Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (20 page)

‘You have offices in Lydney?’

Tristan nods and squeezes my hand. ‘Since I’ll be moving
to Lydney after the wedding, my parents thought it best if we establish an
office in advance. It’s quite close to the mansion though so I’ll be able to
spend a lot of time at home.’

‘Mansion? You have a mansion in Lydney?’

‘
We
do,’
Tristan says. He sits up straight, eyes full of excitement and I follow suit,
sitting cross-legged before him, trying to hide my growing unease. He takes
both my hands in his and links my fingers through his. His whole face is
animated as he continues:

‘You should see it – I’ll take you when we get back.
It’s really lovely. Right on the river’s edge with plenty of acres for
horse-riding and a huge garden for the wedding -’

‘Whoa,’ I say, pulling my hands from his and stumbling
to my feet, ‘you need to slow down.’

I turn away and take a few steps toward the buildings in
the distance but Tristan is suddenly there, blocking my way. He reaches for my
hand again but I flinch away. It’s just too much. He talks like we’re already
standing at the end of the aisle and I can’t make head or tail of what I’m
feeling right now.
 

‘What is it that frightens you so much about getting
married?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you feel something for me?’

‘Tristan -’

‘Because I was sure you felt something when I touched
you -’

‘It’s not that, Tristan,’ I say, looking down at the
thick weave of the blanket. ‘It’s just…’ I make a frustrated sound in the back
of my throat and meet his eyes. ‘I had my life all planned out, you know. I was
going to study at Rhodes next year, do a bit of travelling, write a book and
start auditioning for some dance productions. This isn’t what I’d planned at
all.’

I fold my arms and stare at my feet.

‘My whole life, I’ve been waiting for this chance, to
turn eighteen, to be able to make my own choices, choose my own career path, my
own life partner…and now - I can’t.’ I shake my head and bring my gaze back to
his. ‘It’s not marriage that frightens me; it’s never getting the chance to
live my dreams.’

There’s a lot more to it than that but I’m not about to
admit to Tristan that he and Kael have put a spanner in my dream-works. When
I’m with either of them, I’m not even sure I know what I want anymore and that terrifies
me.

There is a beat of silence, and Tristan says: ‘I can’t
pretend to understand how you feel, Shaylee,’ he says. ‘I’ve never known
anything other than this path that was chosen for me.’ He puts one hand on my
shoulder and peers at me intently. ‘But if I had a choice, I wouldn’t change a
thing. This bond we have is…well I just can’t explain what it’s like. I can
only hope that after this afternoon – after you witness the ritual that binds
us, maybe you’ll start to understand how I feel about you.’

Chapter
33

Self-conscious

Tastes like: Spaghetti and
meat-balls when you’re the guest of honour at a banquet.

Smells like: The sweetest
perfume in a gym-hall full of sweaty students.

Sounds like: An off-key
voice in a choir.

Feels like: A zit in the
middle of your forehead.

Looks
like: A blinding spot-light on the centre of a stage.

The ceremony takes place in a large banquet hall
downstairs at the lodge. Garlands of white lilies and fern wreaths hang from
the ceiling and along the make-shift aisle, lending their delicate fragrance to
the rose-scented breeze that circulates from the open French doors.

All the guests are in eye-popping evening-wear, and once
again, I feel like the peasant in my black-suede, ankle-length number. I’ve
tried to dress it up a little with my red silk shawl, but it’s much too warm
inside for a wrap.

I let the shawl drop from my neck and loop it around the
crook of each arm as I take my seat near the middle of the room and watch the
guests file in. When Tristan walks in, he catches my eye and motions for me to
move to the other side of the room, behind Katelyn’s family on the right. I
follow his instructions and slide into the chair beside him. He compliments me
on my appearance and I do the same for him, although I suspect there is more
truth to my words than his. He really does look incredible in a grey suit and
when I notice his red silk tie, I pull my wrap a little further up my
shoulders.
      

The ritual begins much like a wedding, with Katelyn’s
mother carrying her daughter, dressed in a silver-white silk and lace Baptismal
dress that drapes almost to her mother’s knees, down the carpeted aisle.
Justin’s mother stands at the end of the aisle, with the infant in her arms,
squirming in a black pants and white shirt, complete with miniature black
bow-tie.

I think it’s all a bit much. They’re babies for heaven’s
sake, they don’t even know what’s happening and those outfits look mighty
uncomfortable. The lack of participation of the babies’ fathers is also glaring
for me. They just sit in the second row,
behind
the royal guests, watching the proceedings from a distance. I guess I
shouldn’t be surprised, I’m realizing that the
Maor
society is highly matriarchal.

As if to underline my train of thought, an elderly woman
steps forward to stand before the two mothers. She eyes the room with a regal
stare, her light green gaze pausing on me for a moment, sitting beside Tristan
in the fourth row, before she flicks her eyes back to the two infants.

