Heirot

Tenara sighed, brushing fingers through Stalker's fur as he settled over her. This was her life now. She lived on the floor, apparently.

"...she was missing a long time."

Tenara's gaze flicked to Havitharon. For some strange reason, him saying it out loud was a cold hand down her spine. She'd been gone a long time. Months. She didn't want to be gone again.

Tenara wrapped her arms around the Hellhound—or as much around him as she could. "I missed you too," she told the hellhound. "And thought of you often."

Her gaze drifted to Havitharon. "You may need to feed me breakfast on the floor. He seems content to have me here forever."

Three weeks later...

"Again."

"I really do not think this is necessary," Havi's low voice rumbled.

"It is. You move like you're fencing instead of dancing."

The alien met his instructor's mismatched eyes with a level frown. "I fence well."

"Well, you dance like an angry giraffe." Knight's hands guided his partner back to the starting position, one hand on his shoulder and the other resting politely in Havi's palm. "Focus; Vlad and Atul can only sustain me for so long, and I intend to spend some time with my wife. Plus, I hate not leading. Straighten your legs more."

Havi was about to argue that his reactions would be less agile if he didn't stay close to the ground, but it occurred to him that was exactly what Knight was talking about. Tenele, the staff, and even Vladimir had given his dancing their seal of approval, but Knight had a different set of standards. Some combination of Atul's court training and Vlad's perfectionism had led to this response, or so Tenele had apologetically confided before leaving him alone with the godlike being.

He led Knight backwards into a gliding waltz while forcing his leg movements longer and smoother.

"Better," Knight said. "About tonight. I'm sure you're aware already that not all of our alliances are solid ones, especially after the past few months."

"I'm aware. Tenara will be on her guard, and I will not leave her side."

"Good." He released Havi's hands, ending the practice, and gave him an appraising look. "Who chose your attire?"

Havi glanced down at the brocaded shirt and fine silk coat. The suit glowed with touches of silver and icy gray inset with jet-black stones. Everything from the fine boots to the broach at his throat seemed made specifically to draw out his gold eyes and dark skin. "The maids," he said, wondering what Knight thought of the ensemble.

"How is your range of movement?"

"I can fight well enough if I need to."

"Good." Knight looked him over again and sighed.

"What is it?"

"My daughter might faint when she sees you," the god muttered.

Havi smirked. Of Tenara's parents, Knight was oddly the one he found most natural to interact with, despite being the one who could most easily reduce him to a carpet stain if he felt like it. "Stop flirting and go enjoy your family."

"Don't mind if I do," Knight nodded cordially and disappeared from sight.

Havi glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still an hour before guests were due to arrive. All the neighboring principalities and kingdoms had been extended an invitation, regardless of how strained the alliance. A smattering of prominent merchants and business leaders would also be attending, representing Hajara's trade interests across the region. He was on guard, but not particularly nervous. He was quite experienced with court events that doubled as political battlefields, and his prowess in navigating them was the reason he'd succeeded in living as he pleased this long.

He walked to the window of the second-story library and surveyed the scene outside. A line of handsomely tacked carriages was already forming in the main courtyard. Well-prepared palace guards were politely ushering guests inside. Havi turned to go back out and find his Yurivis.

The sun glinted behind a weeping silhouette of dunes out in the distance, painting the sky in gold and pink and periwinkle until it tipped towards night. Tenara admired it a moment longer before her gaze swept down the courtyard and the line of carriages, then past the palace walls and gates, out to the port and the mass of ships clogging the docks.

A banquet had never made her feel nervous before. She'd always been at ease among people and crowds, especially within her own home. But, now, she couldn't shake the nagging unease, even if she did well to hide it.

There were aspects of the ball she was looking forward to. Havitharon, for instance, and dancing beneath gold chandeliers. She smiled as swished the skirts of her dress back and forth. She wore layers of chiffon in midnight blue—so deep it almost appeared black—and speckled with the smallest of diamonds. The neckline swooped into a sweetheart shape, with shimmering sleeves sweeping off her shoulders, splitting and coming back together at her wrists.

When she twirled, the stones woven into the layers of chiffon glinted like stars. In fact, Tenara looked as if she were the night sky itself. Her silver hair was twisted up in braids, with a silver and sapphire tiara perched at the top of her head.

