Welcome to The Children of Una series. Here’s a handy index of the published chapters.
In previous chapters, Gowell set out on a journey with El-Una to reconnect with the Osakk. Meanwhile, in Citadel-of-the-King, the Concordance Treaty was reaffirmed between Humans and Elves with the marriage ceremony of Pearelle Perronett and Danen Vinier.
HARVEST MOON - FULL
Gowell had never been further than a single hilltop from the farm. That first night, his steps were buoyed by the excitement of setting out. The underbrush in the Duskwood was thick, but he waded through it without too much trouble, snapping the dead stalks of wildflowers, berry canes, and wind-shed branches under his sturdy feet. The musty smell of earth, rotting leaves, and growing fungi were familiar as the hayloft’s welcome sweetness after his many explorations of Yusep’s property. He stopped to drink from every stream they crossed. Ice cold water tasting of minerals and moss was a new experience for Gowell after drinking from the farm’s deep well.
He walked all night under a full harvest moon. The pale light was broken sometimes by drifting clouds. Yet even then Gowell’s keen sight in the dark allowed him to move as swiftly and confidently as though it were midday. El-Una, more often than not, was merely a presence in his mind, subtly guiding him around larger obstacles like scatterings of boulders or soggy ground.
By morning, the thrill of traveling through rough terrain had faded to purposeful endurance. As morning light peeked over the far-off southeastern hills, which Gowell could not even see through the tree cover, his progress slowed to a crawl.
Shall we rest here? El-Una suggested gently, when Gowell had trudged into a glade where the fir trees grew thick and their acidic needles littering the ground held back the fulsome undergrowth.
“I suppose,” Gowell said. He lumbered to his knees and then sat back against the side of a sturdy, fallen log. “How long do you think it will take to reach the mountains?”
El-Una’s humor was less like a ringing laugh, and more like the soft bubbling of stirred-up water. It will be many days before thee reaches their foothills.
Gowell peered over the tops of the firs, studying the pale blue of dawn limning the indistinct grey mountainside to the east. “They look close.”
They are vast. Thee is quite small in comparison. That is why.
Gowell fell asleep easily that first night. Belly full, his energy expended, he did not even dream.
**********************
Nothing was fine.
Nothing was good either.
In fact, it was all worse than Pearelle could’ve possibly imagined.
Her feet ached. She pulled them out of her shoes and discreetly rubbed one over the other. They were tucked under the dining table anyway. No danger of anyone seeing her toes. Pearelle reminded herself to sit straight, though she felt like wilting into the cushioned dining chair, ignored and forgotten.
She glanced at Emory, sitting to her left. Her friend gave her a tight smile, then went back to pretending to eat. Pearelle stared down at her own plate. How was it possible to massacre a dish of duck? Why were Humans always intent on searing the life out of their meat? She resisted the urge to sigh languidly. She was starving, but couldn’t settle her nerves enough to stomach something already rather distasteful. It would’ve helped if it had been delicious.
Noticing Danen wasn’t eating either was no comfort.
Unlike Pearelle, he was slouching in his chair. The high back cast a shadow over him. Within that shadow all she could see was his wild hair falling over his face and the sharp ridge of his nose. He seemed fixated on the mesmerizing dance of the wine he languidly swirled in a crystal goblet. When he drained it and raised the glass, a serving page arrived in an instant to pour him more. Pearelle’s nerve-butterflies died a fiery death by rising irritation.
She decided they’d been married just long enough to have their first fight.
“You didn’t come to the parlor after the ceremony,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Perhaps you were too scared to face Igneous again after what happened last time?”
The Danen she knew would’ve been irate at being called a coward. But the stranger sitting across from Pearelle barely stirred. She considered the possibility he was too drunk to care.
“Waste of time,” he finally answered. But he set the goblet down and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as though even sitting there exhausted him.
Pearelle pressed onward. “How do you mean? You have something better to do than talk to your wife?”
Saying the words sent a shiver down her spine. Whether it was from excitement or dread at the thought of being someone important to him, she didn’t know.
