“I can’t let her go through this,” I whisper against her back. She may be the one person who can understand how I feel. She also loves someone she can’t have.
“You don’t have a choice.” She stands as I close the jar and hand it back to her. “We need to get you ready. You will be expected soon.”
As I wait outside the large doors that lead to Shaston’s throne room, the arches in the architecture seem more damning thanwelcoming. In Antalis, the priestesses there want nothing more than to help those who find refuge in our kingdom. Here, they honorRa Syam. Even as a child, I never could understand why they would worship a god of the sun when it is the sun that causes so many problems for those who live here. Why would I have praised someone who, if my family didn’t have the money for the clothing, would melt the flesh from our bones?
I stand in the colors of her house and wait for her, for Carnaxa to come to me. Anara helped shine my armor that I now wear over my dark blue tunic. My ensemble matches Rhenor’s, even though I have no shell to show off. My hand rests on the pommel of my sword as I pray that something happens so I don’t have to be the one to escort her to her fate.
I’m not sure where Anara went off to after she led me to the spot where I now stand — but I hope she’s okay. I should have asked her more about how she’s feeling, how she’s going to handle it all. But I didn’t, all I could think of was Carnaxa. Mynohæ, my dream that I was foolish enough to believe in.
A clicking sound echoes across the cold hard floor and I instantly look down the corridor. There she is. She fidgets with her fingers in front of her. But Goddess, she is beautiful. The gown they have for her fits flawlessly. I can’t wait to see her with it off. I stop myself. I won’t be the one taking it off of her.
You could be.
My fingers grab onto the pommel now as I try to control my breathing and shake away the thoughts. Siphonie, dressed in abland, white Shaston gown, kisses Naxa’s cheek before nodding towards me.
“I’ll be right inside. Rhenor is waiting for me in the front row. I love you.” She slips inside the side door to our left to make her way to her seat.
“Hi, Ambassador Thylas. I think that is what you are to be called now.” She looks down at her feet before her light blue eyes meet mine, and my knees almost fall to worship her beauty. Her dark lashes flutter up at me and I have to remember that this isn’t the same Naxa I know. Not anymore — because of my own decisions.
“You don’t have to be so official, Naxa.” I reach out towards her, but she withdraws from my touch. “I’m sorry ... Princess Carnaxa.”
“I know we must have known each other before now, but please, give me grace while I find my bearings. I don’t remember a lot of things. But I know that I’m supposed to be here.” She runs her hand down the corset top she wears and I recall once running my fingers along the same path.
I reach for her hand again, hoping that maybe my touch can bring the memories back that she’s missing. She retreats, but I bring her hand to my lips and tenderly kiss it. “I’m Ambassador of Antalis and you know your father would not have permitted me such a position if he did not find me fit. You can trust me.”
Should she?
She looks at me questioningly, but then nods her head, letting me wrap her hand in the crook of my elbow. I take a deep breath, knowing soon the doors will open and everything will change. Ionly hope that I can be a part of her future — I was a part of her past and I will fight to remain in both.
twelve
Carnaxa
Wide doors swing open and I expect to see joyous faces like there would be in Antalis on a wedding day. I’ve been imagining the intense colors and delightful fragrances that would engulf me and fill my senses with awe on this special day since I was a child. Instead, it’s dark. There is a chandelier casting dim shadows over the top of the raised platform that will serve as the stage for our ceremony. The people, mostly men, look my way. Keeping their heads down, the few women present ignore me. The men, they stare ... and I can feel their eyes taking off the clothes that I wear.
My fingers tremble before a warmth washes over them — Thylas’ hand wraps around my own. A comforting sensation spreads through me as he lightly squeezes. I take a deep breath as I try to find Siphonie. She stands with her head raised in the front row, unlike the rest of the women here, and smiles at me. Rhenor stands beside her holding her hand.
I focus on them and the feeling of my ambassador’s fingers anchor me as we stride down the aisle. I don’t remember what he means to me, but it’s clear I mean something to him. I hold on to that feeling, the only comfort in this strange place. There’s no music and no cheers, only the clicking of my heels. I look ahead and see a priest of Shaston. I squint my eyes, trying to see him better, but he’s covered from head to toe. His robe is of the darkest black I’ve ever seen and I find only darkness where a face should be. A cold shiver washes over me and I have to control myself to keep from running away. I don’t want him to marry us. I take another deep breath. Be strong. That’s what I have to be right now.
If I should ever find my way out of this, I will never be this helpless again.
The words that flash through my mind are a memory stirring, an oath I made to myself and the Goddess. I’ll keep that oath. I straighten my back and raise my eyes to meet the hooded figure.
As we reach the end of the aisle, I start to look around for Prince Ereon. He should be here by now, shouldn’t he? A loud horn breaches the silence. It’s a deep melancholy sound, resembling more of a battle horn than something that should be played at a celebration.
ShacheAtaiun walks in, his permanent sneer still in place as he eyes me. He has his hands wrapped around a whip at his side instead of a sword like the Ambassador’s.
“King Atlas Koshear of Shaston,”ShacheAtaiun bellows.
As if a wave takes over them, the Shastonians behind me fall to their knees with their heads bowed. It’s not a bow of respect for their King, but of complete submission. I feel Thylas tense beside me, but he remains standing. As I glance to Rhenor, Siphonie is whispering in his ear, but he shakes his head. They won’t bow like that either and they shouldn’t, instead they bow at the waist as they would to my father to show respect.
King Atlas walks in, his large crown grazing the top of his brow bone. He wears a dark tunic that has his silver armor over it. His eyes overlook everyone, but he stops on Siphonie and Rhenor. His jaw tenses before he continues to walk to a throne I didn’t realize was behind the faceless priest. He sits down with a look of absolute boredom on his face.
“Prince Ereon Koshear of Shaston,”ShacheAtaiun announces, startling us once again. The people are still on their knees.
The door opens and all I can do is stare. Ereon has his curls tamed as they hang to his shoulders. His curved swords are secured high on his back. He wears a dark shirt with sleeves that stop at his elbows along with leather pants that leave nothing to the imagination; I blush at the impression of what’s underneath them. As he walks across the raised platform he favors his left leg and it’s then I notice his face.
A fresh black eye and split lip adorn his handsome features, proof of a recent altercation. Ereon’s face is a blend of stoic poise and fury. As if he would kill anyone who gets in his way, and that this ceremony is nothing spectacular. When he turns, his walnut-colored eyes meet mine and his expression changes. Smiling, he takes a step down, never breaking eye contact. After a quick moment, sorrow filters through him as he looks over at Thylas who still holds my hand.
