Red Rope of Fate (4 page)

“Good morning Captain Arion.”

“Good morning Tari,” Arion said, sparing her a glance before looking back to his paperwork.

“I see they have
settled you in,” Tari said, awkwardly standing as Arion had not asked her to sit. “I did not think they would be able to find you a new squad so swiftly. Unless your old squad coming to Haven?”

“No. My previous
squad was with the army and did scouting patrol for the Sacred Wood. My new squad is in the Honor Guard, and it will make patrols in the palace, and occasionally in the city,” he said, his voice emotionless.

Tari nodded
and studied the bookshelves that lined the walls of Arion’s office.

Arion stopped shuffling papers and looked up for a moment. “What about you? Have they given you a new assignment?”

Tari shook her head. “No. At the moment I have no responsibilities, beyond that of speaking to the translators, wizards, and enchanters of course,” she said, peering closer to inspect the book bindings. She couldn’t read them, they were written in the language of humans.

“Ah,” Arion said, scratching a note on a
scrap of paper with a feather quill.

Tari studied a portrait of a hunting party. “Did you receive an invitation to tonight’s banquet?” she asked. Tari’s attendant had brought the stamped and sealed invitation with
her morning breakfast of steamed buns, fresh fruit, and fruit preserves.

“For Princess Claire’s bonding celebration? I did. You and I are expected to attend it together.”

“So the invitation said. Shall we meet at the banquet hall?”

“If you don’t mind, that would be the most convenient.”

Tari was silent for a few moments before announcing. “My sister Kiva was bonded to Princess Claire. I imagine they matched them as Kiva already lives in Haven,” Tari said. She had barely registered the bond when she fled to Kiva’s side after the ceremony. It wasn’t until she dined with Kiva the previous evening that the realization sank in.

Arion grunted.

Tari glanced over her shoulder. Arion was bent over his paperwork, a slight frown on his lips. “Right, I shall see you this evening at the banquet then?” she said, making a beeline for the door.

Arion looked up, blinking in surprise. “Yes…,” he slowly agreed.

“Very well then, good morning Captain Arion,” Tari said before slipping out the door. She nearly ran into three armed guards.

A
ll there were gangly young men with wide eyes that almost popped out of their heads as they rammed into each other and stared at Tari.

“My mistake, my apologies,”
Tari signed, twisting her long fingers into the correct gesture. She repeated the signs when the soldiers did nothing but gawk at her.

“
Lady Tari?” Evlawyn, her attendant, called from further up the hallway. The strapping young soldiers had probably forced the shy elf into a retreat.

“There you are. If you don’t mind, Evlawyn, I would like to return to my room to change and practice some of my magic
and exercise routines in the gardens,” Tari said, starting down the hallway. Evlawyn trailed after her.

The soldiers stare
d at them until they turned a corner, stepping out of sight.

Chapter 3

Miscommunication

“Evlawyn might be
a timid guide and bashful of humans, but she is a fantastic handmaiden,” Tari pronounced, twisting in front of a full length mirror.

The younger elf had outdone herself. She piled Tari’s
silken hair on top of her head and wove a string of pearls through it, reflecting more human fashion than elf style. Tari’s dress—which was midnight blue and silver—was long and sweeping with billowing sleeves and full skirts. It was a nightmare to get into, but Evlawyn had managed it.

Tari glanced out the windows of the waiting room—dusk settled on the horizon like a heavy cloak—and
sighed. She had waited outside the banquet hall for perhaps half an hour and Arion had yet to arrive.

They were not late yet, but all of the captain’s siblings and Tari’s relatives arrived some time ago.

Tari smiled at a pair of guests who glanced curiously at her before they entered the banquet hall.

She lingered behind them
in the doorway, sighing in exasperation when she caught sight of a spot of black nestled among the brilliant court colors. Captain Arion had somehow evaded Tari’s notice and snuck inside. He was already seated, although there was an empty chair beside him for Tari.

Tari slipped in with a group of elf guests, walking with them until they were greeted by an official who moved to seat them. Tari slipp
ed past and continued up the aisle, stopping only when she reached Arion’s table.

“Good evening, Captain Arion,” Tari greeted.

Arion stood and gravely bowed. “Good evening. You look splendid this evening, Lady Tari.”

“It’s just Tari, C
aptain,” Tari said as she shook her head in amusement. She felt beyond awkward approaching and speaking to the captain, but he was able to freely fire off niceties as if a bond like theirs was common.“And thank you, you look very fine as well,” Tari added, looking up and down the table.

Although the cel
ebration was for Arion’s sister he and his siblings were seated at a table that was considerably far from the Princess. Their table mates were mostly Arion’s family members and their bonded elves. Tari fleetingly recalled Talon’s prediction of snubbing Princess Claire, and she pressed her lips together.

Making up her mind, Tari turned to Arion, who hadn’t reseated himself but did not give off the appearance of
being socially inclined. Ignoring that, Tari rather impertinently asked, “If you would not mind, Captain Arion, would you introduce me to your family? I believe we missed the introductions yesterday when we were whisked away.”

“Of course,”
Arion said, stepping around his chair before pushing it in. He dutifully trekked around the table to stand at Tari’s side. “Eric,” Arion called.

A young man speaking to Talon through a translator looked up. Arion wriggled his fingers at him, and the young man came trotting, Talon trailing in his wake. “Lady Tari, allow me the dubious honor of introducing you to my
younger brother, Eric Herycian. Eric runs our family manor with my father. Eric, this is Lady Tari of Lessa.”

Tari made the signing gesture for “well met.”

