Read Online The Gantean (Tales of Blood & Light Book 1) by Emily June Street - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily June Street
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married,” mused Jaasir with a nasty glint in his eyes. “She never has been.”
“I don’t know,” Ghilene said woodenly, eyes trained on her plate, knuckles whitening around her servlet. “I don’t know who my father is.”
Silence stretched across the table. I had always heard that the southerners put great store in their relationships of blood, but I had not believed the rumors. As a Gantean, blood relationships meant nothing to me, and I struggled to grasp the depth of Ghilene’s obvious shame.
I opened my mouth to ask why such a thing mattered. Even if it displayed my ignorance, perhaps it would ease Ghilene’s embarrassment.
But Costas cleared his throat and said, “Well, you’re here in Galantia, Ghilene. The Conservatoire is an easy walk away. I can pull strings for you to be tested for magic even if you don’t know your pedigree. What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He laughed. I could not tell if he had spoken to ease Ghilene’s distress or to further wound her.
Costas Galatien was a difficult man to read.
----
G hilene slumped in the vanity chair in front of the looking glass in her room. Thankfully, her upset over breakfast had turned her mind from my necklaces. She studied her reflection somberly. I had not yet begun the braid style I had promised her for the party this evening—Ghilene had quickly learned of my talent for knots and braids and put my hands to good use with her hairstyles.
She sighed. “I hate that Jaasir Amar. He enjoyed my humiliation! And I hate that Costas knows I’m a bastard.” She flung an arm across the vanity table, knocking over all the bottles of scents and lotions I had arranged so carefully when removing them from her traveling cases.
I crouched to collect the vials from the floor. “Is it really such a bad thing, not knowing who your father is? No one knows their blood father on Gante.”
Ghilene’s expression flattened as she clutched the edge of the vanity. “I’m not a savage!” She leapt from the chair and flung a vial of rose attar onto the floor. It smashed, and the scent of rose filled the air. “I’m not a filthy barbarian!” I flinched, as Ghilene went on, “Just because Mother won’t tell me, it doesn’t mean my father isn’t of good blood! She only won’t tell me because she doesn’t want me to be able to enroll at the Conservatoire, which tells me he must have a magical bloodline, so he must be of some consequence—”
I refrained from telling her what I had seen that night with Tiercel. “I only meant—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She pulled herself together, taking her seat in that dainty way she had, flicking her skirts to the side to avoid creasing them. “It doesn’t matter. With Costas, I mean. He can give his sigil to whomever he wants, and the sigil is binding. Bastards have been married by Galatiens before. There’s precedent. Lili, my hair! What are you waiting for? I don’t want to arrive too late to the party.”
----
I smoothed the dark blue silk of my dress flat, arranging the narrow skirt so it lay close against my legs. My reflection stared back from the looking glass; my eyes, fringed with black lashes, took up too much of my face. Murlian used to admire their dark blue color, but I suspected her of flattery. Ganteans did not have blue eyes, and I’d never gotten used to the oddity of them.
I could see the results of Tiercel’s efforts in the looking glass; no one would guess me Gantean. “As cooked as a girl can get,” I muttered at myself in the glass. “Sayantaq fool.”
Yet the Palace, the High City, the Galatien family—their beauty shocked me breathless. I couldn’t help myself from leaning towards it like a moth lured by a glittering warm light.
Ghilene had already gone down to the party with her mother and brother, directing me to follow after I tidied her room—left a disaster after her dressing. She had tried on every gown she had brought before settling on the first
“I don’t know,” Ghilene said woodenly, eyes trained on her plate, knuckles whitening around her servlet. “I don’t know who my father is.”
Silence stretched across the table. I had always heard that the southerners put great store in their relationships of blood, but I had not believed the rumors. As a Gantean, blood relationships meant nothing to me, and I struggled to grasp the depth of Ghilene’s obvious shame.
I opened my mouth to ask why such a thing mattered. Even if it displayed my ignorance, perhaps it would ease Ghilene’s embarrassment.
But Costas cleared his throat and said, “Well, you’re here in Galantia, Ghilene. The Conservatoire is an easy walk away. I can pull strings for you to be tested for magic even if you don’t know your pedigree. What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He laughed. I could not tell if he had spoken to ease Ghilene’s distress or to further wound her.
Costas Galatien was a difficult man to read.
----
G hilene slumped in the vanity chair in front of the looking glass in her room. Thankfully, her upset over breakfast had turned her mind from my necklaces. She studied her reflection somberly. I had not yet begun the braid style I had promised her for the party this evening—Ghilene had quickly learned of my talent for knots and braids and put my hands to good use with her hairstyles.
She sighed. “I hate that Jaasir Amar. He enjoyed my humiliation! And I hate that Costas knows I’m a bastard.” She flung an arm across the vanity table, knocking over all the bottles of scents and lotions I had arranged so carefully when removing them from her traveling cases.
I crouched to collect the vials from the floor. “Is it really such a bad thing, not knowing who your father is? No one knows their blood father on Gante.”
Ghilene’s expression flattened as she clutched the edge of the vanity. “I’m not a savage!” She leapt from the chair and flung a vial of rose attar onto the floor. It smashed, and the scent of rose filled the air. “I’m not a filthy barbarian!” I flinched, as Ghilene went on, “Just because Mother won’t tell me, it doesn’t mean my father isn’t of good blood! She only won’t tell me because she doesn’t want me to be able to enroll at the Conservatoire, which tells me he must have a magical bloodline, so he must be of some consequence—”
I refrained from telling her what I had seen that night with Tiercel. “I only meant—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She pulled herself together, taking her seat in that dainty way she had, flicking her skirts to the side to avoid creasing them. “It doesn’t matter. With Costas, I mean. He can give his sigil to whomever he wants, and the sigil is binding. Bastards have been married by Galatiens before. There’s precedent. Lili, my hair! What are you waiting for? I don’t want to arrive too late to the party.”
----
I smoothed the dark blue silk of my dress flat, arranging the narrow skirt so it lay close against my legs. My reflection stared back from the looking glass; my eyes, fringed with black lashes, took up too much of my face. Murlian used to admire their dark blue color, but I suspected her of flattery. Ganteans did not have blue eyes, and I’d never gotten used to the oddity of them.
I could see the results of Tiercel’s efforts in the looking glass; no one would guess me Gantean. “As cooked as a girl can get,” I muttered at myself in the glass. “Sayantaq fool.”
Yet the Palace, the High City, the Galatien family—their beauty shocked me breathless. I couldn’t help myself from leaning towards it like a moth lured by a glittering warm light.
Ghilene had already gone down to the party with her mother and brother, directing me to follow after I tidied her room—left a disaster after her dressing. She had tried on every gown she had brought before settling on the first
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