Chapter 5-Getting to Know You...or Not
That afternoon, Mina found herself standing at the altar in the private chapel of the palace. Once again, she was face to face with Zaccheus. This time, the audience consisted of the king, her parents, and the prince's chosen witness for the betrothal ceremony.
Mina was dressed in a simple white gown. The long sleeves clung to her arms tightly, and the neckline was square-cut. The bodice of the dress twinkled with gold embroidery. The waist was high, and the rest of the dress flowed to her ankles unrestricted in silken ripples. The hair on either side of her face was pulled back and braided down; the sizeable amount of hair left over cascaded down past her waist.
Zacch had his hair pulled back in the same style as it had been that morning, in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Its bright copper seemed somewhat dulled by the rich forest green of his tunic, and he wore black trousers. He wore a crown that encircled his head instead of resting on top; it was made of hammered gold shaped into a wreath of leaves.
She paid little attention to the ceremony but kept her gaze fixed on Zacch's. He appeared to be paying attention, but he too was sizing her up. He observed the unhappy resistance in her eyes, and he considered the little information he had been given about her. Even after some more or less personal investigation, he felt that he did not have her full measure. Of course she was beautiful. He had met many beautiful women in his life, and in his memory, Malina was paralleled only by one lady. But he reminded himself that he was thinking about the nymph before him. From what he had heard, she was highly intelligent and the well-trained daughter of two highly-exalted ambassadors. Neither of them were still working in the department of diplomacy, but she had seen much of the land in her childhood and many, many political wrangles.
She was enjoyable company–quick to smile, quick to laugh. She seemed genuinely interested in what other people had to say, and she was amusing, clever, and playful by turns. On the other hand, her knowledge of history and every province, dukedom, and barony in the kingdom was said to be impeccable, as were her organizational abilities. It was fact that Malina had recently been in charge of numerous renovations of the palace, and her understanding of architectural plans was outstanding. Zaccheus hid a smile as he remembered what the man who had worked under her had told him: "That Lady Mina, she's an interesting one. She'll follow anything you show her and make her own changes and praise the strong points, but if you give her something small, something simple to put together, it ends up as a complete disaster." The foreman had spoken of her fondly, and it seemed that she did not feel herself above those of a lower station.
He had made two other interesting discoveries. The first was that she was used to getting her way, and that she could coerce even the stubbornest opponents into seeing things her way. The second peculiar quality was that she hated royalty. That had surprised Zacch. Instead of hostility in her eyes, he had seen frank curiosity. Apparently, she was not fond of her king the cousin, who was easily controlled by bribes. She also had no love for Queen Serenitatis. Zaccheus had been equally surprised to discover that she had spoken before of a desire to command an army. She looked delicate, beautiful, and the perfect image of a princess, but she could shoot a bow and arrow with good accuracy. It was rumored that her speciality lay in her expert manipulation of a small, precisely-fashioned chain of the strongest metal mined in the land. But back to the question of royalty...it was rumored that Malina considered the majority of nobility greedy, cruel, corrupt, inept at ruling, and bent on restricting others' rights. He filed it away as something to keep in mind.
Zacch suddenly realized that the lengthy ceremony had come to a close (as evidenced by his companion's subtle pressure on his foot and the changed angle of light in the slanted windows overhead). He placed a simple gold ring on her fourth finger, the metal of the elves, and she placed a silver ring adorned with a small amber stone on his. The three nymphal kingdoms all used silver for crowns, symbols, and matters such as these, and they were distinguished by the stones. The land nymphs used topazes, the dryads emeralds, and the naiads sapphires. He remembered, painfully, the silvery necklace with a simple sapphire pendant that had nestled at the base of the throat of a water nymph that he had known... Suddenly, those who had witnessed and signed the contract were leaving, and he was left alone, still hand in hand, with Mina.
She tugged her hand out of his boldly and stepped back. "My lord?" Her voice was cool and calm, and there was no hint of uncertainty in it.
"Do you have a moment to spare?" he asked abruptly, running a hand through his hair distractedly and effectively rumpling it.
