The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter two ✣

Mother called my name, but I ignored her. It wasn't as if she could scream at me to come back-we were in public. I thought about talking to Father and my new father-in-law, but after a quick rumination, I realized I didn't want to talk to him either.

As I strode aimlessly through the Hall, I noticed my...husband...watching me as he leaned against a wall. Another man was talking to him, but he didn't appear to be listening.

"Your Highness are you alright?" Someone inquired, touching my arm.

I jerked away, turning to face my accoster. Upon recognizing her, a smile inked across my face. "Omo? I'm so happy to see you."

Her expression illuminated with mirth. "Your Highness, I wanted to say goodbye. I apologize for so roughly grabbing you."

"It's no problem. I'm glad you found me."

As we talked, I desperately wanted to hug her and draw comfort from her alleviating presence. Unfortunately, according to my Nechi Culture tutor, Aranians frowned upon public displays of affection. Especially between people of high and low status. Thus, embracing Omo in front of these Nechi visitors was unacceptable.

"I'll miss you dearly," I whimpered. "I don' know how I'll cope."

"You're a strong girl. You're Ayan-you'll learn from the change the way clouds adapt to the breeze."

My lips quivered as I received my last piece of wisdom. "Goodbye, Omo." I said, my voice catching in my throat.

"Goodbye Your Highness," She bowed before briskly walking away to attend to other duties. At least we'd said goodbye, though I knew on my trip to Arania, I'd be in tears once our shared memories resurfaced.

As I stood there, unsure of where else to go, I noticed my...husband... approaching me. His friend, the man whom he'd been ignoring, was nowhere in sight. "Good evening." He said with a smirk.

I didn't know what was so amusing. Had I done something wrong? "Evening, Your Highness." I fanned out my skirts and tried to imitate what my Nechi Culture tutor had taught me. In Arania, it was called a "curtsy".

He waved his hand. "No need for such formalities."

"Oh, alright."

"Err...so...we're married now."

Looking into his eyes, I could only see discomfort and awkwardness. I was as much a stranger to him as he was to me. "I'm quite aware."

"My father forced me to talk to you," He admitted with an exaggerated exhale. "He says it is only proper since we are newly married. I told him there was plenty of time for that on the journey home but once he's grabbed onto a conviction, he obstinately refuses to let it go."

While I had excellent English, there were still some words I'd not yet added to my vocabulary. "Obstinately" being one of them. However, seeing Prince Flynd's egotistical demeanor and glib smile, I knew he wasn't the person to humble yourself before to ask.

"Interesting," I said. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Your High-ah-I mean Flynd."

"Likewise, Ayan."

"My name rhymes with 'dawn' rather than 'dun'."

"Ay-yawn?"

"Indeed."

He pondered over my name, before remarking, "Strange."

"Strange? Strange like Flynd?" I retorted, unable to stop myself.

He scoffed. "Flynd is a respectable, normal name that at the very least, makes phonetic sense. Ayan is counter-intuitive."

"You're saying it wrong again," I snapped, beginning to feel irritated.

Prince Flynd shrugged with a sly grin. "My sincerest apologies. Can you ever forgive me?"

That ridiculous smile. "Forgiven." I said, my voice hard and serious.

"No need to be angry, it was all in jest."

"Indeed..." I trailed though inwardly, I was seething. How dare he insult my name and then claim it was a joke? In Meret, my native language, Ayan was used to describe the wispiness of the clouds. Their lightness and ethereal quality. It was a word Mother said described me when I was born. How dare he insult my language, my essence, me?

"Would you care to dance?" He asked suddenly, motioning to the open floor. "It is expected of us, you know."

"No, thank you."

"Why? Do you not know how to dance?" He waggled his eyebrows which unnerved me. Was he intoxicated?

"I know how to dance, I'm simply not in the mood."

"I think you're lying. But I'm not surprised, I wouldn't expect you to know traditional Aranian culture."

I inhaled deeply, willing myself to remain calm and relaxed. He was simply a silly Nechi man who thought he knew everything. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you don't seem to understand Aranian culture."

"I was tutored about your culture for weeks prior to our wedding."

He chuckled lowly. "Just because you've learned something doesn't mean you can apply it. I've been watching you all night. You know how to use a fork and knife, but you used all the wrong ones at dinner. During the socializing hour, tradition dictates that the bride speaks to the groom's parents. You still have not. Afterward, the bride is to share a dance with her husband in front of the crowd. You refuse without realizing the social implications of doing so. So, no, I do not think you understand Aranian culture."

I glowered at him, feeling humiliated tears prick behind my eyes. "At least I tried. What do you know about Meretian culture? My culture?"

He faltered.

"Why am I not surprised?" I snapped. With an exasperated huff, I spun on my heel and stormed away.

This was the man I was married to? This was the one whose child I was supposed to bear?

I refused.

For, as long as stars twinkled in the night and water streamed in the rivers, I would never have a child with this man. After all, as Omo said, the clouds must adapt to the breeze.

For me, those abrasive gales were Prince Flynd of Arania, and I would not let him turn me into wisp.