Chapter Four #2
Smile all you want, I thought. If he picked me tomorrow, I’d slit his throat and watch the life seep out of those pretty eyes and then clean my knife on his coat and walk away without regret. Just let him try to take me back to Zulen.
The contingent reached the gate, and the prince couldn’t see me without turning his head. I was relieved at the break in eye contact. I put a hand to my thundering heart and took in several gulps of air. The crowd quieted, and I heard Lord Ashe’s voice. “All hail the venerable King Wollem.”
The crowd bowed. Finnrey and I bowed our heads, but I peeked at the Zulenii.
They didn’t bow at first, but once those around them did, they followed suit.
I’d been so captivated by the prince, I hadn’t taken in his companions.
One of the men had hair the color of carrots.
Like the prince, he wore it back in a queue, although his carrot hair was plaited.
The other man had short brown hair. He might have fit in among us, despite his height and his skin tone, but he had markings on his face.
Then there was the woman. She was the shortest among them, and as I’d estimated, about my height.
She had blue-black hair the same color as the prince.
I couldn’t see her eyes from my location, and I wondered if they were also a light color.
“You are welcome here in Earsleh,” my father said, his voice deep and clear. “We are honored by your visit.”
The man I assumed to be the prince lifted his head.
“King Wollem, I am Taio of the First House of Zulen.” His voice was deep and resonant.
I shivered as his words echoed through the silent crowd.
He spoke our language with a heavy accent, and I realized I hadn’t ever considered that the other kingdoms might speak different languages than ours.
A murmur traveled through the gathered crowds as my people seemed to come to the same conclusion.
At least Finnrey and I had been told something of the Zulenii people.
The rest of Earsleh had no idea what to expect.
Everything they saw now must have piled shock on top of shock.
Not only were there other people in the world, these people had their own clothing, customs, and language.
It was one thing to realize we weren’t alone but quite another to realize our ways were not the only way.
The Zulenii prince continued in our language. “I have come to honor an old tradition—the Claiming Rite.”
I’d known he had come for this reason and still I inhaled audibly along with the rest of those gathered.
I didn’t even know if the rite had been explained to them.
The king believed in only giving people the information they needed.
Too much information confused people, he said.
But the prince said the word claiming very clearly, and we all knew what to claim meant.
The prince opened his coat, parting the two golden feline heads, and I thought I saw a dark fabric beneath it.
Then the crowd gasped, and the honor guard turned toward him, swords drawn.
But the prince seemed unconcerned. He lifted a golden dagger, holding it outstretched in the palm of his hand, the tip pointing toward his own chest. He moved forward, toward the king, but the honor guard blocked him.
Finnrey grabbed my arm, holding it tightly.
I didn’t dare look away from the scene. Did the prince really mean to threaten our king?
The honor guard might end this prince before my sisters or I had the chance.
But then the silence was broken by a rhythmic thumping.
We all looked in the direction of the sound. “It’s Old Ceba,” Finnrey whispered.
The courtiers behind the king parted as the court historian hobbled forward, his walking stick thumping on the ground as he moved. “Put your swords away,” he told the honor guard.
The men looked at my father who frowned but nodded.
The ring of swords being sheathed echoed through the silent crowd as did Old Ceba’s voice when he spoke.
I hadn’t heard it sound so strong since I’d been a child.
“Taio of the First House,” Old Ceba said.
“It has been a long time since we have seen a foreigner and even longer since the last Claiming Rite. Clearly, you are familiar with our rituals, but we are not used to strangers producing weapons in the presence of our king.”
Then Old Ceba said something I didn’t understand.
Was he speaking in the prince’s language?
I glanced at Finnrey, and she shook her head.
But clearly the prince understood because he nodded and answered with a few words.
Then he lifted the golden dagger again and said, in our language, “The Claiming Rite requires that I offer a golden dagger as a symbol of my resolve. If I lose in my quest, it may be used to spill my blood.” He bent, very slowly, and placed the dagger at my father’s feet.
Now that it was out of the prince’s hands, I could see how beautiful it was.
I wondered what metal it was made of. Tertanium?
I wished I could handle it or see the carvings up close.
The king glanced at Old Ceba who shook his head slightly and motioned to the prince. The prince sank to one knee before my father. “I ask for the hand of your daughter in marriage. I will fight for her, and if I lose, I forfeit my life.”
Clearly, Old Ceba had told the prince to explain what he was doing as none of us were truly familiar with the rite.
The prince continued to kneel, and the crowd buzzed like flies.
Old Ceba murmured something to my father.
Again, the line between my father’s brows appeared, indicating he did not like this situation.
But he had been king long enough to know his duty.
“I accept your challenge, Taio of the First House of Zulen,” he said.
“I have six eligible daughters. Tonight I will present them at a banquet held in your honor. You may choose which you wish to challenge.”
The Zulenii prince rose without being given leave.
A few people gasped or muttered, but it was clear to me now that he didn’t know our customs any more than we knew his.
I could forgive this small infraction, although I knew some among us would not.
“I have had chambers in my castle prepared for you and your retinue,” my father said.
“You are welcome to rest and refresh yourselves after your journey.”
The Zulenii looked at each other, seeming surprised to be offered a place in the castle.
The prince looked toward the looming stronghold and frowned.
I found myself wondering what they had expected and what their people would do if the situation were reversed.
Did Zulen have a castle and a king? I had pictured their people as weak or overly dramatic.
But the people in front of me were not what I’d thought at all, and I was fascinated.
The Zulenii seemed to come to some conclusion regarding my father’s offer, and in unison, they touched a fist to their chests and knocked twice.
Was that their sign for thanks? Then they followed the king through the castle gates.
I would have watched until they disappeared inside, but Finnrey was shaking my arm. “Did you hear me, Mara?”
“No.”
“I said, the prince is rude and uncultured. Did you see how he spoke without bowing first or being recognized?”
“He did bow, though,” I said. “Clearly, someone has educated him on our customs, even if his execution isn’t perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
I crossed my legs, waiting for the crowds to disperse before jumping down from the wall.
Everyone was murmuring, heads close together.
I was certain all of them were commenting on the strangeness of the new people.
Like Finnrey, they were probably criticizing the Zulenii.
We were a people who did not like change or anything different.
Look how I was treated because my height was different.
I’d always been the illogical one—intrigued by differences and longing for anything new or different.
Perhaps that was why I now felt compelled to defend the Zulenii.
“The prince probably doesn’t know our way of doing things any more than we know how things are done in Zulen.
He’s doing better than you or I would if we walked into his kingdom. ”
Finnrey’s brows lowered. “I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t know anything about their court or what he means when he says he is from the first house.”
“I didn’t even know about this Claiming Rite until Old Ceba told us.
It makes me wonder how this Taio knows about it and us.
He even knows our language.” Did everyone in Zulen know about the people in Earsleh or were we as much a secret as they had been to us?
If we weren’t a secret to them, how did their ruler keep order and calm with everyone knowing about the world beyond their borders?
“Do you think that was the Zulen language Old Ceba spoke?”
“Don’t you?” The language had been a revelation. For the first time in my life, I hadn’t understood a word someone had spoken.
“Mara, get down this instant!”
I peered over my shoulder, at the inner courtyard of the castle. My mother was standing below the wall, hands on her hips, scowling at me. She looked a bit like a petulant child with her hair in those long tails on either side of her face. “Have you no notion how to behave?”
“I wanted to see the prince,” I said.
“You will see him tonight. Go straight home now. I’ve arranged for Mikta Eastower to come and prepare you for this evening.”