Mina nodded instantly, and her relief showed on her face. She had been hoping that he would at least make the effort to seek her out and have a private conversation, out of the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears of the populace. "My time is yours, my lord."
"Please call me Zaccheus." Without waiting for her to comply or refuse, he barreled on. "Is there any place...more secluded...where we may speak plainly?"
Aloud, she mused, "The gardens are the most logical, of course, but the younger nobility–and some of the older–are probably dallying and carrying on numerous flirtations there." She caught the briefest flash of annoyance on his face and thought, ‘So what Nath heard was right–he is impatient. Maddeningly so. He's probably used to having his every whim granted within seconds of him voicing an order. It figures. No one would ever dream of keeping a prince waiting, of course.'
After spending a few more seconds scoffing at the faults of the highborn, she smiled to herself. She knew how to deal with haughty, impatient courtiers–she saw and handled them every day...except, she didn't happen to be betrothed to any of them. Hiding a grimace, she continued, "I would suggest the main portrait gallery, my lord–Zaccheus." There had been another flicker of irritation when she had forgotten that he had asked her to call him by his name. If he expected her to return the favor, he could keep dreaming and tapping that foot of his. "Almost all of the residents of the palace have seen it in their lives one time or another, and very few return. There are, of course, student artists studying the techniques and styles of the past, and some masters order their protégée to copy some of the paintings, but they pack up their things at the slightest disturbance."
He nodded his acquiescence to her offer mutely and held out his arm. As she placed her arm in his, leading the way, she sensed his pensive mood and didn't make small talk. Zacch was grateful for the lack of interruption on her part. Just now, he had further solidified the steps to locking away his heart forever. As usual, he was abiding by the wishes of his kingdom: they wanted an heir, and to get a legitimate heir, he needed a queen. It was only recently that he had finally submitted to the demands of his father and the council with very bad grace. No one had understood why he had stalked through the halls on his day to day errands with a black cloud of seething misery and roiling resentment for several days afterwards. Everything Zaccheus had ever done in his life since a very young age had been for his people.
He hated the actual fighting itself. Sure, he found the intricacies of warfare and styles of fighting fascinating, but he didn't particularly like doing it himself. But he had put in the time and effort to become proficient in the use of several weapons, and he had the natural talent–he just didn't enjoy it. His studies were extensive: it had taken years of lessons in ruling, in politics, in economy, and a thousand other things before they had deemed him ready to take his father's place. He had finally succeeded in earning the majority of the elves' respect and confidence...and now they demanded a bride.
At least, Zaccheus thought grimly, they had let him handle that affair basically alone. Naturally, they would have preferred that he selected a woman of the elfin race, but their royalty had been dwindling quickly. Zacch was able to admit to himself that he hadn't wanted to choose a woman he knew already; he preferred someone who would be willing to marry him for diplomatic purposes and someone who he wouldn't have to get close to if he alienated her from the start. He admitted it was selfish. He admitted it was unfair. But he couldn't bring himself to even try to fall in love again.
He flatly refused to send even an envoy to the naiads. He didn't think that he would be able to live with, let alone love, a woman who bore any resemblance to Amity. It would remind him of what he had lost and what he could not reclaim.
The elves were closely linked to the dryads; they had descended from basically the same ancestors, even if they were counted as the nymphs. He was sure they weren't all ignorant of the workings outside the forest they inhabited, but he preferred someone who could recognize the dire situation all the magik folk were in. Zaccheus had also been unsure of their celebratory nature. He was the first to admit that he was not the happiest of people.
That had left him the land nymphs, which suited him well. Of the three nymphal races, they were most aware of the workings of the humans. He had decided against a princess, because he was tired of being ordered around by people who thought they knew better than he did. Zacch might be young, but he wasn't an idiot. The princesses of the nymphs were far less biddable than the human princess Serenitatis was rumored to be. But then again, with a mother like hers, it wasn't surprising. At any rate, he wasn't going to be let himself be ordered around by anyone, especially not his wife.