“It’s an arranged marriage.” Danen shrugged. “I have too much to do already, without needing to play house with you.”
Pearelle couldn’t believe he was capable of making her more angry. She shoved her toes back into the tight shoes and kicked at him under the table. If he wanted to treat her like a child, she could be childish.
Danen flinched. “Ow.”
“Sit up. Behave yourself,” she hissed. “This wedding isn’t about you or I, as you recall. It’s about the Treaty. Show some respect while everyone’s watching.”
It was true that they were the center of attention.
The murmur of conversation ebbed and flowed around them like the murmur of waves. String instruments played haunting, romantic melodies that drifted through the high ceilinged, paneled dining hall like ribbons of perfume. She and Danen sat in the middle of a long table, with the highest class of Human and Elven leaders surrounding them. Though there were many of royal blood seated at that table, no one was stealing glances at them. Ladies tittered behind their napkins at the handsome young rebel who was ignoring his new bride. Pearelle could practically hear their condescending thoughts.
Poor thing. It’s because she’s Elven. Who knows how old she is! And how do we know that pristine beauty isn’t an illusion created by magic? If I had as much magic at my disposal as Elves do, not a wrinkle or blemish I’d suffer to appear on my face! One can only wonder what she really looks like under all that glamor. Poor boy. The dear thing’s drinking himself senseless. And no wonder…
“Danen, please,” Pearelle pleaded in a whisper. “At least talk to me. What happened since I last saw you? Didn’t you get my letter?”
When he didn’t say anything after some moments, Pearelle continued. She was determined to bridge the gap between them, no matter how her discomfort made retreating into silence the more attractive option. “I’m not angry about what happened. It was half my fault, as well as yours. I should’ve stopped you. Should’ve told you it wasn’t safe.”
She waited. It was getting harder to keep her disappointment from showing. “I guess I got a little carried away. Because I wanted to visit Sukeena’s realm so much! And it felt like you understood exactly what I’d always longed to do. We were kind of perfect together, you know . . . able to be ourselves. At least I felt that way.”
He must have heard the unspoken things she wanted in her voice. There were plenty of them — a sign that he wasn’t the terrifying monster of her foretelling dream, some reigniting of that spark of friendship they’d shared before, perhaps even reassurance that he didn’t blame her for what Lady Amadeah did to him.
For the first time that evening, he leaned forward across the table so that the light illuminated his face. From the deep hollows of his eye sockets, his dead gaze met her avid one. It took Pearelle’s breath away, the pain she saw lurking in every sharp line of his face. She looked and looked, but couldn’t find the Danen she thought she knew. It’s only been a few months! What happened to you, Danen Vinier?
He wet his lips, and it looked like he was going to answer her. Then a curtain fell over his expression and he sipped at the goblet briefly, before speaking. “My lady, I pray you, do not expect much of me.”
Pearelle watched him down another glass.
Something wasn’t right. A change had come over him that nothing she knew accounted for — it couldn’t have been caused by their accident. Neither of them had suffered long-term damage from almost drowning. Was this the result of her mother’s flaying? Pearelle knew Humans were not able to use mind-touch spells and the experience had probably been rather invasive for him. At least, Emory had said he seemed disturbed by it. But was that really all that had happened to leave him looking this haunted and forlorn?
What else could have effected so drastic a change in him?
Pearelle decided to overlook her injured pride. There was something here she would need to uncover if she was going to build any understanding between them. He was like a caged animal guarding its wounds, snarling to keep her back, even while she offered comfort.
“You have my word,” she promised, adding from her heart, I believe you’re still there, Danen.
It was easy to do, when she could not yet imagine what such a promise might cost her.
Dear Reader,
From this point on, for quite a while, scenes will alternate between Gowell’s journey and the doings of the other characters, especially those close to Danen. This is a structure I’m experimenting with, and I hope it proves to frame the passage of time appropriately. As always, I’d love to hear your impressions of the story, should you feel inclined to message me about your reading experience!
Cheers,
~LL