Red Rope of Fate (13 page)

“Which one do you r-recommend?” Tari asked, stumbling slightly.

Wilford smiled to show his approval before replying. “The elvish green tea cookies taste…”

“Taste how?” Tari asked.

“
Fantastic
,” Wilford said, carefully pronouncing the word. “They taste very good.”

“Thank you, then I will try a green tea cookie,” Tari said, selecting a slightly green hued cookie from the tray.

Grygg frowned slightly and straightened in his chair. “What hour is it?”

Tari leaned forward to glance through the open doorway that led into her bedroom, getting a look at the sunlight. “I think it is almost third hour,” she said.

Grygg brightened and grinned at Tari. “I say, well done Lady Tari! I am glad you caught that,” he said, clapping.

Wilford, however, set
the treat tray down and stood. “We have to go then. Our patrol reports are due in two hours.”

Grygg said something that sounded like an agreement, but Tari didn’t r
ecognize any of the words.

The soldiers dutifully placed their emptied tea cups on the tea tray and straightened any cushions they might have flattened before inspecting each other’s uniforms for crumbs
and creases.

“That was a lovely tea, Lady Tari. Thank you for inviting us,” Thad said, taking care to enunciate his words.

Tari smiled and also stood. “Thank you for coming. I shall see you for tea, again, tomorrow?”

All three of the patrol leaders bowed.

“We look forward to it,” Thad smiled, stepping out of Tari’s sitting room.

“Think of topics to discuss,” Wilford advised, following his friend.

“Halt in the name of the King,” Grygg, the last guard in the room, hopefully said.

“Halt in the name of the King,” Tari parroted back.

Based on Grygg’s beaming smile, she said it correctly.

“Grygg, stop that,” Thad called from the hallway, an accent of irritation to his words.

Grygg winked before hurrying after his fellow patrol leaders. “Coming!”

Evlawyn shut the door behind them before turning her attention to the tea dishes. “They seem to help you a fair bit, My Lady.”

“They do. Thank you for helping me convince them to tutor me,” Tari agreed, finally eating her selected green tea cookie.

“It was no trouble at all. I didn’t do much besides find out their names, families, and where they are roomed in the barracks from the human servants. Th
e men agreed easily enough to help you,” Evlawyn smiled.

“Yes, but we wouldn’t be able to have our daily teas if you were not so crafty with procuring extra tea and treats for me,” Tari said.

Evlawyn curtsied in response.

The young guards
were kept rather busy by their duties, but they were able to slip in a half hour tutoring session every day during their break period. In thanks to the soldiers for giving her their spare time, Tari served them tea and treats from the royal kitchens—something they delighted in.

“Have a cookie, Evlawyn. Wilford likes the green tea cookies, but honestly I find the
lemon tarts to be the best,” Tari advised.

Evlawyn hesitated before trying the lemon tart. Her eyes widened at the tangy flavor. “That is delicious,” she said, swallowing her mouthful.
“How do you feel your human lessons are going?” Evlawyn asked after she finished the rest of the tart.

“It’s hard to say. I know I’m learning it quite fast, but it’s frustrating because I’m still not good enough,” Tari said, frowning
again.

“You are good enough to hold conversations with the patrol leaders,” Evlawyn said.

“Yes, but my pronunciation is off, and I can’t understand them unless they speak slowly,” Tari said, folding her arms across her chest.

“It normally takes an elf scholar years to get as far as basic conversation,” Evlawyn said. There was no hint of reproach in her voice, but she spoke quietly.

Tari sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You are right, of course. Dear Evlawyn, whatever would I do without you?” Tari said, smiling at her handmaiden.

Evlawyn smiled brightly at the affection in Tari’s voice and curtsied again. “It is my pleasure to serve you, My Lady.”

Approximately a week and a half later, Tari stood with a number of elves at Princess Claire’s weekly evening tea.

Each week there seemed to be more and more guests. Tari had yet to
actually speak to the young princess and thank her for the weekly personal invitation that started showing up since Arion had removed his block on the activity.

However, Tari made certain to express her thanks to Arion, and decided he would likely carry her words back to Princess Claire.

“How ever did you convince Seer Ringali to come, Tari?” Kiva asked, nudging Tari.

“Truthfully I think he was curious,” Tari said, glancing to her teacher. He stood a short distance away, talking to Crown Princess Yvrea. Crown Prince Benjimir was
with them, a translator hovering behind his shoulder.

“All I did was extend the invitation. He agreed without any sort of pressure,” Tari added.

“How odd. I thought Seer Ringali would be above this kind of thing,” Talon said, thoughtfully rubbing the side of his wine goblet before drinking. “Although I suppose, this is Seer Ringali’s first time in Haven, yes?”

“It is,” Tari said, her tea cup clinking when she set it on the saucer she held.

A burst of laughter across the room from King Petyrr drew Tari’s attention for a moment.

The robust Calnor King was standing with King Celrin, who was smiling
and nodding politely to an inquisitive guest that passed the two kings.

Every s
ince Tari first stormed the tea King Petyrr and King Celrin were consistent guests. Crown Princess Yvrea had not come last week, but she clearly would try to attend whenever possible, and whenever Crown Princess Yvrea came Crown Prince Benjimir attended as well.

