The Consort (Tellaran Series)

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Authors: Ariel MacArran
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You are sorry?”
    Kyndan gave her a rueful smile. “Marrying me means you aren’t even an Imperial heiress any more.”
    “I would not have been in any case.” Her hands pressed against her skirt. “Did you know what would have happened if you did not come to claim me?”
    “Yes,” Kyndan said quietly. “I spent a year enslaved on Az-kye.”
    Her mouth parted. “ You were clanless? How is it possible that you—you—?”
    “Got my name back? Reclaimed my honor?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.  “Well, in my opinion, I never lost it. Tellarans don’t do that, Alari. Strip people of their families and their names, send them into everlasting servitude and forbid them to wear anything but white. So when I got home the whole clanless thing didn’t apply.”
    Alari stepped closer to whisper: “ You were one of the slaves returned to Tellaran space?”
    His full mouth curved and for an instant her eyes were drawn there.
    “It’s not a secret, Alari. Yes, I was. In fact,” he continued, his smile fading, “I considered that. Waiting till you were declared clanless and then taking you to Tellaran space instead.”
    Her throat tightened with hurt. “You wished me your slave?”
    “No, of course not,” he said quickly, waving his hand. “I meant, take you to Tellaran space where you would be free.”
    “But why ?”
    He looked surprised. “So you wouldn’t have to marry me.”
    Did he think that so much the better?  To be stripped of name and honor, to be invisible to all those she held dear and forced to live among the barbarians?
    But he did, she realized, looking into that steady sky-blue gaze.  It was his home and they his people. Clearly he esteemed their ways.
    “That—that was kind,” she said at last.
    The skin around his eyes crinkled with humor. “Well, hopefully you’ll still feel that way tomorrow.”
    Alari suddenly found it hard to look at him.
    “This is some view you’ve got,” he said abruptly, walking out onto the balcony. “I bet you can see the whole city from here.”
    The sky was pink and orange with the light of late afternoon and already the second night of the celebration was starting. Even from here they could see the bustle of the Empress’ city as lanterns were lit and last-minute preparations were attended to. From here too they could see the spray from the falls, its droplets sparkling in ever-changing rainbows by the light of the sun.
    He nodded at the city below. “So how long does this Ren’thar festival go on?”
    She knew so little of his culture; her keepers would have thought it contaminating to expose her to such barbarous ways and sheltered her from it all they could.
    “Tellarans—they do not have festivals then?” Alari asked, coming to stand beside him. 
    He gave a laugh. “Many, but I suppose the closest god we have to Ren’thar is Jadan, the god of War.”
    “What of Lashima?”
    “Arrena is the Tellaran goddess of Love. Jaden’s wife Bathena may be goddess of Peace, but even so, she wouldn’t put up with any messing around.”
    “Oh.” It was hard to imagine a place the Queen of the Heavens did not watch over. “Ren’thar’s festival lasts six days. This is the second night.”
    “Looks like fun. Anything you want to do? I’m game for anything we can sit down for,” he said, wincing as he shifted his weight.
    Her hands clenched. “It—it is our binding time.”
    “Yeah, listen, Alari, about that . . .” He turned to face her. “I’m not an Az-kye warrior so I’m not embarrassed to admit that my leg is really bothering me. From what I understand of the whole binding thing I don’t even want to attempt it till my leg is fully healed. And I really—I want to get to know you,” he said, his voice soft. “I want to make sure we’re both ready to be, uh, bound . I want to join with you before we’re bound and I know it might be a while before that happens too.” His eyes were rueful. “Right now you’re probably pretty

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