Eric smiled and said something before shaking his head and making an indecipherable sign gesture.

Tari stared at his hands before she looked to Arion for help. “I do not know what that gesture means.”

“Probably because he is doing it wrong,” Arion dryly said before forming the gesture for “thank you.”

Eric made a face
and spoke again.

“What did he say?” Tari asked.

“He wishes he studied the signing language with greater diligence,” Arion said.

Tari laughed, making Eric smile.

“It is forgivable. I have been told it is easier for elves to perform the gestures as our hands are more deft,” Tari said before making the gesture for “all is forgiven,” to Eric.

“Calling it easier is putting it mildly,”
Arion said.

“Ah, I must
beg for your forgiveness as I have failed to introduce you to my cousin. Talon, son of Galvedo,” Tari said, reaching past Eric to draw Talon forward.

Arion bowed slightly, and Talon mimicked Tari and formed the gesture for “well met.”

“You are Eric’s bond mate?” Tari asked her cousin.

“Indeed, I am,” Talon
said, nodding for Arion’s benefit.

Tari opened her mouth, about to ask another question, wh
en King Petyrr swept up to them. His entourage of three nobles, two footmen, a page, and a dog scurried behind him to keep up with his large strides.

Kin
g Petyrr laughed and roared with infectious joy. He slapped Arion on the back a few times before Arion and Eric had the chance to bow to their monarch. He folded his arms and continued to talk, batting one of his courtiers away. He turned to face Tari and extended his arms at her, speaking louder yet. The ruddy faced king then clapped his hands and elbowed Arion.

Arion bowed slightly. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he gravely said.

The king chattered away for a few moments, looking at Tari although he addressed his comments to Arion and Eric.

Tari whispered to Talon, “It seems no one feels inclined to translate His Majesty’s conversation?”

“I suspect they’ve forgotten about us, and your captain is not so rude as to speak over his monarch,” Talon said.

Tari was shocked wh
en King Petyrr reached and grabbed Tari’s hand, patting it several times before winking at her and swirling off—exiting in a whirlwind of laughter and courtiers.

Tari breathed out, “I feel as though I have just survived a stampede of stallions.”

“His Majesty has a unique presence,” Arion acknowledged.

Tari watched the s
quat king march up to the table where his family sat. He ruffled the hair of his youngest son and sweetly kissed Princess Claire’s hand before moving down the line, plopping down in his chair in a careless manner that oddly conveyed a sense of power.

Tari found his conduct rather unlikely
for a person intent on snubbing his new daughter-in-law, and then she set eyes on the human queen.

Queen Luciee
was as cold as her husband was good-humored. Her face was a frozen mask of disdain starched to perfection. She was stiff, prim, and she
glared
in the direction of Tari’s table.

Arion
briefly placed his hand on Tari’s elbow. “We should be seated. I suspect the banquet will begin soon.”

Tari nodded in agreement and followed Arion to their chairs.

Half an hour of speeches and greetings started
the banquet before roasted boar and geese were brought out for consumption. This seemed to break open the floodgates of food for soon after servers brought out jellied fruits, roasted nuts, strawberries dusted with sugar, several questionable puddings, hot rolls, a variety of greens, grilled vegetables, and more.

During the meal Arion reluctantly introduced Tari to his parents, Lord Fredrick and Lady Angelica Herycian, and two of his sisters, Delilah and Belle.

Between dessert and the final round of drinks King Petyrr came to laugh at Arion and Tari some more, this time with King Celrin in tow.

Although the
formal elvish king spoke in tones far more subdued than King Petyrr, Tari suspected he was fond of the outspoken human monarch and found his peculiarities amusing. She said as much to Arion, who thought for a moment before replying.

“I suppose so. He does not seem horrified by His Majesty, although I fin
d King Celrin difficult to read.”

“Perhaps it is the difference in our cultures, for I thought My King Celrin looked at ease,”
Tari said as she slowly reached for her goblet. She wished for rose water, or grape juice, or even fresh water to drink. Instead she was served dry human wines that tasted like beet juice. Tari held back a gag as she sipped at her wine and watched a portion of the guests abandon their seats for the dance floor.

A groan leaked out of Tari when
she noticed a herd of translators edging their way towards her. They eyed Tari and Arion like hungry forest cats as Tari leaned back in her chair. “I thought this silence was too good to be true. Our questioners will soon descend upon us,” she predicted. “They drive me mad with their repetitive questions and endless hypothesizing.”

Arion followed her gaze to the translators. “Ah,” he said as they organized themselves. “You could inform them they have already asked you that question,” he offered.

“That would do no good; they’ll merely rephrase it or ask an even more absurd question. This morning during luncheon one of them inquired if I have ever had a near death experience which granted me special powers. That is
ludicrous
.”

“You cannot blame them, they are trying to find the reason for,” Arion gestured blankly at Tari
.

“They could think a bit more
before they propose their ideas. A human translator asked me during an interview if I thought it was possible that you and I are tied together by a red string of fate.”

“A what?”

“A red string of fate. It’s elvish lore: a red string ties together two people who are fated to be close friends. I’m not certain how he heard of it, but it was rather impudent of him to suggest it.”

Arion shrugged. “If
you firmly asked them to leave I doubt they would refuse you.”

Tari gaped at Arion. “Leave? But I couldn’t! The whole reason I’m staying in Haven is to help them.”

Arion sipped his goblet. “Then I’m not sure I understand why you’re complaining.”

Tari’s mouth dropped as she stared at Arion. Did he just accuse her of
complaining
? How rude could he be?