Month: February 2021

I walked beside Ilya Terr, my hand resting in his. The dress rustled with every step, shockingly light for all its glory. The gift from Quill sat in the slim pocket of the skirt, just small and light enough to fit with the handkerchief. Elves and Angari trailed behind us like the tail of a great beast. We followed the steward as he led us down through the Palace of Spires toward the River Esplanade.

The steward announced us on the stairs and the crowd roared with enthusiasm that made me think they’d already partaken deeply of the wine.

It was a splendid place for a party. Tiered balconies dripped from the palace walls and leaned out over the river in the places where the esplanade narrowed. Bridges spanned between the palaces at either end of the esplanade. There were tables spread with food and people everywhere already eating and drinking. There was another esplanade across the river which looked equally full of revelers.

We descended the stairs, and the crowd cleared an open space for us. No one gasped when we got closer. No one shouted, “That’s not the Countess!” Quiet fell, and everyone watched us expectantly.

We stopped in the center of the open space and faced each other. Ilya Terr’s hand settled on my waist and we began the first steps of the wedding dance in the silence. Music started, softly at first but then building strength in time with our steps. I let myself sink into the dance, letting my subconscious manage the movements. I was afraid if I paid attention my body would forget, and I would falter. With each spin I scanned the faces on the edge of the crowd, then returned my gaze to the elf lord. I saw Adorjan Bulgar, nymphs from Azulimar, Menrellos of Daiesen, and Eliah, looking serious as she watched.

The music came to a crescendo and Ilya Terr spun me one last time, pulling me into his arms as the last notes died. He kissed my hand in the moment of silence that followed. “My lady,” he bowed.

Music was starting again, and others moved onto the dance floor. Elves and humans alike tossed smiles at us as they lined up to dance. These dances were more slow and methodical, as delicate and beautiful to watch as they were soothing the dance. We stayed for two more dances before breaking away and going to pay our respects at the dais where the kings and queens sat. I did not dare to meet Prince Domonkos’s eye at all. Wisely or not, trading places with the Countess hadn’t exactly been spread around, and I felt the thinness of the ruse acutely.  

Ilya must’ve felt the tension through my hand, because he steered us away as soon as King Istvan and King Keleman nodded their greetings.

“Where to now?” asked Ilya softly.

“You don’t know?” If he didn’t know, this day might be memorable for gross disregard of protocol.

Ilya smiled, “We are free to celebrate for a time before we sit down for the ceremonial first meal. Where should we fish for assassins?”

I glanced back at the dance floor and then turned us toward the edges of the esplanade. I was hungry and would prefer the tables of food as a hunting ground, but… “In the dark places.”

“Countess.”

I turned and a middle-aged lord I didn’t recognize was standing a few feet away. “Grofne,” I said.

“May I speak with you a moment?” He glanced at Ilya, “Alone.”

I exchanged a quick look with Ilya and then said, “Of course.” Leaving Ilya behind I followed the lord a short distance away toward the riverbank. He stopped at the railing and I joined him, facing the river. The Juni was busy today, full of boats and people using the wedding as a chance for a party. I could feel her pleasure even without touching her. She was so inviting I stuck my hands in the thin pockets of the gown to ensure I didn’t reach for her.

For a long moment, the lord said nothing. Then he said, “Have you considered my letter?”

I had no idea which letter he was referring to, but it was a safe bet he hadn’t been writing to support the treaty. Taking on the Countess’s voice, I replied, “I believe this treaty is the best thing for Angareth.”

He nodded, unsurprised, his mouth a grim line. “Walk with me.” Turning he began to stroll along the river. I followed. “I cannot fathom how an intelligent woman such as yourself can embrace the idea that handing one of our strongholds to the elves is not treachery,” his tone was deceptively mild, considering his words, “I would not have taken you for an elf-lover.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder to where Ilya trailed us at a careful distance.

“What beautiful words on my wedding day,” I remarked coldly. The esplanade narrowed here, and the balconies overhead reached almost to the river, enveloping us in noonday shade. We were quite apart from the crowds, most everyone clustered around the tables of food and the dancing in the wide center.

The lord stopped walking and turned to face me, his arms at his sides. He looked stone-faced. “I am not a violent man.”

Lightning jolted through my veins. Peaceful people didn’t need to say things like that.

“But I will do whatever is necessary to protect Angareth.” He lunged at me, knife flashing in his hand.

