The Consort (Tellaran Series) (2 page)

“I hope they at least have the decency not to enslave my crew,” Kyndan bit out with a sharp look at Aidar. “This time.”

“Kyndan, try to understand what a huge shift in thinking this is for them,” Kinara urged. “They have trouble accepting that even though Tellarans don’t have clans like they do, the same traditions they do, they still have honor.”

Kyndan’s lip curled. “Sorry, it’s just been so long since I heard ‘clanless Tellaran’ that I guess I just got used to not being
property
.” He took a step back. “But hey, I’m happy to spare them my offensive presence by getting the hell off this godsdamned planet!”

“Kyndan Maere,” Aidar said, stepping forward before he could leave. “Some Az-kye have learned that Tellarans have honor. Different than ours, certainly, but just as strong and vital.”

Kyndan stopped short. It was such a reversal for this warrior and so sincerely—so
respectfully
—said that he began to feel a little regret for his outburst.

“To prove it so to the Empire you must not leave.” A ghost of a smile touched Aidar’s mouth. “Perhaps the Az-kye are slow to change. But we are capable of it.”

“Okay,” Kyndan muttered, throwing a grudging look at Kinara.  “I can see
a little
of what you like about him.”

Kinara put her hand on Kyndan’s arm. “I know it’s going to be rough for everyone at first. But think of what peace between the Tellarans and the Az-kye will mean, what good cultural exchange and trade will do—for all of us. I really need you to give this a chance.”

“All right, fine, you can stop making with the ‘please, big brother’ eyes.” Kyndan looked at Aidar. “And a brother-in-law—or friend—would just call me ‘Kyndan.’ Like you do with Tedah. Wait, where’s Tedah? And Bebti?” He hadn’t seen his best friend since Tedah had resigned his commission to return to his Az-kye wife, and Kyndan was looking forward to seeing his nephew again. “I thought they were going to be here too.”

Kinara gave a warm, maternal smile at the mention of the boy’s name. A street child that she’d adopted—to Aidar’s initial horror—Bebti was now as loved as their own son could be. It was hard not to love that kid and, clan traditions be damned, Kyndan thought of him as family.

“Bebti’s swordmaster’s got his hands full trying to keep a nine-year-old focused already,” Kinara said. “He’s not about to excuse Bebti one second before the official start of the holiday, but you’ll see him tonight. And Tedah will be at the Imperial Palace with Lianna for the start of the festival so we’ll see him soon. Oh,” Kinara added brightly, “and the First Imperial Daughter is getting married today.”

“We’re going to a royal wedding?” Kyndan asked, exchanging a worried glance with Nisara. “Kinna, we haven’t been briefed on that protocol and we sure didn’t bring a gift fit for a princess.”

“Oh—uh, no.” Kinara’s cheeks flushed again. “You won’t be attending the ceremony but they’ve agreed to do you the honor of letting you be there when the princess goes into the sanctuary to be married.”

“You should let me sit down for that kind of news,” Kyndan deadpanned. “I may faint from all this honor.”

Aidar folded his arms. “He jokes again?”

Too highborn to wear any color but black, Alari held her arms out to allow the maids to dress her. The gown was heavy; glittering with thousands of tiny jewels in the midmorning sunlight of the First Daughter’s living quarters, it was reminiscent of Lashima’s cloak of stars. A gown to honor the goddess of Love.

The gown she would soon take her final vows to Jazan in.

“Why look you as if Meithea will drag you to the underworld at any moment, Alari?” her sister Saria, Second Imperial Daughter, asked. “You have everything.”

“Everything?” Alari echoed.

“You are First. You will rule all with the finest warrior in the Empire as your mate. You have always wanted to leave the homeworld and in a few days you will travel to Az-litha to represent the empress, with Jazan at your side.”

The weight and volume of the elaborate gown brought a dizzying wave of claustrophobia as the maids fastened her into it.

Alari’s nails bit into her palms as she struggled to draw breath. “Things are not always as they appear.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?” Saria demanded.

Her sister did love her, but at only nineteen she had not the patience nor experience to understand. Someday soon their mother would choose a mate for Saria too.

May the gods spare her a mate like Jazan.

