” Tari said with a real smile.

“Absolutely. Anyone who wants to ship one of you two off will have to deal directly with me. And King Celrin—and he’s got a mean right hook. Now then, is there anything else I can do for you my dear?” King Petyrr asked, returning his attention to Tari with his usual cheer.

Tari shook her head, still smiling. “Oh no, Your Majesty. You’ve done so much. Thank you,” she said, curtseying when the king released her hand.

King Petyrr smiled indulgently. “You’re welcome,” he said before turning to Arion with a slight frown. “You’ve got quite a treasure for your bond partner. You should fight for her a bit more,” he advised before he smiled and reached out to smack Arion on the shoulder. “Carry on, Captain Arion. You’re the luckiest man in Calnor, and you probably deserve it. Benjimir! Come. We’re going to correct the thinking of your wayward commander,” the king said before storming down the corridor.

Benjimir stared at Arion as he glided past them. “Father, you have a meeting with your advisors. I shall address the commander; you must go to your meeting,” he said, trailing after his father.

Tari and Arion waited until they could hear them no more.

“King Celrin knows His Majesty well,” Arion quietly said. “Everything went exactly as he said it would.”

“Getting King Petyrr to pin down his son—it is a brilliant tactic. I did not know Crown Prince Benjimir ran the Honor Guard,” Tari nodded.

“He does. The King runs the army; the crown prince the Honor Guard. The latter is meant to prepare him for the former,” Arion said. “What I wonder at is the idea that King Celrin thought it a better plan to directly involve His Majesty rather than approach Crown Prince Benjimir alone.”

Tari was silent, even though Arion turned his eyes on her. Not yet. I’m not ready to face the Crown Prince yet.

Tari gleefully swung the small wicker basket Evlawyn lent her as she craned her neck to take in as much of the marketplace as possible.

Arion stood at her side, motioning for two of the Honor Guards to walk to the far end of the market. “Is it really that exciting?” he doubtfully asked.

“It is. It’s so noisy and bustling. Everybody wants to get someplace, and it’s chaotic and colorful and loud!” Tari said, her attention momentarily drawn away by a fruit vender.

Arion furrowed his eyebrows. “What are your markets like?”

“Very peaceful and quiet. Everyone moves like it’s a slow dance. When you’re purchasing things, there are certain phrases you use. You approach the venders; the venders do not try to get your attention.”

“That sounds more enjoyable than this,” Arion said, gesturing to the boisterous market.

“It’s very different. I love our elvish markets, but it’s so fun to experience a human market,” Tari said, leaving Arion’s side to investigate a stall of wax paper parasols.

Arion trailed after her, talking to Grygg—the leader of the patrol squad they were accompanying. “Two guards should patrol the gold and silver smith stalls. There is no need to linger there—they have their own hired guards—but have a different pair circle the bakery stalls. They’ve been popular targets for thieves lately,” Arion instructed.

“Yes, sir,” Grygg said before falling back.

“Everything is so exotic,” Tari said, moving from the parasol vender to a stall stuffed with silk scarves. “Our craftsmen never think to produce goods like this.”

Arion arched an eyebrow. “I imagine it is far beneath their dignity to produce such paltry items.”

Tari shot Arion a look before smiling to the scarf vender—who gaped at her—and moving on. “Mmm, you can smell the fruit and the baking bread!” Tari said in delight.

“And the refuse and stink of the unwashed,” Arion said. “One moment,” he added before disappearing behind a stall.

Grygg magically appeared in his absence, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face serious. (Tari could hardly believe this stoic guard was the same man who stood in her sitting room yesterday and sang to her—in falsetto—a drinking song. Tari’s speaking education had taken an interesting turn when the patrol leaders learned she wanted to know some of the less polite phrases to insult people with.)

Tari smiled at Grygg. The patrol leader gravely bowed to her before he surveyed the area, occasionally gesturing to his men.

Arion returned after a few minutes, his cape swirling behind him. He nodded to Grygg, who saluted before melting into the background.

Arion led the way out of the food stalls and back to the craftsmen.

“I think Evlawyn and I should come here for an afternoon. It’s very pleasant,” Tari said, barely avoiding crashing into Arion when he abruptly stopped.

“No,” Arion said.

“Pardon?”

“You will not return to the market without me.”

Tari bristled. “That’s unfair. It’s not dangerous here.”

“Tari, please,” Arion said, getting her attention. “You are correct. The marketplace is not normally dangerous—if one ignores the danger of losing one’s pocket money. However, you were attacked in the palace gardens. Anyone seeking to hurt you would have an easy time of it if you were to come here without guards.”

Tari sighed, seeing the wisdom in his words. After all, when it came to Calnorian humans, her normal defenses were forbidden. “Very well,” she agreed. Her attitude shifted when they entered a new row of venders. “How beautiful!” she said, admiring the work of the silver and gold smiths.

There was a stall with a craftsman who specialized in settings with opals. Another worked only with sterling silver. Another crafted animals from precious stones—jade, amber, and the like. The little animals had tiny jewel eyes and were carved to the smallest detail.

Tari admired the stalls—causing awe wherever she lingered. Although many elves occupied Haven, they did not often venture to the human markets as there was an elvish market on the opposite side of the city, making Tari something of a rarity.

Arion followed Tari, observing the humans that swarmed around them. “I do not understand,” he finally said. “I have seen you wear more finely forged jewelry and hair ornaments at tea time than what is on display here. Why the awe?”

Tari thoughtfully glanced at the craftsman and replied in human. “Admiring jewelry isn’t just about what is more pricey and costly. Look at this,” she said, gesturing to a tiny figurine of a mounted knight. “It’s beautiful, and it’s something we elves would never think of crafting. We are masters of our crafts, but that is probably because our styles do not change. We are not creatures of innovation. Our decorating style is the same now as it was a century ago. You humans are all about change and development. Everything is so new and fresh,” Tari said, moving to the next stall.

“Which may be why your craftsmen are still more skilled than ours,” Arion wryly said, walking past Tari. He stopped when he realized she hadn’t moved. “What?”

“What are these?” Tari asked in Calnoric, reaching out to touch the object in question.

The table was lined with beautiful flowers crafted of copper, hand-painted and set on golden sticks. There were clusters of pearl-pink cherry blossoms, sunrise-red roses the size of a thumbnail, tulips in vivid purples and sunshine yellows, swan-white chrysanthemums, tendrils of pale green ivy, and orchids ranging the tones of a sunset.

Arion blinked. “I believe they are hair ornaments. The stick is stabbed into the hair to anchor the flowers.”

“Why have I never seen them before?” Tari asked, her hand lingering on a vibrant orange orchid.

“The ladies of nobility no doubt think themselves above such cheap styles,” Arion dryly said.

“But they are so beautiful!” Tari gasped, jerking her head up to cast Arion a look of outrage.

Arion smiled slightly. “I did not say they are correct in their thinking.” He took a step forward and nodded to the vender—an elderly woman who was doing her best not to stare at Tari, and her young granddaughter who could not do anything except stare at Tari.

“Do you make these?” Tari asked the older woman, still speaking in Calnoric.

The grandmother inhaled and licked her cracked lips before replying. “Beggin’ your pardon my lady, no. My husband and son do.”

The granddaughter blinked, her mouth hanging open as she hinged her eyes on Tari.

“They are well made,” Tari said, wistfully running her hand across a row of miniature roses.

“Do you want one?” Arion asked.

“What? Oh no, I can’t,” Tari said, taking a step back from the stall, dropping her empty basket in the process.

Arion was already reaching into a pouch belted to his side. “Which one?” he asked, coins clinking in his hand.

“No, no. I could not possibly let you buy one for me. I should get it myself—,”

“You don’t have any human currency, do you?”

Tari avoided Arion’s eyes.

Arion took a step closer to Tari and reached out to take her hand in his gloved one. He squeezed it once, making Tari look up at him.

She knew she was a goner when she met his dark gaze.

“Which one?” Arion simply asked.

Tari shyly reached for a hair pin of three budding chrysanthemums clustered together. They were light pink, complimenting the soft blonde color of Tari’s hair.

Arion handed the money to the grandmother, who shook her head and said something in reply.

Generally Tari could understand human better when she was with Arion, but she was too captivated by her new hair ornament and Arion’s hand holding hers that she didn’t give the snippets of conversation much thought.

She was holding her new hair pin up to the sunlight when the grandmother laughed and finally took the coins.

Tari smiled at the grandmother and granddaughter, making the granddaughter drop the basket she was holding. “Thank you,” Tari said, holding up the flower stick before bending to reclaim her basket when Arion released her hand.

“Here, I’ll wrap it for you,” the granddaughter said in a rush of words, holding out a piece of cloth so thin it was nearly sheer.

Tari relinquished the flower stick, which the girl neatly and efficiently wrapped before passing it back to Tari with a clumsy curtsey.

Tari took the small package and slipped it in her basket before gravely returning the curtsey, making the little girl beam.

As Tari and Arion strolled away, Arion asked, “Whatever did you bring that basket for if you haven’t any money on you?”

“Evlawyn heard it is essential to take a basket to a human market in order to properly enjoy it,” Tari reported. “She was right.”

Arion exhaled deeply. “Just when I think you elves are all guile, you show off your innocent nature.”

“You enjoy it, and you know it,” Tari teased.

Arion shook his head, minutely amused, and made a hand gesture at four of the Honor Guards, redirecting them.

“Arion,” Tari said, reaching out to momentarily touch Arion’s arm, causing the captain to look at her. “Thank you,” Tari said with a pink blush. She squeezed his arm and leaned against it for a moment before moving on.

Tari spent most of the afternoon in the city with Captain Arion, observing the Honor Guards as they patrolled the area. They finished and started the journey back to the palace shortly before dusk. The Honor Guards were already gone—dismissed by Arion so they could make it to the mess hall for dinner.

“That was a refreshing afternoon,” Tari said as she and Arion wound their way up the lane that would lead to the palace gates. “But I have been wondering…What prompted the city patrol? Grygg’s patrol shift is in the morning. Why use him and his men for the afternoon?”

Arion shrugged. “You are unavailable in the mornings due to practice with Seer Ringali, and Grygg’s patrol is one of the best under my command. If I were to take you into the city, I wanted it to be with a competent squad.”

Tari smiled at the admission as the golden gate that opened into the palace grounds twinkled into view when they turned a corner. “Thank you. I am very glad we went.”

Arion nodded as they drew closer to the gates. He paused when distant shouts echoed behind them, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He glanced over his shoulder and jabbed a finger at Tari. “I’m going to check it out. Go to the gates, stand there, and wait there until I come back. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Tari watched Arion jog back in the direction they had just come from before she finished climbing the hill to the gold gates.

There were four soldiers posted—two on either side of the shut gates. The two on the palace side slipped through a side door into the city as the remaining two guards shifted, unsheathing their weapons.

“Oh, I am not coming through. Waiting,” Tari awkwardly said in Calnoric as she set her basket down.

“We know,” a guard said, extending his sword so the tip was aimed at Tari’s throat.

Tari stupidly stared for a moment before twisting around—intending to run away.

“Not so fast!” one of the guards grunted, lunging forward. He tackled her with a flying leap, landing on her legs when they crashed to the cobblestone street.

Tari tried to kick her legs free, but one of the other (fake, probably) soldiers was already on her, kneeing her between the shoulders to keep her pinned to the ground.

“Ah-ah-ah, lady elf. Not so fast. You would not want to break your precious vows, would you?” the (fake) soldier said, leering over Tari before shoving a cloth gag in her mouth.

Tari stilled for a moment. Humans don’t know much about Evening Stars. How on the Continent did he find out about our vows?

The (fake) soldiers tied Tari’s arms behind her back, taking care to also tie her feet together, before standing and slinging her over the shoulder of the biggest man among them. Clearly whoever sent them had learned from the previous attack.

Tari squirmed and raged behind her gag as she was carried into an alleyway. They turned corner after corner, but they were traveling in the direction of clanging swords and shouting. Tari fumed and wriggled as they moved into a small road that cut through dumpy houses.

Tari could see people, normal people not would be assassins, standing in the shadows; but when they met her eyes they turned and hurried away.

No one would help her.

Tari was set on the ground. A soldier steadied her as another of her kidnappers held a sword at the back of her neck.

Tari screamed—still muffled—when she saw Arion in the middle of the road, viciously fighting with half a dozen men. Although he was outnumbered, Arion was clearly getting the best of them.

“Captain Arion,” the kidnapper with the sword at Tari’s neck shouted. “If you value the life of your bond partner, you will stop fighting.”

Arion spun, parrying a blow to his right shoulder before he caught sight of Tari. He stilled and stared at her.

Tari yanked her head forward to shout at Arion, but the soldier steadying her grabbed her braided hair and pulled it taut, making her scalp prickle.

“What will it be captain? Cease fighting, or give up your partner?” the kidnapper smirked.

Tari choked on the rag when Arion dropped his sword. It hit the crumbling road with a metallic clang.

Tari’s eyes widened, and she yelled against the gag. Arion’s dark eyes were fastened on Tari as he braced himself for a blow from a mace aimed at his shoulder.

Tari’s thoughts raced as a captor pulled on her braid again.

No, no, no!

Tari inhaled deeply before folding her knees and crashing to the ground. The sword at her neck sliced through the braid of her hair like butter. Tari’s knees stung when she fell, jarring her horribly, but Tari had accomplished her goal.

The kidnapper holding her now severed braid used to have a small knife on his belt. It was now in Tari’s possession.

Tari expertly twirled the knife in her grip, her hands still behind her back, sawing through the rope before the soldiers could react. She lunged forward, planting her hands on the ground—the knife tucked beneath one of her palms—and lifted her legs up before whipping them around. The maneuver pulled the kidnappers’ legs out from under them, and they crashed to the ground. Tari cut through the rope on her ankles, pulled the gag out of her mouth, and rolled forward.

Free, Tari bounded across the road and leapt to a depilated counter stationed in front of an abandoned store. She jumped from the counter to the peak of a window sill and swung on top of the building.

The kidnappers lumbered after her, but by the time they reached the roof, Tari was already half a block down, nimbly springing from roof to roof.

“Are you sure you want to follow?” Tari hollered to them in human. “These roofs aren’t steady. I’m an elf; I’m light,” she said, jumping up and down to illustrate her point. “But you guys…you’re fat.”

As if her words were magic, the roof caved in. All four men shouted as they plummeted to the ground. A cloud of dust puffed up from the building, and they coughed and groaned from in the store.

“Wilford will be so proud to know I properly slighted someone,” Tari murmured before shifting her gaze to Arion.

The second Tari had freed herself, the limber captain dodged the mace blow and unsheathed his second sword, a short sword attached to his back and hidden by his cloak. He was blowing his whistle, making quick work of the men attacking him.

Attacker one was kicked in the chest and slammed into a building. Attackers two and three smashed into each other when Arion slid forward to avoid them. An elbow to the nose took out attacker four; attacker five was victim to a hilt in the back of the neck, and the man with the mace went down with a brutal head-butt.

Tari climbed off her perch and trotted to Arion’s side as the captain continued to blow his whistle. He eyed Tari up and down, his gaze lingering on her cut hair. “Any injuries?” he asked, pausing his blowing for a moment.

Tari shook her head and rubbed her arms as she shivered in the dusk air. “None. Although I want my basket back.”

Arion snorted and went back to blowing his whistle.

Later that evening, Tari sat on the settee in her sitting room, combing her hair as Arion finished speaking with several guards.

Evlawyn had just finished trimming Tari’s hair, evening it out so it did not looked so raggedly chopped. It felt curiously short and moved at the smallest gesture Tari made. The back was a great deal shorter than the front—which was barely long enough to touch her shoulders. Tari was a little shocked, as previously her hair fell roughly to her elbow, but at least it would be faster to style now.

The last of the Honor Guards shut the door, leaving Tari and Arion alone for the first time since the attack. (Already they had been interviewed by both kings, the Guard Commander, and a slew of army soldiers.)

“I am puzzled,” Tari announced as Arion sat next to Tari on the settee, the cushion sighing beneath him.

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Whom do we know who hates both of us this much?” Tari asked, gesturing broadly with her comb.

Arion tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Is Evlawyn here?”

“No. I told her to leave for the evening.”

Arion nodded before replying. “Crown Prince Benjimir.”

Tari snapped her neck and eyed the captain.

“Have you not noticed the unease he displays towards us?” Arion asked.

Tari was quiet for a moment and stared at the tea table in front of them. “I have,” she finally admitted. “I was hoping I was being paranoid. What has raised your suspicions?”

“His conduct with my transfer. It was no accident that King Celrin recommended we play our charade in front of the king and the prince. The Crown Prince said no one approached him about my transfer. That does not mean he was not the one who approached the commander about the transfer. What of you?”

Tari stared at the tea table some more, deep in thought. “He had you transferred the day after he realized I could speak Calnoric…and he doesn’t like it when I talk to My Crown Princess Yvrea.”

“Do you think he is the culprit behind the attacks?” Arion asked.

Tari shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I,” Arion said, drawing Tari’s attention.

“Why not?”

“Attempting to separate us is a very different idea than kidnapping an elf and beating a captain. For starters, if it was discovered, he risks his status. King Petyrr would not hesitate to exile him and crown his second eldest son as his heir. Although I’m not certain what merit there is in separating us.”

