Legacy (21 page)

Cannan looked almost yearningly at Narian for a long moment, and I thought I saw a flicker of the same emotion in the young man's eyes.

“You act as though Narian is a disappointment when it is, in fact, he who has been cheated. Narian deserves a better father than you.”

Cannan turned and strode down the hill. Without waiting to see what I would do, Destari took hold of my arm above the elbow and pulled me alongside him as he followed the captain, leaving Koranis alone to face his son. If not for Destari, I would have remained rooted in place, reeling from shock. I struggled to comprehend what I could only interpret as Cannan revealing that he had lost a son to the Cokyrians.

I regained my voice as Destari and I joined the guests who had gathered at the top of the hill and were entering the tent for the feast.

“Did Cannan have a second son?”

Destari drew me aside, unhappy with my question, and I didn't know if I would receive a lecture or an answer.

“Yes. Like a number of others in Hytanica, the captain had an infant son who was abducted and killed by the Cokyrians, and whose body was among those returned for burial by our enemy. Now, let the matter rest.” Well acquainted with my persistence when my interest was roused, he added, “Don't ever raise such a question around Baroness Faramay. She never fully recovered from the ordeal.”

I nodded, but continued to cling to my bodyguard's side a moment longer, quietly absorbing this information. How different would Steldor's life have been if his brother had survived? I couldn't imagine my life without Miranna. A wave
of sympathy crashed over me for Cannan, Faramay and even for Steldor, although he probably had few memories of his younger sibling.

As I thought of the Captain of the Guard's face while he had harangued Koranis, I understood the reason Cannan had, from the beginning, treated Narian well, and so differently, from our other prisoners. Was this also why he had so readily taken Galen, a fatherless boy, into his heart?

And what of Narian? Was he, at the age of sixteen, already a Cokyrian warrior? His words had seemed to suggest as much. I shivered as I thought of the weapons I now knew he had carried concealed on his person the entire time he had been here in Hytanica. I remembered the first time I had met him and recalled that even then he had been wearing his boots and belt—the only articles of his clothing that Cannan had let him retain. I once again felt as if I did not know him at all. The only certainty that resonated in my mind was that there were more things in the world of which to be afraid than I had imagined.

MY APPETITE HAD DIMINISHED ALMOST TO THE point of nonexistence, but I joined the line of people at the serving table and allowed my plate to be filled, for it would have been impolite to refuse the elaborate feast. As I exited the serving line, my eyes fell upon Steldor and Galen, and my flickering hope that they would not attend was extinguished. They were standing at the end of one of the long dining tables, their plates of food forgotten in front of them on the wooden tabletop. Galen, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, was flipping a dagger between his right hand and his left in a manner that I had come to associate with Steldor. Steldor stood by his friend with one booted foot upon the table's bench, resting his elbow upon his knee.

He was wearing a black leather jerkin with split sleeves that showed the white shirt he wore beneath, and black breeches. Given my new curiosity about weapons, I took in the silver sword at his side. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in black leather overlaid with silver wire, and its pommel was set with rubies, which might have given it a sophisticated look were it not for the winged and barbed guard that gave notice of its
power. His dark apparel suited his dark features and gave him a mysterious and brooding look. In spite of my jaded feelings toward him and my subdued mood, he took my breath away. Just then he glanced at me only to avert his eyes. Although I liked to think myself too indifferent toward him to care, his reaction surprised me, and I was pleased to discover that I held some sway over him.

I held my head high and chose a path through the tent toward the front table at which my family would dine. My parents were already seated and were being attended by servants. My route was calculated to take me between the tables that were farthest from Steldor and Galen, so I would not have to risk a conversation with either of them. As I proceeded, however, I saw my strategy spoiled.

Galen moved away from Steldor and began to walk toward me, coming down the same aisle that I had entered, but from the opposite direction, so I would have no way of avoiding him without making it blatant that such was my desire. I did not know Galen well, but I was not likely to hold in high regard any friend of Steldor's. As he approached, he absently played with the hilt of his sword, then bowed respectfully, his wavy ash-brown hair shifting fluidly with his movement.

“Princess Alera, may I guide you to your table?”

I was not inclined to trust him, knowing there had to be a purpose behind his sudden attentiveness. But I consented, permitting him to take the plate from my hands and carry it for me. It was a short walk to the high table, so whatever he intended to say or do, he would have to accomplish it with a measure of haste.

“How are you finding the evening?” Galen asked genially.

“I am glad for the respite from my usual duties.” Unable to resist putting forth the insinuation that I was content to
maintain my distance from Steldor, I continued, “I have found the festivities to be quite entertaining and the companionship
thus far
to be quite pleasant.”