Tristan nudges me and makes a gesture with his chin at
the eagle-eyed woman.

‘That’s Tabitha Fern –
Queen
Tabitha Fern,’ he whispers into my ear, ‘one of the seven
members of the
Tanistry
.’

I give a slight nod and turn my attention back to the
front of the room as Tabitha speaks. If I had to close my eyes and just listen
to her voice, I would have guessed her age much closer to thirty.
 

‘‘Ta failte romhat,’ she says.

‘Mo Bann Ri,’ the assembly replies.

‘Welcome, to the promising of Katelyn and Justin,’
Tabitha says. ‘Many of you have witnessed this ceremony before, some have
part-taken in it, and all of us know its importance. It is this very ritual that
has ensured the continued existence of our kind.’

She gestures toward the audience with both hands
outstretched.

‘You’ve all come to bear witness to the promise that
will be made between these two families; a promise that can never be broken; a
promise sealed in blood.’

She motions to Katelyn’s mother to step forward.

‘Terryn McQuire of the Glen Kielder, as Katelyn’s
guardian, do you promise to see your daughter wed to Justin Farrell of Glen
McKoul. Do you promise to enable this union that will, God willing, result in
children of pure blood to ensure our survival?

‘I do,’ Katelyn’s mother replies.

Tabitha repeats the ritual with Justin’s mother, and
then she addresses the guests.

‘Do you, as witnesses, confirm that these parents have
promised before all to wed Justin Farrell of Glen McKoul to Katelyn McQuire of Glen
Kielder and will you ensure, when the time comes that this promise is honoured?’

Only the row with the royals reply: ‘We do,’ and I
wonder with a shiver, just how exactly they will be ‘ensuring that the promise
is honored’.

Tabitha motions to one of the royals in the front row,
who steps forward, carrying a red silk pillow. The
Maor
leader lifts a small silver dagger from the pillow and raises
it reverently into the air. The thin blade gleams in the sunlight and on it, I see
intricate engraving but I can’t quite make out the patterns. Just looking at
the dagger makes my wrist tingle in a familiar way.

Tabitha moves in front of Katelyn, takes the right arm
of the infant firmly in her hand and uses the tip of the dagger to prick a
tiny, shallow cut into her wrist. The baby lets out a loud wail as Tabitha quickly
makes an identical incision into Justin’s left wrist. The
Tanistry
leader presses the infants’ wounds together as she
whispers a strange incantation in a language I don’t recognize.

When the ritual is complete, Tabitha separates the
infant’s arms and lays the flat blade of the silver dagger first over Katelyn’s
and then Justin’s wound and I watch in amazement as the skin closes, leaving
only a feint pink scar.
 

With a nod from Tabitha, the two mothers step apart to sit
down, and Tristan nudges me with his shoulder.

‘Watch.’

I glance curiously at him, and back at the two mothers. My
eyes widen as Justin reaches his tiny arms toward Katelyn and begins to whine.
His mother smiles tenderly down at him, shares a knowing look with Katelyn’s
mother, and goes to sit beside her, instead of on the opposite side of the
room.

I stare at the babies, now cooing happily at each other and
slowly turn my own wrist over to examine the fine silvered scar that I once
thought was the result of an unfortunate accident with a coke bottle.

‘That’s the power of the bond, Shaylee,’ Tristan
whispers, his breath warm against my ear. He turns his own wrist over so I can
see the scar that matches my own and slides his wrist over mine, scar to scar.
The familiar tingle shoots through my wrist, but tenfold in intensity. Our eyes
meet, and my gaze dips involuntarily to his mouth, then back up to his stormy
grey eyes. I know he feels it too, this desire that seems to stem from our
shared scars and multiplies with each touch.

I feel myself leaning toward Tristan, and then I hear Katelyn’s
mother’s voice, announcing that the reception will be held in the adjoining
dining hall and I pull back, blushing. Tristan smiles sheepishly at me and I
know that, in that brief moment, I wasn’t the only one who forgot where we were.

I stand, pretend to smooth out the creases in my dress
and take a deep, centering breath. Right now, I feel like I’m losing control –
of my body, my mind, my soul – and there is nothing that terrifies me more.
When I’ve gathered myself enough to fake a smile, I follow Tristan into the dining
hall.
 

White lily arrangements sit on each table setting, white
silk drapes the tables and bright red sashes adorn each chair. Long buffet
tables run along the side of the room, laden with everything from caviar to
curry, and at the front, near the French doors, a string quartet plays.