I reacted on instinct, stepping into the hammer blow, my arms coming up to deflect and then twist to gain control of the knife-arm. Thrown off balance, the lord recoiled in shock—his weight enough that we both stumbled. The hoops bucked as our bodies lurched, but I had locked my elbow above his and had his upper arm trapped, the knife useless behind my back.

“Elven whore!” cursed the lord. He swung his other hand at my face. I turned my head away and his hand struck the spikes of the headdress. He cursed and the headdress twisted painfully.

And then he went to his knees with a gasp.

Ilya stood behind him, his hands clenched, his golden face the image of an angry god. “Count Jozzi.”

“Take the knife,” I snapped.

Stepping around Count Jozzi and the hoopskirt, Ilya pried the knife out of the lord’s fingers. The Count resisted, but I squeezed his trapped arm, putting pressure on his elbow and shoulder until he cried out and released the knife. Ilya held the knife aloft by two fingers as if it were contaminated. He was furious. The knife was curved and inlaid with an oak leaf motif. Obviously elven.

The sound of booted feet running announced the arrival of Druskin and another guard. “Count Jozzi!” exclaimed Druskin. “What have you done?”

“What you should have done if you had any honor in you!” The Count’s face was red with fury and, I thought, embarrassment, for his failure. He struggled and I squeezed again. He cried out and struck again for my face with his bloodied hand, but Druskin caught his other arm.

I looked at Druskin. “Take him away.”

More people were looking our way, now, and I could feel the storm of human emotion as whispers started. I released the Count’s arm and he thrashed at me as I stepped away, his face contorted into something ugly. Druskin caught his other arm and pulled it behind him roughly.

“You will doom Angareth!” the Count’s voice rose and cracked.

Druskin hauled him backwards and the other guard stepped in to take over.

I walked away from the Count, toward the river, as if I couldn’t hear him as he struggled, yelling curses until someone silenced him. I stopped at the rail and looked out at the boats calmly, well aware of the eyes of the nobles on me. More guards were converging behind me, and I thought it was only a matter of time before lords and ladies in turn converged on me. I didn’t want that. Someone was bound to notice I wasn’t Adelheid Wuhn.

Ilya stepped close to me. “Are you alright?”

Gingerly, I touched the headdress. Its pins pulled painfully at my hair. I winced. “Yes…Did he break anything on the headdress? Is it bloody? Fornern’s fists, it feels all wrong now.”

Ilya’s lips twitched. “It felt right before?”

I made a face at him. “It felt better.”

Leaning in, Ilya examined the spikes of the headdress without touching either it or me. “There might be blood,” he said after a pause. “But you’d have to look for it.”

“Grofnu!” Brell emerged from party and hurried toward us.

I turned away from the river and walked to meet her, Ilya a step behind me. “The headdress needs re-pinning,” I said, relieved to have an excuse to get away from the hungry gaze of the nobility.

“Come with me,” said Brell, she cast a look at the guards who were now bustling away with a limp Count carried between them, then turned resolutely back toward the party.

*

There were screened alcoves nestled against the palace like pearls against a shell. Potted plants and chairs made each a pleasant little escape for anyone who wanted a break from the party. Or anyone who had to have their headdress repined because someone very committed to his misguided cause had tried to kill her in broad daylight mere yards from witnesses. Brell led me to an alcove and quickly tucked me inside, shooing Ilya Terr away with a hiss that it wouldn’t be proper for him to join us.

“I can’t believe Count Jozzi did that,” said Brell, positioning me by a footstool so she could stand over me and begin pulling out all the headdress pins. “Even if he had succeeded, he would never have gotten away.”

“He never intended to get away,” I said. He had led me away from the crowd but hadn’t taken any action until he’d seen Ilya was also away from the crowd. And he’d used an elven dagger. “He was going to kill me and then himself and hope it all got pinned on Ilya Terr.” No one had been paying close attention, it was easy enough to imagine Ilya Terr bending over both bodies with the bloodied knife in his hand by the time anyone turned to look. A desperate plan, but a devastating one if it had succeeded.

Brell’s fingers paused as she digested this, “Is it over, then?”

“No.” I closed my eyes. “He was not the assassin Hadella hired.”

Brell adjusted the headdress and began pinning again in silence.

I kept my eyes closed, listening to the music, the party behind the screen walls, and the Juni beyond. They had plenty to talk about. Rumors swirling from the river edge all through the crowd about a scuffle by the river and then someone being removed by the guards. Such a turmoil of souls. I didn’t know how the Countess could stand gatherings like this with a Seer’s gift of sight.