Even before they had ever met, he had negotiated an agreement with the King of the Nymphs and Malina's parents. They assured him that she would do her duty. And so, he was here now, and engaged. The steps he had taken made his heart thudded painfully. Today, he had signed away his heart and sealed the act with a ring. He knew it was necessary, but it still hurt. He thought he had defeated all hope that he would ever be able convince the only woman he had ever loved to forgive him. Zaccheus sighed audibly. He had been an idiot three years ago; his excuse was that he had been young (fourteen), stupid, careless, prideful, and full of himself. He was still possessed of a healthy amount of pride, but he had tried to search for her. She was nowhere to be found. The naiads had been unhelpful, and his temper had been ignited by their undisguised scorn and derision for her. He had tried to talk to them for her sake, but even the few sympathetic naiads had no knowledge of her whereabouts. They could only tell him that she had returned for a very short period of time from the elfin palace and then left without speaking to anyone except her mother, and he could not locate the elusive water nymph.
Zaccheus had thought that after so long, he had convinced himself that he didn't love her anymore. He discovered that he had merely succeeded in deluding and lying to himself. Now he had to admit that he would ever find Ami again and that there was no chance that he would ever restore what they had once had together. He was going on with his life without her, and it hurt more than he had expected.
****~**~****
Lirita glowered at her captors under heavy eyelids. She had been bundled under a shedding, foul-smelling blanket onto a wagon. They had then traveled for several hours, during which she had been smothered and revisited by the sickness that had kept her up the entire night. By the time they had gotten to the docks, she was too tired to care that pained tears trickled down her dirty face. As they hurried their burden down to the lowest levels of the ship, she tried to struggle weakly. They paid her no attention, reveling in her helpless fury.
When she got a good kick in, however, the man holding her dropped her and cursed viciously. His partner backhanded her cruelly, and Lita slid to the floor after impacting the wall with a loud thud. The first man muttered resentfully, "The wench's been nothing but trouble from the start."
"What did you expect? But you're right. This one's been unusually active. We better keep her in the upper hold, separate from them."
Nervously, his partner responded, "But it's closer to the gangplank. It'd be easier for her to escape."
"You think she could get out? She can barely move."
"She just kicked you good," he snapped.
"Shut your trap before I do it for you."
They changed direction, presumably to the upper hold, when a sailor intercepted them. Lita was glad to rest as she sagged against the wall. She didn't appreciate the queasy feeling in her stomach, caused by the rocking of the ship. She wasn't looking forward to the voyage. As she listened, she hid a gleeful smile as some of her indomitable spirit returned. Lita had always been wild-spirited and unruly as a colt. It seemed that the ship had a leak, so there would be a few days of delay before they set off. The proper materials to fix it had to be attained from the larger, more populous port. The reason that her captors could not sail from there were because more people that were unsympathetic and unsupportive of the war Queen Serenitatis had declared upon the magik folk inhabiting the main ports. They were forced to sail, like craven pirates, from smaller inlets.
Her eyes darted around the ship's interior, and she shifted position slightly to peer through a door as a sailor, bearing small portions of food, unlocked a large door. Her pleasure at her captors' problems gave way to burning resentment as she saw several nymphs, elves, and even a naiad lying on the ground or propped up against the wall, looking as bad as she felt.
With an annoyed growl, as the talk was finished, the burlier man dragged her to an isolated room and reached into his pocket for a tiny vial of deep blue liquid. When she refused to drink it, he snapped, "If you want to live until we get to the capital, wench, you'd better drink the antidote to the poison on the dart. Of course, if you want to die, that's fine with me. The realm'd be rid of one less dryad."
She glared at him and drank it down, trying not to throw up. The foul taste remained in her mouth, but her heaving stomach managed to keep its meager contents down. Instantly, she felt better, more like her old self. The sick spells did not come agai, but she still felt a little dizzy. The man, however, had already locked the door securely behind him and gone about his business. Lita smiled grimly to herself and began to plan an impossible escape for herself and the others aboard the ship. She probably wouldn't even have the chance to put it into action, but as long as she had the strength, she would fight to them.
****~**~****
"So you don't appreciate art?"
"No, I do. But you must admit–or maybe you don't have to–that these aren't the most tasteful of portraits," Malina responded frankly.
