Read Online The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) by Emily June Street - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily June Street
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had once reprimanded me. Questions reveal all the things you do not know.
Ghilene gave me a perplexed look, my meaning clearly lost on her. Ganteans described masculine using the phrase “hunting with spears.” Apparently the quality had little to do with spears in Lethemia.
“He uses the butterfly blades, I would think,” Ghilene said. “After all, he’s the one who designed the Martial Forms, and he’s the one who trains the Dragonnaires.”
“What is a Dragonnaire?” Another foolish question, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
She rolled her eyes at my ignorance. “Prince Costas’s special group of elite soldiers. Be quiet! Someone might hear you asking stupid questions.” She turned towards the action on the pitch.
Jaasir Amar struck in a flurry. Costas tripped as he danced backwards, but he made a deft somersault from the stumble, arriving on his feet in time to parry a finishing blow.
Ghilene did not appear especially interested in the match, but I found it fascinating, yet another sayantaq spectacle. The men’s streamlined motions, with their metal blades flashing in the morning sun, struck me as a marvel. Ganteans played no games like this. The two men circled each other so gracefully they might have been dancing rather than fighting.
More, hissed that sayantaq voice. This world has more. Here you can be more than a bird-girl, more than a quiet, breakable thing. More than a slave.
I finally began to see what Tiercel had intended for me.
Costas and Jaasir had their blades, all four of them, locked together. They pressed into each other. Ghilene stood up to adjust her dress, and Jaasir lost his concentration. Costas took full advantage of the lapse, sweeping his blades free of the lock to pitch Jaasir forward. As Jaasir fell, Costas brought a blade over his back.
“Yield,” Costas demanded.
“Oh, all right.” Jaasir pushed the blade away, looking irritated. “Let’s get some water. I’m still reeling from last night. It’s your fault. Too much akavit too late.”
Costas laughed and helped his opponent to his feet. He gestured in our direction. “We have spectators, Jaasir.” Turning to Ghilene, Costas said, “Lady Ghilene. I’m so glad you came to watch. Have you met Jaasir, Lord Amar? He’s here for the Brokering to seek a wife.”
Jaasir scowled, but Costas smiled wickedly, as though he took pleasure in his friend’s obvious discomfort with this revelation.
Ghilene offered a haughty bow to Jaasir Amar. “Lord Amar.”
“My lady.” The pale man—he couldn’t have been any more than a year or two my senior, surely younger than Costas—slid his hand beneath Ghilene’s, bringing it to his lips. I watched the two of them, suddenly struck by an odd resemblance one would never notice at first glance. Like Ghilene, Jaasir had a diamond-shaped face, with strong cheekbones and a high forehead. Perhaps they were cousins of some kind? Tiercel had told me that those born into the Ten Houses only married within their own caste.
“And who is your handmaiden, Lady Ghilene?” asked Costas, turning to me with his private smile playing on his well-formed lips. Again, he left me breathless.
“This is Lili,” she said. “She’s new, so she hasn’t yet learned not to stare at her betters.”
Costas cut short the bow he had been giving me and offered Ghilene his arm. “Let’s break our fast together. I have arranged food in my private chambers. Do come.”
Ghilene beamed as she and the prince headed back towards the Palace, leaving Jaasir Amar and me on the pitch.
Jaasir paid no attention to me as he stared after Ghilene and Costas with a look of utter loathing. “Fucking Amatos,” he hissed as he strode off in their wake.
I followed to chaperone to Ghilene. Tiercel had trained me well, and he had not minced words about the importance of keeping an eye on the girl. “She’s headstrong,” he had said. “She could get into all kinds of mischief if given a chance. Keep an
Ghilene gave me a perplexed look, my meaning clearly lost on her. Ganteans described masculine using the phrase “hunting with spears.” Apparently the quality had little to do with spears in Lethemia.
“He uses the butterfly blades, I would think,” Ghilene said. “After all, he’s the one who designed the Martial Forms, and he’s the one who trains the Dragonnaires.”
“What is a Dragonnaire?” Another foolish question, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
She rolled her eyes at my ignorance. “Prince Costas’s special group of elite soldiers. Be quiet! Someone might hear you asking stupid questions.” She turned towards the action on the pitch.
Jaasir Amar struck in a flurry. Costas tripped as he danced backwards, but he made a deft somersault from the stumble, arriving on his feet in time to parry a finishing blow.
Ghilene did not appear especially interested in the match, but I found it fascinating, yet another sayantaq spectacle. The men’s streamlined motions, with their metal blades flashing in the morning sun, struck me as a marvel. Ganteans played no games like this. The two men circled each other so gracefully they might have been dancing rather than fighting.
More, hissed that sayantaq voice. This world has more. Here you can be more than a bird-girl, more than a quiet, breakable thing. More than a slave.
I finally began to see what Tiercel had intended for me.
Costas and Jaasir had their blades, all four of them, locked together. They pressed into each other. Ghilene stood up to adjust her dress, and Jaasir lost his concentration. Costas took full advantage of the lapse, sweeping his blades free of the lock to pitch Jaasir forward. As Jaasir fell, Costas brought a blade over his back.
“Yield,” Costas demanded.
“Oh, all right.” Jaasir pushed the blade away, looking irritated. “Let’s get some water. I’m still reeling from last night. It’s your fault. Too much akavit too late.”
Costas laughed and helped his opponent to his feet. He gestured in our direction. “We have spectators, Jaasir.” Turning to Ghilene, Costas said, “Lady Ghilene. I’m so glad you came to watch. Have you met Jaasir, Lord Amar? He’s here for the Brokering to seek a wife.”
Jaasir scowled, but Costas smiled wickedly, as though he took pleasure in his friend’s obvious discomfort with this revelation.
Ghilene offered a haughty bow to Jaasir Amar. “Lord Amar.”
“My lady.” The pale man—he couldn’t have been any more than a year or two my senior, surely younger than Costas—slid his hand beneath Ghilene’s, bringing it to his lips. I watched the two of them, suddenly struck by an odd resemblance one would never notice at first glance. Like Ghilene, Jaasir had a diamond-shaped face, with strong cheekbones and a high forehead. Perhaps they were cousins of some kind? Tiercel had told me that those born into the Ten Houses only married within their own caste.
“And who is your handmaiden, Lady Ghilene?” asked Costas, turning to me with his private smile playing on his well-formed lips. Again, he left me breathless.
“This is Lili,” she said. “She’s new, so she hasn’t yet learned not to stare at her betters.”
Costas cut short the bow he had been giving me and offered Ghilene his arm. “Let’s break our fast together. I have arranged food in my private chambers. Do come.”
Ghilene beamed as she and the prince headed back towards the Palace, leaving Jaasir Amar and me on the pitch.
Jaasir paid no attention to me as he stared after Ghilene and Costas with a look of utter loathing. “Fucking Amatos,” he hissed as he strode off in their wake.
I followed to chaperone to Ghilene. Tiercel had trained me well, and he had not minced words about the importance of keeping an eye on the girl. “She’s headstrong,” he had said. “She could get into all kinds of mischief if given a chance. Keep an
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