Brell stepped away. “I’m going to need more pins…that will be faster than re-doing your hair entirely.”

“I’ll be here,” I said, not bothering to open my eyes. I heard Brell leave in a rustle of silk and I immediately wished I had asked her how to sit down in the hooped skirts. I was reasonably sure it was possible, but the low chair in the alcove didn’t look like it was going to be a modest option. I slipped my hand into my pocket and closed my finger around the folding knife from Quill. I wondered where he was. I hadn’t seen him on the esplanade at all, though I supposed there were tiers of balconies to patrol. He wouldn’t be far away. You are not allowed to die. How strange to have survived so much, spent so much time doing dangerous work on opposite sides of the continent, to be so frightened for one another on a job. As if time had finally eroded away the thick veneer of bravado and we were left only with the truth between us.

My senses tingled at the same moment I felt my skirts shift. I was spinning, the dwarven knife flashing in my hand before I formed conscious thought. A man in a smooth black mask blocked the blow, the shock reverberating through our forearms as he struck with his other hand.

*

• WordPress
• Facebook
• Twitter
• Instagram

The steward directed the train a short distance down a hallway to a series of chambers where the party could change for the next thing—which was a presentation to the crowd outside and the signing of the treaty. There was no time to go all the way back to the Palace of Domes. Everyone split into predetermined groups to quickly change clothes and paint everyone’s faces gold. Brell, Karolya and I headed to curtained off alcove with the Countess.

Ilya Terr slipped in with us, and pulled the Countess close. He lifted his hands to cup her face, smudging the gold paint.

“My lord!” exclaimed the Countess in protest.

“Now for an elven tradition,” he grinned at her and then bent his neck and kissed her.

Her hands fluttered like startled birds and then came to rest on Ilya’s forearms as she melted into him.

Brell watched with open glee. Karolya quickly busied herself with the row of dresses the servants had laid out. Smiling to myself, I toed off my slippers and started unlacing the purple gown. Karolya’s eyes went wide when she noticed me disrobing while a male was still in the room—never mind the base layers and the fact that Ilya Terr was very much occupied.

I double checked my knives, Shiharr and Azzad were strapped to my thighs today—the only place they could be hidden with the dresses we had. I had a stiletto snug between my breasts and a brooch that was a push dagger in disguise. This morning I had briefly looked for a way to strap throwing knives around my waist like some sort of corset, but it got too bulky too quickly. It’s not as if we’d had time to alter the Countess’s gown to fit me and my knives. More’s the pity, it would’ve been good armor. When I finished checking the buckles, Brell handed me a soft wet cloth to wash my face clean. When I’d mostly removed the white paint, she was waiting with the skeletal hooped underskirt. I stepped into it and she lifted it till I was in a weird birdcage of ribbon and reeds from the waist down.

As she laced the skirt she said, “The hoopskirts are part of the wedding and coronation dresses—they are so much lighter than layers of petticoats that would be needed for the gowns.”

I looked over at the red dress that Karolya was gathering into her arms. “I can only imagine.”

Karolya carried the enormous pile of red cloth over and I lifted my arms. The two leanyodi lowered it over me together and carefully arranged it down over the hoopskirt until I stood inside a red mountain of gleaming, layered, silk. I stuck my hands in the slim pockets that hid in the seam from my hips, “These are entirely useless slits.”

“They are for handkerchiefs,” Karolya removed my hand and slipped a folded piece of red cloth into the pocket. “Nothing more.”

Next was the boned bodice, it’s lace and beadwork deer as exquisite as I remembered them from packing in Wuhnravinwel. Brell was almost finished lacing the back when Ilya and the Countess stepped away from one another. They looked breathless, and now they both needed their make-up re-done. Ilya Terr squeezed the Countess’s hand and stepped toward me.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, gravely.

“I am, my lord,” I replied. “Are you?”

He nodded, “As ever for war.” He bowed to me, then kissing the Countess’s hand, turned and let himself out of the curtained alcove.

Karolya hurried to start unbuttoning the Countess’s wedding gown. “He’s going to make us late,” she tutted.

“Worthwhile, though,” I said, tossing a smirk at the Countess, who was almost certainly red as my ridiculous gown underneath all that gold paint.

Brell laughed from where she’d started laying out the make-up she’d use on me. “Definitely worthwhile.”

