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Maggie looked stricken, but she soon recovered. With an unusually bright smile on her face, she slung an arm around Cal’s shoulders. “I don’t know, but it could be worse. You could’ve had no one as your sidekick. Or even worse, anybody but me. What a hellish future that would’ve been for you.”
Cal grinned, even though she hadn’t thought she could, and glanced at her friend. “Big head much?”
Maggie reached up and patted her hair. “My head is not big, thank you very much.”
They fell quiet, and the sound of speech only sporadically punctuated the silence. There was no way of knowing how long the mist would take to do whatever...it was doing. Each second stretched on. It may have been a matter of a few minutes or perhaps many hours, for Cal certainly didn’t feel the passage of time the same way she felt it on Earth. All they could do was wait.
***
Relian observed the scene that was unfolding before him in the merrily decorated clearing until a jolt of discomfort drew away his attention. He glanced down and saw the cause. His hand was clenched around a wine chalice. Opening his hand slightly, he flexed his fingers until color seeped back into the appendages. Once he had sufficient circulation back, he returned his focus to the ever-growing throng of people who attended the celebration. He wished they’d all go home, but there wasn’t any chance of that. Besides many wanting the free food and drink, any celebration hosted by the king was considered an honored event.
Those present might’ve wondered what news caused this gathering, but merry-making and other festivities soon shrugged this aside. His people’s life spans could be nearly indefinite, and they largely paced their way of life by this. Celebrations and parties were a time to let go, to live in the moment, and just be. It was a time to forget all past and future worries. There’d always be occasion enough to fret about them tomorrow. That was the way of elves—the tone of existence often set by immortality. Nevertheless, some adapted to the mores of their society more readily than others did.
He sent a pointed grimace at the irritant that was Kenhel. His friend hadn’t quite ever left behind that sense of gaiety and adventure often associated with childhood. That was not to say his people couldn’t be merry, because they often were. Most just chose to display it in a more restrained manner, at least until wine flowed through their veins.
Kenhel had never played by all their people’s rules. Indeed, any inbuilt elvish nature he possessed couldn’t seem to sway him to, even though he could turn solemn with alarming speed when the situation warranted it. An elf who commanded the army needed to have a solid foundation in tactical realities that he could ruthlessly bring up at a moment’s notice. And his friend had an amazing ability to do so.
This evening, however, Kenhel enjoyed his resurgence of childhood without qualm and mercilessly teased him about the upcoming announcement. Of course, Kenhel also found time to flirt with eivain who knew better than to take him seriously, though he always came back to Relian’s side to torment him further.
Relian usually would dryly return the quips right back. But tonight, he felt much too preoccupied, as if something was going to happen—and not just the announcement. For now, Kenhel was little more than a bothersome pest, an annoyance he ignored as much as possible. It was hard, admittedly, with said pest standing right next to him.
He attempted to banter with Kenhel but soon fell silent. This pattern continued for much of their conversation until an hour or two before the king would announce the binding, when Kenhel blundered over his last thread of patience.
“Come on, Relian, do you not find the king’s news spellbinding? I’m sure you can’t wait to share such tidings with the good people of our land. After all, you share such a strong bond with them.”
Relian gritted his teeth, something he was sure gave the impression of being at odds with the outward façade of calmness he wanted to portray. “Desist before I bind your hands and toss you into a river.”
At that, Kenhel retreated for a while. His friend was no fool and would only push him as far as he safely dared. Friends or not, he was Kenhel’s prince.
“Your Highness, how are you on this fine evening?”
The feminine voice startled Relian from his reverie. “Fine.”
The blonde female, possibly hoping for an escort, cast him a charming smile that brought out her dimples. “I’m Cianve, the daughter of Lord Kalen. Do you remember me?”
Her beautiful countenance stirred no admiration other than a vague appreciation. The memory of stolen moments in a random chamber during his youth flashed through his mind, but that was his only recollection of her. “Ah, yes. Kalen is one of my father’s councilors, and I believe I had...an acquaintance with you at one time.”
She beamed at him, and her blue eyes sparkled. “It is an acquaintance I’d like to renew.”
Fifteen years ago, he would’ve been happy to bed her again. The fact he didn’t want to now caused a flare of anger—at himself and Cal. “I have prior plans for after the celebration.” An assignation with four bottles of wine should do it.
Disappointment winked through her eyes, and a few lines formed between her brows as she seemed to cast about for something to say. “The celebration is sure to be a memorable event, given all the preparations that went into something planned so quickly.”
If she only knew. He fought to keep the glower off his face. “Quite the spectacle.”
Cianve’s smile wavered. “Of course, Your Highness. I should...ah...be on my way.”
As Relian watched her retreating back, he couldn’t dredge up any guilt for his abrupt manner. When would this debacle end? His father had said he wanted as many of his people present as possible. Half of Eria appeared to be here. Supposedly, news would disseminate in a more factual way if many of his subjects could witness the announcement. Hopefully, they’d garner more acceptance if the people heard the actual declaration and not the gossip that would arise from it.
As decisions weren’t normally made in haste, he and his father would’ve preferred waiting longer to make an announcement. But while mostly honorable members formed the council, the truth wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Neither of them desired insinuations of concealment that could affect an already precarious situation, hence this hastily put-together celebration.
When Kenhel came back to his side, they finally settled into easy conversation, discussing their warriors and the requisite training such talk always engendered. Their enemy grew bolder and prowled about Eria, looking for unsuspecting victims. A new strategy had to be devised.
To ensure such bad tidings hadn’t awaited families who traveled to the celebration, his father had commanded that all sentries, sentinels, and guardians be put on active duty throughout the realm. The warriors who resided in the city took turns policing the celebration. Many of the accompanying soldiers who’d served as protection to the visitors on the way there also found themselves in attendance.
The early evening wore on, and Relian sighed silently. His father would soon make the announcement and reveal the binding. At least, he hoped it was soon. How much more of this “celebration” could he take before he sought the end of his own sword?
As if his father knew what he’d been thinking, Talion motioned for the minstrels to end their song. People turned toward their king, who sat upon a chair on the platform that’d been erected in the middle of a clearing that rested between one of the palace’s gardens and the town. Relian came to stand behind his father to the right, as required during formal functions of state.