“Sister, what is it, really?” asked Saria, her dark eyes worried as she came to stand behind her. Saria’s black court gown too was elaborate with embroidery. Taller than she, her sister had yet to grow into the maturity of her form. “Do you still fear being bound to him?”

“To never again feel desire for another, to find arousal only with Jazan my whole life long?” Alari shuddered. “I can think of no worse thing.”

“But
why
?” her sister asked. “You told me he was mannerly.”

“He was,” Alari murmured as the maids worked, adjusting her skirt, refreshing her cosmetics.

Saria shook her head. “He has visited your bed for weeks. You cannot fear joining with him
still
.”

Despite how her attendants, teachers, and mother had instilled restraint into her, Alari’s eyes stung. “Perhaps someday you will understand.”

Though I pray you never do.

“You should not have waited till you were betrothed to take a man to your bed,” Saria determined shortly. “You should have chosen men to join with you before you were promised, as other women do.
I
will not be bound so inexperienced.” 

Alari flinched inwardly at her sister’s unintentional cruelty. 

When I was nineteen summers I might have thought life so simply remedied, heartache easily sidestepped by those clever enough to avoid it. It does not seem possible that I should have lost all hope in the span of three years . . .

Perhaps though, Saria was afraid too—afraid of an arranged marriage when other women could choose a mate for love alone.

“I have chosen a lover.” Saria’s cheeks flushed becomingly. She had always been the pretty one and Alari the serious sister. “Naret of the Az’larna. He is very handsome.” 

“Mind that you will someday be mated to one Mother and her advisors select,” Alari warned quietly as her maid added jewels to her hair. “Do not become too attached to this warrior.”

“I do not think I will love him. In any case, she has already agreed he may visit me.” Saria took her hand as she had when they were children, when they’d hidden beneath the quilts and whispered secrets. “I will tell you all about it,” her sister promised. “And you will tell me what it is like to be bound.”

Alari closed her eyes briefly and let go of her sister’s hand so the maids could slide rings onto her fingers. “Can we not speak of something else?”

Saria considered. “Tellarans are come to the Empress’ city to seek peace. Naret says some of their warriors are women. Perhaps we will see one.”

Alari’s brow creased. “A woman warrior? Does she dress in black and carry a sword?”

“He says she wears trousers like a man,” her sister said. “But carries no sword.”

Alari’s frown deepened. “How are they marked as warriors if they do not have swords?”

Her sister shrugged. “They are Tellarans.”

“I wish I could talk with one of them,” Alari murmured. To speak to one must be like conversing with a creature so foreign as to seem otherworldly, the wildness of their ways, the strange, unimaginable landscapes of faraway planets . . .

“A barbarian?” Her sister gave a short laugh. “You might as well wish for wings to fly away from the palace.” Saria met her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “Will you not tell me what troubles you, Alari? You used to tell me everything.”

Her attendant placed the final jewel in Alari’s hair and stepped back.

Looking back at her from the mirror was the very image of an Imperial bride.

Alari turned away. “There is nothing to tell.” Her throat tightened to see how high the sun had climbed. “And it is time to go.”

It took a half hour to get from Kinara’s clanhouse to the palace entrance and two hours for their party to get from the arched, colorfully carved Gate of the Blessed inside the Imperial palace itself.

Kyndan was gritting his teeth before they made it halfway across the tiled courtyard. It seemed like every ten feet an Imperial Servant or another clan leader would bow or nod to Kinara with a message or a question or just to pass the time with a chat. Nisara had been disappointed to hear that only one Tellaran would be permitted to attend today’s ceremony; Kyndan would have happily swapped places with her if he could have.

The palace grounds were the size of a small city. Enclosed within its walls were the empress’ residence, the House of the Imperial Children, and many other buildings including theaters, soaring banquet halls where thousands of guests were served at a time, and religious sanctuaries dedicated to each of the Az-kye gods and goddesses. The grounds also held enclosed parks with fountains and gardens where jaha birds proudly strutted, their iridescent feathers shimmering in the sun as they spread their wings in display. The Imperial palace was a riot of color and carving but every person from highest clan leader to servant was dressed in black.

Warriors wore black anyway and there were so many of them about that Kyndan almost didn’t notice the one warrior who looked back at him with amused green eyes.

“Tedah!” he said, smiling.

