The Consort (Tellaran Series) (25 page)

Give me sword drills any day . . .

Kyndan tried not to fidget on the throne but it wasn’t easy. It was a big ornate thing and, whether it was simply because it was to be used by a toughened warrior type or because no one else ever sat in it long enough to find out, damned uncomfortable. This was his first experience dining publicly as Prince Consort and he could say with certainty that he hated it. 

This dinner marked the end of the official month-long mourning period for Saria. When he’d first heard about the custom, he thought it would be like a reception or sedate party that would help transition the court into a return to normal activities but that’s not what it was at all.

Situated in the center of the soaring golden hall, the thrones and table were set on a raised platform that reminded Kyndan uncomfortably of a stage. Dressed again in Imperial black, Alari sat at his side at the enormous table. Not surprisingly, her throne was larger and far more ornate than his. Theirs were the only table or chairs in the place; a hundred different dishes spread before them while what seemed like half the Empire stood around staring as they ate.

“This is fun,” he muttered.

Alari glanced at him. “During the First Empire the Gate of the Blessed was kept open and the common people would come to watch the Imperial family eat every meal. We are fortunate that we need only do this for the court.”

He didn’t serve himself, of course. Servants took a bite-sized sample of one dish or another to place on his plate. He would eat it and another servant would place a morsel from a different dish in its place. He couldn’t identify half of what he had eaten. He’d lost track of which dishes he’d been served from and which he hadn’t. Since the servants remained silent as they worked he wondered if they had some sort of hand signals worked out to keep track.

Kyndan scanned the room of black clad courtiers and servants with their dark eyes fixed on him. “So we eat and they just stand there and
watch
us?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t find this . . . weird?”

“It is symbolic. They will give their best for our table so that we may have the strength to lead them,” she explained quietly. “It is expected that we make a public display of the bounty.”

Kyndan’s brow creased. “Wait, how often do we have to do this?”

“Once every seven days. More during the festivals.”

“Every
week
?” he murmured bleakly.

“It is not the worst tradition that could have survived.” She threw him a tiny, impish smile. “During the time of the Li’thar Dynasty, when a member of the Imperial family took a mate, a bed was brought here so the court could observe the pair being bound.”

His face went hot at the idea of it. “Yeah, okay, the dining would get my vote too.”

“You will become accustomed to it,” she assured.

“Are you?” He couldn’t imagine ever
getting used to this.

“Yes, but I have been doing so since I was a child.”

“You did this as a
child
? I couldn’t sit still for five minutes when I was a kid.”

“There are some allowances made for the very young.” She smiled fondly. “Once, when we were little, Saria disappeared under the table to hide near my chair. We were both giggling so that my mother laughed and even my father . . .” A shadow passed over her face. “But now it is only me.”

“Us.” There was a surprised stir among the courtiers when he took her hand.

Kyndan didn’t even glance their way.
The hell with them.

Her fingers intertwined with his. “Us.”

After a very, very long dinner Alari rose and he with her.

“So what’s this opera we are going to see?” He wasn’t terribly excited about having to sit through that either but at least they would be part of the audience rather than the entertainment.

“
Ris and Letaria
,” she said. “Twins, brother and sister, lost, who come to a faraway land.”

“Like me and Kinara,” he said. “Except we’re not twins, of course.”

“Ris and Letaria are separated and both come to take mates who are of warring clans.”

“This has a happy ending, right?”

She offered a half-shrug. “For an opera.”

Kyndan, upon being proclaimed Prince Consort, had been presented with his own retinue of black-clad servants and personal honor guard and those men accompanied him now. Between him and Alari there were a minimum of fifteen people who went with them everywhere and his personal servants wore their own sashes of honor.

Alari, Kyndan and their servants passed through the courtyard under the shade of the many blooming tashi trees from the banquet hall to the Imperial Opera House. There were other smaller theaters on the palace grounds but this one was large enough to hold a thousand guests, the curtained Imperial box situated in the very center of the tiered space.

The audience stirred and those already seated rose to bow as they entered their box. The court waited until he and Alari had taken their seats before sitting again or moving about.

Kyndan, who had never been inside, had to resist the temptation to crane his neck to look around the ancient opera house. The gold beading on his shoulder and his “Commander face” expression were starting to have effect and he didn’t want to ruin it by gawking, no matter how ornate the interior. A number of the warriors here—mates or sons as well as the Imperial honor guard—met his eye with a measure of respect now before they inclined their heads to him.

Kyndan’s earlier experience with the court had been seeing them scandalized by Alari choosing him as mate or the shock of Saria’s death. He had never seen them excited or happy. He’d never observed alliances being formed or enemies sending cold glances to one another.  The unmated among them flirted, the young women hiding giggles behind their fans, the unmated warriors’ hot gazes following women they admired.

He was starting to be able to spot familiar faces. The priest of Behur was easy to spot in his blue robe. The High Priestess of Lashima, Celara, wore bright colors as always and her jeweled cane rested against her seat. Mezera, Leader of the War Council was present as was Banne, Leader of the Council for Trade. A number of those in attendance possessed territories vast enough on the colony worlds that they spread across continents. 

