The thought of having two creatures growing in my womb also brought bile up to my mouth. I imagined them squirming inside of me, kicking, punching, and pushing on my organs for nearly two years until they ripped their way out of me in a shower of blood and screams.
The females I had spoken to assured me that the experience, though painful, was enjoyable because of the special bond they developed with their offspring. This would make it even more unpleasant, as any children I produced would not be mine to raise, but immediately be given to whatever tribe my mother and father had promised them to.
Relyara’s knock sounded a second before she opened the door. My brother had changed into dust free clothes and followed. While he trailed behind her I saw his eyes wander to the beautiful woman’s pert ass. The scent of his arousal drifted toward me, but Relyara either didn’t notice it or didn’t care to acknowledge his lust. Probably the latter.
“Please introduce me to your entourage, Sister. It has been a time since I have met new females and I long for fresh conversation.” He emphasized the last word and licked his lips at Relyara, but the woman pretended not to notice again and I didn’t smell any sort of arousal from her.
“It is possible they have already departed since I started my morning later than normal,” I said.
“I’ve already checked, Mistress. A few have left to pursue other entertainment, but most are still downstairs in the garden.” Relyara smiled pleasantly at me and I caught the scent of honeysuckles from her.
“Fine. Let us go to the garden, Brother.” I rose from my chair and walked down out of my room with Grednil. The journey to the front of the manor took us a few minutes and he commented on the construction of the house and the skills of the servants. I recalled being just as surprised by the manor and its inhabitants when I first moved here, so I could not judge his reactions as idiotic.
Finally, we opened the double stained glass doors to the garden and were met by my suitors and female entourage. Five of the six usual males and four females were there as always to spend their day following me around rather than pursuing their own interests. I assumed the females hoped to mate with whatever male castoffs I did not choose. Their fawning was embarrassingly insincere and irritated me almost more than the males panting after me. I knew they held no affection for me, and possibly would prefer that I was dead, yet they acted as if we were close friends and they adored everything I did and agreed with everything I said. This left me in the awkward position of having to pretend that I was stupid enough to believe they cared about me, or having to confront their duplicitousness. I chose to do a little of both, testing and pushing them as far as I could by doing things I knew upset them and seeing how much they would tolerate simply to win my favor.
Nine of them lounged on stone benches arranged in a circle in the garden. Their light, flirty voices mixed with the drone of the bees, hummingbirds, and the trickling creek that fed a nearby pond. They all seemed to notice my entrance at once and rushed to be the first to greet me, creating a chaotic avalanche of sound and a stifling mix of scents.
“We heard that your half-brother arrived earlier this morning. Is this the famous Grednil?” Ripthe took a step toward my brother and bowed deeply. “Your sister has told us many great stories of your skill. I am Ripthe, son of Elder Vuma.”
“Pleasure.” Grednil nodded to the talkative Elven. Vuma had changed his behavior since I threw him against the wall a few years ago with my magic. I still believed he was trying to assassinate me, but he now spoke to me with respect. Ripthe might have been interesting if he could shut his mouth for more than thirty seconds, though I doubted that he knew how to use his tongue for anything other than babbling.
The group moved toward my brother and exchanged introductions.
I am Bur’tilon, son of Elder Zaarmo.” He was muscular, large, and always smelled of sandalwood oil. Bur’tilon was the best warrior of the males, but much like his father, he was not very smart. We often sparred together during my weapon training sessions, but his skill had not improved at a pace that I found acceptable.
“Alwor. Son of Elder Yuitra of the Ubarwa Tribe.” My next suitor introduced himself. He smelled similar to the attackers from Ubarwa who had tried to either kill or kidnap me two years ago on my journey here. Alwor’s skin was a ruddy red and his hair colored a darker shade of the same crimson. He was also a talented warrior and while he wasn’t as strong as Bur’tilon, he was skilled at magic as well. He spoke cleverly and would have been my first selection for a mate if he didn’t remind me of his treacherous kin.
