Kinnith released a pent up breath. “Yes, yes. If by merely saying nothing I can aid you, then so be it. But if there is ever anything you need, you come to me… Talac. It would be my honour to provide assistance to you.” Wincing, the man looked up one more time, hesitation dogging him before he took another deep breath and said what he needed to say. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you stand up with me today, as my witness?”
Talac blinked, in all his years none of the men he’d trained with or who reported to him had ever asked him to act as their best man. It didn’t seem a tremendously difficult role, he foresaw no danger in consenting. Although perhaps he should take into account that very few outcomes were turning out as planned today.
Except, Talac had wanted access to the Lair, to the Beast. And now he had two avenues, this wedding, and Brandth’s injuries. Perhaps the Gods might not have forsaken him after all. Although in his head he could hear Brandth drolly muse that Talac should be careful what he wished for.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Talac followed Kinnith to the altar, turning to face the party-goers, pleased with this excellent vantage point. Now, where was this Beast? He had questions for that legend, and what better place to ask them than at a party where the spirits were high and tongues were loosened by free flowing mead. Lookout Beast, the hunt isn’t over yet.
“We are-”
“Father.” The bride interrupted. “We’re not quite ready yet.”
“Oh.” The grizzled priest frowned, his gaze abruptly shifting to the empty space beside the bride. “Well, where is she?”
This provoked numerous responses from the crowd. Who claimed to have seen the missing bridesmaid in the kitchen, the stables, the infirmary, the pigeon roost and at the blacksmiths.
“Here she comes.”
Talac lifted his gaze, watching as a female raced down the grass covered incline. She wore dark navy breeches, tan knee high boots and a long sleeved, high collared tunic that clung to robust full curves. She was tall for a woman. Hah, she was tall for a man.
She wasn’t beautiful by Court standards, but Talac couldn’t seem to shift his gaze from the newcomer. There was something arresting about her features that made them striking and regal at the same time. The edges of her full lips tilted upwards ever so slightly in not quite a smile as she hit the edges of the crowd. Impatiently allowing the party-goers to fuss over her as she used those broad shoulders of hers to push her way forward.
A hand reaching out to pluck a chicken feather caught in her plaited golden hair. An older lady grabbing her by the arm to pause her progress just long enough to spit into a hanky and use it to scrub a black mark away from the woman’s cheek. And then, just before she broke free of the crowd, another of the Keep ladies slammed a crown of woven white flowers down upon her head.
“Thanks.” She acknowledged absently before taking a few more steps and stopping beside Gretani. “Sorry. You look beautiful.” She smacked a loud kiss against Gretani’s cheek before turning to look up at the priest. “Come on, Father. Time’s a wasting, let’s get this wedding done.” Her voice low, husky, yet at the same time musical.
The sound of it wrapped around Talac like a fur rug on a bleak winter’s night. He found he couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes matching her tunic, deep and endlessly blue. Her gaze direct and assessing. Talac knew instantly it would be hard to keep a secret from this woman.
Her stance mirrored his own he noted with surprise. Shoulders back, legs set slightly apart, at parade rest, but ready for trouble. Her left hand absently resting near the hilt of a short sword she had belted to her waist. And it wasn’t a ceremonial or pretty weapon. The blade was broad, meant for cleaving foes larger than its owner. Reflexively Talac checked the skies, noting ten guards were standing on the walkways of the high fortified wall just across the stream. All had cross bolts in their hands.
It looked like someone had already thought about what a tempting buffet the wedding crowd might make to any aerial beasties. Given the number of guards and weapons, Talac allowed himself to relax somewhat. Reaching over to clap Kinnith on the back in congratulations as the priest announced the couple married in a much appreciated brief ceremony. The crowd clapping and cheering, flowers raining down over them in a shower of colour.
A fiddle and a drum began to play, picking a lively, merry beat. Space instantly cleared nearby on the grass, Kinnith leading Gretani out, wrapping his arms around her waist and jigging his new bride around the makeshift dance floor with little regard to grace, but getting a ton of points for enthusiasm. The newly wedded couple smiling broadly, with eyes only for each other.
“Come on.”
Talac never considered himself much of a dancer but it appeared he had little choice in the matter, given the firm unbreakable grip of the sturdy bridesmaid as she grabbed him by the arm, dragging him out into the clearing. Talac stood there for a moment facing her, that not quite smile of hers taking on a slight mocking tinge.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those highbrow muckety mucks who won’t dance and wouldn’t know a good time if it smacked you on the nose?”
When was the last time anyone had challenged him? But dancing? On the other hand, it was the perfect excuse to get his hands on those enticing curves. Reaching out, Talac yanked the robust maiden towards him, promptly lifting her high off the ground, causing his dance companion to release a surprised husky gasp. Damn, he liked that sound.
Feet back on the ground, he twirled her to the left, before pulling her back so she was nice and close, those full firm curves pressed against him in several places that were very appreciative. The two of them setting off at a slightly more sedate pace behind the bridal couple.
The bridesmaid laughing softly, a rough brief sound that Talac almost thought he’d imagined. Now that he was this close to her, face to face, he couldn’t help but note the smudge on her cheek was still faintly there. And a number of wisps of hair had escaped her plait, dancing in the slight breeze. Whilst the crown of white flowers had slipped a little, sitting now at a jaunty angle.
Thanks to his time at Pallene, the seat of the Golden Palace, and all his years of accompanying Brandth on his mission to find the Prince a bride, Talac had encountered a vast number of ladies that came in all shapes and sizes. But there was something about this particular woman… her careless disregard for her appearance, direct gaze and commanding ways, he found himself intrigued… and surprisingly amused. “You know, it’s generally customary for the gentleman to lead.” Readjusting her grip on him.
“And yet every man wants to be led on a merry dance by his lady love. You men should make up your fickled minds.”
The bark of laughter that escaped was a further surprise. Talac rarely found others amusing. Pulling his companion in a little closer as more couples crowded onto the grassy space set aside for dancing. “I’m Talac.”
“Alia.”
He lifted her again, depositing her to the left so as to avoid a collision with the bridal couple who were just too oblivious. Setting them off in the opposite direction. “We appear to be missing a number of grooms and their would-be-brides.”
“Surviving the hunt is life altering for many. Most race to the mead barrel. To celebrate their success and commiserate the imminent end of their bachelor days. One or two will kick up a fuss that their dowry portion is not reflective of their contribution.”
“Let me guess, Master Elliott is unhappy.”