Within minutes, Mrs. Westwood whisks me off into the
guest fray, leaving Tristan and his father staring helplessly from the circular
table. When I see Katelyn and Justin’s families sitting quietly in one corner
of the room, I feel embarrassed. This celebration is supposed to be about them,
but hardly anyone has even bothered to speak to them this afternoon. Instead,
they crowd around me and Mrs. Westwood, making small talk while they assess the
‘new royal’. I know they must have heard about me by the way their eyes roam
over my skin, until my hairs stand on end and I feel like ripping away my dress
and screaming:
there’s the mark, take a
look and then leave me the hell alone
!
 

Kent follows me through the room, but keeps getting
pushed aside by the other royal bodyguards who all seem to be double his size
and age, until eventually, I take pity on him and send him off to the arcade
with the assurance that I will be perfectly safe in a room full of
Maor
and
seastnan
.

As the sun begins to set behind the tips of the Dalby
trees, I find myself standing beside the French doors. Mrs. Westwood is
engrossed in conversation with yet another royal and so, with a quick glance
around to make sure nobody is watching, I slip away into the garden. Once
outside, I breathe in great gulps of fresh forest air and feel my shoulders sag
in relief. I make my way to a bench in a small alcove near the entrance to the
maze, sit down and close my eyes.

Is this what it’s like to be a royal
Maor
? I don’t think I can take much more
of this attention. My face already feels stiff from the forced smiles and I
wonder how many more times I can talk about the weather while some stranger
checks me out.
 

‘Not fond of the attention, I see,’ a voice says from
behind me. Startled, I twist around on the bench and then jump to my feet when
I recognize the sharp green eyes and straight, thin form of Tabitha Fern.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,’ I mumble. She smiles,
sits on the bench, and pats the wood beside her.

‘Come sit.’

I look at her for a moment and perch myself on the edge
of the bench next to her and twist my hands in my lap. This woman looks a lot
like my own grandmother; in the way that she speaks and the grace with which
she moves, but she’s missing the softness Nan has.

‘Why are you nervous?’ she asks, indicating my hands.

I flush and clench my hands tightly together to stop
their movement.

‘I’m not…I mean, you’re Queen Tabitha Fern, from the
Tanistry
and…’

‘Oh posh,’ she says, ‘my reputation precedes me but you should
know, we don’t like being called by our titles, Ms Greene.’ She flashes me an
oddly mischievous grin that seems so unlike her hard exterior, I can’t decide
whether she is friend or foe. Maybe she is neither.

‘Are you settling in then?’ she asks.

I manage a nod and she continues, seeming satisfied.

‘I’m glad to see that you and Tristan are getting along
well. I must say, we’re all quite looking forward to your wedding.’ She leans
forward slightly. ‘The sooner the better, I should think. We don’t want to take
any chances with our future, you know.’ I feel blood rush to my cheeks but I
hold back the angry stream of words on my tongue.
Our future
, she says, but really it’s
my
life she’s referring to.
 

‘Speaking of protection…’ Tabitha continues, oblivious
of my reaction. She glances around the alcove and then back to me. ‘Where is
Kael? I haven’t seen him all evening and he shouldn’t have left you alone.’ She
gives me a stern look.

‘Um, Kael’s not at Abbey manor,’ I reply.

‘What do you mean ‘not at the manor’?’ Tabitha says in a
sharp voice.

‘Kael had some – things - to attend to back in Aylburton,’
I say hesitantly, unwilling to get into the details. ‘His brother, Kent is here
in his place.’

Tabitha’s expression turns incredulous.

‘Do you mean to tell me that your
seastnan
left you in the care of another? Does Tanya know of this?’

I nod, unable to speak.

‘I’ve never heard of such a thing!’ She stands and
gestures around the alcove. ‘And where is this
replacement
protector? Why has he left you unattended? Does he
realize what is at stake?’ She inhales sharply, as she glances behind us toward
the dark forest at the edge of the lawn. ‘It’s not safe for you to be alone out
here, especially not with so many
Maor
royals in one place. I want you to go inside immediately.’

‘But -’

‘No arguments. Inside. Now.’ She crooks her finger toward
the edge of the maze and as if by magic, a black and white suited bodyguard
appears. ‘Pedro, please take Ms Greene inside to her fiancé immediately.’

He bows slightly and she turns back to me. ‘You will
stay with Tristan in the safety of the manor for the remainder of the evening
and I think I’ll have a little word with this replacement protector of yours.’

‘But -’

‘Go!’ she says, giving me a slight push in the direction
of the manor ‘I will not risk our one chance!’

‘It’s simply unheard of, Tanya!’

Kent, Tristan and I sit in a row on the brown-suede
couch in Tristan’s en-suite sitting room. Tabitha Fern is at the small writing
table near the door, speaking into the telephone. I can’t hear my grandmother’s
replies on the other end but I can tell that Tabitha is not satisfied with her
answers.