His friend caught himself before smiling back—warriors didn’t smile in public—but his hand clasped Kyndan’s warmly.

“Gods, it’s good to see you, Kyn,” Tedah said.

“You too,” Kyndan said. He turned his attention to the pretty young woman at Tedah’s side. “This must be Lianna.”             

“Yes,” Tedah said with a loving look at her.

“I am pleased to meet you, Commander Maere,” she said. 

“Call me Kyndan,” he said. “Believe me, Tedah talked about you
nonstop
for months. I might know you better than I know him.”

Lianna smiled. “I was very pleased when he came home.”

The idea of Tedah considering Az-kye
home
after being enslaved here was ludicrous but Kyndan gave a nod anyway. “He sure missed you.”

“How’s everyone on Rusco?” Tedah asked as they followed Kinara and Aidar into the palace.

“Your father says he’ll never forgive you. Your mother says not to listen to your father.” Kyndan paused. “But she also says a grandchild will do a lot to swing things back in your favor.”

Tedah’s mouth twitched. “She said that?”

“She made me write it down,” Kyndan said, then more seriously added, “They miss you.”

“I miss them too,” Tedah said quietly. “But,” he said, cheering, “once you get this treaty done I’ll be able to take Lianna for a visit.”

“And they will be able to come here,” Lianna said.

Tedah seemed to suck his upper lip inward a little and Kyndan realized he’d done it to keep from laughing.

“What are you thinking, my mate?” Lianna asked, with amused suspicion.

Tedah’s mouth twitched a bit again. “I’m just
very much
looking forward to introducing my father to your mother.”

When Lianna walked ahead to have a word with Kinara, Tedah looked at Kyndan. “How are the Tellarans taking the idea of peace with the Az-kye?”

Kyndan gave a half shrug. “Politicians are for it, so’s most of the populace.”

“The Fleet?”

In a palace hallway filled with black-clad courtiers, his blue and white dress uniform was gathering a lot of curious glances. “A little more cautious, but that’s to be expected.”

Tedah gave him a level look. “What about you?”

Kyndan looked away. “Peace is always best,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“Kyn, I know you might still have some—”

“Not the time,” Kyndan broke in shortly. “Or the place.”

“Right,” Tedah said, then after a moment continued, “So isn’t the palace amazing? Being here is like being transported back in time to the court of the Tellaran king.”

“Yeah, still, just one person with that kind of power . . . It’s a little, uh, narrow.”

“It’s sure more efficient than the republic. The empress wants something done, she just does it. No debate, no motions voted on by a room of representatives. Her word is law.”

Kyndan glanced ahead at his sister. She’d made a name for herself among the Az-kye by getting a seat on the Council for Trade. “What about the Councils?”

“Yeah, there’s some bureaucracy,” Tedah admitted. “There’s certainly the opportunity to move up in influence if you’re ambitious.”

“And belong to the warrior caste,” Kyndan returned in a low voice, glancing around at the black-clad warriors and their ladies. 

“The Realm had princes and kings,” Tedah said with a shrug. “The Az-kye have clan leaders and an empress.”

Surrounded by so many of their people—and headed to meet the ruler these people worshipped as second only to their gods—was not the time to give his opinion on their backward, barbaric ways.

“So, what’s that?” Kyndan asked with a nod at the scrolling artwork that took a third of the upper edge of the wall. It was elaborate, detailed work, accented with gold leaf and jewels that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the high windows.

“Well, this is the hall that leads to Lashima’s sanctuary and
that
,” Tedah said, “is a depiction of
The Thousand Nights
.”

“Oh.” He should never have let Kinara and his father talk him into coming back here. Being surrounded by Az-kye again, hearing the buzz of their language, set his teeth on edge. Just the
smell
of this world brought back ugly memories of defeat and brutal beatings—

“You know, the story of Ren’thar and Lashima?” prompted Tedah.

“I kind of skimmed their spiritual beliefs,” Kyndan admitted in Tellaran. Switching languages earned him a couple of disapproving looks but better that than say in Az-kye that he barely knew a festering thing about their gods.

Tedah lowered his voice to answer in the same language. “It’s the story of how Ren’thar, the warrior god, took a thousand nights to seduce the goddess Lashima.”