“I’m Fusik of the Leitive tribe.” The silver-haired, cedar-scented man nodded to my brother. The Leitive tribes were accomplished horse breeders and ranchers. They did not hold as much territory as the Ubarwa or my father, but their cattle, goat, sheep, and horse stock were prized. Fusik was the son of Leitive’s chieftain and had offered to gift me with a few of his steeds, but I had declined.
“Alatald, son of Chieftain Proticule. It is a pleasure to meet you, Grednil.” He bowed slightly and my brother returned the movement. Proticule was the smallest of the four tribes within a hundred miles of Laxile and they would have the most to benefit from a relationship with my father’s tribe. Alatald was soft-spoken and polite. I had not spent much time alone with him in the last few months as he was not assertive enough to push for my attention.
My brother turned to the females of the group and they introduced themselves in the same manner.
“Daranyet, daughter of Ubarwa.” The woman had hair the color of emeralds and eyes of bright blue sapphires. She was the daughter of Ubarwa’s chieftain and outranked Alwor. She was a clever manipulator and delighted in driving the males to conflict. She had never said anything to oppose me, so I found her games amusing. Still, she was Ubarwa and I trusted her less than Alwor. The male’s desires were apparent. Why a female from the tribe would spend her time ingratiating herself with me was suspect. My brother returned the woman’s bow and licked his lips to see if he could get a taste of her scented arousal. I couldn’t smell anything from any of the women or men in the group, so I doubted he could either.
“I am Ilttaia, daughter of Proticule.” She was the first to make physical contact, raising her delicate hand so that my brother would grasp it carefully. The movement could have been seen as awkward save that Alatald’s sister moved with an uncanny grace. Like her brother, the woman was soft-spoken and had not been more than an observer during the months she had been with us. I was somewhat surprised she made her introduction so early. Perhaps she was very taken with my half-brother?
“Hello, Grednil. I am Contania, daughter of Elder Oimon. You are quite attractive and I am looking forward to spending time with you.” My brother broke eye contact with Ilttaia and faced Contania. The woman smelled of fresh lemons. The scent matched her yellow hair, which was almost white with sun bleach. I enjoyed Contania’s presence the most of all the females because of her delicious sense of humor, directness, and whimsical attitude. I had not enjoyed her enough to take her to bed yet since I still found myself unable to trust any of the elders or their offspring.
“I am Yerryne. Daughter of Elder Gnella.” The last of my females greeted my brother. All the women were beautiful, but Yerryne was as pleasing to the senses as Relyara. She smelled of strawberries and a musky scent that perhaps only I noticed. Her hair was a long cascade of gray-blue waves and her skin was creamy fresh milk. Her eyes were onyx and their black depths couldn’t hide her cleverness. Relyara had told me that before I came, Yerryne had been the prize maiden of the tribe and had dozens of suitors every year. My father and Gnella had almost decided on a mate for her before I arrived and changed their plans. Of all the women in this group, Yerryne would have the most to gain from my death.
“We are missing Vertarus this morning. He heard you would be late and he said he had a few other tasks to look after.” Ripthe informed me. I shrugged my shoulders. My last suitor was the son of Elder Dluuzit. He was involved in a secret project with the elders and only spent a few days every week with me. I had not bothered to ask him about his activities while our group was together and we never spent any time alone. I did have to admit that I found the man somewhat intriguing. Everyone in my life fell over themselves to garner my attention but Vertarus hardly seemed interested in breeding with me.
“Enough about Vertarus. He thinks work is more important than we are. I am quite pleased to have the Singleborn’s brother here. Tell me, Grednil, what does Jientalist do for entertainment?” Daranyet asked my brother with a tilt of her head.
“Gossip mostly, also games of combat, riding, art, music, hunting, and dancing as well.” He smiled and I could tell my brother was trying to hide the scent of his arousal around the new women.