She eyed the sword draped across the lounge on the balcony, wondering if her mother was correct about how it might tuck within the folds of the dress. It was the reason she was wearing an Ighten gown, modeled after the Queen's Maiden's where weapons could be stashed among the tool and chiffon. She was skeptical, considering the amount of dancing she'd have to do with who knows how many people. The alternative to trying to hide the sword in her dress was to keep it in a safe room nearby, under lock and key. She wasn't sure which option Havitharon would prefer. She knew she couldn't display it at the ball. She'd already approached her father and his advisors and they'd all protested (well, all of his advisors).

This was a diplomatic peace-keeping party. Something to ease ruffled feathers or make new alliances. No weapons allowed. Not even for young women who were kidnapped and forcibly removed from their country some months ago. Though... she really didn't need a weapon—not when she'd have her arm looped around Havitharon much of the night. He was a weapon on his own. And she had her magic... still unstable but a little more predictable.

She exhaled a tension she hadn't realized had coiled in her shoulders. Tonight would go fine. Everything would be fine.

Havitharon could feel her holding his sword as he made his way to their rooms. He hadn't mentioned to Tenara how every time she gripped the weapon, the sensation wrapped around him like a warm cloak. It might make her self-conscious about touching it so casually, and the truth was that now that he'd accepted what he was in this world, he kind of liked it.
At the door, he knocked once - a familiar, firm thump - and let himself into Tenara's chambers. "Tenara, are you-..." He froze as he spotted her near the window, her skin and gown bathed in the sunset. "...ready..."

It was his first time seeing what females wore to such events in this world. He'd been expecting something close to what they wore on his world. Layers of silk, crowded with ornate braiding and tassels. It occurred to him that maybe she wasn't finished dressing. He parted his lips to offer his assistance, but instead he just wound up staring.

Tenara turned her face to him and her eyes lit up when she saw him, a smile spreading across her face. "Havi," she said, wonder lacing her voice. She approached him, holding the sword low to her side. She traced his lapel with her finger, pinching and thumbing the fabric. "You look..." There were a lot of words she could use to describe how he looked, most would lead to them being more than fashionably late to her family's apology ball. "You look very dashing. I almost want to hide you away. A little treasure to keep all to myself."

Then, she stepped back and swished her skirts again. "Do you like it? It kind of matches your hair. Just a little. I didn't plan that..."

He brushed a hand along the side of her neck. "You look like the moon wearing the night sky," he murmured without thinking.

Tenara grinned and reached up for one of his horns, drawing his head down for a kiss. A knock sounded on the door, and Tenara reluctantly drew her mouth from him.

"We'll be beginning introductions in the next thirty minutes," a servant called from beyond her door.

"Thirty minutes..." Tenara sighed, feeling gittery. "Okay. Thirty minutes. Help me decide what we do with the sword." She began to fiddle with her skirts. "My mother claims this dress has a special sash or lacing that will let me hide it under here. The other option is locking it in a chest in the private suite alongside the ballroom. I don't like the idea of not having eyes on it or a hand on it..."

Havitharon looked at the weapon, and at Tenara's dress. "If I try to do anything under your skirts right now, we will miss the event entirely," he said, his voice a bit husky. It wasn't easy to just bounce back from her taking him by the horns. "A guest may wander into an adjacent room, and a thief may target yours. Perhaps it would be simplest to lock it in my chambers?"

Tenara nodded, trying to hide her reluctance. It wasn't that she didn't trust it to be safe in Havi's space. She just didn't trust it to be outside of her reach at all. Since she'd met Havi, the sword had not been further than a room over from her at any given time. She'd always been able to have an eye on it, even when it was in someone else's hands. "Okay. You're right."

Besides, no one, aside from her family, would know of its significance to her or to Havitharon. It was safe here. She was safe here. They were safe here. "Lead the way."

Havi offered his arm. "I will be at your side," he reassured. They stopped by his room and stashed the sword - under the mattress, just to ease Tenara's nerves - and then made their way to the grand hall. Decked in sparkling chandeliers and a rainbow of silks hanging from every wall, representing all of their guests' kingdoms, the normally minimalist hall made a rather extravagant ballroom. Several dozen early arrivals were already exploring the room, and the palace staff was eagerly patrolling with trays of goodies and drinks. Atul and Tenele were by the main entrance, making small talk with guests as they arrived. Vlad hung back on the dais where the royal family would be seated, observing the room the way a big cat might observe a bowl of fish. Since they'd entered from the side door, Havi escorted Tenara to the Dais as well.