“His dislike of us has confused me as well,” Tari admitted. “But I can’t think of anyone else who would try to injure you and kidnap me. Surely not Queen Luciee?”

“No. She has even more to risk than Crown Prince Benjimir and cares less than he does. She is the social harpy and runs the courts on a leash. However, she always treats the elves with respect and honor. I do not think it to be in her character to harm you. Whoever it was has a crafty mind and a deep pocket. Hiring four men to impersonate gate guards is no small feat.”

“Who else could it be? It must be someone who knows elves, and they must be unhappy about something. What if it’s—,” Tari cut herself off as she stared at the far wall of her room. No. It couldn’t be. The idea is preposterous. It goes against everything in our nature…but don’t I go against our nature as well?

“Did you think of someone?” Arion asked.

“Perhaps,” Tari said, her voice soft. “But I cannot prove it yet.”

“You will tell me when you can?”

“I will…but Arion, this will be something I will take care of myself if my suspicion is correct. Do you understand?”

Arion pressed his lips together in a slight frown. “I don’t. But I will accept it,” he said before standing. “Do you want me to sleep in here tonight?”

Tari set her comb on the tea table before standing as well. “No, I don’t think it’s necessary. Thank you for the offer though,” she smiled, briefly hugging herself.

Arion raised a hand, which for once was not covered by a glove, to Tari’s hair. “I am sorry about your hair,” he quietly said, combing his hand through it.

Tari smiled. “It will grow back. Besides, it’s still long enough to use my new flower hair ornament.”

Arion did not return the smile as he tugged slightly on Tari’s much shortened locks. “I am glad you were not hurt,” he said.

Tari took a step closer to Arion so his arm did not have to stretch to reach her. “I am glad they didn’t hurt you. You were the one they almost hit with the mace.”

“Not really,” Arion said, sliding his free hand around Tari’s waist. “I knew you would escape,” he said, tilting his head lower.

Tari’s heart beat in her throat. “Oh? You have such faith in me?”

“Absolutely,” Arion said before slowly lowering the remaining distance and kissing Tari.

In spite of the great amount of time Arion gave her to pull away, Tari was still ill prepared for it.

It was warm and very…careful. There was no hesitation, and Arion certainly pressed against her lips with pressure, but the whole thing felt cautious.

Arion stopped playing with Tari’s hair and instead held the back of her neck, gently rubbing her jawbone with his thumb. It seemed to last forever, but Tari wasn’t sure as she was surprised beyond words and actions. Arion started to pull away, ending the kiss, and Tari tensed for the second before he eased his lips off hers.

Meek. His kiss felt meek. Not in the human sense of the word—not timid. More in the elvish sense, power under control. Because right before Arion pulled back, Tari got the same feeling she once did as a child when she played in a tiny stream while a huge, powerful damn held back a flood of water behind her.

As Tari opened her eyes, her heart resumed pounding, and she realized how much trouble she was in. First of all, Arion was obviously oblivious to elvish customs. Secondly, she could feel her emotions and feelings leaking out of her like a sieve.

There was little she could do to amend the first issue—especially now, the mortification!—but she could certainly try to control the second.

Tari kept her face a blank mask as she wrestled her renegade feelings into submission—attempting to ooze calmness. When she finally felt like she could look at him without her world twisting, Tari glanced at Arion, who was still holding her waist and neck.

Arion’s eyebrows were furrowed, the corners of his lips pulled down, and his eyes swirled like rainclouds in a downpour.

The captain was frowning, and Tari’s heart broke just a little.

“Sleep well,” Arion said, taking a step back and removing his hands from Tari. He turned on his heels and swirled out of the room, his cape billowing behind him, before Tari could utter a response.

The door clicked shut, and Tari blinked back a dusting of tears. “Mutt,” she muttered.

Chapter 8

Not a Lush

“You are looking very commanding this morning, My Lady,” Evlawyn carefully said as she poured a cup of breakfast tea for the irate Tari.

Tari was sitting primly on the settee, her back ramrod straight, her eyes thin slits of anger, her every gesture performed with angry elegance.

“That uncouth soldier boy is far too informal,” Tari snarled.

She spent most of the night containing her feelings or talking with King Celrin about the attack. Now that enough time had passed, Tari reasoned Arion would have no idea that her raging emotions were a result of last night.

“What did the captain do?” Evlawyn asked. “When I took my leave last night, everything was fine.”

Tari clicked her mouth shut and bought herself time by sipping her tea.

It was true that the elves were in many ways more affectionate that humans. Linking arms, hugging, and general contact were a baseboard in the elvish culture. Generally, elves were considered the more touchy-feely race. But Tari knew—as Arion had once grumbled—that her culture also consisted of beings that were more innocent than humans.

Kissing was a perfect example. Before last night, Tari had been vaguely aware that humans had different rules in regard to that display of affection. At least, they must, because in elvish culture kissing on the lips was not even thought of until one was engaged. It was viewed as an intimate expression that would be reserved for your one life partner.

Obviously this was not so for the humans.

Tari finally had an inkling of what Arion was referring to by a ruined reputation because she knew this kiss was not something she could tell Evlawyn.

“He, just. He…,” Tari stumbled for a moment. “He happened to—he was ill-mannered!”

Evlawyn heaved her eyes to the ceiling. “My Lady, we have already established that Captain Arion is not the brightest in terms of social rules. I thought you agreed to overlook that particular flaw of his.”

“It still annoys me,” Tari stewed over her tea, taking a sip before gesturing for Evlawyn to sit with her.

Evlawyn shook her head in amusement. “You will forgive him,” she predicted as she sat down.

“By the heavens, I hope not,” Tari said before shifting her weight and placing her tea cup on the tea tray. “Evlawyn, would you mind delivering two letters to Seer Ringali for me?”

“Certainly, My Lady,” Evlawyn said, bowing her head.

“Evlawyn, this is not a task as simple as it sounds,” Tari said, pulling the letters out from underneath the settee cushion. “No one can know you are giving him this,” she said, passing them over.

Evlawyn took it, her eyes widening at the seal stamped on the back. “That’s Our King Celrin’s—,” she gaped, cutting herself off.

“It is. The letter should allow Seer Ringali access to Haven’s dungeon,” Tari grimly said. “The men from the first assault against me are still imprisoned, and the humans have proved unable to remove information from them. Seer Ringali will provide a proper incentive to make them speak.”

Evlawyn swallowed sharply. “If Our King Celrin is involved then…,” she trailed off, unwilling to speak.

“Yes,” Tari acknowledged. “The one who initiated these attacks is an elf. That is why it is crucial we act now.”

Evlawyn stood and bowed—a gesture markedly more powerful than her usual curtsey. “Seer Ringali shall receive the letters, My Lady. And no one will know who sent them.”

“I was surprised to read your suspicions,” Seer Ringali said as he and Tari walked together, arms linked, in the gardens.

“And?” Tari asked.

Seer Ringali glanced behind them, keeping his body language carefree as he replied. “You are correct. The prisoners spilled their souls about it before I was able to expound on the fragility of the human spine.”

Tari sighed deeply and shut her eyes in pain. “I did not think he was capable of such a thing.”

“We were foolish to bind him in the first place. He was an Evening Star candidate once, did you know that? In the end, we passed over him because he did not display enough loyalty to humans,” Seer Ringali said, using a wax paper parasol to push aside a bush branch. “You will challenge him?”

Tari’s eyes popped open as her anger returned. “I will. He will be taught a lesson.”

Seer Ringali nodded. “I am, naturally, one of your seconds. We are ornamental in your case but still necessary by principle. You will let me know when you challenge him?”

“I will,” Tari agreed as they emerged at the end of Rosewood Park.

“You will tell your wolf man,” Seer Ringali ordered more than said. “He deserves to be informed of the situation. He deserves to observe the duel.”

Tari glanced at her teacher. “If he observes, he’ll know the whole truth of the Evening Stars.”

Seer Ringali waggled his umbrella before giving the cherry blossom pattern on it a disgusted sneer. “We Evening Stars have never hid. Ever. The humans have merely refrained from asking about us. I think it would be for the better if they knew.”

Tari slightly bowed her head as the pair stopped.

“I must be off. I am due to call on King Celrin and further discuss this issue,” Seer Ringali said, adjusting the wide sleeves of his robes.

“I must admit; I’m surprised you have not left for Gloria yet,” Tari said.

Seer Ringali studied the sky for a moment. “I planned to leave earlier, but that pesky human crown prince has been enquiring with great eagerness when I will be departing. I would never do anything to please such a tiny fish, so I’ve resolved to stay longer,” Seer Ringali dropped his gaze to Tari. “When I spoke to him last week, he seemed especially intent that I take you with me when I left.”

“Arion is already aware of the suspicious actions of Crown Prince Benjimir,” Tari said.

Seer Ringali nodded in approval. “Excellent. It is best if you let your dog do some of the work. He is too well trained to be wasted. Good day to you, student. I shall see you tomorrow,” Seer Ringali said before taking his leave and sweeping back into the gardens.

Tari considered following Seer Ringali, but she didn’t feel like mincing with polite society just yet. The betrayal of another elf cut her deeply to the point of making her nauseous, and her anger with Arion still boiled in the back of her mind.

The park ended in a hill, which stood directly in front of the barracks, training grounds, and mess hall for the Haven Honor Guards. Tari took a moment to squint up at the sky. It was early afternoon—she had all evening to challenge the betrayer. Perhaps a visit to Grygg, Thad, and Wilford would brighten her spirits.

Tari trooped down the hill with the intent of finding the mess hall, where she knew the three patrol leaders would be eating a late lunch.

The grounds swirled with Honor Guards in their pristine uniforms. They cast odd looks at her, occasionally glancing at her tapered ears that peeked out from behind her hair, but no one stopped Tari as she followed the scent of food.

Tari sneezed when she found a large building that smelled heavily of beer and gravy. She cautiously looked inside—vaguely aware of two fretting Honor Guards trailing behind her. They belonged to Arion’s squad, if she remembered correctly.

Grygg, Thad, and Wilford were inside, finishing up what looked like meat swimming in gravy but was probably supposed to be a stew.

Tari could feel one of the Honor Guards behind her working up the courage to speak to her—probably to ask her to leave—so she slid inside the building before he opened his mouth. “Grygg, I want to learn another drinking song,” Tari announced in Calnoric as she approached their table.

The men were caught completely off guard. Wilford actually spat out his drink, and Grygg choked. Thad was the only one calm enough to speak. “Good afternoon, Lady Tari. I believe you are early for our regularly scheduled appointment,” he mildly said.

“I want to learn a drinking song,” Tari said.

“Yes, so you mentioned. However, I think it would be best if we continued with your lessons in your quarters. The Honor Guard facilities are hardly meant for a lady of your status.”

“You aren’t listening,” Tari said, reaching down to pluck Wilford’s pint from his numb hands. “I want to learn a drinking song. I want to DRINK!”

Wilford rescued his mug. “With all due respect, Lady Tari, this is hardly the place for you to indulge in alcohol.”

Tari snorted. “Nothing will happen. I could drink the three of you under the bench.”

“Under the table,” Grygg helpfully piped in. A small crowd of guards was amassing around the table, fascinated with the shouting elf.

Wilford shot Grygg a sharp look, and Thad attempted to further reason with her. “But you don’t like alcohol. You complained bitterly of human wines during one of our teas, remember?”

Tari—to the patrol leaders’ horror—sat on a bench, sliding her legs under the table. “I hate human wines because they taste as appealing as radishes. Beer, mead, ale, all of those we drink at home in Lessa.”

“A drinking song is a far different thing than sipping a cup’o beer at home, Lady Tari,” Grygg said, leaning across the table to address her. The guards around them murmured in agreement.

Tari inhaled and briefly shut her eyes. When she looked at Grygg again, the force of her gaze made him plop down in his seat. “Let me put it this way: if you do not get me a mug of beer, as many mugs as I desire, I will go into the city of Haven alone, without Arion to drink. And when your captain finds me, I will tell him I told you my plan before carrying it out,” Tari said with a chilly smile.

Grygg bolted from the bench. “Somebody get this lady a drink!” he shouted.

Wilford studied Tari over the rim of his cup. “Something bothering you, Lady Tari?” he asked.

Tari placed her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes with a groan. “Yes.”

Wilford and Thad exchanged looks before nodding. “Right then, a drink or two may help calm your nerves,” Wilford said.

“Only a drink or two, though,” Thad added, scowling darkly at his fellow guards that were jostling each other as they crowded around the table. “And no one tells the Captain!”

The guards sang out a chorus of affirmatives. One nearest to Tari plopped down on the bench next to her. “He won’t find out. How much alcohol can one elf drink?”

“We are in big trouble,” Grygg said to Thad as they watched Tari chug a pint.

“We’re dead,” Thad agreed as Tari’s opponent gave up, gasping for breath.

Tari kept chugging.

“Guards keep coming in. The Captain is going to find out,” Wilford said, staring at the collection of mugs placed next to Tari. All of them were hers.

Thad rubbed the back of his head. “Did anyone know elves were big drinkers?”

A fellow off-duty guard laughed. “You mean you didn’t know?”

Thad, Grygg, and Wilford turned to the guard with murder in their eyes.

The guard defensively added, “What, haven’t you stood on duty in any of the state banquets? Those elves can drink for hours without so much as a hiccup or stammer. Buddy of mine who serves under a bonded earl said the elves have more festivals and feasts than we do—and they drink at all of them ‘til sunrise.”

Grygg, Thad, and Wilford looked back at Tari with horror. She finished her mug with a satisfied smirk and slammed it on the creaking table.

“Who’s next?” the blonde elf demanded.

Guards clamored to go against her.

“I hope it’s a myth.”

“It must be a myth.”

“Do you reckon we can charge for going head-to-head with her?”

Thad and Wilford glared at Grygg.

“What?” Grygg grumbled, shrugging slightly before taking a mouthful of his ale. “We might as well make a spot of money for our troubles.”

Thad and Wilford returned their attention to Tari.

“How can we make her stop?” Thad asked.

“Out-drink her, maybe,” Wilford suggested. “She’s a female. She can’t possibly drink more than us.”

“Your captain is a total—what’s a good insult, Grygg? A kill joy,” Tari emphatically said, banging her beer on the table.

“Oh, is he ever,” Thad violently nodded.

“One little joke about queen Luciee’s prissy face, and you’re out of his good graces forever,” Grygg grumbled, barely audible above the ruckus raised around them. He took a mouthful of his ale and tipped his mug too far back, splashing alcohol on his uniform. “And he doesn’t even like the queen,” Grygg complained, brushing off his uniform.

“He said,” Wilford started, his voice high-pitched and emotional from the alcohol consumption. “If I ever walked into his office without knocking again, he would demote me to guarding the Calnor borders of the Dreadfelv Desert! Like I wanted to see him accosting Lady Tari,” Wilford complained.

“He’s so, so pigheaded,” Tari said. “Did I use that right?”

“Beautifully,” Grygg said, making the gesture for “perfectly ripe.”

“A royal pompous—,” Wilford started.

“No, no,” Thad interrupted with a nervous giggle. “Even with beer to fortify me, I don’t have the courage to teach Lady Tari swear words. I’d wet myself the next time the Captain looked at me.”

“Swear words?” Tari asked with growing curiosity.

“Oh good gog, look what you’ve done now,” Wilford complained.

“How about another drinking song?” Grygg suggested.

“Yes! Yes!” Tari cheered.

“Hurrah,” Wilford said, splashing mead.

“Make it a funeral song,” Thad suggested. “We’re all dead men anyway.”

Tari was contemplating the remaining mouthfuls of mead in her mug when Arion blew into the mess hall. Tari adjusted her feet, which were propped up on the back of a soldier snoozing under the table, and saluted Arion with her mug. “Good afternoon, Arion,” she greeted.

Arion’s eyes were icy flints as his gaze traveled down the table. Tari was the only upright person in the area. Most of the off-duty guards were slumped across the table top, passed out on the benches, or unconscious and on the ground.

“What is going on?” Arion barked, his voice thunderous.

“We,” Tari said with a wide, sweeping gesture, “are having a resounding good drinking hour. Time. Day,” she said, setting her mug down and nudging it to join a large cluster of mugs in front of her.

“That ssssneaky elf,” Grygg said, blinking hard to concentrate as he picked his upper body off the table. “She can drink.”

“She’s the tolerance of a keg master,” Wilford groaned into his elbow from his position on the bench.

Arion narrowed his eyes as he studied Tari. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk. Maybe fuzzy, but not drunk. We elves tend to sing horribly when we’re drunk. I was pitch-perfect at my last song. Ask anyone who’s not sleeping.” Tari nodded before adding. “You’re not well trained like Seer Ringali thinks you are. You’re too, too, too—!” she finished, reaching for a new, filled mug. “I can’t think of the word in Calnoric. Which is a shame because you humans have better insults.” Arion pulled the mug out of Tari’s grasp, ignoring her feeble “Hey!”

Arion then turned to his men—some of who were quickly gaining sobriety in the presence of their captain. “You all—” he began, his voice as warm as a winter storm.

“Will clean up this embarrassing spectacle of debauchery, gluttony, and failure of discipline,” Tari paused, blinking rapidly. “I have no idea what I just said,” she declared.

Arion stared at Tari for a few moments. The normally controlled elf smiled sheepishly at him, her hair charmingly disheveled. He bent over and whisked her off her bench, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

“Arion!” Tari complained, pounding a fist on his back.

