Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Nine

Now I understand why there’s so much merry-making in Alleria when the moon is full. The sight is glorious when you have a seat under the stars, a goblet of the King’s wine in your hand, and a plate of good food. Some of the other winners are dressed in their family’s respective colours, others wear their family gem-stones, others decorative sashes and robes. I’m simply clothed in one of the robes the King had requested to be made after the match had ended. It’s pearl white, like Faeore’s hood, made of velvet with swirls of illuminated stars stitched across them.

‘Latarch deugerf layam,’ one girl says to me, a group of other Allerian girls surrounding her, dressed in paler robes. She takes another sip of her wine and savours it, before speaking again. ‘Your friend, the coward, he dampens the moon’s light.’ She tells me.

‘Perhaps your moon was already dull,’ I reply in a tone that comes out cockier than I had intended.

She steps back with a gasp, horribly offended. I had insulted their moon. I will pay for it, I suspect soon.

‘Twain reuman kershant!’ she exclaims as she lunges forward to claw at me. The other girls attempt to restrain her.

‘There will be no more fighting today,’ the King’s voice cuts through the noise and the clamour. ‘You are partaking in the Feast of Champions. You have already proven your worth, Gweyntarr.’ He eyes the girl angrily. ‘There is no need to remind us of your skill.’

She bows and recomposes herself. He looks to me and smiles. ‘The coward of whom you speak comes from our trading land. Without them, we would have no sapphires. We owe them thanks at least. Though his presence here may dampen the light of the moon, the moon still shines in our favour!’

The crowd of winners cheer and raise their goblets.

I raise mine with a grateful smile. The King joins my side. ‘How is he?’ I ask nervously.

He sighs, ‘He’s in the infirmary. A maiden is attending to his wounds. He should heal in a few days, no more, no less.’

I nod. ‘Thank you.’

The girl, Gweyntarr, approaches and bows before the King.

‘My King,’ she sighs, ‘Forgive me for I have—’

Xertormei waves off her gesture. ‘Now, now Gweyntarr. All is forgiven. Your father is a good man and he has my respect. Any friend or kin of his shall have the same.’

‘Thank you,’ she breathes, before her eyes fall on me. ‘You are from Bardhelm.’ She notes.

I nod. ‘I am,’

The King stands firmly and proudly when he speaks again. ‘My long-lost kin from across distant shores.’ He says. ‘This is my niece, Skaya Dunedine of The City of Ivory.’

~.~.~.~

Silence is all I hear. It is deafening. They all stand and stare in disbelief. One boy stands only a few feet away from me. The striking thing about him is that he doesn’t seem all that surprised by the King’s revelation. When the King leaves us to our dancing and drinking, the boy approaches me, his goblet still in his hand. He seems fond of the wine, maybe too fond judging by his breath.

He clears his throat. ‘The niece of the great King is among us,’ he sighs, leaning his shoulder against the pillar behind us. ‘It seems my sister should have been more careful.’

I look to Gweyntarr and then back at him. ‘She’s your sister?’

He nods, like it’s more an unfortunate trick of fate than it is a blessing. ‘Afraid so. She has a rather...untamed tongue when it comes to welcoming foreigners into our lands.’ He tells me. ‘But it seems not all foreigners are as ordinary as we believe them to be. My name is Duhamas by the way, Duhamas Al’Taine.’ He pauses and smiles at Faeore, who stands in the crowd, her lips curling in bliss as they exchange affectionate glances. ‘I will soon be living in the King’s castle, once Faeore and I are married.’

I choke on my wine. ‘Married? You’re Faeore’s fiancée?’

‘Betrothed,’ he corrects me, ‘And yes. Her father made the selection rather early. Though I may have already pledged my oath, Faeore is still to pledge hers. Only then can we marry as equals.’

I taste the sourness in my wine suddenly. ‘What would happen if you married her when she still hasn’t pledged?’ I ask, eyeing Faeore from a far.

He looks to me with grave concern. ‘I do hope it does not come to that, Skaya. Marrying another Allerian who has not pledged is like marrying...well, a Kennah-born. It is unheard of and certainly not celebrated either.’

‘So you guys condemn marriage between two Allerians who aren’t pledged?’

He nods. ‘Yes. As is tradition.’

‘Does that bother you?’

He shakes his head with a breathy laugh. ‘No, I suppose not. I’m not marrying her because I want to uphold tradition, though it does bring me joy in knowing that I am playing my part. I’m marrying her because I love her, as simple as that.’

My heart warms up to the idea in a way. Though it seems sad that unequals cannot marry, it makes sense since you would want to spend all of eternity with someone who doesn’t have to worry about burying the other right? I tap my goblet, scanning the scene a little more, but what I see emerging in the moonlight is the figure of the last boy I’d expect to see. I may as well note that the expression he’s wearing is not a friendly one, nor one that implies arrogance or intent of mockery, his usual template. This time he wears a mask of envy.

Duhamas spots him and he leans in closer to whisper something in my ear.

‘Perhaps the King can make an exception for you and...your strikingly blue haired friend.’ He grins as my face burns.

I stare. ‘What, you think me and—’ I choke on my wine again. ‘—No, no, no. We’re not—I mean, he’s not...or I think he’s not...’

He smiles, amused. ‘There’s something in your eye, Skaya.’

I’m confused. ‘Starlight?’ I guess. ‘Moonlight?’

He shakes his head with a light chuckle. ‘No. Something else,’ he says, ‘Something only you know about. I see the way you look at him. It’s not a hard code to crack, you know.’

I scoff. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He pushes himself up from the pillar as Alec retreats from the moonlight and hides himself in the shadows. ‘When you were in that arena, you didn’t want to hurt him. But he was hurting you. Maybe not intentionally, but he was hurting you in a way that you could never will yourself to hurt him.’

A wave of indignation washes over me as he speaks, like he knows everything about me and what I think about this, that, and the other. I shake my head, dismissing his comments, but he keeps going.

‘I know about the request you put in with the King,’ he says. ‘You asked for Alec to given a lighter sword, so that he could swing at you with ease compared to the one you were using. A generous act no doubt, but incredibly stupid.’

I laugh. ‘You sound like him,’

‘Well he’s right!’ he exclaims. ‘Sometimes you need to think of things differently, see life through a different lens. Sometimes it provides you with a little something that makes sense of everything else.’

He looks like he’s got a lot more to say, perhaps a lecture on how to make it through eternity or something, but his eyes are still glued on Faeore, who’s waiting patiently in the illuminated circle, her fingertips tracing the rim of her goblet. A song starts to play, a flute or harp or mixture of the two, twined together in a harmony only Alleria could compose.

‘Excuse me,’ he says, nodding to me. ‘I promised her a dance.’

I smile as he leaves and I watch him fold Faeore into his arms and savour the moments they have together. What they have is something I never wanted to admit that I wanted too. Having someone to love must be the most wonderful thing in the world. And to be in love in such a place as this would make the whole affair so much more...romantic. A strange word. A true word. A word I never dreamed would apply to me, but maybe someday soon it will?