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A ball had been hastily yet elegantly arranged in honor of the joining of nations. Hispalians needed little reason for celebration, and many arrived to fill the grand manor near to bursting. More thronged in the grounds around the estate. The tables were laden with roasted pork, spicy vegetables, rice, flatbread, many different kinds of cheese, and the finest wines. Musicians made merry with the sounds of trumpets, tambori, and requinto.
The soldiers donned their ceremonial uniforms, and the Hispalians had turned out in their finest. The outlanders were warmly welcomed, although it took some time before the Norlanders were given full cordiality. The atmosphere was so inviting that even the Ferochans forgot their superior attitudes and intermingled with everyone else.
Nyori wonderingly fingered the soft silk of the dark-green ball gown that hugged her waist, then spilled out in soft folds that sashayed as she walked. Winding vines and roses were brocaded into the fabric, and baby pearls overlaid the bodice. It was a gift from the Queen. Nyori had never owned anything so lovely.
The Queen. Nyori had never thought to catch a glimpse of royalty in her life, yet she was at a ball presided over by the Queen of Hispalis herself. She was so regal, so beautiful ... Nyori sighed.
"Don't look so glum; you're at a ball."
Meshella didn't bother with a gown, for she wore her ceremonial uniform like the soldiers. She had certainly caught many glances, both curious and admiring, from the locals who had never seen a woman soldier before. Of course, the men were more likely staring at the snug trousers that emphasized the curves of her hips and well-toned thighs.
The corners of Meshella's lips curved in a pleased smile as she basked in the attention. She wore her bejeweled eye patch, which sparkled and flashed along with matching earrings, the first Nyori had seen her wear.
"I see you finally parted from the staff. I'm shocked."
Nyori smiled and patted her side. Eymunder was tucked in the sash around her waist. It looked like a crystal wand at that size, much like it did when she first discovered it. She preferred the staff, but it came in handy to alter Eymunder's length when the occasion called for it.
Meshella shook her head with another smile. "You never fail to impress, Shama. And you certainly look gorgeous tonight. You'd look even more so if you'd straighten out of that slouch and put your goods on full display."
"I'm not slouching." Nyori straightened to her tallest, which was still only at Meshella's shoulder. She felt her cheeks color at the other woman's language, still unused to how outspoken Meshella was. "I was thinking about—"
"I know who you were thinking about." Meshella nodded toward a crowd nearby. Marcellus was in the center, surrounded by a gaggle of nobles and admiring ladies. Though he graciously nodded and answered their questions, he seemed distracted somehow. He had been that way since the audience with the Queen.
The doormen blew their trumpets as if on cue, and all paused as Queen Salliana glided in, escorted by Don Arellano. Beside her was a young woman of perhaps nineteen years, the similarity in features marking her as the Queen's daughter. She was a slimmer, younger version of her mother. Those around Marcellus bowed away as the royal duo approached.
"Sir Admorran, may I present my daughter, her Royal Highness Princess Emillisa." The Queen's husky voice was full of pride. "She has heard much about your exploits and has anxiously waited to meet you."
The young lady's curtsy was naturally graceful. "It is an honor to meet one of the great benefactors of my people."
"No." Marcellus' voice was grave as he took her hand and knelt. "More than you could know, your Highness, the honor is mine." He gently kissed her hand. The audience applauded as the princess looked delightedly at her mother. The Queen's smile was soft and full of pride. Marcellus, however, seemed to be uncharacteristically uneasy.
"You must excuse me." He bowed and quickly left.
Nyori watched as the eyes of the Queen followed him before returning to her retainers. Nyori gasped as everything suddenly fit into place. "They used to be lovers."
Meshella gave her a wry look. "Marcellus and the Queen? You can't possibly believe that. Marcellus has only been to this country once, and from what I hear, it was over twenty years ago."
Nyori stopped listening. She saw the turmoil that flickered across Marcellus' face so quickly that no one else seemed to notice. Marcellus and the Queen. She placed a hand over her chest as though feeling for the pain that stabbed her. What is wrong with me? It shouldn't matter at all about Marcellus' relationships.
"Merciful Mistress." Meshella grabbed Nyori by the shoulders, disrupting her thoughts. "It looks like you're human after all, Shama."