“The Singleborn has been loath to talk about your mother’s lands or tribal activities. Perhaps you can educate us on what her wicked hobbies were?” Contania asked with a lilting laugh.
“Don’t be rude, Contania. I’m sure that Grednil doesn’t want to spend his time talking about his sister.” Yerryne said with a bright laugh that matched the yellow-haired woman’s. The two were childhood friends, and while their verbal barbs seemed pointed, their scents conveyed that they held affection for each other.
“My sister did say that she has been unable to devote any time to her two favorite activities. I believe she fears boring you with her hobbies.” Grednil smirked and glanced sideways at me while the men and women gave a collective gasp of shock. Perhaps it was a bad idea to allow him to interact with my entourage.
“But we would all be more than happy to indulge the Singleborn in whatever activity she finds amusing!” Ripthe was the first to comment and the others quickly agreed. Although I was the subject of their conversation, they were gathered around Grednil and none seemed to care whether or not I was actually present. I longed to leave the sycophants to my brother who seemed to actually be enjoying their attention. I could easily slip away, escape to the stables and finally ride one of the beautiful steeds I had seen my father’s servants training. The land here was ideal for riding, the horse’s hooves would tear through the lush grasslands, releasing the sweet heady aroma of freshly shorn grass and rich, churned earth.
“We thought she only enjoyed the martial arts and terrorizing the slaves. Do tell us what else she loves to occupy herself with?” Daranyet peered over toward me from the midst of the group and gave me an insincere smile before she turned back to my brother.
“In the Jientalist lands, Iolarathe was known to be exceptionally skilled with weapons, especially polearms. Perhaps you all have not seen her wield her magic yet, but she is as strong as you might believe. Above all, she is an exceptional rider, and it tore my heart to pieces when I learned this morning that she has spent so little time atop a horse since coming here. At home she would spend at least half of each day riding.”
The small crowd gasped and turned to face me with mixed expressions scented of cucumbers and squash.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this, Iolarathe? I would have loved to ride with you. My tribe is known for our equestrian skills. This is a hobby we can both share.” Fusik’s face was twisted in excitement and shock, but it was difficult to pull his scent from the group’s mixture.
“I also enjoy horseback riding and would find great pleasure in accompanying you on your daily excursions!” Alwor interjected. The rest of the congregation agreed with his statement and began to talk amongst themselves, bragging about how skilled each was with a horse.
“The chieftain’s private stables are just a short walk from here. We should all go for a ride.” Ripthe made the suggestion and they turned to gauge my approval.
“That is a fine idea, my new friend. Please lead the way,” Grednil said before I could decline, and the group began to migrate down the grassy hillside toward the stable house. I considered resisting. I wanted to ride, but I did not want to ride with them. The temptation to mount a horse and simply gallop away from them was already difficult to resist, atop a horse it would be nearly impossible. The men would distract me from enjoying myself by fighting for my approval and trying to show how skilled they were at riding, forcing me to indulge their egos and pretend I cared when I could ride better than any of them without question. Instead of tempting me it sounded exhausting and torturous.
The walk was five minutes and Grednil spoke the entire time about the various clothing, dance, and musical styles popular in our mother’s lands. He enjoyed having a captive audience, and since he was not competition to breed with me, the other males of the group showed immediate affection toward him. Perhaps they also believed that he would make a recommendation for the male he befriended. Perhaps they believed I cared at all what Grednil thought.
“How long has it been since you have ridden?” Ilttaia had fallen back from the others to walk beside me. Walking was too simple a term. The woman had a grace that made her almost float across the uneven ground.
“Not since I arrived here,” I matched her whisper.
“Does your brother speak the truth, then?” She raised a glossy black eyebrow. Her hair was the color of polished onyx.
“Yes. I have been busy with other tasks.” I shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps I should have told her to keep the questions to herself, but I had already been through a few sets of suitors and females. My father was growing anxious that I wasn’t making any progress on building relationships with the other tribes.