The Harvest Ball
OVERTURE
Motif
K arigan looked in satisfaction at her reflection in Tegan’s full-length mirror while Cenna hovered in the doorway. To her surprise, the Eletians had conjured up a white-gold waist sash to go with her new longcoat.
“Gorgeous,” Tegan said. “Much better than the gown.”
Karigan had to agree.
“You should wear your medals,” Tegan added.
“What?”
“Your medals. You are not just trying to look nice. For that crowd you need to have armor of a sort. Like wearing that gown to the merchants guild.”
“Ah, appearances.”
“Exactly.”
“What are these medals?” Cenna asked.
“Recognition of heroic deeds,” Tegan answered. “Karigan rescued Queen Estora back when she was betrothed to the king.”
“Ah, gifts of thanks,” Cenna said.
“Yes,” replied Tegan, “and marks of favor from important people.”
Zachary had presented Karigan with a medal that raised her to knight of the realm. The other had come from Estora’s father, the late lord-governor of Coutre Province. Each had granted her land that she left as yet unclaimed.
Tegan and Cenna followed Karigan back to her own chamber where Telagioth and Idris awaited.
“It is satisfactory?” Telagioth asked.
“Very,” Karigan replied.
“It shimmers,” Tegan said. “It’s lovely.”
The three Eletians looked pleased.
“She must have her medals,” Cenna said, and explained.
“Yes,” Telagioth agreed.
Karigan opened drawers of her desk, not remembering where exactly she’d stashed them. She hadn’t even looked at them since the day they’d been presented to her a few years previous.
One drawer had accumulated many objects that she pulled out—a ball of string, a box of pen nibs, handkerchiefs, and when she produced an oversized eagle’s feather, the Eletians instantly clustered around her and spoke excitedly in Eltish.
“How did you come by this?” Telagioth asked.
“It was given to me by a gray eagle named Ripaeria. She is my friend.” Sadly she hadn’t seen Ripaeria in months. Last she’d heard, the eagless was in trouble with her elders for extreme disobedience and confined to Snowcloud Eyrie’s territory around the Wingsong Mountains.
“It is, as your people would say,” Telagioth told her, “remarkable.”
She didn’t blame the Eletians for being impressed. She had been both impressed and touched to receive so lovely a gift. She hadn’t figured out how to properly honor it, however.
“This reminds me,” she said. She opened another drawer and withdrew the feather of the winter owl. “This came to me today.”
The Eletians practically vibrated with excitement and once again they reverted to Eltish among themselves.
“Do they always get so excited?” Tegan whispered.
Karigan shook her head.
“How did it come to you?” Telagioth asked.
Karigan told the story of the snowstorm and the visit by the aureas narivannis, and ended with the winter owl.
“Narivanine,” Telagioth murmured, using the long form of Nari’s Eletian name.
“And Graelalea,” Idris said.
“It is no wonder our king has adopted you when you are so favored,” Telagioth said.
“We must braid it into her hair,” Idris said.
They sat her down and Idris wove the feather into a single, delicate plait while Tegan continued the excavation to the bottom of the drawer, where she found the small wooden boxes containing the medals. She gazed at Karigan and smiled.
“I like the way the feather looks,” she said. She removed the medals from their boxes and placed them around Karigan’s neck, and passed her a hand mirror. “What do you think?”
Karigan’s mouth formed a straight line as she assessed her reflection with the feather braided into her otherwise loose hair. Her medals glinted against her chest and her new silver-green longcoat shimmered with the slightest movement.
“I think,” she said with a wry tone, “I look very symbolic.”
Undeterred by her seeming lack of enthusiasm, Tegan said, “Now for your sword.”
“I don’t think so.” Nobody wore a longsword to a ball, and her saber and its scabbard were too plain and beat up for the occasion.
When she explained the problem, Telagioth replied, “This is easily solved.” He unbuckled his own ornate swordbelt and offered it to her.
“What?” she said. “You can’t mean for me to wear yours.”
“I mean it exactly. It is perfect.” And he pressed it into her hands.
His was a smallsword, akin to an ornate court sword and well suited for a ball.
The scabbard appeared to be crafted from the same gleaming pearlescent material as Eletian armor.
When she drew the sword, she found the blade to be forged of bright steel and unscathed.
It flared slightly near the point, and fine etchings of stylized birch leaves ornamented it just below the guard.
She buckled the swordbelt over her sash and it seemed to fit well.
“Yes,” Telagioth said. “This completes it.”
“It does,” Tegan agreed.
Cenna and Idris chimed in with their approval.
Hmm, Karigan thought. It made her just a notch more Eletian than Sacoridian. It would be interesting to see how it went over with the Sacoridian nobles, and especially Zachary.