Galen caught my implication, and his tone became more serious as we arrived at the table to stand only a few feet from where my father was seated.

“I'm afraid Lord Steldor has found it quite the opposite, My Lady, for he cannot enjoy himself until he knows he is forgiven.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Had Steldor actually been too cowardly to approach me to apologize? Or was such an act of contrition beneath him? Or perhaps he suspected I would refuse to listen to him, but would not as readily brush Galen aside. Regardless of Steldor's motives, I knew I was being manipulated, and scowled in annoyance.

Galen handed my plate to a servant, then reached into a pouch that hung from the belt at his waist to remove a stunning silver pendant necklace. He laid it across the back of his hand to show how the silver of the pendant swirled around to cradle at its center a teardrop-shaped sapphire. The necklace was beautiful, expensive and a perfect companion to my gown. I marveled at how my erstwhile suitor had managed this feat. Perhaps he had purchased several necklaces with different gemstones so he would have one that matched any gown I might have worn. Or perhaps he had an informant. Knowing how infatuated the majority of the female population was with him, I had no doubt that my maid could have been charmed into revealing my planned attire.

“Steldor wishes me to give you this as a token of his affection and as an indication of his longing to mend his relationship with you.” Galen proffered the necklace in such a way that anyone watching would certainly see its splendor. “He
would be honored if you would wear it tonight, but if you choose otherwise, he will accept your decision with grace and humility.”

I understood the real alternatives that Galen was presenting to me. Wear the necklace, and Steldor would assume all was forgiven; refuse, and he would leave me alone for the rest of the evening. Making my choice, I gazed at Steldor for a moment, trying to first tell him that I intended to decline before informing his friend of the same, but I vacillated, temporarily at a loss for words. Steldor had not moved and was atypically alone. One hand was resting on the table beside him, and he was drumming his fingers upon it. His expression was not haughty, nor was his stance. Rather, he looked more vulnerable than I had ever seen him in my life, as if he were actually troubling himself over the nature of the conversation Galen was having with me, and an unexpected sense of compassion swept through me. Steldor did have some fine qualities, a fact that escaped me on most occasions, for I had a difficult time seeing past his intolerable conceit. But now, as that aspect of his personality was subdued, I almost wanted to make peace with him.
We might make a good couple, after all,
I told myself, as I pictured us together.
If there were some way to contain his ego.

As I returned my attention to Galen, my father winked at me, and I came to understand how clever and cunning the two friends could be. They had expertly executed their scheme. It would have been just as simple for Galen to give me the necklace before we'd reached the table, or to do it at a later time in the evening, but instead he had waited to be in the presence of my father, who I knew had heard the essence of our exchange. If I now refused Steldor's gift, I would not only be disappointing Steldor; I would be disappointing the King.

I bit my lower lip, resentment burning in my stomach, then assented, turning my back to Galen so that he could fasten the pendant around my neck. I glanced once more toward Steldor, whose attention was now upon me, and saw his face brighten as I accepted the gift. To my dismay, I also witnessed a return of his typical air of condescension.

“Thank you, My Lady,” Galen said, and I scoffed internally that he was even expressing gratitude on behalf of his friend. “Steldor will greatly appreciate your gesture.” Then he strode off to return to his own table.

I did not track either of the young field commanders further, but took my seat to my mother's left. My father was beaming at me as my mother turned to me to admire my necklace.

“He does have exceptionally good taste,” she commented in her lilting, singsong manner, “and not just in jewelry.”

I nodded, picking at the meat and vegetables on my plate. A short time later, I saw an ashen-faced Koranis coming toward our table, but I did not see Narian. What had happened between father and son after they had been left together in the front yard? It looked as though Narian, at least, would not partake of the feast. In truth, I was no longer certain that I wanted to see him, for his display of weapons had been harrowing. I reviewed the past couple of hours in my mind, feeling as if the entire evening was spinning out of control.

I excused myself from the table after eating a few more bites and strolled out of the tent to where the musicians were setting up to play. Casting about for Miranna and Semari, I spotted them sitting on a bench along the edge of the dance floor. Judging from their rosy cheeks, they were gossiping about something. The nature of their chitchat became clear as I saw them look longingly toward a group of young men lounging in the shadows, a group that included Temerson. His
brother had remained with him, although the boy was now accompanied by Zayle, Semari's younger brother, and from the jostling going on between them, it appeared a friendship had been born.

