Chapter 13
A few days after Ursula pored over ideas for a festival, the sheriff and the mayor objected to her proposal with the usual protests of propriety and safety, particularly concerning any females whose permissive guardians would be so lax as to allow them to attend and participate.
Ursula ground her molars in exasperation, wanting to add her voice to the argument and knowing that doing so would result in categorical denial. Finally, her patience ran out.
“Fine,” she snapped. The sheriff and mayor gaped at the impertinence of her interruption. She looked at Zul. “We’ll hold the festival at Fangrys.”
“But—” the mayor blurted.
“You cannot,” the sheriff blustered, taking a belligerent step toward the berserker. The mayor followed close behind him.
She leaned forward and glared at them. “Am I not the Prima of Fangrys?”
“Of course, you are,” the mayor said, nodding his agreement in a futile effort to smooth her ruffled feathers. “And as such—”
“And is Fangrys public property?” she demanded, hands fisted on her hips. “Does it belong to the village?”
“Of course not,” the sheriff replied, eyes narrowed in suspicion of the direction of her argument.
She smiled, knowing what baring her teeth at them meant and meaning it. “Then you have neither control nor say as to what I, the Fangrys Prima, do in my own home.”
“But your mates—”
She cut him off again, this time gesturing with a sharp cutting motion of her hand. “No. You do not speak for them.”
The sheriff turned a fulminating look at Suvesh, who properly stood four paces behind his mistress. “You, castratus.”
Suvesh nodded in acknowledgement, but did not glance at his Prima.
“Do the Lords cen’Vyr allow such insolence?”
Suvesh replied, his voice calm and sure, “My Lord Brannal cen’Vyr, Prime of Fangrys, commands us to serve his Prima as we would him and my Lord Gilvan cen’Vyr, Second of Fangrys, and Zullar cen’Vyr, Third of Fangrys.”
“Third?” the mayor echoed, eyes widening.
Zul bared his teeth. “Do you gainsay me?”
The sheriff’s stiff posture sagged. He shook his head. “No, my lord.”
Zul turned his head toward his mate, the curling sweep of horns causing the other males to retreat to avoid being hit by them. “Elska’adir, what day do you wish to hold this festival?”
Ursula smiled, his use of the endearment melting her reservations toward completing the mating bond. She smiled at him, a different kind of smile that still included bared teeth. She named an upcoming holiday.
“What day is that?” the mayor asked.
She explained. “I reconciled the day with the calendar on Earth.” The mayor and sheriff frowned. “The closest I could come up with is Halloween, a day my homeland uses to celebrate all things autumn.”
“Autumn?” the sheriff repeated. “What is this autumn?”
“Autumn is a season that transitions from summer to winter in my homeland.” She figured the mayor and sheriff would not be interested in a brief history of Halloween or its many customs both commercial and occult.
The village’s two highest ranked officials shook their heads, still not understanding.
However, Zul, who had traveled widely in his long life, explained the concept of seasons.
“In many places throughout the universe, there are planets with only one sun that experience wide variations in temperature. Those variations create seasons. Summer is considered a season of heat, and winter is a season of cold.”
“Ah,” the mayor said, nodding his head and adopting a wise expression.
“What has this to do with Uribern?” the sheriff demanded. “We do not celebrate this day of Halloween.”
Ursula, feeling a bit belligerent, leaned forward. “But I do.” Silently, she added you moron. “It will be fun.”
“Fun?” the sheriff parroted as though the concept were entirely alien. Perhaps it was.
“Fun,” she repeated, her tone decisive. “We’ll have music.
Dancing. Lots of food. Games and competitions.
Market stalls for anyone who wants to sell their handcrafted wares.
Children—and even adults—may dress in costume.
Children will go from stall to stall and receive treats given out by the vendors.
Market stalls will be decorated and festive, too. ”
“It sounds chaotic,” the mayor muttered and shook his head.
“Dangerous,” the sheriff snarled. “No.”
“You can’t tell me what to do in my own home,” Ursula reminded him with a saccharine smile. She placed a hand on Zul’s muscled arm. “Only my mates have that authority.”