A sudden smile broke through the storm clouds on his face, and she began to understand why he was considered an exemplary specimen of the male race. If only he applied some of that famed charm and stopped looking so grim, she might actually like him. But the notorious womanizer seemed to be absent for the moment in the wake of the grave prince. They walked in silence as he examined the portraits of severe-looking nymphs and found that she was right–they weren't very attractive likenesses.
Mina found herself feeling exasperated as he strolled along without saying a word. She wasn't sure if he expected her to speak first or not, but she was used to speaking her mind when she could, and if he found fault with her because of it, maybe he would leave. That would be a boon. "Zaccheus...there are some...questions I've been having about this marriage. I've always known I would have to make a good marriage, politically speaking."
He listened gravely to her trying to voice her doubts, then asked suddenly, "Are you in love with anyone? Do you have a lover? Someone you have in mind?"
She blinked twice. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved that he had dropped the flowery court language in favor of being blunt. "No, I don't," she answered forthrightly. "Do you?"
He turned from her, glowering darkly at the numerous pairs of painted eyes staring at them. "If you had, things would have been easier."
"Well, I'm sorry for my insufficiencies. Why would it have been easier?"
"Because then I wouldn't have to go through with this!" he exploded.
She stared at him, wondering if he was mad. It would certainly have explained a number of things.
"Malina, there was a reason that I did this–making a contract with your parents before I ever met you. I don't want a love match; I need a marriage of expediency. You've heard, I expect, of my reputation with women."
She nodded mutely. Saying he had been involved with many women was an understatement. If she wasn't so shocked, she would have given him a piece of her mind. As it was, she had to wait.
"I can promise you faithfulness. But I'm not going to make any effort to fall in love with you. Judging by word of mouth, you're very capable of ruling as queen. And that is what I need–a queen."
Mina finally found herself able to speak when he paused to gauge her reaction. "How dare you! You think you can just find someone to marry you for pure convenience, and you won't bother to even try and get to know her? You won't dedicate any of your attention or your love–whatever love you may have–towards her? What a miserable life for someone to leave, neglected by a man who's supposed to love her. How could you expect your queen to respect you?"
Zaccheus glared back with equal intensity. "I don't need respect from my queen! I need obedience, and I need someone who understands duty and responsibility."
"Don't need respect! No one could possibly fit your description. What did your parents teach you about women?"
Coldly, his eyes ice, he replied, "Considering my mother lived for a very short while after my birth before she was kidnaped and murdered, and adding the fact that my father barely remains in this world, they taught me very little about women."
She was taken aback by his newest statement. "Well, their devotion to each other must have shown you something. Obviously, you've never been in love, or you wouldn't think this way."
Scornfully, he retorted, "I don't believe in love. I once deluded myself into believing that love existed; I thought I was actually in love. I know better now–it just doesn't exist. It's merely a pointless fabrication people have created, and I don't need it–" He was rudely cut off when Mina pushed past him, cornflower blue eyes blazing with outrage and anger.
****~**~****
Jalen repressed a sigh as he snuck a peek at the raven-haired beauty riding next to him. She wouldn't even look at him, but she was bent on matching his pace. She was dressed in warm, comfortable clothing, and, as usual, her hair was bound tightly. He had attempted to make a formal introduction, thanking her for having a part in his rescue. She had responded coolly, saying she knew who he was and brushing off his thanks.
"So, Reisha, have you been living at the retreat all your life?" he asked in a friendly, interested tone.
Looking straight ahead, her lips barely moved as she replied tersely, "No. Since I was eight."
"I see. Where did you live before that? I may seen your home; I've traveled a lot."
"So I've heard," she muttered.
He pressed determinedly on. "Tell me about your family. Do you have sisters? Are they all as pretty as you are?"
She finally deigned to look at him, and her eyes could have frozen fire. "My entire family is dead, and I had no siblings."
The blond-haired man was very much taken aback, both by her words and the emotionless, matter-of-fact tone in which she had said them. Several seconds later, he said, "I'm so sorry to hear that." He was quiet after that, and any other ventures he made that day were received with cold indifference. When they set up camp, she merely nodded when he asked her if she thought it was suitable, then began to collect firewood. Jalen sighed as he began checking the horses over for any stones that might have gotten stuck in their hooves. He had tried to get to know her, but his best effort hadn't been put into it.