In general the human royals seemed to make a bigger effort to attend the tea. The two middle princes did not attend every week, but Tari had seen glances of them and th
eir elf bond mates. The Calnor queen, Queen Luciee, however, had yet to attend.

As Tari studied the tea guests she caught sight of Eric, who was approaching a party of ladies directly next to Tari and her companions.

“Talon, how do you like Eric?” Tari asked, glancing at her older cousin before returning her gaze to Eric.

“He
seems nice, for a human. Honestly I don’t know why he is still in Haven. He runs the family manor since Captain Arion is unavailable to oversee it. I had hoped he would have gone home by now,” Talon shrugged before reaching up to scratch a tapered ear.

Eric smiled engagingly at the young ladies, who seconds ago
were chattering animatedly with each other. They stared at the young man with blank faces. Tari discreetly edged closer to them, hoping to hear whatever Eric said to the girls.

“I suspect it has something to do with Princess Claire,” Kiva hesitatingly said. “Only one of her sisters has returned home—the married one. I think they’re staying for emotional support.”

“Good evening ladies,” Eric warmly said.

“Good evening,
Sir Herycian,” the girls said with stiff civility.

Talon and Kiva continued to talk, but Tari concentrated on the conversation taking place next to her.

“You all look beautiful tonight,” Eric said.

The girls exchanged looks before one of them, a blond
e with pretty hair and a sneering nose, said in a derogatory tone, “Thank you.”

Tari noticed that
Crown Prince Benjimir was also watching Eric and the ladies.

“Are the…. To your liking?” he asked. Tari guessed he was referring to the food and drinks based on the fact that he gestured to the treat table.

“I suppose so,” the blonde, who was apparently the leader, said with a haughty sniff.

Eric’s smile did not falter, and he
cheerfully forged ahead in spite of the ladies’ off-putting manners. “I am glad to hear it. Would any of you care to dance?” he asked, turning to give them a view of the few human couples that were dancing at the far end of the room by a string quartet.

The ladies laughed, but it wasn’t a kind, amused sort of laughter. It was mocking, high pitched, and shrewish.

“No thank you,” the blonde said. “We only dance with men from families of caliber.”

Somehow, in the depths of her anger, Tari knew it should be odd that she understood
the words of the shrewish girl. However, it was something that would have to be addressed later, because right now she needed to be corrected.

Tari
looked to Crown Prince Benjimir. He drank his wine and watched Eric bravely smile, making no move to help him.

That solved it.

Tari wordlessly handed her tea cup and saucer to Kiva, who took them with a puzzled expression. “Tari?” she asked.

Tari ignored the call and sauntered in Eric’
s direction, placing a taunting smirk on her lips.

She did not intend to reveal she could speak
Calnoric for many weeks—not until she was fluent. But she would no longer tolerate this blatant mocking of Arion’s family. If the human royalty wanted to pretend the Herycians were lower class, two could play that game. Tari would fight back by flaunting her friendship with them, by being the best and brightest of the elves.

The humans had never encountered an Evening Star
before; they had never encountered an elf like Tari. It was high time they learn this.

As Tari swept across the hall floor it occurred to her that she did
not know any cutting words in the human language. The patrol leaders mostly taught her basic conversation, they hadn’t bothered to teach her any slights or rebukes. What could she say to the ladies that would make it obvious how slimy she thought them to be?

At the back of her mind, Tari’s bond with Arion burned steadily. Tari felt it, reached for it, and savagely yanked on it when she stopped next to Eric.
(Across the room Arion stumbled unaccountably.)

Eric looked to Tari
with some surprise, although Tari could see the hurt still echoing in his eyes. The simpering ladies looked at Tari with interest, and perhaps a little envy. (Even the most graceful human could never be as elegant as the clumsiest elf.)

“Eric,” Tari said in perfect
, accent less Calnoric. “Why are you wasting your time on dried up harpies when you could have asked
me
to dance?” she said, a lilting tease echoed in her voice.

All conversation around Tari stopped.

Crown Prince Benjimir almost spat out his mouthful of wine, the simpering ladies froze, their mouths open appallingly wide, and Eric stared at Tari, like everyone else around them.

Tari gifted Arion’s younger brother with a teasing smile and continued in perfect human. “You are too compassionate on those who don’t
deserve it. Come, dance with me please? I would
love
to dance with you,” she said, extending her hand.

Eric swallowed and took Tari’s hand, carefully leading her to the dance floor. Silence stretched around them like a blanket.

When they reached the dance floor Tari glanced at the string quartet—which was something of an anomaly in Lessa. Most elvish musical instruments were lap harps, drums, and pure vocals.

As if on cue the musicians switched to a quicker song.

“We are fortunate, this is one of the few human dances I know,” Tari said, listening to the song as she moved into position.

“You speak
Calnoric?” Eric finally blurted, standing like a stick.

“I do,” Tari said, pulling Eric forward and into the first dance steps.

“This whole time you’ve known Calnoric?” Eric said, the pitch of his voice hiking up.

“No,” Tari smiled, glancing at her dance partner before directing them
along the correct path. “I’ve been studying hard these past few weeks. I’m not really that good at it yet. Perhaps my anger is being usefully directed,” she said, a slight edge to her smile.