Arion ignored her and pinned his morning patrol leaders in place. “Clean up this embarrassing spec—just clean it up. We will review your conduct tomorrow morning,” he said before leaving the mess hall. His exit struck fear into the hearts of his men and was not at all hampered—perhaps it was even complemented—by the tousled elf complaining on his shoulder.

“—always serve disgusting wine, never serve any halfway decent beer or ale. It would make state events a lot more interesting if they at least served mead. By the stars above, no wonder the majority of your royalty have pinched expressions. They’ve probably never had a decent pint of ale in their lives,” Tari rambled, making the switch to Elvish as Arion strode through the training grounds.

The sun cast brilliant hues across the sky as it considered setting. Tari had been in the mess hall longer than she thought.

“Your mouth is unhinged when you are hit in the head and when you’ve consumed too much alcohol. Is talking excessively your reaction to most things?” Arion asked. He didn’t take the garden route and instead followed the worn paths the guards took on their way to the palace.

“I talk altogether too much, according to Seer Ringali. When he first took me on as a Ringali, he called me a whining kitten gifted with remarkable volume,” Tari said, grunting when Arion bumped her higher up his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“To your room.”

“That’s pretty boring.”

“You deserve to be chained there for a fortnight.”

“That’s not fair. I stayed in the palace grounds, and I was surrounded by Honor Guards. I was not being unsafe!” Tari said, choking again when Arion jostled her once more. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused.

“I would never,” Arion said in a flat, unpersuasive tone.

Tari grumbled under her breath for the remainder of the trip

When Arion finally set her down inside her sitting room, she stumbled once—more from being carried half upside down than from the alcohol. “Explain,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Explain what?” Tari asked, elegantly folding onto her settee. She cast a curious glance around. Where was Evlawyn?

“Why were you suddenly ignited with the desire to drink yourself into a stupor?”

“I am not in a stupor.”

“Tari.”

Tari sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I know who commissioned the attacks on us. On me.”

Arion shifted but did not say anything.

“It’s an elf,” Tari quietly admitted.

“Impossible,” Arion said.

“No, it’s not. I have proof, and I know who it is.”

“You have consumed too much alcohol and are hallucinating. Tari, your people are not warriors. You do not attack each other.”

“You don’t know everything about us Arion. It was an elf!” Tari shouted, throwing her hands into the air.

Tari and Arion glared at each other.

“You are—,” Arion muttered under his breath.

“I am not a lush! ….What is a lush anyway?”

Arion eyed Tari. “How did you know I was going to say that? You did it earlier, too.”

Tari gestured widely between herself and Arion. “I didn’t know. I just feel our connection and new human words spill into my vocabulary. I yank words off you. What’s a lush?”

“Yank words?” Arion asked with a frown.

“It’s like they’re swimming out there, and I can just…borrow them. It’s only fair that I can do something. It’s not as bad as reading emotions, although in general it might be more useful,” Tari said as she stood up.

Arion watched her waltz inside her bedroom, only to return to the settee with a glass inkwell and several sheets of smooth elf paper. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to write letters to my seconds since you won’t tell me what a lush is. Would you be one? A second I mean.”

“A second?”

“In elvish duels—which are about as rare as a real phoenix—one party challenges the other. Both elves get to have up to 14 but no less than four seconds. The seconds can fight with you, if you need them. I won’t need you, but it would be nice if you came.”

“You cannot be thinking of dueling this renegade elf.” Arion said, unfolding his arms with a frown.

“It’s my right. As the dishonored party, I challenge him. He has no choice but to accept, even though he knows he’s going to be slaughtered,” Tari mildly said as she slipped a quill out from between the papers.

“And who exactly is this renegade elf?”

Tari mutely mended her quill.

Arion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are stubbornly foolish. Very well, I am free to join the fray if you need help?”

“You are.”

“Fine,” Arion snapped. “I will be one of your seconds. Send me notice of the details. You are being a foolish prat, Tarinthali. I expected better of you. Good evening,” Arion said before storming out of the room, firmly shutting the door behind him.

Tari looked up from her quill. “He said my name right,” she mused.

The following evening, Tari, shrouded in a black cloak, glided through a small garden with Evlawyn at her side. Together, they approached a crumbling stone structure—the only building in the entire palace that was near ruin.

Seer Ringali and Arion were already there. Tari’s teacher lounged on silk cushions, opening and closing a wax paper parasol. Arion was chewing something—probably a Berry Drop given to him by Seer Ringali based on the open pouch at Seer Ringali’s knee.

“Behold, the late disciple finally arrives. Welcome. I’ve been attempting conversation with your dog. He’s quite schooled in gestures,” Seer Ringali said as Tarinthali and Evlawyn entered the building. (If it could be called that.)

“I thought you said you needed at least four seconds,” Arion said when he finished the drop, his voice chilly with disapproval. He clinked when he shifted. If Tari had to hazard a guess, the captain was probably strapped with as many weapons as he could carry.

He was going to be in for a shock.

“Kiva is escorting My King Celrin. They aren’t but a moment behind us,” Tari said, folding her arms beneath her cloak.

Arion’s eyebrows shot upwards. “You invited your king to be your second?”

“I did mention my seconds would be ornamental. Moreover, it was his requirement. I am allowed to duel the betrayer because My King Celrin will be present, representing elvish law,” Tari said.

Arion turned to Evlawyn, gesturing “Lady,” “crazy,” and “stop.”

Evlawyn shook her head and bowed to Tari, backing away until she was stationed behind Seer Ringali.

“Tarinthali Ringali.”

Tari turned—her cloak swishing around her—and bent into a curtsey. “My King Celrin,” she said. Behind her, Seer Ringali stood and bowed with Arion; Evlawyn curtsied further back.

King Celrin nodded as Kiva and a translator scurried to join Tari. The elvish ruler carried the Sword of Kings—representing the past and present Kings of Lessa—and a white staff covered in swirls and figures—representing elvish law. “Good evening to you all,” he said.

The translator—a human, probably brought by King Celrin in a gesture of thoughtfulness to Arion—retreated to Arion’s side, whispering in his ear.

Kiva wiped her puffy eyes, clearly she had been crying since she received Tari’s letter that morning. “Good luck! I’m sorry, Tarinthali,” she said before going to pay her respects to Seer Ringali.

King Celrin gazed at the far end of the crumbling stone building. A group of roughly ten elves had assembled there. “The betrayer is here,” he said, coming to stand next to Tari.

“Yes,” Tari agreed, staring at her opponents.

King Celrin glanced down at Tari. “Words cannot describe my regrets over this matter, Tarinthali. I am sorry you are carrying this burden for us.”

Tari shook her head. “Fighting is not a burden for an Evening Star, My King Celrin.”

“Of that I am aware,” King Celrin said as he started to glide away from her, staff extended. “But fighting an opponent you love is a weighty load, even for an Evening Star.”

King Celrin took up a position between the two parties. The other elves were too far away to distinguish individual faces, but they were within shouting distance. King Celrin cleared his throat before trumpeting in lilting Elvish, “Tonight, a challenger and a defender will engage in battle according to the laws of our ancestors and cousins, the High Elves. This is a night of sorrow, for the elves of Lessa never glorify the shedding of blood.”

The translator spoke to Arion, rapidly translating the elf king’s words as Tari stood alone and scuffed her feet on the surprisingly smooth rock floor.

“The duel was delivered by the challenger, who has proof that she has been wrongfully harmed by the defender. This duel, in accordance with elvish law, allows the challenger to seek retribution against the defender, to deliver the loss the challenger has felt. I stand, not only representing the kings who have come before me, but elvish law, which has never changed. This duel will be both judgment and punishment on the defender for his crimes of intending to harm Tarinthali Ringali. After this duel, Tarinthali Ringali will have no claim on her oppressor, although the elvish throne will. Challenger, you may begin at will,” King Celrin finished. His voice was surprisingly booming.

Tari walked towards her opponents, passing King Celrin as he retreated back to her half of the building. When she was roughly where King Celrin had stood, Tari stopped.

“This is madness,” Arion muttered.

Seer Ringali, not able to understand Arion’s words but correctly guessing the general feeling behind them, smacked Arion in the head with his closed parasol. “Tell this guard dog to muzzle himself and to watch my warrior student,” he said to the translator, although his eyes never moved from Tari.

The defender’s seconds clustered together, swallowing as Tari stared at them.

“Talon,” Tari said. “Show yourself.”

Kiva began crying anew, and Arion took a step forward. The betrayer was his brother’s bond partner? Tari’s cousin?

Talon emerged from his seconds, white-faced but grim.

“Why did you do it?” Tari asked.

“What, Seer Ringali wasn’t able to torture it out of your attackers?” Talon said, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

“The hired thugs said you offered no reason, only that you paid them well.”

Talon harshly laughed before he replied, his voice hollow as it echoed in the decaying building. “I was doing it for you. It’s because you deserved better than to be matched to a mere captain.”

“Do not lie,” Tari growled. Her voice echoed oddly, as if there were a second voice mixed with hers. “You would not have specifically sought out men of Calnor, knowing my vows kept me from unleashing my magic on them because you were offended on my behalf. You would not have attempted to hurt me if it were as you say. Do not pretend this is about me, Talon.”

Tari’s cousin shifted. “Fine,” he spat. “It was because I could not stand it. We have been tied to a back-water family the human royals are trying to shun. We have been shamed. I am ashamed.”

“The petty human fights mean nothing to us, Talon.”

“Of course they don’t. We’re superior; it’s why we shouldn’t have been bonded in the first place. Humans are trying to use us in their fights! That is unforgiveable!”

“And kidnapping a relative is so much better?” Tari asked, her words closing down on Talon like a steel trap.

“You don’t understand,” Talon growled.

“You are wrong. I understand perfectly. I understand that you are nothing but an angry elf, scrambling for an excuse to shift the blame off yourself. But that is not how our culture works, cousin. Regardless of your outlandish excuse, we are here to settle things,” Tari said.

“Then let’s settle things,” Talon snapped, unsheathing a sword.

“Foolish, foolish imbecile,” Seer Ringali muttered, twirling his parasol. “It’s not wise to welcome the tool of your destruction into action.”

“What?” Arion asked after the translator whispered the translation to him.

Seer Ringali pointed to Tari before executing the gesture for “watch.”

Chapter 9

Evening Star

Tari reached up and unclasped the latch of her cloak, which slid off her like water. She was wearing what looked like her Evening Star practice uniform. But where that was black, this was completely white—except for the black gloves and boots—and was made of the same slinky material.

What mostly consumed Arion, though, was the way Tari moved. It was different. She didn’t glide or prance as she usually did, she stalked. Her sauntering gait reminded Arion of a snow cat—one of the most vicious predators on the Continent.

Talon and his seconds were clearly afraid of her, even though they stood together, weapons extended, outnumbering her eleven to one.

Tari cracked her fingers as she walked before snapping her arms out. Layers of light formed along her arms, creating a curved blade of sheer light that followed the lines of her muscles.

The Evening Star abruptly spun, sweeping one leg out and kneeling down as she turned before popping up. The glowing blades hummed and emitted waves of light that crackled in the air like lightning.

Tari’s Evening Star magic was nothing like the elvish enchanters. Arion thought it would be soft and glowing. Instead it was sleek, deadly, and as solid as a sword blade.

The hair on the back of Arion’s neck stood on end as Tari closed in on Talon. She was going to slaughter them.

Talon yelled and lashed out at Tari. Tari held up her left arm, and the sword shattered against her blade of light. In the same smooth movement, she slammed her right arm into Talon’s stomach.

The blade of light on that arm crackled, and Talon was sent hurtling through the air. He slammed into a stone pillar with a crunch. He hit the ground with a scream of pain, and his seconds panicked.

Two tried to jump Tari. She pushed her arms out, smashing them with her light blades, and they too were sent flying.

Some of the seconds dropped their weapons and started running. Others shouted as Tari preyed upon them. Whenever she moved, a second would go flying. She caught every one of them, throwing them into the nearest wall, pillar, or the ground.

Tari turned in a circle, looking at the havoc, but she wasn’t done yet. Circles of light pooled around her on the ground before stretching out. They looked like ornamental etchings in the ground, except they were made of pure light and constantly moved with Tari at the center of their orbit.

The circles of light extended until they touched the ground beneath Talon and all ten of his seconds. Tari slammed her right foot into the ground, and the circles exploded in flares of light. Talon and his seconds screamed, and the building shook under the crackling pressure of elvish magic.

A pillar collapsed as the light faded, and Tari slammed her foot down again. The light exploded farther, lapping up the crumbled walls like waves in an ocean.

Tari sauntered through the blinding light, stepping over a screaming second like he was rubble.

The light faded as Tari stood in front of Talon, who was crumpled against the ground. She swooped down—her hands glowing white, and latched onto Talon’s throat, lifting him up by his neck.

Although he was taller than her and stood—drooping—on his feet, Talon choked and gasped for air. Tari held his neck like an iron clamp. Her magic occasionally crackled and fizzed like a firecracker.

Talon raised his hand, which was faintly glowing, and grappled for Tari’s face. Tari mercilessly caught his arm with her free hand. Her white magic hissed as it traveled from Tari to Talon, shocking him until the air smelled of singed hair and flesh.

The difference between the two made a stark contrast.

Talon was a Lesser Elf. His magic was soft and glowing—it had no bite. Looking at Tari, Arion had a new understanding for the legends of the High Elves. Her magic was tempered for war and killing.

Previously, Arion had always thought of her as being soft. Soft butter-blonde hair, soft eyes, soft smiles. The Tarinthali Ringali before him had the softness of a man-eating snow cat—claws and fangs cloaked in luxurious fur. Her eyes were hard and unblinking, even as she held her cousin by the throat and he screamed.

Talon howled. Tari stared at him as she adjusted her grip, turning up the power of her magic.

She was playing with him, stretching him to his breaking point.

Arion started walking towards Tari.

Seer Ringali thrust his parasol in front of Arion, and Arion faced the sudden realization that Seer Ringali’s ridiculous accessories were bladed weapons in disguise.

The point of the parasol was a muted copper color, which made people naturally turn their eyes from the dangerous knife tip. The edges were the same copper color—which matched the bird pattern on the wax paper—but they were razor sharp. The edges were metal fashioned so thinly, it could make a cut cleaner than a dagger.

Seer Ringali was also a wolf in a sheep’s fleece.

“Not necessary,” Seer Ringali signed.

“She’ll kill him,” Arion said, pointing to Talon.

Tari had thrown her cousin into a wall and pinned him there with daggers of crackling light magic.

Seer Ringali spoke, but Arion did not understand it.

“It’s her right,” the translator said, almost forgotten in the horrible spectacle. “As the challenger, she can administer any punishment she likes in this duel. Talon knew of the rules before he attacked her, just as he knew of her power.”

“I don’t care if it’s her right,” Arion said, pushing the parasol away. “If she kills him, she’ll lose a part of herself. That slime is not worth Tari’s pain,” Arion said before he started running, leaving the translator to speak to Tari’s ornamental seconds.

As Arion ran, Tari removed her attention from Talon. She cocked her head as she watched Talon’s seconds flee. She narrowed her eyes and raised her right arm, sweeping it across her body in a snapping motion.

The light blade on her right arm boomed like a firework, and a thin wave of light burst from the blade, growing bigger and brighter as it zoomed away from Tari. When the curved light hit the seconds, it burned like elvish sparklers, hissing sparks and smoke. The elves were thrown to the ground like rag-dolls.

Satisfied, Tari turned back to Talon, planting one of her light blades at his neck. Tears leaked from Talon’s eyes; a sob caught in his throat.

“Tari,” Arion said, slowing down as he drew close to her. “Tari,” he repeated.

Tari turned to face him, and Arion felt his heart stop as he came face to face with what remained of the High Elves on the Continent. Tari had no lightness to her. There was no indication on her marble masked face of her normal humor and quick grin. The elf that stared at Arion was one hardened by blades and blood.

This is still Tari.

Arion ground his teeth before he forced himself to take a step forward. “Tari, enough. You have proven your point.”

Tari glanced over her shoulder to study Talon. Talon violently trembled, snot and tears dripping from his face.

“I don’t think I have,” Tari said, twisting her body in a predator-way that seemed so wrong as she turned to Talon.

“Tari,” Arion said.

Tari ignored him and flexed her arms, making her light blades crackle in hunger.

Arion reached out and grabbed Tari by the shoulder, yanking her backwards.

“What—,” Tari hissed.

Before she could finish her sentence, Arion pulled Tari until her back was flush against chest. He clamped both of his hands over her eyes and leaned forward so he spoke directly into Tari’s tapered, twitching ear. He was so close, his lips almost brushed her ear.

“It’s enough, Tari. I am sorry that I made you carry this burden. I did not know. Words cannot describe my regret, but Tari, I am here now, and I want to understand,” he said.

Tari’s seconds strained forward in interest as they watched the spectacle. They could not hear Arion’s words, but the affect of them were evident on Tari.

Her shoulders shook, and she bit her lip. She nodded, and Arion continued to whisper to her. “I am sorry for the things I said, for the things I did not ask. I didn’t want to pry into your life, so I avoided asking you about being an Evening Star. It was my mistake. But you do not want to kill Talon. I know your heart, and I know you still love your cousin, even now. That’s why this is enough. Do not force yourself to do more.”