Nyori stared. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you think you're the first woman I've seen go calf-eyed over a man?" Meshella grinned. "Though I must say, he is quite a catch. You have great taste. Tall, broad-shouldered—have you seen him with no shirt on?"
"I most certainly have not. And I'm not ... calf-eyed over him. I am a Shama—"
"You are a woman. And every woman gets struck by lightning sometime in her life. I have. Many times, in fact." She barked a laugh. "There is no shame in that, Shama."
Nyori gave a start. "No ... what are you saying—that I'm in love with him? That's ... that's completely absurd."
She saw the sympathy in the other woman's eye and turned away, surprised to feel her eyes moisten. "It is hot in here, and I need a breath of fresh air." She bowed her head and walked as fast as she could, heedless of the people she bumped into as she tried to escape the sounds of merrymaking.
She wandered aimlessly down the decorative halls through gardens with aromatic flowers and bubbling fountains, so lost in thought that she almost didn't hear the familiar voices in time. A voice in her head screamed at her to leave, but she couldn't. Her heart pounded when she paused behind a marble column and withdrew Eymunder from her waist, tracing the necessary Glyph on the pillar. The simple command was written on the scroll Ayna had given her, allowing her to memorize it again.
"Gistuku," she whispered. The voices became instantly audible to her ears.
"I feared we would not have a chance to speak in private, Marcellus." The pair stood on an open balcony gazing at the beautiful view of the surrounding countryside, where lanterns flickered in ceremonial globes, seducing fluttering moths to the flames.
"What do we have to speak of?" Marcellus sounded unusually guarded. "All that needed to be said was spoken when I left this place."
"I had hoped ... prayed that the Goddess send you this way again. So that I may make amends for what I did."
"It is history, Salli. Best to let it remain there. I have buried the past. It lies beneath a statue along with my wife and daughter."
"And your future?"
"I have seen my future." Marcellus looked at the Queen, but his eyes were far away. "Death awaits me on the battlefield of Aceldama."
Salliana bowed her head. "I was sorry when I heard about your family. I know how much you cared for them."
"You have strange ways of showing your feelings, Salli. Forgive me if I find it hard to believe. Bitter experience does that to a man."
"Marcellus." She took hold of his arm. "Believe what you will, but I never lied about how I felt about you. If I went about things the wrong way, then ... I'm sorry."
Marcellus' voice grated. "You lied to me. Lied to me about something you knew was more precious to me than my own life! All to use me as a means to an end. No, my Queen, we have nothing further to speak of." He gripped the railing of the balcony until his knuckles cracked.
When she spoke again, her words were so soft they were scarcely audible. "Not even about Emillisa?"
Marcellus stared into the distance before turning his head slightly, his grip slowly relaxing. "Is she ...?"
"She is. You were the only lover I had at that time."
Marcellus exhaled heavily. "I didn't ... I had no choice. My only option was to return to Kaerleon. If I had known..."
Salliana touched his hand lightly. "I place no fault with you, Marcellus. Only myself. I needed to produce an heir. All around me were men with ulterior motives. Liars, deceivers. I could trust no one, and I could love no one. Then a foreigner arrived, a man just and upright. An incorruptible man."
Her gaze lowered. "A man betrothed to another. I fell in love with that man, and I knew he had to be the father of my child. I was young, brash, and a queen. I did what I felt I had to. You don't have to forgive me. It is something I must ask for, however."
Marcellus sighed. "There is no point in holding my anger against you, Salliana. I never could. What's past is past." He paused. "Does she ... does she know who her father is?"
"I have not seen fit to tell her. You have made many enemies, and the only secret is the one unspoken. All she knows is that her father is a great man. When she is old enough to bear it, I will tell her the truth."
He nodded. "It's better that way."
Her eyes searched his face. "Must you do this? Must you go to certain death? This isn't like you, Marcellus. Where is the man I loved those many years ago?"
Marcellus stiffened, transformed into stone once more. "That man perished in a snowstorm at the graves of those he loved. His days are done, and soon he will be able to rest."
He took hold of her hand and kissed it in ceremonial deference. "I beg leave of you, your Royal Majesty. May you continue to have days of peace."
In just a few long strides, he vanished.
The Queen waited until he had left before allowing a single tear to glide down her cheek. She never noticed when Nyori discreetly slipped away.