“You would’ve both been needed for the presentation gown anyway,” said the Countess, stepping out of the wedding dress. “I don’t think it cost us anything.”

We all laughed then, and it felt almost normal.

*

Brell and Karolya worked with speed and skill to change our hair and paint—or re-paint—all our faces gold. When they were done with me, Brell pointed me at the wall mirror and said, “You are transformed.”

I looked and it took a moment to see past the extravagant dress to my painted face. My hair was entirely obscured by the woven beads that covered my head and dripped down my forehead. Kohl brought out my eyes, and Brell had dusted my cheeks and lips with a bronze that brought some dimension back to the flat gold. I wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she’d masked the shape of my face so I liked more like the Countess. I didn’t recognize myself. Hopefully no one else would either.

The Countess, once changed, went to help Brell and Karolya into their reds, and help get their faces done a little more quickly while I walked around in the hoopskirts trying to internalize my new width. This headdress, too, was taller and more spectacular than the ones I’d worn throughout the week, with spikes representing the rays of the sun reaching skyward from the back of my head. The waterfall of beads down the sides and the back would take getting used to. I didn’t know how I was expected to hear anything over the beads.

There was a knock on the wall, and Karolya trilled, “We’re almost ready.”

The curtain shifted and Quill stepped into the alcove. He was dressed in a dark blue Magadarian suit, and he was breathtaking.

Karolya visibly swallowed her objection to his entrance and turned back to fuss with the last of Brell’s face paint. Quill nodded a greeting to the group and approached where the Countess and I stood.

“How do I look?” I asked, feeling abruptly self-conscious.

He looked over the dress and accoutrements, then scanned the paint on my face before meeting my eyes and looking at me. His lips curved up. “Important.”

I curtsied.

Quill turned to the Countess. “May I have a word with Zephra?”

“Of course,” the Countess curtsied to me, as a leanyod would, and walked away to join Brell and Karolya, deliberately turning her back to us. A semblance of privacy, at least. About as much as the Countess ever got. I did not long for this life.

Quill and I looked at each other for a long moment. Eventually he said, “In your dreams, you cannot reach your knives and you feel betrayed.”

I grimaced down at the voluminous skirts blocking my access to Shiharr and Azzad. “I know.”

He walked to me, encroaching on the dress as if he were going to dance with me. He lifted one hand and ran it along the beads of the headdress, then traced along my cheek and jaw without touching, but I felt the warmth from his fingertips like brands. I closed my eyes and my hand rose to his elbow.

“You are not allowed to die, Zare Caspian,” he said, very softly, his breath a puff on my lips.

My eyes opened, and I was looking straight into his vivid brown eyes flecked with green. There was nothing teasing or flirtatious in his face. Just the windows that went straight to his soul, serious and a little frightened. “You’re not allowed to die either,” I managed, “Quilleran Rhydderick.”

Still standing close, he took my hand, and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was tender, and filled my whole body and soul with longing. “Be cunning, be fearsome, and then come back to me.” He brushed his thumb lightly over the back of my hand, pressed something hard into my palm, and then left.

I looked down and opened my hand. It was an oblong piece of metal and bone carved with a handful of dwarven runes. I’d seen things like this before, when I’d been to Kelphas of the dwarves. I flicked my wrist and the hidden blade sprang free, gleaming and savage in the sunlight. Folding the blade back I slipped it into my pocket and smiled.

*

• WordPress
• Facebook
• Twitter
• Instagram

The wedding sun rose golden and accompanied by appropriately decorous white clouds. We’d barely slept the night before, staying up late while I practiced mimicking the Countess’s voice and mannerism and she told me everything she could think of about what to expect from this day. I squeezed her hand before slipping out to my own chambers, and she looked at me with unguarded terror before adjusting her expression to confident reserve for the leanyod entering the room. The first hours of the morning were a blur of preparation—make up, elegant hair, and then stepping into ornate gowns and pinning beaded headdresses. Every last one of us wore a long white veil—heavily beaded across the crown of the head and then tendrils of beadwork dripped down the silk on all sides like rainwater running off a cloak. Our faces underneath were painted white, with lips, cheeks and eyelids dusted with a red powder. I assumed, however, I was the only leanyodi who’d strapped knives to her thighs and boots before donning the purple gown.

