Gallel's Heir

Chapter 21: The Engagement Ceremony

Assumption kills, while knowledge opens the very stars to our understanding.
—Anath shen Sorrel Albandor of Yambisey

“Hello, San,” Emick mumbled. He took a sip of wine in front of him, then glanced at Lianna. His eyes were warm amber, and large. He didn’t wear any jewels, only an eye-shaped broach at his throat. He looked away.

Her throat was too tight for speech.

“I want you to know I think this is stupid,” he said, “and I don’t want to smiting be here, and if you’re a shallow idiot like all the other sans I’ve met, well, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Shallow?” she managed. It didn’t sound like her voice, more like a frog’s.

Emick looked at her. “Shallow,” he repeated.

“You… you’re….” She glanced from him to his mother.

He seemed to understand her thought. “Do you think I’d want to be like that?” he said. “That pig? I hate her.”

Lianna laughed. It sounded more like a raven’s squawk. “You. Hate her?”

“Please, she’s the biggest fool I’ve ever seen. I say, if she’d listened to her Councilors, the smiting war would’ve ended before it smiting began. She dismissed her Councilors and found ones as foolish as she is to advise her.”

He glared towards Tamil. “You’d think as the sixth son, I’d be free to not marry. I could bond like any other smiting sixth son of a blasted smiting San. But no, I’m forced to be here with the enemy she hates the most. With you.” His glare turned from his mother, then softened with — longing? — when he looked at the beautiful woman next to Tamil. The woman Mama had been afraid of.

“I hate my father, too,” said Lianna. Her heart was returning back to her chest, but it still beat quickly. All will be well Mama had said. Her head swam. She giggled.

“Hmm,” he said. He looked her up and down, nostrils flared. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. The auburn vest really fitted nicely on him. He held his wine goblet delicately.

A servant brought a spinach salad with red and yellow fruits covered in some kind of cream. Emick attempted a smile at her. “How are you doing?” He touched her hand. His was soft and warm, but she pulled away.

She stared at her salad, and her face cooled in relief. “I guess I’m doing better than I’d have thought. You?” They both whispered even though no one else would hear their conversation. His accent was strangely pleasant, more melodious than she was used to, though she still strained her ears to ignore the inflections of his voice and to focus more on his negative characteristics. Wasn’t he too short for her liking? He was a kel, and kels were… evil. Canúden was a kel… but that wasn’t his fault…. So what if the rust trim of Emick’s vest matched his eyes and suited his bearing…. But didn’t his mother look like a swine? Is that what she had to look forward to with him, when he was old and fat?

He swallowed some salad and smiled weakly, shrugging. His face relaxed. “The same, I suppose.” He looked down at his salad. “I’m sorry, San. I heard what ruddy nonsense happened to you. Were you really kidnapped by an old woman, then?”

Lianna dropped her fork. It clanged. “Who told you that?”

“I heard it from one of your nobles, who I think heard it from a ruddy soldier.”

She glared at him. “It wasn’t just anyone. I mean, I wasn’t kidnapped at all. I was trying to get away. I don’t want to be here.” And her mother was dead because of it. She dropped her voice and whispered hoarsely, “And why do you care? You’re just….” She ended her statement with a “Humph!” and viciously attacked her salad.