Zul barely refrained from standing straighter and taller and puffing out his chest, but he did slide a hand around her slender waist and gently draw her close while concealing his amusement at her verbal acknowledgement of their authority over her—an authority she disavowed in private and sometimes flouted without conscience.
Ursula glanced up at him. I’m not that bad.
Oh, yes, you are. But I find you endearing nonetheless.
The mayor bowed his head in submission to the vagrant berserker who had somehow become the Third of the Fangrys Triad. Bowing to any female, even the Fangrys Prima, would never happen. Raising his eyes to meet the berserker’s he murmured, “Excuse us, my lord.”
He tapped the sheriff on the back of his shoulder and gave him a speaking look. The sheriff huffed a sigh and followed the mayor’s retreat several steps away.
“The Prima will have this festival,” the mayor whispered. “If we allow it in the village, we will retain control and ensure it does not become something shameful.”
“If we allow the festival, we will have submitted to her demand and unreasonable expectations,” the sheriff countered.
The mayor pursed his lips and considered a compromise. “We will allow her to hold this festival in the village, but she must comply with a set of rules that we will draft.”
The sheriff’s eyes flashed with ire, but he sighed and agreed.
The mayor was correct: the festival would happen regardless of their order.
Neither wanted the berserker’s rage unleashed upon them.
Nor did they wish to attract the ire of the Fangrys Prime or his Second, who were also fierce warriors.
The Fangrys Triad, the two males agreed yet again, allowed their mate far too much leeway.
“Our mate shall not attend,” the sheriff stated.
The mayor shook his head. “No, it would not be seemly. Her absence will show other males the error of their thinking should they allow their mates to participate.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Ursula commented loudly. “What do you think will be more influential: what your Prima does or what the mate of two petty government functionaries does?”
The sheriff’s eyes glittered with rage, and the mayor hissed in affront. “Petty government functionaries?” They turned to face her, glowering.
The hulking warrior beside her showed no expression, but pride and amusement radiated from his body.
“He will be lax as well,” the mayor muttered in disappointment.
“The festival was my idea,” the berserker commented, again showing that the mayor and sheriff had not retreated beyond earshot.
The sheriff growled in barely repressed fury.
“Have you lost all dignity?” the mayor gasped.
“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Ursula said.
The sheriff and mayor looked confused. The latter said, “I do not understand.”
“It means that your understanding is limited,” she replied succinctly.
“My mate wishes to host a community event of entertainment and commerce to the benefit and enjoyment of all Fangrys,” Zul said. “There is no evil in this desire and much to be admired, for she invites all of Fangrys to participate, not just the ruling caste.”
Although the Fangrys Third seemed willing to compromise, the sheriff was not fooled. “We will allow this festival, but it will be conducted in accordance with Urib law and customs.”
“I hadn’t planned on organizing a public orgy,” Ursula replied, her sarcasm biting.
“Do not mock us,” the mayor warned, shaking his finger at her. “This will be a dignified affair.”
Ursula’s lips split in a mocking smile. “Dignified? I don’t think so. The goal is for people to have fun, to enjoy themselves. Music and dancing, remember? Costumes? Children?” She shook her head. “Don’t be stuffy.”
The sheriff opened his mouth to lecture her on proper decorum, but the Prima beat him to it.
“You know? Forget it. Forget about it being a community event. I’ll host the party at Fangrys. Anyone who wishes to come will be welcome. And you will have nothing to say about it.”
The sheriff drew himself up to his full height and snarled, but Zul stared him down.
“Leave,” Zul ordered, his quiet command dripping with menace.
With a huff, the sheriff and mayor departed, walking with stiff dignity, their tails lashing.
“Fireworks,” Ursula said.
“What?”
She smiled, a vicious, devious expression. “I’m going to put on the party to end all parties—and that requires fireworks. Everyone for miles around will be talking about this festival for years.”
Zul frowned. “What are fireworks?”
She grinned at him, pure delight in her eyes. “Wait until I show you. You’re gonna love them!”