When he leaned away, still sheltering her eyes, Tari shivered as badly as Talon. She twisted in Arion’s arms, hiding her face in his shoulder as her glowing weapons disintegrated.

Arion carefully picked her up, hooking his arms behind her knees and just below her arms.  He carried Tari back to her seconds. The daggers of light that held Talon in place evaporated when Arion reached King Celrin.

Talon fell to the ground with a painful splat, still shaking and crying.

Arion inclined his head to King Celrin. “She is the victor. Is there anything that needs to be said?” he asked, still carrying Tari.

Everyone was quiet for a moment before the translator remembered himself and rushed to translate Arion’s words.

“No,” King Celrin said.

When the translator informed Arion of this, the captain bowed.

“Arion,” Tari said, her voice muffled but urgent.

Arion started walking, covering distance as fast as he could, ignoring the odd looks Tari’s seconds were giving them.

He hopped over the remains of a crumbling wall (Tari’s magic had not done the building any favors) and hurried through the gardens.

He got Tari to a pond before the elf dry heaved, gasping and choking as her stomach churned.

When Tari’s vomiting subsided, Arion pressed a damp handkerchief to her forehead.

“Thank you,” Tari said, sagging into Arion in relief.

Arion curled an arm around her. “Welcome.”

Arion offered her his strength through his silence as she leaned against him, moving only to dampen the cloth in the pond when necessary.

Talon and his seconds were removed from the building and attended to by the time Tari stirred.

“Thank you,” Tari repeated, offering him the cloth.

Arion nodded.

“You have questions?” Tari guessed, inhaling shakily before smiling.

Arion nodded again.

“Ask away.”

“Evening Stars are not dancers.”

“We are, and we are not. We perform as dancers during festivals and for shows—for no other elves can display the physical prowess we have—but that is something we do to lighten our hearts.”

“What is an Evening Star?”

Tari leaned back on her hands. “I wondered if you would ever ask me this question. Seer Ringali and I talked for hours about how I might best explain it. Simply put, Evening Stars are the only armed forces Lessa possesses, but we are meant for only one kind of enemy.”

“Who?”

“High Elves,” Tari said. Her gaze was cold as she stared across the pond.

“What?”

“Your people may believe High Elves are forever gone from the Continent, but we Lesser Elves know better. Before they left, the High Elves promised to return, and High Elves always see their oaths through.”

“I don’t understand…why would you need to kill High Elves?” Arion said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“For your sake.”

Arion removed his hand and stared at Tari.

“For the sake of the men of Calnor,” Tari amended. “Since the beginning, the High Elves have been hardened towards mankind,” Tari said before she twisted to gesture at the palace behind them. “High Elves are a proud race; the idea of Nodusigm would disgust them. Even if it is Calnor that is doing us a great honor by protecting Lessa from outsiders… if the High Elves return, they would see it as men setting themselves above us. And they would wipe you out.”

“And you would fight back? You’ve told me before, there are roughly a hundred Evening Stars in your country. That is barely a squad, much less an army,” Arion said, shifting to a crouch.

Tari shook her head. “You think too honorably. The point of the Evening Stars is not that we are combat troops, but assassins.”

Arion blinked and shook his head.

“We would strike the High Elves before they saw you. If we killed the leaders and massacred the troops, the High Elves would listen to us. They would be angry with us, yes, but it would make them realize they are entering our Continent now, and that things are not what they used to be.”

“That’s why Evening Stars are found in port cities, isn’t it? So you can react quickly.”

Tari nodded.

“How. How can you fight? Everyone knows Lesser Elves cannot stomach weapons, much less battles.”

“Ah, now that is the catch. Lesser Elves cannot. As you know, Lesser Elves are cousins of a sort to High Elves. Mostly, we are the offspring of High Elves and men. In most of our population, we’ve become a race of our own. But in some of our bloodlines, the blood of the High Elves runs thicker.”

“…The Royal Family.”

Tari inclined her head. “Indeed, almost all Evening Stars are related to the royal family. Seer Ringali is King Celrin’s direct cousin. I am also a distant member of the Royal Family.”

“So is Kiva, and Talon. Why aren’t they Evening Stars?”

“To be an Evening Star, there are three requirements. First of all, you must display more traits of High Elves than Lesser Elves. Think of me: what is odd about me compared to most elves?”

“You return slights. You fight. You perceive human arguments and seek to finish them rather than ignore them. You are socially perceptive.”

“In other words, I am more cunning, ruthless, and blood-thirsty than other elves, like, say, my sister,” Tari smiled slightly, a sad edge to her words. “Seer Ringali is another example. He is sarcastic, rude, and high-handed. These traits are not necessarily good things, but they are indicators that we have the cunning intelligence of the High Elves. It means we will be able to handle bloodshed and war. The second requirement is that you must have the ability to use High Elf magic. Magic that can be used to destroy.”

“Talon has magic, though. I saw him try to use it against you,” Arion argued.

“That is so,” Tari nodded. “But Talon failed the last requirement, which is also, perhaps, the most important requirement: you must be loyal to humans.”

Arion sat down, hard.

Tari watched him for a moment before she continued. “Evening Stars are groomed for battle only when we prove to be fiercely protective of humans. Evening Stars fight for humans, not for elves. It would do no good to teach an elf that does not wildly love humans how to fight. Our entire existence is devoted to you.”

Arion was silent for a moment. “I think I understand why there are so few of you.”

Tari laughed and leaned forward, stretching her arms in front of her. “Usually loyalty to Calnor is not a problem. Talon is the only elf I have heard of that was turned away due to personal conflicts.”

Silence stretched between Tari and Arion for several minutes. Tari slid her legs beneath her, readying herself to stand, when Arion startled her.

“Why have you never told us this?”

“Pardon?”

“Why have the elves of Lessa never told us of their worries, of the purpose of an Evening Star?”

Tari shrugged. “It was never asked. We have always been upfront in our beliefs that High Elves will return. We never shy from it, but you humans have given up preparing for it. You guard us from the rest of the world; we will guard you from our cousins.”

Arion laughed. “It is a bitter medicine to swallow, to be told by an elf that you are being protected.”

Tari shrugged. “You humans are too easily offended. I, and all the elves of Lessa, view my job as an Evening Star as the highest honor. It is an honor to guard the seas.”

“Yes, but we are supposed to be guarding you.”

Tari laughed. “Now you have a savior complex.”

Arion ruefully shook his head. He knew he was not the only human that would be shocked, and perhaps dismayed, to learn they underestimated the elves of Lessa. But Tari was laughing again, and it was better to let the matter go.

“Would you like to join me for evening tea?” Arion asked, wincing slightly when his various weapons stabbed at him as he stood up.

“Only if we’re actually going to drink tea. And I think I want something to eat. Let’s go back to my room, Evlawyn is a regular cat thief in food procurement,” Tari said, also boosting herself to her feet.

“So that’s how you lured my men into language lessons.”

“They told you?”

“This morning. It was in their best interest to tell me, I assure you.”

“Oh please. It’s not like you were going to give them a post in the desert.”

“…”

“Arion?”

“I said it was in their best interest.”

“ARION!”

“Thank you for coming to speak with me, Eric. I was beginning to fear the translator would drag me off to a library to quiz me on human verbs and nouns,” Tari said with a weary sigh. It had been an arduous day, and she longed for her soft bed and fluffed pillows, but it was the evening of Princess Claire’s tea. She had to come.

“You can hardly blame him. You are the idol of the Translators’ Circle,” Eric pronounced as he snagged a handful of sugar glazed walnuts. “Learning Calnoric in a matter of weeks? That is impressive.”

Tari smiled and nodded to the various elves that glided past her for the sole point of catching her eye and offering her a sympathetic nod. It was only a week ago that Tari had almost killed Talon, and the news was still spreading among the elves. The humans reacted to her no differently, which made her suspect Arion had told no one.

Tari wondered why as she reached up and touched the pink chrysanthemum hair stick—the one Arion gave her—with which Evlawyn had styled her short hair.

“You doubt the accomplishment?” Eric asked at her silence.

“No, but to me a translator is still more awe-inspiring. I…what is the term…cheat? I borrow words and phrases from Arion. It is our bond that helps me learn so quickly.”

Eric shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. But let us talk of more interesting things!”

Tari nodded, her smile freezing. Was Eric finally going to ask where Talon was? (King Celrin sent him to the capital of Lessa. His other daughter, Princess Gwendafyn, was to deal with him. Tari almost felt sorry for Talon. If Gwendafyn hadn’t been a princess, she would have been recruited as an Evening Star.)

“How many admirers do you think Arion has?”

Tari blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Eric stabbed a finger in Arion’s direction—he was standing with a fellow captain, but the two military men were circled by young human ladies who clamored for their attention. “I think it’s disgusting how many girls are moony-eyed over him. Arion says they’re just attracted to power. Pah!”

Tari looked down at the Arion’s younger brother—he was much shorter than Arion, and thus Tari—and half grinned. “You are jealous?”

“Me? What? No—I never! Tari, that was an insult,” Eric sputtered.

Tari laughed and patted Eric on the top of the head the way she would pet a dog. “Do not worry, young bean sprout. Your time will come,” she said.

“I am not young,” Eric protested.

“You are just a babe.”

“I am not. Lady Tari, you are unfeeling. All I wanted was for you to commiserate that yes, it is unfair. Maybe sympathize a little,” Eric complained.

Tari turned her back to Arion. Although she had not yet sunk so low as to feel jealousy at Arion’s admirers—mostly because Arion’s body language always tattled how irked the situation made him—it did pain her heart to see that others could so openly pursue him. “Did I not just sympathize with you? I told you your time would come. What does sympathize mean?” she asked Eric, gently leading him away from the refreshment table and the decadent scents wafting up from it. (The sugared nuts were addicting.)

“It means you agree with me, and you tell me you like me better than Arion,” Eric said with a cheeky grin.

“I do not think that is the true definition.”

“And now you’re doubting me? How cruel! I must be consoled, Lady Tari!” Eric sniffed before curling an arm around Tari’s shoulders as they strolled.

“Very well. Before I do so, please be aware that the Elvish meaning of ‘console’ is to throw into a pond to mask your pained tears and sobs,” Tari said, turning slightly to Eric to mask her shrugging his arm off her. “I plan to follow the definition of my people in this case.”

“Ummm,” Eric said, displaying exaggerated hesitation. “Perhaps not console then.”

“Attend to, maybe?” Arion said behind the pair.

Eric winced when he heard his brother’s voice, but he turned with Tari to face the captain. “Attend to?” Tari asked.

“Attend to. It is a verb used to describe when someone is physically injured and he requires someone to keep an eye on him to make sure no further harm befalls him,” Arion flatly said.

“Wow, is it this late already? I must go pay my respects to King Petyrr,” Eric said, edging away. “I must get going—oh, I almost forgot. Here, Lady Tari. Claire wanted me to give you this,” Eric said, retreating back to Tari’s side to hand her an envelope. He smiled when she took it before he glanced at Arion. “Yes, I’ve delivered it now, so I’m free. Farewell,” he said before beating a hasty escape.

“Why is he always so frightened of you?” Tari asked, inspecting the envelope with interest. It was address to her in Elvish script—the princess probably had recruited a translator for the task. It was no small wonder the translators had no time to discuss scientific advancements between Calnor and Lessa—they barely had time to fulfill the translation duties at the palace!

“Eric is not frightened of me; he is frightened when I find him with you,” Arion said, a slight but pleased smile folded on his lips as he led Tari to an open patio door.

“I do not think I understand,” Tari said.

“You don’t need to. You look beautiful this evening.”

Tari blushed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Arion said, he leaned forward and invaded Tari’s space to kiss her on the forehead.

Tari swallowed and did her best to control her pounding heart. Kissing on the forehead was permissible in elvish culture—but mostly it was between relatives. Tari had a feeling there was a different meaning behind Arion’s kiss, but none of the tea attendees gasped or pointed at Tari and Arion, so it was probably acceptable.

“You are in a splendid mood this evening,” Tari said, reaching out to link her arm with Arion’s.

“I am,” Arion acknowledged.

“Why, if you do not mind my asking?” Tari asked.

Arion’s slight smile grew crocked. “I was treated to a good sight. You like your flower hair stick?”

Tari beamed. “I do. I still think it is pretty. I have received four compliments on it this evening. And no, they weren’t all from elves,” Tari said, purposely turning her nose up in the air.

Arion chuckled. “I am glad you like it. I am sorry, but I must also leave you to mingle.”

“I understand. Go ahead. I would like to read my letter, and it would be rude to read in front of another.”

“I see, you find a letter to be better company than I?”

Tari could detect the teasing lilt to his voice—Arion lilted much more now since he spent half his day with her—and grinned as she held up her letter for inspection. “Only when the letter happens to be from the sister of my much-treasured bond partner.”

“Enjoy your letter,” Arion said before leaning in again to brush his lips against Tari’s temple. He turned on his heels and left, his cloak snapping behind him.

Tari watched him leave before returning her attention to the envelope. She opened it, and read the letter printed in graceful Elvish script.

Lady Tarinthali,

I hope you will overlook the impudence I take, for I know we have never been introduced, but it would please me greatly if you would join me for tea tomorrow afternoon in my rooms. I have much longed to meet you, and I look forward to speaking with you.

Princess Claire

Tari refolded the note and slipped it back in the envelope. Princess Claire was inviting her to tea? Contact with the princess was not surprising—Tari had actually been feeling seeds of guilt that she so readily crashed Princess Claire’s tea every week without ever meeting the royal hostess—but a private correspondence was rather…over the top.

“If she wanted a mere introduction, she would have asked Arion. And why did Eric deliver the letter and not Arion?” Tari murmured.

“Lady Tarinthali!”

Tari looked up and smiled at Crown Princess Yvrea, who was sweeping in her direction, clothed in a beautiful dress that was the shade of the mid-afternoon sun. “I am so gladdened to see you. I spoke with Father about Talon, and I’ve wanted to speak to you ever since to express my apologies,” Crown Princess Yvrea said, reaching out to embrace Tari.

Tari returned the gesture and smiled. “What’s done is done. I am only glad we were able to discover it was Talon who betrayed us rather than allowing the human royalty to blame citizens of Calnor.”

Crown Princess Yvrea nodded and linked arms with her. “I agree. Come and walk with me, please? I promised Benji a dance later, but I told him I wanted to devote this time to you. He protested, but I insisted! Shall we?”

“As you wish, My Crown Princess Yvrea,” Tari smiled.

Chapter 10

Separation

Tari checked her dress and hair again in a large mirror that was just down the hallway from Princess Claire’s quarters. Her hair had not slipped from the artful twist Evlawyn had made, although Tari’s hair was barely long enough for the style and pulled at her scalp. Her dress—white with gold hemming on the neckline—needed no ornaments besides the gold belt that hung from her hips.

Tari woefully glanced up and down the hallway. Although her dress was pretty, it did not seem lavish enough to match the ornate, and perhaps gaudy, hallway decorations.

“I like the soft, understated elvish ways of decorating,” Tari muttered, looking for the princess’ royal seal—which would mark her rooms.

Some distance down the hall she found it hung over a door: a wooden insignia of a dove nestled in a rose.

Tari perfected her posture and pushed her shoulders back before knocking. The door opened, and a mousy-looking lady’s maid opened the door and curtsied to Tari, leading her inside without meeting her eyes.

Princess Claire—a young girl of a mere 18 summers—was already seated in her sitting room. The room was vastly different from Tari’s, mainly because the décor attempted to be flashy and impressive but mostly came off as over the top.

The stone floors were covered with tapestry rugs, but rather than having one large rug, Princess Claire had layers upon layers of them. A scene of an elf taming a unicorn was half covered by a hunting motif, which was partially eclipsed by a rug of the night sky. The walls were a beautiful ruby red color, but one could barely see the gorgeous cloth that covered the room thanks to the collage of paintings and statues.

It felt crowded.

The princess matched her room to a certain extent. She was a pretty girl with deep dimples, soft brown ringlets, and chocolate eyes. Her pretty features, however, were drowned out by her excessively loud dress. It was a pretty apricot color, although the waist, sleeves and collar were lined with so many gems that the end result was ridiculous.

In the few moments it took Tari to observe Princess Claire and her garish room, Tari realized that the poor creature before her was, as Arion suspected, feeling the burdens of trying to fit in, and as a result tried entirely too much.

“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” Tari said in crisp Calnoric, performing an elegant curtsey.

Princess Claire stood and indecisively bit her lip. She looked to her mousy maid, who inclined her head.

“Ah, good afternoon Lady Tari,” Princess Claire said, inclining her head to Tari. “Please, sit with me.”

“Thank you,” Tari said, selecting a wooden chair to sit in as she continued her carefully rehearsed talk. “It was very kind of you to invite me to tea.”

“Oh, not at all. I am delighted you could come,” Princess Claire said, reaching for the porcelain tea set arranged on a tea caddy in front of her with intense concentration.

“I feel that I must apologize. I crashed your evening tea some weeks ago, and my attire was not necessarily proper for the situation,” Tari said.

Princess Claire laughed before she silenced herself with wide eyes.

Poor thing. Yes, she is trying too hard.