He was still a little tired and very much confused: he couldn't understand why his magik demanded her presence. He just wanted to move as quickly as possible to meet Ami, whose sensible person would hopefully make morse sense out of the troubling matters. Maybe Reisha got along with females better than men. He had never met a woman who had disliked him more, but Jalen strongly suspected that she blamed him for taking her away from the temple. He also wasn't sure how highly warriors thought of scholars, but he was beginning to suspect that the general opinion was low. After all, books and weapons just didn't seem to mix...most people thought it was one or the other. Jalen smiled to himself. He had done an excellent job of intermixing the two.
If she thought that he had immersed himself in study for all of his life, she was wrong. He knew a lot about the political, economical, and social situations throughout the realm, and he had spent a sizeable amount of his time in his youth learning to use various arms. Now, he was unable to learn new techniques, due to his migrant lifestyle, but he was careful to keep his skills honed and sharp, should he need to use them.
Jalen didn't think that she respected him, or that she had formed a favorable first impression, but he wasn't sure why. He didn't think it was merely because he played the role of bookish university graduate, and he was determined to find out why. But he did, however, respect her. He was grateful that she did her share of work willingly, but then again, he expected nothing less from warrior's get. And yet...she had been living at the retreat, she told him, since she was eight. The first eight years were an important time in a person's life, a long time. All the instincts and minutes prejudices were bred into her then, under the influence of her parents and the mentors around her.
He didn't know how old she was, but she looked approximately eighteen or so. Ten years was a long time. He would have thought her to be all warrior, but there was something inborn about the way she held herself, the aura of pride around her that never receded. Jalen had rarely seen that innate dignity in anyone besides the highest nobility. Another hint to highborn heritage were her classically royal features. For the most part, aside from an unhealthy amount of inbreeding, the aristocracy had some of the finest genes dictating physical traits running through their bloodlines. Not only did gentlewomen have to be well-dowered, with good connections, beauty was also on the list of priorities.
Later that night, when Reisha began practicing a few passes with her sword some distance from the fire, Jalen asked, "How about a match? Granted, I may not be as good as you, but I think I could put up enough of a fight to give you some practice."
Her brows slanted downwards, but whether it was in confusion or annoyance, he didn't know. She said nothing, doubtful but unwilling to show her reservations. Rei had been taught never to scorn even the most unlikely of opponents, should they win and take their revenge. She herself was a prime example. She wasn't exactly delicately built, but she couldn't seem to acquire more muscle than she already had. Her looks didn't give away a thing about her real skills, and she had delighted in proving arrogant men wrong about her.
"Well, if I'm that horrible, at least it'll afford you some amusement. What do you say?"
"All right."
After he joined her, she took the time while he stretched to examine his sword. "You have a good weapon," she said respectfully.
Jalen gave it a fond look. "Thank you. But the credit is due to the elf craftsmen who made it for me."
"The elves?" she asked in surprise, delicate brows lifting.
"Yes. I'm half-elfin. I lived with them for most of my life. You seem surprised; I take it that the magik folk are not often visitors at your temple retreat?"
"No. No, I don't remind having seen any of them at the temple."
He shrugged. "Do you know much about them?"
Reisha frowned and replied, "Well, no. But enough to know that they're formidable in battle because of their magik."
Jalen's eyebrows raised as some of her ignorance of the outside world as revealed to him; she merely looked nettled at having had to admit it. "Several of the warriors from the retreat become commanders of Queen Serenitatis's forces. If you were to become one of those, is that all the knowledge you would carry to face then?"
She scowled darkly. "I never had any desire to leave the retreat, and becoming a queen's lackey is not an ambition of mine."
"No." He smiled. "I thought not."
Provoked by his prying questions and smug smile, Rei raised her sword. "Are you ready?"
"Always." He levered himself off the ground silently, and it was then that she saw well-concealed muscles ripple.
As he'd expected, she made the first move. He countered swiftly, then quickly swung a neat, tight arc, letting her know that he didn't want her to go easy on him. She responded by forcing him to block her again. Neither of them winced at the clash of metal upon metal. Reisha was surprised when she discovered that he was quite good.