"You made it," Vlad said, devoid of enthusiasm. Havi was guessing this sort of thing was not the vampire's preferred element, but he couldn't tell if Vlad was just bored, pissed, or actually hungry.

"Did you have your doubts?" Tenara asked her father, planting a kiss on her father's cheek. She looped her arm in his for a moment. "Come on, Daddy. This won't be so bad. As long as none of Poppa's advisors went rogue and invited anyone we don't want, it should go relatively smooth."

She slipped away from Vlad and took Havi's arm, guiding him to his seat next to her. She already spotted a cluster of guests looking at them and whispering between themselves. A few motioned to their heads, not very subtly expressing their interest in Havi's horns. They were likely wondering who he was and why he was seated next to her. Was he a guard? A suitor?

She spotted Prince Cassin from Lythinia giving them a comical amount of stink eye, and she remembered how his family had sent ten letters over the course of three years trying to negotiate for her hand in marriage.

Tenara leaned a little closer to Havi, resting her chin on her palm. She nudged his leg with her own beneath the table. "It took three people to get me into this dress," she said in a whisper so her father wouldn't hear (or at least hopefully not hear). "How hard do you think it will be to get it off?"

Havi snorted. "I presume that would depend," he whispered, "upon the state of mind of the person removing it."

"Oh, get a room," Vlad complained. Whispers were no match for his senses. "On second thought, no. Don't leave me here."

Tenara laughed at her father's discomfort, but more so at the fact he'd choose it over facing this party alone.

The room filled with chatter as more and more people filed in. They gathered in clusters, forming cliques she didn't understand the significance of. Eventually, Atul and her mother joined them on the dais, and the king rose to call the room to order. Their guests took their seats, and Atul began what Tenara hoped to be a brief welcoming speech. She was just beginning to tune it out when she spotted Elias Lars, Shea's third son, at a table nearby. His gaze was locked on her, or on Havitharon. She couldn't be sure.

A cold weight settled in her belly, but then she remembered that Elias had never met Havitharon in the flesh. He only knew of the invisible specter haunting her. He wouldn't be able to connect Havitharon to the sword, and likely was just as confused or intrigued by the stranger next to her as the rest of the room. Her heart rate climbed back down from the fever pace it had set.

Even as her panic settled into the general unease she'd carried the whole day, she tried to understand why he was here. She supposed it made sense. Her parents were trying to negotiate a truce with all the enemies they'd made in their desperate search. And they—Tenara—wanted to avoid a war with Arken—even though they deserved some retaliation for what they'd done.

Peace. That's what this party was about. Of course her father's advisers had invited representatives of Arken to attend, and of course they sent their expendable, third-string heir and a few chaperones. She smirked, her gaze trailing to his missing fingers before her Poppa tore her attention away with his words.

"...let tonight be a show of peace and also celebration, as we honor our daughter's return." The King lifted his glass and turned towards Tenara. She felt heat scald her cheeks as everyone who hadn’t already been staring their way started to. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, taking up her own glass. They drank to cheers. When the room quieted again, Atul finished, "Please, eat, drink, dance. The first course, I’m told, is a filet of fine beef with a blueberry glaze."

Tenara twisted a little towards Havitharon. "Remember that time you possessed me and chopped a man's fingers off?" She said it as if it was a humorous, fond memory. In reality, she was mostly amused by how far they'd come since that moment—from barely allies to lovers. "He's seated over there." Tenara gave a barely noticeable nod in Elias's direction.

Havi's eyes trailed dangerously toward the man. "Why is he here?" he demanded, his quiet voice laced with the potential for violence.

As he spoke, the musicians kicked off an upbeat waltz. The celebratory vibe felt quite at odds with the atmosphere at the table, but it was only moments before a young noble swept up to the table to invite Tenara to dance.

Tenara smiled at the young man, hiding her disappointment behind politeness. She'd hoped her first dance would be with Havitharon, and it would be rude to refuse the noble. She gave Havitharon's thigh a gentle squeeze from beneath the table and rose, rounding the length of it and placing her hand in the nobles. He guided her down the dais and to the dance floor, where he swept her into position.

Off they went, twirling and gliding in time with the music.

Tenele rose from her seat and came to stand behind Havitharon. She bent low to speak to him. "You can rescue her at the end of the song. Just ask him if you can cut in. Try to beat someone else to it."