Princess Claire swallowed and carefully poured Tari a cup of tea. “Not at all. I am in debt to you for coming,” she hesitated and set the tea pot down before extending the cup to Tari. As Tari reached out to take it, the princess continued, “I wanted to invite you ever since you were bonded to Arion, but he forbade me. He said I would be using you like bait to call the courts to my teas. He was right, of course, so really it is I who must extend the thanks.”

Tari blinked, surprised by the blunt confession. “I am glad you feel my presence made a difference.”

“Your Calnoric is much better than I thought it would be, even though Eric told me you were good. You are truly remarkable, Lady Tari,” Princess Claire said, pouring a cup of tea for herself.

Tari watched, still somewhat shocked by the informality Princess Claire adopted with her. Perhaps she felt Tari’s close relationship with Arion meant formality was unnecessary?

This little one takes more after Eric than Arion, that much is for certain.

“Thank you. While I would like to claim the credit for myself, Arion deserves your praise, for I learned mostly from him and his subordinates,” Tari said, accenting her words with a smile.

“Truly? You do not speak the way Arion speaks. I’m not sure how you would describe it. Eric says that when you speak, your words glitter. Would you like any tartlets or cookies?” Princess Claire asked, her hand hovering above the tray.

Tari was going to refuse, but she could tell the princess was doing her very best to be an excellent hostess and would probably deny herself any refreshments until Tari ate first.

“Yes, thank you. What do recommend?”

“The buttermilk pie is divine.”

“Then I would like a slice of that, please,” Tari said, falling silent as Princess Claire used a tiny silver fork to lift a tartlet to a small plate before she gave it to Tari. “And Eric paints a very pretty picture of me, but I am afraid it is untrue. I am sure Arion has told you horror stories; his myths are probably closer to the truth.”

Princess Claire carefully selected a chocolate cookie for herself. “I have not heard any stories from Arion, as I do not speak to him much,” she said.

Tari, about to take a forkful of her pie, paused and stared at Princess Claire.

Princess Claire caught Tari’s surprise. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “That is not to say that I do not love him or that we do not get along much. It is just that,” she gestured blankly in the air. “There is roughly a 15 year distance between Arion and me. He is the oldest child of my family; I am the youngest. He was already in the military when I was born. I did not see him much growing up, and now…Arion is very solemn,” Princess Claire hesitantly said.

“He’s rather guarded,” Tari tentatively agreed before finally taking a bite of her buttermilk pie. The creamy filling melted in her mouth.

“Exactly,” Princess Claire vigorously nodded. “I know Arion would do much for me, but I would say I am better acquainted with Eric. He talks much more.”

“And he does not resemble a rock when speaking to a person,” Tari snorted. She froze and looked to Princess Claire, but the princess did not seem offended and was laughing.

“Exactly! I was terrified of Arion when I was little because he always seemed to be frowning. He smiles much more since he’s met you.”

“I doubt that. I suspect I have the ability to irritate Captain Arion more than the most incompetent guards in his squad,” Tari said, elegantly shrugging one shoulder.

“Oh no,” Princess Claire shook her head. She looked like a sweet puppy with her bouncing curls and dark eyes. “Quite the opposite. Arion has improved much since bonding with you. It is obvious how much he treasurers your friendship.”

Princess Claire’s words simultaneously pleased Tari and stabbed her through the heart. To be treasured was grand, but merely for friendship?

What more can I expect? Love is not to be found between humans and elves.

“I thank you for your kind observations,” Tari said.

Princess Claire studied Tari, and for perhaps the first time since meeting her, the princess displayed the same intelligence Tari saw in Arion. “I think you underestimate your power over Arion, Lady Tari.”

“What do you mean?” Tari asked, tilting her head as she returned Princess Claire’s stare.

“You mean much to him, and I believe there is very little he would refuse you,” Princess Claire paused and put her tea cup down before she glanced at her maid. The woman curtseyed and left the room.

The movement raised Tari’s hackles, and she straightened in her chair, cautiously studying the room.

“It is precisely because Arion prizes you so greatly that I need your help, and that I am asking you and not him.”

Tari narrowed her eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

Princess Claire licked her lips and took a deep breath. “As you may be aware, I have been struggling to make my home here in the palace. Vincent has done everything in his power to make me comfortable, and King Petyrr has been most welcoming…but Vincent does not hold much sway over the courts, and King Petyrr is oblivious.”

“I have taken note of the situation,” Tari said, still guarded.

Princess Claire nodded. “Queen Luciee has essentially refused to acknowledge me at all. I am ignored by most nobility. My family is slighted on a daily basis; I have been unable to make friends in my new rank, and the queen has made sure I know I am inferior,” Princess Claire said, looking down at her hands.

She’s so young, and she cares too much. The poor pup.

“And?” Tari prompted.

Princess Claire swallowed. “Prince Benjimir has recently approached me with a, an arrangement, I guess you could call it.”

Tari forced herself to keep sitting even though she wanted to stand and hotly exit the room. Prince Benjimir again?

“He said he was prepared to lend me his aid—to help me establish myself and my family in the courts—if you would return home,” Princess Claire said, the last of her words coming in a rush like spilt water.

Tari was silent and unmoving for a few moments as she mulled on the words. “You are asking me to uproot myself for your sake.”

Princess Claire winced. “I suppose so, yes. But don’t you want to go home? Eric said you live in a port city in Lessa. I imagine you must be homesick by now. Plus, aren’t you a dancer? Don’t you want to get back to dancing?”

“I am an Evening Star,” Tari said, careful to keep her words free of malice. She had to remember that Princess Claire was nothing but a scared, young puppy. Princess Claire was not doing this to be cruel; she just didn’t know better. “And while I love my home city of Gloria, I am quite content in Haven. I am astounded, though, that you have the gall to ask me to return home for your sake.”

Princess Claire drooped. “I know I’m being unfair and stupidly selfish, but it isn’t just for me. Arion will benefit too!”

Tari pushed an eyebrow up. “I fail to see how.”

“This snubbing isn’t just happening to me. At every dinner and banquet, Arion, Eric, my sisters and parents, my whole family is mocked and slighted.”

“I have observed Eric being made fun of, but I must disagree in Arion’s case. He is flocked by female admirers, and I have yet to see anyone even attempt to disgrace him.”

“Yes, Arion has admirers. He fares the best; I think he’s shielded by your presence. But Arion was on the fast track to promotion, which screeched to a halt when he was pulled from the army and reassigned to Haven to be with you. Everyone said he was going to be the youngest army general ever. Father thought Arion would probably be given a higher title of nobility than what he will inherit. His position here in the palace is actually a demotion,” Princess Claire said, nervously twisting her hands.

“Arion will never leave Haven, not while you’re here, which means his career isn’t going to move forward. And yes, everyone takes care not to speak ill of him within your hearing…but…” Princess Claire blushed and looked away.

Tari frowned slightly. “What?”

“Since the day you were bonded…the courts have been in something of an uproar that a male and female were paired together. I think Prince Benjimir started the talk, which is pretty ironic considering his partner, but there has been much speculation.”

Tari blinked. “On what?”

“Ah…you know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Your reputation? And Arion’s?”

Tari stared, genuinely confused. “My what?”

“Ahhh, some say Arion is less than honorable since he’s been bound to you, a female.”

“What does my being female have to do with anything?” Tari asked.

Princess Claire winced, her blush deepening. “People talk. They never say anything ill about you—you’re an elf, after all—but it doesn’t reflect well on Arion. If people keep talking, I’m not certain he’ll ever be able to recover from a career standpoint.”

Tari leaned back in her chair, thinking.

“Do you understand?” Princess Claire hopefully asked.

“No, not at all. But I do know that you humans are overly concerned with certain issues because of your poor morals. I do not detect a lie in you, so I must trust that this is one of those issues,” Tari said, thoughtfully gazing at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to Princess Claire. “I want this to be made clear. You are asking me to leave Haven, claiming because I’m hindering Arion’s career, although the real reason you ask me is because you want the help Prince Benjimir offers you if I leave.”

Princess Claire did not lower her eyes although she swallowed hard. “I know I’m being selfish, and I will not deny that my personal comfort is the main reason I ask you to leave…but everything I’ve said about Arion is true.”

“If it is, why do you ask me and not him? If Arion left, I would have no reason to be in Haven, and I would leave as well,” Tari asked, picking up her tea cup, only to discover the tea had cooled.

“Because it’s as I said. Arion would never leave you, not even if it meant salvaging his career. He is an honorable man, and he takes his duties seriously, but he is staunchly loyal to you, Lady Tari. I don’t think you can exactly comprehend what he feels for you, but I know you are fond of him. I’m asking you because you will do what is best for both of you. Arion would not, and he would suffer for it,” Princess Claire said. Her gaze was steady although her hands shook.

Tari closed her eyes for a moment to think. There seemed to be a second layer to Princess Claire’s words, although Tari could not decipher it. Her words rang true, however. Tari highly doubted Arion would leave if she asked him not to. Hadn’t that already happened once when he was to be transferred to his previous position?

I love him. Parting from him would be painful and dismal. But if Princess Claire is right, and Arion is suffering because of this…. I love him. I love him enough to admit that he is not mine. I love him so much that I would wish better for him than for me to be granted my heart’s desire in being with him.

Her eyes still closed, Tari said, “How can you be sure Crown Prince Benjimir will be true to his word?”

Princess Claire shifted, rustling her dress. “Prince Benjimir has never mocked my family or myself, but he has not attempted to help us either. He has given me his word he will help me, and I believe him.”

Tari opened her eyes and stood. “I will think on what you said. If you’ll excuse me, Princess, I believe I must be going.”

Princess Claire jerked to a standing position, seeing Tari to the door. “I’m sorry to ask this of you. I may have underestimated your level of friendship with Arion. I did not think leaving Haven would be a trial for you.”

Tari paused in front of the door. She liked Princess Claire, in spite of the girl’s selfish ways, but she was not going to let the princess sweep away without guilt or the realization that she was asking much. “You only see the picture from one view point, Princess Claire: yours. You are seeking a way to diminish your pain, and I am thankful that you were upfront with me instead of merely hinting at this. However, I hope for the good of Calnor you begin to see things from a viewpoint that is less self-centered.”

Princess Claire quivered. “You are upset.”

Tari spared the princess a slight smile. “I am,” she admitted. “I believe you need to take greater responsibility for your happiness, rather than relying on Prince Vincent, King Petyrr, Queen Luciee, or even Arion and myself to help you find it. But I know you are young, and I would not wish that harpy of a queen on anyone. I will speak directly to Crown Prince Benjimir before I make my decision. Thank you for the tea, Princess Claire. Good day,” Tari said, performing a final curtsey before she swept out of the room.

Tears stung her eyes as Tari beat a hasty retreat. She hurried down a staircase and glided her way to the elvish wing. When she reached the correct hallway, she ran to her room, opened the door, lunged into her quarters, and threw the door shut behind her.

She leaned against the door, her shoulders heaving as she tried not to cry.

“My Lady? Have you returned already?” Evlawyn called from inside Tari’s bedroom.

Tari breathed deeply for a few moments before pushing away from the door. “Evlawyn,” she called, crossing her sitting room. “If I left—what happened?” Tari asked, stopping in the doorway to her bedroom.

Every surface in Tari’s room was covered with hair ornaments. Not just any ornament, but flowers fashioned from metal. There were blue roses; white daisies that were glazed to shine; a bird of paradise painted in vivid blues, yellows, and oranges; a handful of tiny baby’s breath pins that were fashioned out of glittering gems; irises so purple it was breath-taking; lilacs that were individually fashioned and clustered together; miniature sunflowers and more.

The room glittered and twinkled as the sunlight from the open windows caressed the ornaments.

There had to be a hundred of them.

Evlawyn, placed the last hair stick—an orange lily—on the last bit of open space on an end table and stepped back. She smiled as she held out a folded piece of paper to Tari. “For you.”

“They’re all from one person?” Tari said as she twisted in a circle, gazing at her new collection.

Evlawyn nodded, placing the note in Tari’s hand. “You are treasured, My Lady,” she said before sweeping out of the room.

Tari, stared at the hair sticks for a few moments, barely registering the quiet tock of the door when Evlawyn left. Her wits addled, Tari looked at the note in her hand before unfolding it.

Written in shaking but painstakingly copied Elvish script was a short message.

For you. Enjoy.

~Your Partner

Tari sunk to her knees when the tears finally broke loose. She clutched the note in her hand as she sobbed, surrounded by her glittering flowers.

Tari knew what her answer would be.

“You seem distracted today,” Arion said as he and Tari walked arm in arm in the gardens.

Tari glanced up at the captain. “I am,” she admitted, twisting her neck to glance over her shoulder.

They were attending a luncheon thrown by King Petyrr, celebrating the recent breakthroughs in medical science. Tari didn’t see the point of the celebration—the so-called breakthroughs were elvish medicines and medical practices Tari had relayed to Arion over the course of their weekly, Translators’ Circle-sponsored talks. (Not to mention, wasn’t disinfecting a wound a basic medical foundation? It was beyond Tari how the humans had survived to this point if they didn’t even have that practice down.)

All of the Calnor royal family members were in attendance—including the icy Queen Luciee— and only Princess Gwendafyn was missing from Lessa.

“You’ve been thinking something over for three days now, I believe,” Arion said, surprising Tari with his attentiveness. It was exactly three days ago that Tari had tea with Princess Claire.

“Yes,” Tari carefully agreed. She reached up to feel for the metal blue rose that was nestled into her hair, drawing a small smile from Arion. “I have been thinking for a long while and discussing it with Seer Ringali. I think it is time for me to return home.”

Arion slowed his stride for only a moment. He nodded. “I see,” he said, his body language and voice giving nothing away.

“I do not want to go,” Tari admitted. “But as an Evening Star, I have a duty.”

Lies, all of it. Tari hadn’t even breathed a word of her plan to return home to Seer Ringali, and she wasn’t returning home because of her career. But there was no need to burden Arion with the details. If he knew Prince Benjimir was pressuring his sister, there was no telling what he would do. While he was not brash, he was also not the type to take blackmail sitting down.

“I understand. You intend to return home then?” Arion said.

“If you return to your post, probably. But could we not arrange to meet in Haven a few times a year?” Tari asked, hopefully turning to Arion. “Or we could write…or…draw pictures,” Tari said, some of the hope dying as she realized that even their special bond would not allow them to bypass the barrier of written languages.

Arion would not look at her. He blankly stared at the depths of the garden. The hum of the luncheon behind them mixed with the chirping birds. After a few heartbeats of silence, Arion turned to Tari and offered her a slight smile. “We will think of something.”

Tari’s shoulders heaved in relief, and without thinking, she flung her arms around Arion in an embrace.

He’s not angry with me, and he doesn’t seem disappointed. I can be satisfied with this.

Tari smiled into Arion’s chest plate when the captain returned the hug and briefly rested his chin on top of Tari’s head. He abruptly stepped back. “I need to check in with my men. You are staying for the remainder of the luncheon?”

“I am. I will see you when you return.”

Arion nodded. “Very well. Until then,” he said, offering her a quick smile before he swept deeper into the gardens.

Tari turned around to face the luncheon crowd, vaguely wondering why Arion was heading in the opposite direction of his office before she set her eyes upon Crown Prince Benjimir.

There is a man I can be spiteful and angry to without any need to hold back. What else could he do, kick me out of Haven early?

Tari made a beeline for the Crown Prince, who was standing in the shade of a willow tree, alone.

“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” Tari said in Calnoric before sweeping into a curtsey.

“Lady Tari, it is a pleasure to see you,” Crown Prince Benjimir said, executing a shallow bow. His voice was flat and lacked warmth. “May I extend my congratulations in the great medical strides you and Captain Arion have made.”

“I cannot take credit for relaying what my people have practiced for centuries, but I thank you all the same,” Tari said. “The weather is perfect for today’s celebration.”

“That is so,” Crown Prince Benjimir agreed. “Where has Captain Arion run off to?”

“I believe he is leaving for a short while to check in with his men,” Tari said. Arion was still in eyesight, although he was so far away, he was nothing but a blob in the green of the gardens.

“I see. He is devoted to his career,” the Crown Prince said.

“He is an excellent captain,” Tari said, a chord of pride in her voice.

“I agree. Do you have any idea how long your teacher will be staying in Haven?”

Tari followed the Crown Prince’s gaze to where Seer Ringali stood with Crown Princess Yvrea. “Seer Ringali? I do not think he will stay much longer, as I will soon be leaving,” Tari said, switching to Elvish.

Crown Prince Benjimir jerked his neck to face Tari. “You are leaving?” he asked in decent Elvish.

Tari internally smirked and howled with laughter. The Crown Prince wasn’t even aware he had replied in Elvish, much less acknowledged he understood her sentence. Tari couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something odd about the Crown Prince’s ability to speak Elvish.

“Indeed. I believe it is time for me to return home. I have neglected my duties as an Evening Star for too long.”

Crown Prince Benjimir ill masked his delight. “Haven will suffer a great loss with your departure,” he said, still speaking Elvish. His speech was slightly slurred, but it was excellent for someone not in the Translators’ Circle.

“Indeed. I think so as well. And if I find out that Princess Claire’s situation has not at all changed in a month’s time, I guarantee I will be back.”

“I’m sorry, my Elvish isn’t that good. Once more…,” Crown Prince Benjimir halted when he realized what he was saying. He looked to the luncheon attendees, but no one seemed to have noticed Tari and the Crown Prince conversing in Elvish.

