Daughters of Fate Book 2 | An Original Fantasy Adventure

Chapter 21 (12th of Vashi in the year 6199)

Sheala considered the offering brought by the elven woman in stunned silence. As she peaked under the matching cover, the smell of roasted meats filled her senses and her stomach cried for the food.

Sayra smiled.

"You know what's under here?" Sheala questioned.

"Let me see," Sayra tapped her finger on her lips in mock contemplation. "Deer, some rabbit, and I believe a slice or two of some specially seasoned beef." With the realization Sayra was teasing her, Sheala took the cover off and sat the meal down on the table at her bedside.

The elf shut the door and entered, making the one-room residence seem crowded.

Sheala, unconcerned with etiquette, began peeling apart the food with her fingers and enjoyed the very first bite. Despite her mouth being full, the ambassador spoke. "Anthony said it wasn't proper for women to eat meat in elvish culture." She pushed another slice of beef in, allowing her tastebuds to savor every ounce of flavor.

"That would explain why you asked the Pelsan to sneak you some food then." Sayra gave off the slightest laugh.

"I am glad I could amuse you." Sheala partook of more meat from the tray.

"It is not proper for elven women to eat meat. You are not elven. Are you?" Sayra saw Sheala was annoyed at having gone this long being deprived of what she considered real food. "I would not blame him too much, though. While he has elven blood, he has never lived among us. I believe some of our traditions have most likely been lost in translation through the years since his House resided here. So it is a forgivable oversight on his part. Although the House of Nador was one of the most strictly traditional of all the Houses and has not existed in my lifetime. They may have had some slightly different interpretations to what we today consider elven custom. I simply wanted to make sure that everything was straight before the Fayna Roule."

"The Fa-la What?"

"Fayna Roule," Sayra repeated. "It means Dinner To Welcome The Most Honored and Revered Guest of the Elven People Who Has Come to Sit at Our Table."

"But," Sheala started counting on her fingers. "That's only two words in elvish to twenty words in common."

"Twenty-one, to be exact. And it is a loose translation. I didn't want you to insult Olara, our Chief Cook of House Tynara. She can get a little touchy when people don't try all the food she prepares." Sayra's hand started rubbing at the nicks in the wood, taking an interest in the damage Sheala had done to the bedpost,

"Oh." Sheala's face reddened. "Sorry about that. I hope that wasn't a family heirloom or something."

Drawing her hand away from the wood, Sayra only smiled. "No worries. The Fayna Roule will be tomorrow evening. And it is our pleasure to host you, Child of the Storm." And with that, she removed herself and allowed Sheala to finish her meal in peace.

A moment after the silver-haired elven woman left was when Sheala noticed the condition of the post she had been massaging. The gouges and scrapes were all gone and the wood appearied as pristine as when she first arrived.

"You're sure about this?" An elven man, his shoulder-length hair straight and brown, lingered outside as Sayra as exited the small home. "Esse has his doubts." Every word spoken was in his native tongue to avoid their guests from overhearing.

From one of his shoulders to the other, a cat-sized dragon, blue as cobalt, scampered back and forth. He held up a small bit of raw meat between two of his fingers, and the creature stopped, cocked its head to the side, and chirped. Then snatched the morsel with its beak and devoured it in a pair of quick bites.

"Why are you always so suspicious?" She humored him and continued on the conversation in elvish. Holding out her hand, the blue dragon leaped from him to her, scampering along her arm and perching on her shoulder with much more poise and control than it had exhibited for the man. She scratched behind its head. "Maybe you can tell me? Huh? Sheettah? Why is Ittan always so suspicious?"

Rolling his eyes, "I really strongly dislike it when you do that. I'm right here. Talk to me. Not through your pet to me."

"Are you saying there is something about me you hate?" She smiled.

"I didn't say I hated anything about you." There was a bit of fluster in his tone. "I said I 'strongly dislike' it."

"Most people would call that hate. Why can't you just admit that there are things about me that are less than perfect? Huh? Why can't Ittan do that, Sheettah?"

Ittan folded his arms. "Now you're just deliberately trying to antagonize me."

Sayra shrugged. "Do you love me any less because of it?"

With a sigh, his posture softening, Ittan cupped her chin in his hand. The small blue dragon perked its head up. "I could never love you less. As each day passes, I must admit that I love you more."

"Our pending nuptials were arranged before we were born." She stared back into his eyes. "I would never hold you to them. Not if you told me, honestly, that you did not love me."

"First Son and First Daughter," he reminded her. "House Reywa and House Tynara. Bound together forever."

A sigh. "It is a silly tradition."

Ittan took a moment to study the seriousness etched on her face. "Every day, I show you I love you. I live and I breathe for you. Not because of some tradition. But because of what is in my heart. But the real question is, do you love me?"

In and out went Sayra's breath. "You know I was against this arrangement from the day I was old enough to understand it."

"Not the question I asked."

Eyes closed, Sayra composed herself. "But in those years since, while I do not agree with the means, I do agree with the ends. For I have fallen in love with you."

"Why is that so hard for you to say?"

"Because, it is a stupid tradition."

As Ittan leaned in to kiss her, Sheettah chittered with agitation. "Quiet, you." And then he did so.