Jazan’s mother, clan leader of the Az’rayah, gave him only the sparest of nods when their eyes met and he could hardly blame her. He flinched inwardly every time he saw the woman.

“My mate?” Alari asked when he shifted uncomfortably.

“The
Ti’antah
of the Az’rayah is here.”

Alari’s eyes turned that way and the clan leader’s bow was just as chill to her.

“It was not to be avoided that they feel resentment,” Alari murmured.

“I would say the Az’rayah clan fucking hate me.” The clan leader faced forward again, her other sons and daughters around her. “There’s no way to apologize for what happened, for taking her son away from her.”

“Think you they grieve him?” she snorted. “I think they mourn what they lost with his defeat.”

“A son in the Imperial family,” he mused. “Just how much would that mean to them? I mean he would have joined your clan, just like I did.”

“His position as Prince Consort would have given him great power to provide many favors to them.”

“They look like they’re doing okay.”

“Much of the Az’rayah clan’s wealth is due to trade.”

“More like smuggling,” he muttered, suddenly wondering if Kinara’s activities as a member of the Trade Council involved smuggling too, wondering if he even wanted to know. “Am I wrong or are the Az’rayah ladies all wearing Tellaran shimmersilk? And isn’t blatantly displaying smuggled goods at court kind of in poor taste?”

“Who would not wish to flaunt their forbidden Tellaran treat?”

“Yeah, but—” He broke off, his face heating. “
Funny
.”

She hid her smile behind her fan as the house lights dimmed and the music began.

Kyndan, accustomed to immersive holotheaters, wasn’t expecting much. He’d heard some of Az-kye music during his time here as a slave and hadn’t liked any of it. But between his new fluency and the excellent performances of the troupe he was amazed to find he really enjoyed the opera and at intermission he applauded enthusiastically.

“You will make them anxious of the second act,” Alari teased. “Many warlords have been patrons of the arts—they watch to see if you are pleased,” she said with a nod at the closed curtain. “The singers are hopeful of your patronage.”

“They were watching
me
?” he asked with a glance at the stage. “I’m glad I didn’t know that. Anyway, they don’t have to worry. I really liked it.”

“Now they fear you will not like the end.”

“So I have to clap twice as hard at the finish?”

“Or at least as hard as at intermission,” she said. “We must send gifts too, to show our approval.”

“What kind of gifts?”

“Sweets, little trinkets, teas to soothe their throats. If you are very moved you might present the lead with a sweetly singing araya bird but then everyone will gossip that you have fallen in love with her.”

He shook his head a little. “We’re bound. I can’t fall in love with anyone else.”

Alari busied herself with her fan. Kyndan waved the attendants away and closed the curtain of their box himself.

He sat again, facing her. “So ‘bound’ means not having sex with anyone else.  But you could fall in love with someone other than your mate?”

“Such has happened,” she said, not looking at him.

“That’s why you were so upset about Nisara? Because you thought I might be in love with her?”

She sent an anxious glance at him.

“I wanted you the moment I saw you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he murmured. “I wanted to fight for you. I wanted to marry you.” He cupped her cheek. “There’s no one but you, Alari.”

She searched his gaze and her dark eyes shone. “Truly, I could love no other more, Kyndan.”

He leaned forward. “If I get caught kissing you, will it get us kicked out?”

“I would not care if it did,” she murmured already tilting her face up for his kiss.

The servants and attendants had already retreated to a discreet distance but there was a shuffled consternation at the entrance of the box.

Kyndan turned, his hand automatically going to where his blaster should be. Then, cursing inwardly, he reached for the sword lying in its back scabbard beside him.

“Elder,” he said, stopping short.

Sechon had a woman with her, a clan leader, by her dress, and a young man in warrior clothes.  All, especially the young man, had expressions of embarrassment at having interrupted such a private moment.

“Your Hi—Consort,” Sechon stammered, already stepping back. “We thought only to—We will withdraw.”

“No,” Kyndan said, trying to hide his chagrin and annoyance. “Please, come in.” “Are you enjoying the opera, Elder?” Alari asked.

“Very much,” Sechon said. “Consort, allow me to present Helia of the Az’shu and her son, Aylar.”

Helia and Aylar bowed and Kyndan nodded to them. “Good to meet you.”

“Helia, clan leader of the Az’shu, sits on the Council for Trade with Kinara of the Az’anti,” Sechon said with an unmistakable note of pride in her voice.

Kyndan remembered then that the leader of the Council for Food had accused Sechon of favoring Trade because her daughter, Helia, was on that Council.

“I’ve heard good things about you,” Kyndan said to Helia. The clan leader’s brow furrowed and Kyndan, borrowing a phrase he’d heard Alari use, said, “I mean, you are well thought of.”

Helia smiled. “It pleases me greatly to hear it so.” She glanced at Aylar at her side. “My son placed well in the contests this year.”

Kyndan looked at him. Probably all of eighteen, the kid was likely about a hundred times better than he was with a sword. “Congratulations.”

There was a pause and he could swear Alari hid a smile.

“What will you do now, Aylar?” Alari asked.