“I said, if Princess Claire’s situation in the court has not changed in a month’s time, or if I receive word that Arion is stuck in the Honor Guard and has not returned to the army, I will return with all speed,” Tari said in Calnoric, her voice dark although she spoke so softly the volume was just above a whisper. “I do not understand why you want Arion and me separated so badly, Your Royal Highness, but I will allow it for now. However, if I find that you are still pressuring the Herycian family and that you have not lived up to your word, I will return with more than my teacher backing me. Before I leave, I want a written vow that you will, indeed, aid Princess Claire in the courts and that you will no longer hold back Arion’s career.”

Crown Prince Benjimir pursed his lips. “Very well. Tomorrow, here in these gardens after the noon hour?”

Tari inclined her head. “I will be there,” she said before moving to leave. She frowned when she caught sight of Arion. He was still a black blob in the park, but he hadn’t continued on to find his men.

What on earth is he doing?

“You really intend to leave?” Crown Prince Benjimir asked.

Tari stared at the black blob and felt her heart ache. She straightened her stance and silenced her emotions. “I do.”

The Crown Prince made a noise in the back of his throat that Tari suspected may be a happy sigh. “I see. I will hold up my word if you will hold up yours.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter 11

Never Attack the Elf

The following afternoon, Tari left her rooms in a hurry. She flicked leftover tears off her eyelashes as she made her way to the gardens. She saw Grygg but could only spare the patrol leader a brief nod—she was going to be late for her appointment with the Crown Prince. (It didn’t matter anyway; after saluting her, Grygg practically ran off. Probably a side-effect of Tari’s drinking and Arion’s glares.)

Her morning had been rather lachrymose. Tari finally told Evlawyn of her plan to return home. The loyal maid vowed to follow her, and the two had a good cry before they started packing Tari’s wardrobe. Tari was growing tired of crying and wished it would all be done and over with, but that would mean she would be leaving Arion.

Tari silenced her traitorous heart as she hurried down the stairs. Her elvish grace saved her from tripping on her skirt when she reached the bottom stair, and she took a moment to breathe deeply and collect herself.

Tari ran a hand through her shortened hair, pushing butter-blonde curls out of her face. I can do this.

After taking another deep breath, she set off down the open-air corridor. She ground her teeth in irritation when she realized her lack of understanding the twisting palace corridors had taken her out of her way.

Tari walked as fast as she possibly could, but she knew she arrived at the designated meeting place late. Knowing this, she slowed down when she was within hearing distance of the selected garden, making a great show of strolling into view.

“Good day to you, Your Royal Highness,” Tari said in Calnoric, dropping into a curtsey in front of Crown Prince Benjimir.

“Lady Tari,” the Crown Prince bowed. He held a scroll in his hands, which he held out to Tari. “The written vow you requested.”

Tari plucked the scroll from the royal’s hands and rolled it open. She stared at the human script before announcing, “I cannot read this.”

“I realize that, and I apologize. I would like to keep this arrangement between us. I see no need to bring in a translator to verify it.”

Tari rolled up the scroll and offered it back. “If I can’t read it, it is no good to me. The point of having a written agreement is that I would have the assurance that you would keep your word. As it stands now, I have no idea if you have actually written anything about our agreement, or if you have merely scribbled drabble about me being a drunken idiot.”

Crown Prince Benjimir frowned. “Then I don’t know how to solve this problem, because I refuse to ask a member of the Translators’ Circle to translate it.”

Tari looked at the scroll for a moment before lowering her hand and shrugging. She would force Benjimir’s hand, and quite easily if she read him right. “Very well. I’ll ask Arion to verify what it says. As soon as I have his assurance, I will announce my departure to King Petyrr and King Celrin,” she said, turning as if to leave.

“Wait,” Crown Prince Benjimir said. He reached out and grabbed Tari’s forearm. “If all you need is another human to verify, would Princess Claire do?”

Tari waited several seconds—more because as Crown Prince Benjimir spoke, Tari could have sworn she heard a bush violently shaking than because she was thinking. “I suppose so,” she said before unrolling the scroll. “In that case, I want you to read it to me now. We shall then go directly to Princess Claire’s rooms, and she will read it to me as well.”

“To make sure our versions match? For an elf, you are paranoid.”

“And for a prince, you are dishonorable. Read it, please.” Tari said, holding the scroll open.

The Crown Prince sighed, but reached out to hold the bottom edge of the paper before he started reading, “I, Crown Prince Benjimir, son of King Petyrr—ruler of Calnor—and his Queen Luciee, take an oath to abide by the following terms. Upon the exit of Evening Star Tarinthali Ringali, I will take care to aid the Herycian family. I will help Princess Claire—bride of Prince Vincent—to ally herself within the courts, and I will no longer hold back the pursuits and career of Captain Arion Herycian. I will return Captain Arion to his previous position, ending his demotion.  So say I, and that is my signature,” Crown Prince Benjimir said, pointing to a messy scrawl at the bottom of the paper.

“I see,” Tari said, staring at the vow. It felt horrible to her, that a paper would be all that separated her from Arion. But if it meant he was better off, she would do it.

“Do you find it satisfactory?”

Tari mutely nodded before she released the bottom of the paper, allowing it to roll up again.

“Excellent. Let us search for Claire, then. Lunch has just finished, she has probably returned to her quarters for the afternoon,” Crown Prince Benjimir said. Together, he and Tari turned to walk the short distance to the palace corridor.

Tari kept her eyes on the scroll but looked up when the Crown Prince abruptly stopped. Standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall, was Arion.

His expression was blank, but there was anger in his eyes. Frozen, icy anger.

Benjimir took a step back, and Tari swallowed.

Arion narrowed his eyes and pushed off the wall, approaching Tari and the prince.

“I am surprised, for I thought you to be of a higher intelligence, Your Royal Highness,” Arion said to Benjimir, stopping next to Tari. He spared her a glance, and Tari quaked under the power of his gaze. His eyes were as cold as ice caps. “King Petyrr did say he would personally deal with whatever blackguards tried to separate us,” Arion said as he reached out with his left hand. Tari was glad she did not wince, for Arion’s fingers were gentle when he grazed them against her cheek before dropping his hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Benjimir whipped his gaze to Tari. “You told him?”

Tari shook her head, about to protest, when Arion answered for her. “No, she did not. But you forget, prince. Tari is my partner. We are bound together, and I can read her very soul. Did you really think she could hide her distress and pain from me?” As Arion spoke he used his right hand to tilt Tari’s head up, so she would meet his gaze. His eyes softened momentarily, reassuring Tari, before he returned his attention to the prince.

Benjimir shook his head. “So what? My father will never believe you.”

“Doubtful. But even if he does not, he will believe others,” Arion said.

Bushes rustled, and a scholar, Seer Ringali, and four Honor Guards stepped into view, surrounding the prince.

Tari recognized the scholar-y looking man as one of King Petyrr’s personal secretaries who often was a member of the King’s procession. The secretary was grave as he stepped forward and took the scroll from Tari’s lax grasp. He opened it, read the contents, and nodded at Arion. The secretary turned on his heels, heading for the corridor. One of the Honor Guards followed him. Tari belatedly recognized the guard as Grygg.

“I am not afraid. What is there to accuse me of, vowing to help your wretched family?” Benjimir snarled.

Arion shook his head. “You underestimate the gravity of your manipulation, prince. King Petyrr has personally spoken to the Guard Commander. He admits that the transfer to my previous position and the reaction to my refusal were all at your behest. Seer Ringali tells me you have been pushing him to return to Lessa and to take Tari with him,” Arion said, gesturing to Seer Ringali, who nodded when he recognized his name. “Matched with those instances, King Petyrr will surely see that this supposed vow is nothing more than an attempt to separate Tari and me,” Arion said, pulling Tari closer. “He will not be pleased, prince. And as he has four sons, he can certainly spare one,” Arion cruelly reminded him. “He is waiting to speak to you in the royal study.”

Benjimir bent over, clearly trying to keep himself under control. “Does Yvrea know?” he asked.

Tari blinked. “What?”

“No,” Arion said.

Benjimir nodded and straightened up. “I wish those cutthroats had killed you,” he said, his eyes flickering back and forth between Tari and Arion. “Both of you.”

In the span of a heartbeat, Arion had his sword out of its scabbard, the tip pressed against Benjimir’s throat. “Chose your words carefully, prince,” Arion said as he drew closer, dragging Tari with as he had yet to release her. “The only reason I have spared your life so far is that you have done nothing to physically harm Tari. Royalty or not, I will skewer you if you so much as dream of hurting her. And I am well trained, your highness. I can reach you wherever you hide.”

Fear flashed across Benjimir’s face as Arion loomed over him like a murderous beast. He fell backwards, crashing to the ground. He breathed shallowly when Arion rested his sword a finger’s width from the corner of Benjimir’s eye.

“Arion,” Tari said.

Arion glanced to Tari before easing off, lowering his sword. “Take him to King Petyrr,” he said to the Honor Guards.

“What, you don’t want to know why I did it?” Benjimir harshly laughed as he stood and brushed himself off.

“I do,” Tari muttered.

“It is because he is in love with the Crown Princess Yvrea,” Arion carelessly said, resheathing his sword in its scabbard.

Both Benjimir and Tari stared at Arion.

“What?” Tari squeaked, pulling away from Arion to gawk at Benjimir.

“How did you know?” Benjimir blurted.

“You and I are rather alike in certain aspects,” Arion said.

Tari, distracted with this new insight, exclaimed, “That’s why you learned Elvish. You wanted to be able to speak to My Crown Princess Yvrea!”

“It is also why he was intent on separating us. You posed a threat. He seemed to be afraid that you were telling tales of him to Crown Princess Yvrea,” Arion said.

“What do you mean?” Tari asked.

“He did not try to actively separate us until you revealed you could speak human. It was then that he grew worried—what sort of things were people telling you about him? Not to mention you were my partner, and my family was being treated horribly by Prince Benjimir and his relatives. I suspect he grew anxious and paranoid, believing you would tell Crown Princess Yvrea your discoveries.”

“Why would I tell My Crown Princess Yvrea? What would I tell My Crown Princess Yvrea? Crown Prince Benjimir did nothing at all noteworthy,” Tari said.

“I realize that,” Arion said, staring at Benjimir. “But men who are passionately in love are not known for their sense of logic.

Benjimir grew pale. “Do not tell her, please, I beg you. Do not tell Yvrea any of this matter.”

Arion shook his head. “It is not up to us to decide this. It is a matter for His Majesty King Petyrr. But, Prince Benjimir, she will find out soon enough,” he warned before shifting his gaze to the guards. “Take him to King Petyrr.”

The soldiers saluted Arion and arranged themselves in a triangle formation around the prince.

Benjimir walked with dignity, his gaze straight and his stride sure. Tari pitied him; she knew King Petyrr well enough to know he would not take the matter lightly.

“Arion,” Tari said, turning to face the captain.

Her words were too late. As soon as the prince was down the corridor, a storm of secretaries, translators, and officials swarmed Arion.

Tari watched as the King’s men jockeyed for Arion’s attention. The exasperated, stone-faced captain took wads of notes and countless missives from the government employees, stirring a fond smile out of Tari.

“Next time you are grasping for an idle excuse to leave, do not drag me into your affairs.”

Tari jumped when she realized Seer Ringali was next to her, idly opening and closing his razor-edged fan.

“Sir,” Tari said, bowing. “I apologize.”

“Hn. I am not the one you ought to be apologizing to,” Seer Ringali said, hiding the lower half of his face behind the fan before shifting his eyes in Arion’s direction.

“I don’t understand. How did you find out about this?” Tari asked.

“Your wolf man approached me and asked me—in exceedingly garbled Elvish—if I had convinced you to leave Haven, or if you were leaving under your own volition. Naturally, I was astounded to learn you and I had long talked of leaving because of your duties as an Evening Star,” Seer Ringali paused and flicked his fan shut before bopping Tari on the forehead with it. “It was cruel of you to inflict this on him, Tarinthali. I expected you to treat your bond partner better than this.”

Tari hung her head rather than face the disappointment in Seer Ringali’s eyes.

Seer Ringali shifted. “I am off. I have an afternoon appointment with King Celrin. Count yourself beloved, Tarinthali. Your Captain worked hard to pluck you out of this trap. We practice tomorrow morning,” the older Evening Star reminded Tari over his shoulder as he slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

Tari watched him leave before glancing to Arion. He was still busy with a swarm of men. Tari started for the palace; she would talk to Arion when half of Haven was not clamoring for his attention. She was yanked to a halt when Arion caught her by her shoulder.

“No. You are staying with me,” he warned her before returning his attention to an Honor Guard.

Arion’s hand slid down Tari’s shoulder and arm until he found her hand and held it.

Well. Tari reflected as Arion’s hand warmed hers. This isn’t so bad.

Tari lifted her head off the back of the cushioned chair in which she was dozing and looked around like a curious cat. She stretched and yawned, finding Arion’s office empty—for the first time that day—except for Arion and herself.

“Did you sleep well?”

Tari shuffled in her chair until she faced Arion, who was sitting at his desk. It was dark; Tari could see the night sky in the open windows behind Arion. The only light in the office was an oil lamp perched on Arion’s desk.

“I did. What time is it?”

“Two hours after dusk. You slept for several hours.”

Tari rolled her shoulders before she settled back into her chair. Her nose twitched; she could smell food.

“Evlawyn brought you hard-boiled eggs not an hour ago,” Arion said, nudging a plate to the edge of his desk.

“You read me too well,” Tari comfortably said as she reached for an egg. The egg was salted and silenced Tari’s rumbling stomach.

“Hardly. If I did, I would have seen this coming sooner. Tari, please explain your actions.”

Tari exhaled, her shoulders drooping. “A few days ago, I was invited to have tea with your sister, Princess Claire. After exchanging pleasantries, the princess explained to me that if I left Haven, Crown Prince Benjimir would help her in the courts and end the isolation Queen Luciee has imposed on your family.” Tari hesitated, uncertain how to continue.

“Please tell me that was not your sole motivation for leaving,” Arion said, his voice flat.

Tari shook her head. “No, I was not much moved until Princess Claire explained how Crown Prince Benjimir would help you. She said being in Haven, with me, was stifling your career. If I left, you would be free to resume your normal duties and continue on the path to promotion, maybe even a title above your father’s.”

“That was what swayed you?”

“She mentioned something about our relationship ruining your reputation, but I didn’t really understand that part.”

Arion leaned back in his wooden chair, making it creak. “Do you want to go home?”

“No!” Tari said, leaning forward in her chair. “I wanted to stay here, with you. But I couldn’t stand the thought that you were suffering because of me.”

“Suffering?” Arion laughed. He shook his head and massaged his forehead, shielding his eyes.

Tari shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “How were you able to guess about Crown Prince Benjimir? That he loves My Crown Princess Yvrea, I mean.”

“I noticed he exhibited behavior that was similar to mine.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“To begin with, he was unfailingly obvious in his jealousy of Seer Ringali.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he be jealous of Seer Ringali?”

“Crown Princess Yvrea pays an extraordinary amount of attention to him. She seems to be an admirer of his.”

“Of course she would be. Seer Ringali is one of the top Evening Stars. He is also is her father’s cousin,” Tari said, reaching for another boiled egg.

“So I suspected. I also noticed if anyone was to be romantically involved with Seer Ringali, it was likely to be you.”

Tari almost dropped her egg. “What?” she squeaked.

“You bear the same surname as him, and he came to Haven specifically to see you. He also spends the most time with you.”

“Seer Ringali is married. He has two children. The eldest is only a few years younger than I am. Furthermore, Ringali is a title, not a surname,” Tari said, her eyes wide in horror as she gaped at Arion.

“A title? I thought elves did not have titles.”

“We don’t among nobility. There are some, however, in the ranks of Evening Stars. Ringali is one of a handful of titles. When Seer Ringali took me on as his protégé, it meant he will pass his title on to me, and I will become the next Ringali Evening Star. He is my trainer, my mentor. You thought we were in love?” Tari said, her voice shrill and accusing.

Arion sighed, as if a great burden had lifted off him. “I am very gladdened to hear that.”

“Romantically involved, the horror! Arion, how could you think such a thing? Why on earth would I be attracted to a fashionable, weapon-wielding, sadistic narcissist that is almost double my age?! Next time you have an insipidly stupid thought, ask me to verify it!” Tari said, still shuddering.

“Be quiet, and eat your egg.”

Tari grumbled but did as she was told. “Any news of Crown Prince Benjimir’s punishment?”

Arion shook his head. “Not yet.”

“I see. Continue then—what other signs did you see in the Crown Prince that made you realize he was in love?”

“He was the Crown Princess’s shadow and constant companion. If she was at a tea, banquet, or state event, so was he. If Crown Princess Yvrea was moved by an occasion, so was he. He paid meticulous attention to those with whom she associated, and bristled whenever a male of either race approached her.”

Tari ran her tongue across her teeth to rid them of egg. “I suppose that is true. I thought it suspicious that he popped in on Princess Claire’s evening tea that first night I stormed it.”

“He also is one of the few people I have ever seen that dares to touch his Nodusigm partner. There is no formal rule about physical contact between our people, but mostly bond partners are conservative in the amount of physical affection they display. When I began to have my suspicions about Benjimir, I followed the trail of our irritations. My position in the Honor Guard is ultimately under his power.”

