Heart Song

“Are they? I thought they would stay the same considering yours aren’t black.”

 

 

“It may have something to do with the fact your eyes were dark to begin with, and you’re Marren’s heart song.”

 

“Oh,” I mused, then turned to Danst and said with my most maniacal voice, “The better to see you with!”

 

He stared for a moment, as if he was shocked, then relaxed and chuckled.

 

“I will leave you two to catch up,” Enid said and excused himself. He stopped just past the doors of the stable then spoke over his shoulder, “You may want to head indoors soon. The storm will be overhead before long, and it seems to be an angry one at that.”

 

“Thank you, Athair.”

 

“Athair?” Danst asked.

 

“It means father in his native language,” I replied.

 

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You never even called Tarn father, but you’re calling him one?”

 

“It’s a long story. Come on, let’s start heading back.”

 

“Well, start explaining, ‘cause I have all the time in the world.”

 

“Nuh-uh, you tell me first how Tarn knew about you.”

 

“To be quite honest, I’m not sure myself. I’m sorry for betraying you. I didn’t want them to come searching for me. Can you guess what humans do to races that get caught over here?” He shuddered. “It’s nothing good, and I had already figured Marren wouldn’t let you go to the Cyrs.”

 

“You say that as if you two are friends.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far. Which speaking of…seriously? Marren? Of all people, you are in love with Marren?” His words were just as full of disbelief as I was when I first realized it.

 

“Completely,” I said.

 

A large rumble of thunder boomed overhead. The storm was upon us. “We better run.”

 

I kicked my feet, throwing up a few chunks of gravel in the process. Danst’s steps shuffled right behind me. Neither of us stopped until we crossed through the door and well into the corridor of the palace.

 

Our eyes met, bringing back memories of prior, less complicated days. A fit of laughter overtook us.

 

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” I said.

 

“No need. I’ve already been given the tour.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, I guess you should make yourself at home.”

 

A round of cramps sliced through my stomach again, bowling me over.

 

“I need to go,” I panted. “I’ll be back later.”

 

I struggled to make it to my room before collapsing from the pain.

 

***

 

 

The storm passed by with Danst sitting in the chair across from the table, still afraid I may seek revenge for setting me up and wasn’t sure of the new me as a werewolf. He seemed more relaxed as soon as his eyes rested on my sword, busying himself by twirling the blade in his hands and balancing the cap on the tips of his fingers.

 

Every rumble of thunder, every crash of lightning, increasing as the strongest part loomed overhead vibrated through me. I rubbed my arms continuously and jumped each time the lightning struck. Finally, Marren appeared, taking pity on me, and took me to the bench to sit with him wrapped in his arms.

 

“Storms, ceremonies, anything else you’d like to tell me you’re afraid of?” He sounded amused.

 

You mean besides losing you?

 

Yes. You shouldn’t fear something that won’t happen.

 

“Commitment,” Danst said.

 

I shot him a glare. He sulked into his chair, laying my sword on the table.

 

“Commitment?” Marren asked.

 

“Not in the sense that he said it in,” I said to my defense.

 

“Ah, I see. That does put a bit of a rut in my plans,” Marren mused.

 

“What plans?” I asked too fast.

 

Marren chuckled. “Yes, Enid also told me you dislike surprises as well.”

 

I sat up and gazed at his beautiful werewolf face and waited for him to continue. A jolt of hesitation pulsed through him. Following a heavy sigh, he said, “You said you would marry me.”

 

“I said someday and not traditionally, without a ceremony, and privately.”

 

“What is your fear of having a traditional ceremony? I know you won’t leave me, and you know very well I can’t leave you. What’s the problem?”

 

“You tell me? Why do you need to have something traditional to be happy?”

 

“The ways of my people are important to me. That includes traditions and ceremonies.”

 

Danst stood and feigned a stretch, pulling my attention to him. He walked out on the balcony and set his gaze on the storm.

 

“I don’t see the point in having someone place themselves into the middle of a perfectly good relationship and dividing the lovers instead of uniting them. Something I thought you and I already were.”

 

“In some views perhaps, but it’s important to me to do things the right way as much as possible. Especially concerning the sensitive nature of our union.”

 

I stood and walked toward the fireplace, chilled and wanting to warm up by the fire. I don’t want traditional. And ceremonies make me uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean I fear them. But if I were to agree to your terms, there can be no middle man.