Ayre
Estora was pleased by the attendance to her ball.
She had feared the sudden snowstorm earlier in the day would deter her guests, but fortunately it had been a brief maelstrom that had all but melted away.
Now the orchestra played harmoniously and the dance floor was filled with dancers.
It was the last such affair they’d be hosting until Night of Aeryc, and so the guests made every effort to attend and enjoy.
Except for one. Had Karigan decided not to come after all? She understood her friend’s reluctance, how she felt out of place at such engagements, but Estora was a little piqued by her absence. Considering her new status among the Eletians, she should—
The music faded and her ruminations were interrupted by Neff the herald’s voice ringing out. “Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon of Clan G’ladheon, the Lady Winterlight of the House of Santanara, Dama Cearing Asai’riel a’ Santanara a’ Eletia.”
Karigan stood on the stair gazing out upon the crowd, her hand casually resting on the hilt of a clearly Eletian sword.
A feather in her hair lifted with the air currents, and she wore a longcoat of silver-green not made by Sacoridian hands.
With these details and the way the light glimmered upon her, she looked regal of bearing.
Excitement rippled through the guests, soft murmurs of surprise and intrigue for this Green Rider who was more than a Green Rider.
She overheard commentary that ran the gamut from admiration to cynicism.
Cynicism because many aristocrats had little more to do with their time than play gossip and cast negative judgment on all others, as if it made them better than anyone else.
Several also speculated over whether this odd combination of Sacoridian and Eletian would prove a useful asset to their personal machinations in court, or a hindrance.
One man, she knew, had very different thoughts, and she glanced at her husband to see how he watched Karigan enraptured, his eyes taking in every movement she made, his lips slightly parted, a goblet of wine held forgotten in his hand.
True heart mates, Estora thought. There was no denying it.
Many scoffed at such romantic notions as fantasy.
They did not understand as she understood that a true heart mate was not simple romance, but an inextricable bond between two souls so perfectly matched that it went beyond any level of ordinary love known.
No matter how much they resisted, whether out of honor or some other reason, their souls were harmony and melody.
If they continued their ridiculous hesitation to answer that attraction, it would break them.
This she knew, for she had experienced it herself with her lost love, F’ryan Coblebay, and she wondered if there was something about the aura of Green Riders that fostered such intense love.
She’d done the right thing by freeing them to be together even if they were too exasperatingly stubborn to move forward. So much honor and bullheadedness in them both. They certainly deserved one another.
Zachary was a good and generous husband who showed her respect and affection for all that he did not love her.
Theirs was more a partnership aligned with governing the realm to its best advantage.
Once she had accepted it, it no longer hurt, and because she loved them both, she wished them only happiness.
Remaining queen was an unfortunate necessity to retain the allegiance of the eastern lord-governors.
If they fell away from Zachary, the result would be devastating civil war with the lord-governors fighting for autonomy and the opportunity to be the kings of their own petty realms.
The intensity of Zachary’s regard for Karigan rolled off him like a wave of heat even as others responded to her appearance.
Karigan paused but a moment on the landing, then trotted down the stairs, her beautiful coat flowing about her waist, when so many others would have dragged out their entrance to preen and show off.
Karigan surpassed them by not engaging in such puerile behavior, instead presenting a confident and unaffected demeanor.
It was ironic that she, by trying not to draw attention to herself, only drew more interest.
No longer the runaway schoolgirl, nor merely a merchant’s daughter, she had matured into a woman uniquely her own.
Estora knew the truth that Karigan would always question herself and that maybe she wasn’t quite as self-assured as she came across, but the others did not know her as she did.
And Karigan had no idea the effect she had on others.
In fact, Estora’s attention had been so fixed on Karigan that she missed the introduction of the Eletians, and that was saying something.
“Would you care to dance, my queen?” Zachary asked as the music started again.
Estora was delighted and took his hand. He was very attentive and smiled at her as he guided her around the dance floor, but not nearly with the heat with which he had gazed at Karigan.
“Are you pleased Karigan came?” she asked him.
“I am pleased to see her though I know such gatherings are not to her liking.”
Estora nodded, relieved he had not tried to conceal how he felt.
“Now about puppies for Ez and Dav,” he began.
She listened to him about how beneficial it was for children to grow up with four-legged companions.
She smiled, happy that her children had so devoted a father.
She must get Karigan to visit with them, to become their friend.
If Sacoridia was able to overcome Mornhavon the Black in its impending conflict, she believed they would very much need her.
She dared not consider what the future would hold for her children and all of Sacoridia if Mornhavon prevailed.