Dusk was now upon us, and torches were being lit that would, with or without the moon's assistance, bathe the dance floor in a romantic glow. As the musicians started to play, several couples moved onto the wooden planking and began to step in time with the music. I stayed on the sidelines as I had at the event in Narian's honor, content to admire the graceful movements of the couples. I saw my mother glide into the midst of the dancers, escorted by my boisterous father, and wondered whether Temerson would find the courage to ask Miranna to dance, or whether she would have to take the initiative herself. My reverie was interrupted by an altogether too familiar, and definitely unwelcome, voice.

“Would you grant me the honor of a dance, Alera?”

Steldor had stepped into place beside me, and with a slight bow, was now offering me his hand.

I did not extend mine in return, but stared fixedly at the scene before me.

“Hardly,” I said snippily.

As I was determined not to look at him, I had to imagine his reaction to my rather indecorous rejection, and tried to envision his face clouded by frustration. Galen had apologized for him, after all, and I had presumably forgiven him. So why was my mood so cold?

“You would accept my generous gift, yet deny me a simple dance?” he asked.

To that I had no answer. The necklace was magnificent and extravagant, and having taken it, I could not with a clear conscience refuse to dance with him. He seemed to read my
thoughts, which in truth he had planted, and took my hand without another word.

He was an excellent dancer. He moved with such ease and grace that it was difficult for me to match him. Perhaps we could have more effortlessly moved as one had I been at all content in his arms.

Though at first we danced as would acquaintances, Steldor soon realized that many eyes were upon us and decided to publicly confirm our courtship. He drew me close, and I went rigid. He continued to dance as elegantly as before, but my movements became increasingly ungainly.

“I've learned that you've made several visits here of late,” Steldor remarked, and I thought I detected an undertone of jealousy, no doubt stemming from his conjecture that I had been coming to see Narian. He did not know, of course, that his own father had commissioned me to spend so much time with Koranis's elder son.

“Tell me,” he continued as he maneuvered us around the dance floor, “do you tire of playing nursemaid?”

“Only when I'm with you,” I retorted, indignation flaring at his jibe toward Narian.

He cocked his head at me, in neither anger nor amusement, but in some new emotion I could best interpret as consternation. The song ended, and I turned to leave, pleased that I had delivered the final blow, but he slipped his arm around my waist.

“Not so fast. We need to establish some sort of truce.”

The musicians began another piece, and once more Steldor and I danced, the elegance of his movement increasingly hindered by my resistance to the pressure his hand was exerting upon my back.

Without further ado, Steldor lamented, “I don't understand
you. You seem to be set wholeheartedly against me, and I don't even know what I did to garner such resentment.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“You kissed my sister!”

“Before that!” he exclaimed, as if the point I had raised were irrelevant. He dropped his volume, conscious of the couples surrounding us. “Since the day we met, you've exhibited nothing but contempt toward me. What could I have done so long ago to offend you?”

I distinctly remembered my first impression of Steldor, as my opinion of him had not changed much over the years. I had been ten at the time, and he thirteen, and yet he had already possessed the ego of a young peacock.

“It's nothing you did,” I hissed, dying to unleash my anger as I had in the garden in the aftermath of the palace celebration in Narian's honor. “It's simply…who you are!”

“What does that mean?” Steldor demanded, completely baffled, and I was sure no one had ever dared to tell him there was something wrong with his character.

“It's your attitude,” I admonished, the loathing he had inspired within me on numerous occasions quickly surfacing. “The way you walk, the way you talk…even the way you
breathe.
”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow as if telling me I could do better by way of explanation.

“Honestly, Alera, the way I breathe?”

“Even now, you're unbelievably condescending!” Though I was growing passionate in my speech, I managed to regulate my volume. “You treat everyone as if they are beneath you—Miranna, the guard in the market, Temerson, Narian,
me!
You can't even deign to apologize for yourself, so forgive me if I'm a little disagreeable.”

I tried to pull away, but he held me in place, fuming. I felt trapped, and the deadly glare he fixed upon me was most unsettling. As my discomfort grew, so did my resolve to withdraw from the dance floor, and I remained stiff and unwilling in his arms as he continued to try to dance with me.

“Damn it, Alera, you won't even let me lead!” he snapped, his voice low but heavy with rancor.

He gestured with a hand from my body to his, indicating the distance I insisted on maintaining between us.

“This dance exemplifies our entire relationship! You are more than ‘a little disagreeable,' Alera. You can't conceive that anything I do has merit, is good, is right,
has potential.
At least my so-called arrogance is backed up by my actions—I can do the things of which I claim to be capable, so that I do not boast, but rather state fact. You, on the other hand, oppose me without thought or reason! Better to be justifiably arrogant than irrationally contrary. If it were not the case that we must marry in order for me to assume the throne, as is your father's desire, I would not suffer your company, and I don't think many men would.”