“Impressive. I can certainly see how you made captain,” Tari said, staring at Arion’s goblet of water.

Arion shrugged as he passed the goblet over, to Tari’s delight. “As I said, I was not particularly observant in my notations. I merely noticed similar behaviors in his conduct to my own.”

“I don’t comprehend that piece. Part,” Tari said, correcting herself before she took a sip of water. She settled back into her chair, mollified. “In no way do you and Crown Prince Benjimir act at all alike.”

“In your eyes, perhaps,” Arion shrugged.

“Fine then, explain to me the similarities,” Tari said into the cup before taking another drink.

“We both care greatly for our Nodusigm partners.”

“Hah! That does not count. I care greatly for my partner, as well. Does that mean I am similar to the Crown Prince?” Tari scoffed.

“Your definition of care varies greatly from mine,” Arion said, resting an elbow on his desk.

Tari frowned. “Are you implying I care less for you than you care for me?”

“No. You care for me because I am your partner. I care for you, specifically,” Arion said.

Tari sputtered. “What? Oh come now, I care for you!”

“Perhaps, but all of Haven knows you were over the moon when you found out you were to be bonded. It wouldn’t have mattered to you if you ended up with Eric, or Claire, or me. You were determined to befriend your Nodusigm partner,” Arion said, sorting documents. “It’s probably why they placed you with me in the first place. They knew you would try your hardest no matter whom you were stuck with.”

“I cannot deny I was excited that I was chosen, and yes—in the beginning, I forced myself to trudge through what I perceived as rude behavior from you because you were my partner. However, since then, I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I treasure our bond because of you, not that I treasure you because of our bond,” Tari said, setting the goblet of water back on Arion’s desk with a clack.

“I did not say you do not treasure me. There is no reason to be upset,” Arion said with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes, there is a reason to be upset,” Tari said, sitting up straight in her chair. How dare Arion sit there and tell her he cared for her more than she for him when she was in love with him! Was the man dense? Had he fallen from his horse too many times? “I do not like being told my affections appear to be shallow.”

“I never used the word shallow.”

“You implied your degree of affection is much higher. That is nearly the same!”

“It is not the same, and you still have no reason to be upset. It is the truth.”

Tari rocketed out of her chair. “I don’t believe you!”

Arion spread his hands wide. “You don’t believe me? Tari, half the palace knows it! That drabble my self-centered sister was spouting can be summarized to this: Everyone sees the esteem I place in you, and then they see the affection you hold for me, and it is considerably less. They mock me for my misplaced devotion.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Tari said, holding her head high.

“How could you not? Since we’ve been bonded, everything you’ve done has been motivated for the good of our people. From meeting with the Translators’ Circle to learning Calnoric, your reason for working has always been for the relationship between Calnor and Lessa. Everything I do is for you alone,” Arion said, also rising. He did not shout, but his voice was quiet with an edge of anger to it.

“Is that really what you think?” Tari asked, taking a step back as she shook her head.

“I have shielded you from my family; I am prepared to remain in Haven for the sake of our friendship; if there is anything in my power to do for you, I will do it. In our supposedly sacred bond, my degree of attention has been expressed as reading your emotions. Only you. You, on the other hand, are able to communicate with an entire country.”

“Do you think what I did today was motivated by the best interests of our people?” Tari asked, her posture becoming perfect in her anger.

“No, that was sheer stupidity.”

“WHAT?”

“Giving into blackmail is never the best plan.”

“He said he would help you…he would help your sister!”

“I want no help from Benjimir of any kind. And blast my sister! She is a spoiled child who is being forced to live with consequences for the first time in her life. She was the one who decided to marry a prince, and she was the one who wanted to be a princess. She can find her own happiness, and blast her if she tries to steal my joy to make her situation better.”

“None of that doesn’t mean I wasn’t operating out of loyalty to you,” Tari said.

Arion held one hand out, palm up. “Have you not just proven my point? Loyalty is not the same as affection.”

Tari couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “Stop it! Quiet! Shut up you great big brainless thug!” she said before picking up the empty goblet and throwing it on the ground. It clanked against the stone floor and rolled a few paces, the rim newly dented. Tari stared at it, her shoulders heaving with aggravation.

“Feel better?” Arion asked.

“YOU!” Tari said before reaching across the desk and grabbing Arion by his armor. She yanked him in her direction and growled, “Stop it. Stop it! You don’t understand it at all!”

“The fact that you are getting so upset can only mean you see the obvious proof that I am correct,” Arion stiffly said when Tari released him.

Tari glared at him, her hands shaking as she curled them into fists. “All of these weeks spent silencing myself, and you doubt me?” Tari’s emotions were so raw bits of her magic started to come loose and glittered in her hair like stardust. Her carefully constructed control was toppling. She had fought her own cousin, almost left the man she loved for his sake, been forced to hide her feelings like she was some kind of pervert, and now the object of her affections was claiming she was shallow?

“Tari,” Arion said, stepping around the desk. His voice was tight with concern. “Tari,” he repeated, placing a hand on Tari’s shoulder. She faintly glowed as her magic formed an eerie halo around her—a testament to the strength of her feelings.

Tari took a deep breath, pulling her emotions and magic back into her soul. “Arion. How wrong you are,” she said, prodding her forehead in an attempt to make her furrowed eyebrows relax. “You think my affection is shallow? I have been in love with you since the night I broke into your sister’s tea.”

“Impossible,” Arion said, his voice was soft but as strong as iron. “Not once have I ever detected love in your emotions.”

“Yeah?” Tari drawled in Calnoric, borrowing Grygg’s pronunciation. “I believe you’ve reminded me before: you read emotions, not minds. I can hide things from you, Arion.” Tari reached out and pat Arion on the cheek. “I have to go,” she said, a particle of her magic escaped her control and fizzled out in the air before she turned and swept out of Arion’s office.

The hallway was dark, illuminated only by the occasional torch, but Tari ran. She didn’t care where she was going. She just had to leave, run, get away. Tari halted and backed up a step when she ran past an intersection, distracted by the silvery moon at the end of the hallway.

She bolted towards the moonlight, choking on the fresh air of the open corridor she swung into. “I think I just ruined everything,” Tari hiccupped, leaning against the railing.

A door closed in one of the hallways behind her, and without thinking, Tari kicked her legs over the banister and jumped off the side. She landed gracefully in spite of the one-story drop, stumbling only when she tried to stand.

“What else could possibly make this day worse? Maybe a rabid dog will come bite me,” Tari threw her arms in the air, raving in a confusing muddle of Elvish and Calnoric. “I know, my parents could arrive in Haven to find out their youngest daughter is in love with a human. Oh lands’ sake, my parents will find out,” she groaned, momentarily throwing an arm over her eyes.

Tari stopped stalking along the palace and plunged into the first layer of Rosewood Park. She stopped when she reached a stone bench and sagged against it, mindlessly staring at the trickling fountain in front of her.

Tari shut her eyes, scrunching them together as she swished her hair. “Having High Elf blood is exhausting. The complex emotions are horrid. Why couldn’t I have been more like Kiva?”

“Because if you were more of a Lesser Elf, I doubt you ever would have mustered the passion to love me.”

Chapter 12

Red Rope of Fate

Tari’s eyes popped open, and she shrieked in surprise. Arion was crouched in front of her, somehow soundlessly spiriting his way to her without her hearing it.

Arion nodded before he stood and bent over, picking Tari up.

“Arion, what are you doing?! Put me down!” Tari begged.

Arion sat on a small patch of grass that was within eyesight of the torches that circled the fountain but was in a dim section of the gardens.

Tari’s eyes grew increasingly wide as Arion set her down but did not release her. She squeaked when he tipped her against him. “Arion, what is going on?” Tari asked in a whispered hiss, her face pressed into his neck.

“Nothing. If you’re in love with me, I have no reason to hold back,” Arion said.

Tari could feel his voice from the vibrations of his neck. “Pardon?” she said, almost jumping out of her skin when Arion kissed the top of her head.

“I thought I was being obvious. The informalities I took against you were shocking. Just about all of the humans knew, but I suppose I did not think to ask any of the elves if my intentions were apparent.”

“What intentions?” Tari asked, pulling away.

Arion blinked as he looked down at her. “I am courting you. I have been for quite a while.”

Tari stared at him, utterly unamused, and pulled her head back slightly when Arion did not smirk or start laughing. She turned her head and stared at the fountain for a few moments before she jerked her gaze back to Arion. “What?”

“Courting. I’ve been attempting to bedazzle you so I could convince you to marry me. My sisters told me it would never work, but King Petyrr has been a staunch supporter.”

Tari narrowed her eyes in concentration as she stared at the flourishes on Arion’s armor. (It was easier to stare at his armor than to meet his eyes.) “You mean all of my pain…”

“Has been self-imposed. I have been in love with you for almost as long.”

Tari slumped into Arion. “Is being in love supposed to be this exhausting?”

“No. We are a special case.”

“I feel awful. All of this ridiculous self-control for nothing. And that confession—that confession was horrible! You can’t just nonchalantly say you love me. For elves, love is forever! It is an emotion we hold for one other person, ever. This isn’t trivial to me.”

“Nor is it for me,” Arion said, kissing the side of Tari’s head. “And I apologize if I made you feel that way. Allow me to add to my confession. Tarinthali Ringali, I am, without regrets, your devoted servant. Your wit and intelligence stun me. Your beauty eclipses the sun itself. Your warm personality is enticing, and I highly prize your ability to disembowel anyone stupid enough to wrong you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I selfishly want every part of you. It would be an honor, and my greatest desire, if you would allow me to protect, love, and serve you for the rest of our lives. And if you ever flirt with Eric or drink with another man again, I am going to slaughter them without hesitation.”

“I accept. I love you, Captain Arion Herycian.”

“And I love you, Tarinthali Ringali.”

Tari closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth of Arion’s love. The knowledge seemed to wash away the day’s exhaustion, and Tari happily sighed. “You mentioned courting. What did you mean? And what of Eric?”

“Ah yes, Eric. My younger brother knew I had fallen for you, but he persisted in approaching you and flirting. The only reason I didn’t outright stab him was because it might make you suspicious. But now…,” Arion let the suggestion hang with a dark chuckle. He rested his chin on top of Tari’s head before continuing.

“As for courting, I attempted the usual human customs, which was probably my first mistake now that I think of it. I bought you the hair ornaments; I expressed physical affection to you at every opportunity—I was not lying when I said I noticed Benjimir acted as I did. We both despised Seer Ringali for a time.”

“What?”

“I did think for a few days he may be your lover.”

Tari hacked and wordlessly shivered.

Arion chuckled. “My first flawlessly pronounced Elvish word was Tarinthali. I lost all hope when I kissed you and you did not respond at all.”

“I was trying hard not to overreact.”

“So you say. I did not mind my new position here in the palace. No one complained that I had an Honor Guard following you most of the waking hours. That’s how I knew you were going to meet Benjimir. I almost went wild when you announced you were leaving.”

Tari pulled out of the embrace to look Arion in the face. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. Thank you for helping me. I was worried you were unhappy. Benjimir and Claire seemed to think you were.”

“Only when I thought you were leaving,” Arion said, leaning forward to kiss Tari square on the lips. His mouth was warm and insistent, and his hands followed the curves of her shoulder and back before resting at her waist.

He was much more demanding this time, but Tari could tell he still bridled and tempered his passion for her sake.

Arion kissed her until Tari’s mouth tingled, and she felt as if she didn’t have the strength to breathe before he finally released her.

“Wow,” Tari muttered, bonelessly falling against Arion.

“How long is a typical elvish engagement? I suspect anything longer than a month or two is going to be irritating,” Arion asked, his voice rough.

“You said King Petyrr supports us. Any idea of King Celrin?” Tari asked, marveling that she could still think.

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“King Celrin was there when I informed King Petyrr of my ambitions. A translator was present, as well; I would assume he translated for King Celrin.”

“Then what was the ‘ah’ for?”

“King Petyrr said on the rare chance that I really was so lucky as to not only receive you as my bond partner, but also my marriage partner, we would have to be officially presented to the courts. Both of them.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed.”

Tari was silent for a few moments before laughing. “You know, I do not care. We have borne so much, what is more public spectacle?”

“It will give me the opportunity to simultaneously intimidate all males from both races to stay away from you,” Arion said seriously.

“Arion!”

“I am also very grateful to hear that Seer Ringali is married.”

“Arion!” Tari laughed. She laid her head against Arion’s chest.

“You once complained to me that a translator thought we must be connected by a red string of fate. I disagree with him.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Our connection is so strong, and we are so devoted to each other it must be a rope,” Arion rumbled.

Tari lifted her head up and leaned into Arion until their noses were brushing. “Perhaps,” she smiled.

Arion half smiled as well. “Perhaps,” he said before kissing her. After a few moments, he pulled back and whispered in Tari’s ear. “I love you, Tarinthali.”

“And I love you, Arion.”

“Pay up,” King Celrin gestured to King Petyrr after a footman bowed and took his leave of the two monarchs.

King Petyrr sighed, making his belly jiggle. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small bag of Calnor gold coins, which he thrust at King Celrin. He gestured for a translator to step closer to the kings. “How did you know?” he asked through the translator.

“Know what?” King Celrin replied in kind.

“That Tarinthali was in love with the good Captain Arion?”

“I had faith.”

“In what? Our Nodusigm system?”

King Celrin laughed. “No. In my skills of observation. The easiest way to judge love is to look at the effect it has on a person’s friends. Evlawyn, Tarinthali’s handmaiden, knew Tari was in love with the captain, probably before Tari did.”

“Ahhh, you cheater.”

“Perhaps. You made a good judgment on your son, though.”

“I agree. A few years of forced travel in our neighboring countries will do him some good. If Calnor’s neighbors aren’t impressed with his stone-cold expressions, nothing will amaze them. Besides, if I’m lucky, he’ll fall in love and bring me home a daughter. Back to the topic of Tarinthali and Captain Arion.”

King Celrin took a flagon of wine—elvish import. “What of them?”

“Their path will be a tough one. I don’t think the humans will be quick to accept them,” King Petyrr said, scowling when the translator took too long to translate his words.

“True, but they are a resilient pair.”

“They will change our countries.”

“For the better?”

“For the best.”

The monarchs nodded to each other as King Petyrr picked up his own wine goblet. They clinked the glasses together.

“For the future.”

“And for love.”

“Aye, long live Captain Arion and the future Lady Tarinthali Herycian.”

Epilogue

Tari pulled back the apple-red curtain that screened her from sight just far enough to lend her a view of the guests.

The Celebration Hall was overflowing. There were so many celebrators, they spilled out the back of the room and into the palace courtyard. The elves were garbed in their best and brightest, their hair plaited hair and glittering with hair ornaments. The humans, not about to be outdone, wore flashy, full skirts and armor so polished it reflected as much light as a mirror.

Everyone was in high spirits. Female elves used hand gestures to signal their admiration of the human women’s dresses; children of both races played together in spite of the language barrier, and male elves and humans slapped each other on the back.

Today was a day both countries, Lessa and Calnor, had been looking forward to for months. Today was the wedding day of Evening Star Tarinthali Ringali and Captain Arion Herycian.

A door opened, and Tari folded the curtain shut, turning around just in time to see Arion close the door.

Arion was wearing a set of formal armor Tari had never seen. It was the endless black of the night sky, offset and decorated with gold flourishes and etching. In spite of the celebration—or maybe because of it—Arion still wore a sword and several daggers. (In sight, anyway. Tari was willing to bet he had another few weapons hidden up his sleeves and down his boots.)

Arion’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned against the door. “Did we honestly invite that many people?”

Tari laughed, drawing his gaze. “I suspect His Majesty King Petyrr might have made some additional invitations, and whenever an Evening Star is married, we elves generally flock, invitation or not.”

Arion made no attempt at a response, and instead stared at Tari, his eyes traveling up and down her body.

Tari spun, making her cream-white gown twirl around her. “Do you like it?” she asked, self-consciously adjusting her gold and pearl-encrusted belt.

A smile crawled across Arion’s lips.

“What?” Tari blinked.

Arion wordlessly crossed the room.

Tari’s shoulders slumped in dismay. “You don’t like it, do you?”

“No, I love it,” Arion said when he reached Tari. He folded his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek—dangerously near Tari’s mouth. “Not liking it isn’t the problem. It’s probably best you don’t know my thoughts right now, or you’ll display your adorable blush through the entire ceremony.”

Tari blushed light pink and attempted to push her fiancé away. “Arion,” she complained.

“I am surprised, however, that you aren’t squawking that I’m seeing you before our vows,” Arion continued.

“What?” Tari asked, her forehead wrinkling.

“Isn’t it considered bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the ceremony?”

“Why would it be bad luck? Because he would grow afraid and try to run away?” Tari asked.

Arion shrugged. “It must be a Calnor custom.”

“Yes. Anything that illogical certainly has human origins,” Tari nodded.

Arion half smiled and reached past Tari to twitch the curtain open enough for them to look out at the Celebration Hall. “Queen Luciee entered with His Majesty King Petyrr several minutes ago. Did you see them?”

“Yes, I do not think I’ve ever seen Queen Luciee look that offended before. Her face was wrinkled enough to resemble one of those pug lapdogs she keeps,” Tari observed.

