“I have no doubt,” Rezkin said. “He is already frustrated with me about not taking him on my next mission.”
“Well, I am glad of it,” she said. “I do not know where you are going, but it sounds like it will be dangerous. You will not leave Tam in Uthrel for long, will you?”
“He is performing an important task, but he will return once my business with Gendishen is concluded. Are you so eager for his return?”
She blushed. “He is my friend, the first I have had, I think. But, well, he has barely spoken to me since discovering who I am. I wish to make amends.”
Rezkin said, “I will do my best to conclude the matter quickly.” She smiled, and then he stepped onto the dais to take his position.
A few minutes later, the doors opened again, this time to permit the long train of guests. Rezkin’s subjects approached first in pairs and were introduced formally by name and title as they bowed to their king. The visitors came next, seemingly appreciative of the spectacle. Once the audience was gathered on either side of the hall, two lines of the king’s guard entered to take up positions along the path to the dais. Wesson strode up the aisle next, wearing a black fitted robe overlaid with black panels trimmed in red. Unlike the other mages, Wesson did not wear the sigil of Cael since he had never sworn fealty to Rezkin. Despite this, he took his position on the dais to the king’s right, the position that was, by tradition, filled by the King’s Mage or First Counsel, depending on the kingdom. While there had been many whispers about the journeyman being the king’s choice for the position, and many more rejecting the ridiculous notion, this was the first time Rezkin had made his decision clear.
Since they did not have the luxury of a carpet, Life Mage Ondrus Hammel came next, dispensing fresh flower petals over the polished stone. As he passed, each one sprouted a tiny fragrant blossom of its own. Yserria entered next, followed by the three strikers, lined up as if to prevent her from turning for escape.
Yserria stepped into the hall, her bare feet cushioned from the cold stone by plush flowers. She had been shocked, anxious, and uncertain when Rezkin informed her of his decision. It was not an offer she would have considered rejecting, however. Her black dress dragged the floor as she strode up the aisle purposefully, with grace, the grace of a warrior. When she reached the dais, she saluted her king, as would any member of the royal guard, and lifted her chin in defiance, a silent protest against any who might reject Rezkin’s decision. One such person was the man who spoke next.
Tieran looked at Rezkin sideways, as if making sure he still intended to go through with the absurdity, as he openly referred to the event. Rezkin’s hard glare was confirmation enough. Tieran stepped forward and intoned, “Yserria Rey of the King’s Royal Guard of the Kingdoms of Cael and Ashai, you have been summoned to appear today, in this hall, before the king and his subjects. Do you know why you are here?”
“Yes,” Yserria said, glad to hear strength in her voice, rather than the fear that was quaking in her core.
“And do you accept this honor?”
“I do,” she said, and again her words did not waver.
“Then kneel before your king,” Tieran said.
Kai and Shezar approached on either side of her, placing over her head a black and green tabard, now with additional silver embellishment. A wreath of twisted black vines and crimson leaves was placed on her crown, and she looked up just as the black sword came to rest on her shoulder. Crystal blue eyes stared down at her like stars from above.
“For acts of bravery in multiple battles, for achieving mastery of the sword, for performance in your oath-bound duty and selfless defense of your king, and for saving the life of Malcius, heir to the Great House Jebai, I hereby raise thee to Knight of the Realm.” Yserria blinked up at him, holding back her tears by force. He said, “You have already sworn the oath, so I will not require you to repeat it. You may rise.”
She rose and turned toward the audience. Farson stepped forward to strap her sword about her waist. The handle had been rewrapped, and the scabbard adorned to represent her new station.
Rezkin said, “All see and know Lady Yserria Rey, Knight of the Realm.”
The audience applauded—most of them—but before Yserria could take a step, the two priests of the Maker stepped into her path. The strikers immediately bristled but held their ground.
The minders bowed and then Elder Minder Thoran said, “This young and inexperienced king sees in you something that others would not. You are the first woman to be granted official knighthood in all the kingdoms of the Souelian, and he has done so without seeking the blessing of the Temple.”
The elder minder scowled as Minder Finwy stepped in front of him. Finwy smiled and bowed again. “Lady Yserria, I have personally witnessed many of the accounts for which you have received this honor, and on behalf of the Temple of the Maker, I would like to bestow upon you our blessing. Would you accept?”
Yserria felt a flutter of joy for something she did not realize she had been missing. She said, “It would be a great honor to have the Temple’s blessing.”
As Minder Finwy raised his hand toward Yserria’s head, an elven wraith appeared between them. Several people shouted, and Minder Finwy jumped back in fright. Although most had seen the wraiths from time to time from a distance, few had ever been confronted by one.
“This knight cannot accept the blessing of the tri-god,” said the wraith.
Rezkin stepped down from the dais to confront the wraith, but Yserria was first to voice her discontent.
“What do you mean? Of course, I can. It is none of your business.”
The wraith turned to her in the most disturbing way, its front becoming its back in a vaporous wisp. “To accept the Blessing of the tri-god, a knight of Caellurum must first prove worthy of the Blessing of the three Gods. This human”—it said with a stretch of its long, wispy finger toward Minder Finwy—“does not possess the power to bestow such a blessing.”
Rezkin said, “Shielreyah Manaua, the blessing offered by the priest of the Maker is not one of power. It is a kind of metaphorical blessing. He offers the support and acceptance of their Temple. That is all.”
The shielreyah turned to stare at Minder Finwy.
Finwy’s jaw wagged several times before he finally said, “Only the Maker can bestow power.”
Wispy tendrils shot out from the vapor and then wrapped back inward as Manaua communicated with the other shielreyah. Finally, he said, “This metaphorical blessing is acceptable.”
With a puff, the shielreyah disappeared. The onlookers chattered and grumbled, and after a few minutes, Minder Finwy performed the blessing without interruption.
Chapter 5
Rezkin slipped around the corner of the yard ahead of her. Frisha hurried to catch up, knowing how difficult it would be to find him again. The previous night’s celebration had lasted nearly until dawn, and people were slow to rise that morning, thanks to Apprentice Aplin’s wine. Frisha had not indulged, having spent the evening fretting over her own worries. She noticed that Rezkin had also abstained, which concerned her. If Rezkin chose not to do something, there was usually a good reason for it. He had risen early for training, as she knew he would, and now she was chasing him through the streets hoping to catch him alone for a private word. It was growing nearly impossible. She rounded the corner to find herself alone in a courtyard.
“Rezkin!” she called. “Rez?” She huffed in disappointment, knowing she would never find him. A part of her was relieved. She really did not wish to have this conversation, but at the same time, she really did. She turned to leave and nearly bumped into a wall of muscle. “Oh!” she sputtered with grace. “There you are. I—didn’t hear you.”
He raised his brow. “Did you need something?”