The veil was the Countess’s only Angari accoutrement for the ceremony. Her elven wedding gown skimmed down the curves of her body, each winding branch and vine stitched in the green silk flattered her in a way entirely different from the highly structured dresses she usually wore. The diamonds in the brooch from Ilya glittered at her breast even through the veil.

Everyone, from Pontikel, to Druskin and the other guards, to the leanyodi were dressed in shades of dusky purple. The colors of heather on the moors, Brell whispered to me. Pontikel carried a small, jeweled chest bearing the necessaries for the ceremony.

Everyone was ready and waiting when the Steward came to lead the train of retainers through the Palace of Domes and over the bridge to the Palace of Spires. The Countess walked in the center of the group—a wedding tradition, and also intensely practical under the circumstances. There were crowds on the banks and in boats, eager for a glimpse of the wedding train. But nothing shot at us. I could see guards on the walls of the palaces, and mixed in with the crowd. The King had likely every single guard working today. There were plenty of those inside the Palace of Spires, also, standing at all the junctions of corridors as we walked through.

Finally, we came to the grand doors to the ballroom where we’d spent so many evenings. Even through the doors, I could hear the drift of music and pressure of a room full of souls. The Steward rapped three times, and after a beat the music changed and the doors opened from the inside. We marched into the room. I’d thought the balls leading up to the wedding had been crowded, but this was much more. Was every Angari noble, least to greatest, present? I didn’t dare look up, but I could sense the crush of people in the three tiers of balconies above us.

What a performance this day would be.

I stayed close to the Countess in the middle of the leanyodi as we made our way down the center of the grand ballroom and up to the dais where the kings and queens waited. The entire party bowed deeply, and at King Keleman’s signal we moved to array ourselves at the feet of the Angari king and queen.

The music changed again and the ballroom doors opened on the procession of elves, all in the dark blues and greens of forest shade. They, too, were veiled, and the gems in the veils winked in the light as they bowed to the royals and took their place before the Terrim rulers.

Priests came forward and offered prayers to the gods, especially Tirien. The kings stood and took turns making short speeches about peace and unity and brotherhood. I scanned the crowd and stole glances up at the balconies. There were more elves here than I’d anticipated. Quill and the others would be prowling the shadows with the help of the king’s guard, hoping to catch and root out anyone who might interrupt the opening ceremonies of the wedding day. I closed my eyes beneath my veil and tried to feel the room. It felt full, and thrumming with so much anticipation it would be difficult to feel anything else.

Finally, the kings called forward Ilya Terr and Adelheid Wuhn, and they walked out of their companies, two ghosts in long veils weaving through a sea of veils to reach one another. The image was compelling. Especially when they reached each other and clasped hands like warriors glad to meet alive after a battle.

“Will you vow?” asked King Istvan Terr.

Ilya Terr folded back his veil, revealing a face painted startling red. A tremendous concession to Angari tradition, that. He handed the glittering veil backwards without looking, his eyes locked on the Countess. “I will.”

King Keleman’s voice rang out, “Will you vow?”

The Countess lifted her veil and let it drop into Karolya’s hands as she said, “I will.”

“Will you witness?” cried both kings, and the entire company of attendants replied “We will,” and removed our veils.

*

The elves were unpainted, except for the one closest to Ilya, who I thought was Mihalak. The Lord and the Countess exchanged vows of fidelity, and then Pontikel and Aurel Terr stepped out of the crowd to bring them towels and a basin, and they washed the paint off their faces before the whole crowd. I tried to watch the crowd, but kept being drawn to the scene. Red paint stained the towels, which was alarming to look at, but Ilya’s eyes were alight as he beheld the Countess without make up. It was as if he hadn’t seen her last night, or for several days on the road here, there was so much wonder in his expression.

They were presented with brushes, and little pots of silver paint, and they began to paint one another gold, the color of Tirien. It was also a symbol of two different tribes becoming one, two families becoming one. The Countess was clearly better at applying face paint than Ilya Terr was, and I could feel Karolya twitching beside me. The paint would be fixed later, even without the need for disguise. When they were finished, or finished enough, the brushes were cleared away and they turned to face the crowd. A new entity, glittering with green of the elves and the gold of the Angari.

Music swelled and the Lord and Countess stepped off the dais and began the long walk back through the ballroom. The assembly saluted them, solemn and silent, as their trains fell in behind them. The opening ceremony was finished. Just a day of ceremonies and dancing and feasting left before us.

*

• WordPress
• Facebook
• Twitter
• Instagram