“Agreed. She has probably finally realized the implication of our marriage,” Arion said.

“What, that as the eldest son of the Herycian family and the only man of Calnor to ever marry an elf, your status has flown to such heights that she cannot pick on your family anymore?” Tari asked with an arch smile.

Arion tilted his head and studied Tari. “You knew our wedding was going to end up a state event,” he stated more than asked, even though he was looking for confirmation.

“I told you Evening Stars are important to elvish culture,” Tari smugly said, laying her head on Arion’s shoulder. “I cannot be blamed if Queen Luciee did not realize that when she arranged for us to be Nodusigm partners.”

“The elf guests outnumber the human guests. I don’t believe Haven has ever had so many elves present,” Arion said.

“Indeed,” Tari said with great satisfaction. “Even Princess Gwendafyn came. I wasn’t sure she would be able to pull away from her duties. I shall have to introduce you to her—she is such a lark.”

“I’m sure,” Arion said, watching Tari as she looked out at the guests—royal, noble, military, and common alike. “He isn’t out there. Neither of them are.”

“Pardon?”

“Talon and Prince Benjimir.”

“Oh. I know that. Talon is still under house arrest, and we did not send him an invitation. But that does not matter. He was angry enough to have me kidnapped, but I hardly think he would want to ruin my wedding.”

“You are too forgiving,” Arion muttered.

“And Prince Benjimir…I did not think King Petyrr would allow him to return for our wedding. It has been only a few months since his national tour started.”

“It’s been six months, and you may as well call it his temporary exile. The whole country knows he’s no longer the Crown Prince.”

“I feel bad for him,” Tari admitted after a few moments of silence. Her eyes were hooked on Crown Princess Yvrea and the handsome, young elf standing with her—one of several of the Crown Princess’ marriage prospects.

Arion followed his gaze. “I have no sympathy for his punishment…but I do have empathy for him,” Arion admitted before tightening his hold on Tari.

The pair was quiet for a moment before Arion moved. “Come,” he said, removing his arms from Tari only to take one of her hands and lead her away.

“What? Arion, what is it?” Tari asked as Arion slipped out the door, pulling Tari with. “Arion, we can’t just leave. This is our wedding!” Tari hissed as they moved down the dim hallway.

“It won’t take long. It is your wedding gift. I could not smuggle it up to you and still avoid your battle axe,” Arion quietly said, pulling Tari into the shadows when Tari’s handmaiden patrolled the far end of the hallway.

“Evlawyn is hardly a battle axe,” Tari laughed as Arion pulled her down a tight, winding staircase.

“She is when one is seeking you out, and she feels you should not be found,” Arion wryly said.

“Well…perhaps. But what are we—oh,” Tari said when Arion suddenly pulled her into a space so small it could barely be called a room. A wooden crate lined in crushed velvet was placed in the center of the room, and Arion knelt next to it.

“Don’t kneel. You’ll ruin your dress, and then I will see a new dimension of Evlawyn I never wished to see in the first place. Here,” Arion said, removing the blanket from the crate. He picked up a soft bundle of white and black fur before presenting it to Tari. “For you, my love,” he said, his voice heavy with affection.

Tari stared at the gift and leaned against a wall to stabilize herself. “Arion. T-that’s a snow cat,” she squeaked.

“It’s a baby. You should be able to tame it,” Arion said, holding the kitten out. “Your enchanters are able to ensnare the goodwill of wild animals in Lessa. If you have any trouble with it, we can ask an enchanter for help.”

“Trouble? Snow cats can kill a full-grown man,” Tari said, although she reached out for the mewling bundle. It could only be a few weeks old; it was so small and tiny, all fur and fluff and yowls. As soon as the cub smelled Tari, the crying changed into a scaling purr, making its body vibrate. It blinked at Tari with eyes that were the startling blue of the deepest depths of the ocean before rubbing its pink nose on her throat.

“What is, w-what?” Tari stammered as the cub snuggled closer.

“I absconded some of your used practice uniforms and had the trapper that found him use them as the cub’s blankets. He’s already used to your scent and should identify you as a thing of comfort. Probably.”

“Only probably?”

“The trapper told me in no uncertain terms that no human has ever tamed a snow cat.”

“In that case, it is a good thing I am an elf. I can see our lives aren’t going to grow boring.”

“Not likely.”

“So, it’s a boy then?” Tari asked, tucking her chin to look down at the snow cat cub. The cub looked up at Tari, twitched his whiskers, and rumbled his questioning purr again.

“It is,” Arion confirmed, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Tari cuddle the cat. “He will need a name.”

Tari tickled the purring cub under his chin. “He will. I cannot wait to see what he will grow up into. Little Warrior? Silver Shadow?” Tari said.

Arion took a step closer and leaned over the snow cat to kiss Tari on her forehead. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said as the baby snow cat growled and hissed at Arion, squashed between them.

“Oh, I have something for you as well,” Tari said, momentarily dumping the snow cat on Arion.

Arion and the cub regarded each other. “She’s mine first before she’s yours,” he warned the cub. The small predator complained and swatted ineffectively before falling still with a begrudging huff.

“Let me just grab my gift...,” Tari said, pulling a dagger from under her skirts.

Arion looked at Tari’s dress with great interest. “Where were you keeping it?”

“No place you’ll see before our wedding. Here,” Tari said, offering the dagger to Arion before reclaiming her new pet.

Arion studied the dagger, his eyebrows furrowing as he traced its elegant design and beautiful craftsmanship. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a weapon forged like this before. It’s incredible,” he praised, removing the dagger from its small scabbard to inspect the spotless blade. “Where did you get it?”

“From a vault,” Tari said, unconsciously rocking the dozing cub. “It’s High Elf forged.”

“It’s what?” Arion said, ripping his eyes off the dagger to pin Tari in place.

“A High Elf weapons master made it. When the High Elves left, they couldn’t take all of their junk with them on their ships. We elves have a difficult time throwing anything away—we’re such hoarders—so we have quite a stock of High Elf weapons, even though we have no real use for them,” Tari explained.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t need it because you already have so many daggers, but I talked to Grygg, Thad, and Wilford. They said a man could always use another dagger,” she added.

Arion stared at the dagger in his hands as he turned it over with something akin to shock and reverence.

“I thought that was a good saying, but I wanted the dagger to be of use, so I picked out an enchanted one. See this character here?” Tari asked, jugging her cub into one arm so she could point to a complex, elvish symbol that was etched into the top of the blade, just below the hilt. “It means truth. If a person tells a lie in your presence, the rune will grow an extra line here. That changes the rune into the elvish symbol for truth screener, a liar. Watch: I adore human wines,” Tari declared.

Arion watched a small line skate across the rune, almost as if an invisible forger was chiseling it.

“That will be handy, won’t it?” Tari asked, shifting the snow cat to her hip as she anxiously awaited Arion’s answer.

Arion turned the dagger over in his hands again. “Tari, this dagger has to be almost a thousand years old.”

“I know,” Tari said, biting her lip.

Arion shook his head. “I don’t think you understand, Tari; this is too much. This is a first-age High Elf weapon. It has to be worth a fortune.”

“Not quite. I did say we’ve hoarded them for ages,” Tari said with a half smile.

“Thank you,” Arion said, leaning into Tari—squashing the cub again—before kissing Tari on the lips. “Thank you,” he repeated, breaking the kiss off for a moment before kissing her again.

When Arion’s kiss grew too passionate, Tari leaned out of his reach. “Arion, we still have the ceremony to get through,” Tari said, heaving a gulp of air.

“We should have eloped,” Arion grumbled before looking at his new dagger. He tucked it into his belt before taking Tari’s new pet—who protested greatly—and placing him back in his crate. “I must leave you, for now. I left Eric as the official greeter for the Herycian family. He’s probably offended an elf or two by using incorrect sign gestures by now.”

“I don’t think an elf would be offended by Eric—he’s too genuine. When I introduced him to my family, he signed that my father was a ‘lady of remarkable beauty.’ Father was amused rather than offended,” Tari said, brushing white and black fur from her dress.

“Yes, but your father is not Seer Ringali, or any of the other Evening Stars that have yet to be greeted,” Arion said.

Tari winced. “Ahh, yes. You better return in that case.”

Arion smiled before taking Tari’s hand and kissing her fingertips. “Until the ceremony,” he said, his lips brushing her knuckles.

Tari blushed a fetching pink. “Until then,” she agreed.

Arion released Tari and exited the room.

Tari exhaled deeply when the last edges of his cape disappeared from sight. “Arion know entirely too much about the art of manipulation,” Tari grumbled, casting her sleeping kitten a smile before she exited the room as well. She nodded to the Honor Guard stationed outside the door before hiking up the stairs to return to the waiting room.

An hour later, Tari stood with Seer Ringali just outside the entrance of the Celebration Hall. Her eyes were shut tight as she focused on her breathing and tried not to think of the many guests that would soon be staring at her. She opened her eyes and frowned at Seer Ringali’s amused expression. “Do you have any words of wisdom to share?” she asked.

Seer Ringali who was, for once, sans a weapon masquerading as a fashion item, elegantly shrugged. “Not really. Your future life partner is already well trained. As long as he is fed and watered daily, I doubt you will have many problems with him.”

Tari stared at Seer Ringali.

The Evening Star adjusted his robe. “What? You wanted wisdom; that is all I have.”

Tari rolled her eyes to the side with a disgruntled “Hn.”

“Tarinthali,” Seer Ringali said, drawing Tari’s attention. “I am happy for you. I long doubted you would find anyone worthy of you, but you have chosen well. Captain Arion is a man of honor; he will not wrong you. In a way, you may be more blessed than any other elf, for you are the only one of our kind who can truthfully say that your husband will fight to for you. My words of wisdom are this: be happy.”

Tari silently nodded, afraid she would burst into tears if she said spoke.

“You are my protégé, which is why I stand with you now instead of your father. I consider you to be my daughter. You have done well, and I am very proud of you. You have chosen a radical, new path, but I am certain your future is bright,” Seer Ringali said, reaching out to straighten the white lily Evlawyn had arranged in the twist of Tari’s hair.

Tari shut her eyes again to avoid looking at her teacher, but she leaned into him when he hugged her.

“Ah, your guard dog has arrived,” Seer Ringali said when they parted. “Congratulations, Tarinthali. All of my wishes are yours,” he said before turning to Arion.

The tall elf stared Arion down—who bore it with blank-faced composure. After a few moments, Seer Ringali nodded and saluted Arion with the gesture for “honor” and “blessed.” The older Evening Star then opened one of the two magnificently tall doors to the Celebration Hall and slipped inside, leaving Tari and Arion alone.

Arion exhaled, running a hand through his black hair.

“Is everything okay?” Tari cautiously asked, linking her arm through Arion’s.

“Yes, I apologize for the delay. A patrol leader caught a thief with some of the royal crystal. I thought it best to deal with the situation before our wedding rather than during or after,” Arion said, bowing slightly before he adjusted Tari’s arm until he held her hand.

“It is no trouble. Truth be told, I did not notice,” Tari said.

“Ready?”

“To make history?” Tari smiled.

“No,” Arion said, shaking his head. “To be married. You will be mine, forever.”

“And you will be mine. Our lives will be proof of our love,” Tari predicted.

“I will never let any harm befall you,” Arion said, reaching to brush Tari’s right cheekbone with his free hand.

“And I will support you in the shadows and in the light.”

Tari and Arion stared at each other for a few moments, totally enthralled.

“We should probably go in,” Tari teased, although her heart was caught in her throat.

“I told you we should have eloped,” Arion said before knocking on the doors. The ushers threw them open.

For months and even years to come, everyone would agree that the wedding of Evening Star Tarinthali and Captain Arion was spectacular.

The elves spared no expense in showering the young couple with gifts and decorations. The Celebration Hall was accented with bouquets of ivory roses, branches of creamy pink cherry blossoms, and cartloads of white orchids. The air was heavy with the flowers’ fragrance. Gifts of ornate, elvish-crafted horse tack, furniture, tapestries, and decorations were loaded into a separate room.

The humans were also generous in their love. The aisle that lead to the platform where the ceremony was to be held—and where, once upon a time, Tari and Arion had been bound in the Nodusigm ceremony—was lined with white velvet. Humans threw fistfuls of white flower petals in the air. All of Rosewood Park was cleared and filled with tables and benches for the delectable dinner and reception. Gifts poured forth with drinks of wine and—at Arion’s affectionate request for his bride—beer.

Everyone was smiling; everyone was laughing. Both King Petyrr and King Celrin stood with Tari and Arion on the platform during the ceremony, smiling like proud fathers. The elvish princess Gwendafyn wolf-whistled while Crown Princess Yvrea clapped and cried, and Princess Claire and her husband Prince Vincent shouted themselves hoarse from the cheering.

Patrol leaders Grygg, Thad, and Wilford were lined neatly in a row at the bottom of the platform, guarding in the most honored position at Tari’s request. All of the members of Arion’s previous squad in the army were present—as were some of his superiors—and they solemnly saluted him as he and Tari walked up the aisle.

The Honor Guards had turned out, as well. Even those who were not on duty wore their dress uniform, and they shouted and cheered at Arion and their favorite elf drinking partner.

Almost all of the Evening Stars attended the wedding. Only those who could not be spared from the sea port watch towers were not present. The Evening Stars were a cloud of black in the front of the hall. They intently stared at Tari and Arion through the ceremony before erupting into cheers and jubilee when Seer Ringali nodded his approval at the pair.

Of course both Tari’s and Arion’s families were present. Their parents seemed sheepish—as if embarrassed that all this hoopla was over their children. Their siblings were bright eyed and excited—Eric was so happy he could hardly keep from bouncing up and down, and Kiva cried tears of joy.

Every last elvish enchanter, human wizard, and translator that had ever questioned or interviewed Tari and Arion attended, as well. The enchanters were perhaps the most contained in their festivity, but one would think both Tari and Arion were the coveted children of the human wizards from the way they carried on. The translators were most joyous of all, and they cried more than any other bunch during the ceremony. (Their spirits were high, perhaps too high, during the reception when they toasted each other and made loud predictions and started a gambling pool on whether any offspring of Arion and Tari would inherit their mother’s knack for languages.)

The day was carried off more like a national holiday for both countries, and Tari found the whole thing to be her wildest dream and rather overwhelming.

“You must forgive us,” King Petyrr told Tari and Arion between the platters of cranberry chicken and blackened fish at dinner. “For while this is the day you marry your sweetheart, to everyone else, it’s a much bigger thing. It’s the first time our two peoples have produced one joint effort besides our desire to be allies. Arion, my lad! You got her, you really got her! I didn’t think you would win her over, but you did! You are such a lucky—,” the Calnor King lost Tari in the roar of his words and the slosh of his wine.

“Today is a cause for celebration because you two symbolize hope,” King Celrin mildly said as a server filled his mug with beer. “Your marriage means all of our work is not for naught. We, Lessa and Calnor, can have a future together, and we can understand and even love each other,” King Celrin said, reaching out and snagging King Petyrr by the collar of his gold-embroidered shirt to keep the jubilant king from wandering off after Princess Claire—who had just waved to her father-in-law. “Congratulations Tarinthali, Captain Arion,” King Celrin said, his translator translating for Arion’s sake.

“Ah, yes. Congratulations—Oh! There is Princess Gwendafyn—Celrin, you have all the luck of the world for getting two daughters. I wish we could exchange,” King Petyrr complained to the elvish ruler via his translator before the monarchs moved on.

Tari watched them go and smiled, shaking her head. Tari then looked to Arion, and Arion looked to Tari.

“In the end, I am marrying you because I am passionately in love with you,” Arion said, reaching out to cup Tari’s cheek in his hand. “Everything they said is true, but it doesn’t matter to me. You matter.”

“Just as you matter to me,” Tari said, placing her hands on his shoulders. “And I will love you with every breath I take, until I die.”

“Until I die,” Arion agreed, leaning into Tari until his lips brushed hers. “I love you, my love and—finally—my wife, Tarinthali Ringali Herycian.”

“And I love you, Captain Arion Herycian.”

Those within eyesight of the newlyweds politely averted their eyes as Tari and Arion kissed, and the festivities continued until dawn.

“Oh, that the love of the noble General Arion and his beautiful Tarinthali would be more common. Theirs was a love that stood the test of time, defied the rules and laws of the ancients, battled with blood and blades, and still burned brightly like the fires of the sun.”

Calnorian historian and scholar Quinaby Demult on the subject of Tarinthali and Arion Herycian

Other books by K.M. Shea

Life Reader

Red Rope of Fate

Princess Ahira

Robyn Hood:

A Girl’s Tale

Fight for Freedom

The Magical Beings’ Rehabilitation Center:

My Life at the MBRC

Farewell to the MBRC?

King Arthur and Her Knights:

Enthroned

Enchanted

Embittered

Three pack (Enthroned, Enchanted, Embittered)

Timeless Fairy Tales

Beauty and the Beast

The Wild Swans

Cinderella

Rumpelstiltskin

About the Author

K.M. Shea is a book lover, champion web surfer, and all around geek. She’s been writing for over ten years and has worked as librarian and a newspaper reporter. K.M. lives in the quaint countryside with her pets: Perfect Dog and Fat Cat.

Follow K.M. Shea on Twitter: KM_Shea

Visit her blog: http://legendaryarchive.wordpress.com/

Visit her Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005ANPMZU

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