"You're better than I thought," she admitted after some time, managing to keep her breathlessness from her voice.
He smiled. "Thank you for the compliment. We never did decide how this would end."
"Whoever scores the first hit."
Neither of them felt it needful to add that the first "hit" would be a light tap.
After some more time, Reisha spoke up again. "That was a nice cut. It's one of the more modern techniques, too. Where did you learn up?"
Jalen smiled grimly as he danced away from her sword. Its length of steel shone wickedly in the moonlight. He quickly drew his sleeve across his forehead, dashing away the drops of sweat that had gathered there. "Actually, I don't remember. As you may already know, I do a lot of traveling. I try to learn as much as I can along the way, and that isn't limited to browsing through libraries." He smiled as a look of discomfort, followed by a flash of aggravation, flitted across her determinedly-set features.
"I don't remember saying that I thought that was all you did," she responded testily, the rapidity of her thrusts increasing.
He smirked. "You didn't have to. It was very clear." After more clangs of their swords, profuse sweating, and her chasing him farther and farther away from the fire's light, he was the one to break their tense silence. "I'm surprised. You talk while you fight; I would have thought that you would."
Reisha refused to show her own surprise. She wanted him to stop trying to read her and fight in earnest. "Well. It just shows that no one in the world knows everything."
He laughed heartily and was rewarded by a hint of temper creeping into her eyes. He took a minute to admire those eyes. Anyone else's eyes were usually darkened in the night, but the shadows did nothing to dampen the bright amethyst. And then, he gave her what she wanted: true revelation of his skills. The speed with which her sword danced around him, giving off flashes of silvery-light, astounded him. Jalen might not appreciate the stereotype intellectuals were given, but he was a true scholar heart–of human nature and how other people thought.
She might have been formal and polite with him all day, but in combat, even mock combat, she was extremely personal. All her emotions blanketed her and were freely expressed instead of determinedly controlled, as they usually were. It seemed to him that passion and flame surrounded them, emanating from the fire of her soul. Jalen recognized, as he sword-point cut through his defensive move like butter, that a truly remarkable woman stood before him. As he felt the pressure directly over his heart, he managed a weak smile and said, "You're very direct, Reisha. You'll forgive me if I tell you it's just a little frightening, won't you?"
Reisha frowned slightly, shrugging off his words. "You're a warrior at heart, Jalen Eridian. If you had more training...you could match some of the masters very well."
"But not you."
Again, she shrugged. "It's likely that I would have beaten you, but you did make it harder than I expected. It wouldn't have been over so soon if you hadn't stopped concentrating. Your attention shifted very suddenly."
Jalen merely retrieved his sword from the ground and declined comment. They spoke no more that night, aside from a quiet "good night." They cleaned their weapons on either side of the crackling fire, and while he set up his bedroll, she bathed in the freezing water of the river nearby. After his turn (with more respect from her constitution; as the water as barely melted), he said his customary prayers to the gods, as most people in the land did each night, each morning, and also at midday, and noticed that she, on the other hand, did not.
Although there was an uneasy silence between them, Jalen slept easily that night, under star-studded skies, feeling a strange sense of comfort and companionship.
Reisha took the first guard watch, even though they were in relatively peaceful territory. She had been trained to expect the unexpected...but she had never dreamed that she would be gallivanting through the realm with only one man, and a stranger at that, at her side. And yet, Reisha was able to slip into restful meditation easily, and when he woke her to take the second half of the watch, she fell asleep quickly.
Jalen listened for sound in the woods around them, but his eyes were fixed upon Reisha's face as he thought about the fascinating enigma he had been presented with.
****~**~****
AN: Yes, it's going a little slowly right now ^^;;. I'm trying to build on character, so I've refrained from mentioning any romance between the pairs of Shittenou and senshi that are already together ^.~ and don't worry, I'm not trying to pair Mina with Zacch or Nath, but I think they'd make interesting friends ^^. Thanks for the reviews, everyone :)!
~Ice
Soulmates: Mainpage
