Amáne of Teravinea - The Chosen One (The Teravinea Series Book 1) (30 page)

“Please, Amáne. I promise, it will be only as a friend. I can’t stand to see you uncomfortable when I’m so warm with this cloak.”

“Only as a friend? You promise?” I stammered. Numb to my bones, if I didn’t do something about it, Eshshah would have to fly lower — I didn’t want to make her do that.

“Yes, I promise.”

Without waiting for me to reply, he unhooked his cloak and pulled me back, clasping it in front of me. Then he wrapped his arms around me and drew me closer. I don’t know how I could have discerned the difference between his arms around me as a friend or as something more, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The heat of his body coursed through mine and relaxed me like a hearth fire on a cold night. Before I knew it, his warmth eased my tremors and I fell asleep in his arms.

“Amáne, we’re almost there.” Eshshah broke into my dreams.

“Eshshah, I’m sorry, I abandoned you and made you fly alone.”

“You were with me the whole time.”

“Ansel, wake up.” He had slumped forward over my shoulder.

“No, I don’t want to,” he mumbled, half asleep. “I’m having a beautiful dream. You’re in it. And your hair smells so good.” He tightened his arms around me.

“Ansel, stop!” I elbowed him in the ribs a little harder than I needed to.

“Ow! What was that for?” Completely awake, now. “I think you broke a rib.”

I knew he was teasing, but it would have served him right if I did. I was embarrassed as I guessed his dream was about more than just being friends.

Up ahead I spotted the fire that Braonán had lit for warmth and protection. As we approached I could see him jump up to tend to the horses. They were spooked at the sight and smell of Eshshah.

We landed lightly in a clearing and Braonán ran up to meet us, stopping with a hearty salute. I saluted back and watched his face as he looked admiringly at Eshshah — as only a rider could. I felt pity for his loss.

Ansel tossed Braonán his satchel and then dismounted. I grabbed my walking stick and followed him down.

“Braonán, this is Amáne, rider of Eshshah. Amáne and Eshshah, this is Braonán, formerly Yaron, rider of the late Volkan.” He formally introduced us. We saluted each other again, both going through the usual greetings of ‘Pleased to meet you.’

He faced my dragon, “Eshshah, your power and beauty show bright in your golden eyes.”

Eshshah nodded, pleased at his compliment.

He looked at me and then at Ansel, and laughed gruffly, “Tiny little thing, isn’t she?”

I rolled my eyes.

The rider was a huge man, good looking in a rough way. In obvious pleasure at seeing Ansel, he locked hands with him. They both embraced and pounded each other on the back.

“So good to see you’re safe, Your Grace!” He boomed.

‘Your Grace.’
I’m not sure I could get used to addressing him that way
. I better start as the respect was rightfully his — he was a prince, the true heir to the throne of Teravinea. I had to keep reminding myself of my position in regards to his.

Braonán continued in a loud voice, “Lord Ansel, Trivingar Manor is awaiting your arrival. I trust you’ll find it to your satisfaction. Besides some of your old staff, the new help has been well chosen — the grounds are spectacular. And wait ’til you see all the fine wenches they have in the township of Trivingar.”

Ansel cleared his throat so loud I thought he was going to choke.

“Braonán!” He said, not too kindly. “We have a lady present.”

My heart constricted. I removed my helmet and shook my hair out just to emphasize I was the lady present. I really couldn’t blame Braonán for overlooking it — I was, as usual, dressed like a boy, and the helmet didn’t help much.

He was truly repentant for uttering such an ill-mannered statement in front of me, “My apologies, Amáne, I meant no disrespect.”

“Apology accepted,” I said rather monotone.

Isn’t this exactly what I had spoken to Eshshah about? That I wished there were distractions here for Ansel so he would get over his infatuation with me? I should be happy. This is what I hoped for
. So, then why did I feel like a dagger had just been thrust into my heart? I nearly doubled over with physical pain.

Breathe in, breathe out
. I thought to myself
You cannot have it both ways
. I struggled to control my emotions, blinking back the threat of tears.

Ansel could see my pain and quickly tried to alleviate the damage.

“Braonán, please take my bag and prepare to leave. I’m going to ride up to the outpost with Amáne to help her re-saddle Eshshah and let the Healer know we’ve arrived safely.” Braonán looked relieved at an excuse to leave my presence.

In a daze, I let Ansel lead me by my elbow back to Eshshah. I mounted at nearly the same time as he did. Eshshah leaped into the air without my word. She followed Ansel’s lead to help me cope with my reaction to Braonán’s statement.

We flew to the edge of the field which dropped off sharply to the beach below. Eshshah then banked right for the entry to the Arevale Outpost hidden in the cliffs above the rocky shore. She located the push-rock and opened the entry cavern. We landed, and I
slid out of the saddle as I whispered “Sitara” to light the shields. The three of us walked down the corridor to the library in silence. I still struggled to breathe — angry with the turmoil of emotions churning inside of me. Reaching the communication disc, I put my hand on the knob and whispered “Gyan,” and then “Nara.” After a moment, the disc shimmered as the Healer and Gallen came into view.

“Good, you’ve arrived safely. Eshshah made that distance in record time. I didn’t expect you to arrive for another half hour or more.” Gallen said.

Any praise for my dragon was welcomed by me. It lifted my spirits somewhat. However, my countenance did not improve enough for the Healer not to notice. Alarmed, she asked, “Amáne, are you ill?”

“No, I’m not ill, Healer.” I changed the subject. “We will be leaving here soon.”

Ansel greeted them and said he would contact them once he settled in. Braonán had set up a communication disc at the manor.

We signed off and I released my hand from the disc, then headed toward the back of the library to choose a single saddle for the ride home. Ansel helped me secure it on Eshshah — we worked in silence. I wished he would quit staring at me. For once he seemed at a loss for words.

When we made our way back to the entry cavern, he put his hand on my shoulder and gently turned me to face him.

“Amáne, Braonán is a rough character. Don’t let what he said upset you. It was just one of the pointless things that men say. It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Well, it should!” I snapped. “You would do well to be interested in the beautiful women in Trivingar. You deserve a fine lady on your arm. One of your station, who will be beneficial to
your throne, and who will return your affection.” The dagger in my heart twisted. My torment increased.

Hurt showed in his eyes, which magnified my pain. “I know you don’t really mean what you’re saying, and I know you have feelings for me, Amáne. It’s written all over your face. I just can’t figure out why you’re working so hard to deny it.”

“Of course I ...er, care for you, Ansel — as a friend ...”

How could I make him understand? It was for his own safety. My obligation to his throne came first — it was too dangerous for him to be emotionally involved with someone whose destiny it was to protect him. Why couldn’t he just relax his attentions?

He held his eyes on me, waiting for an explanation.

My shoulders dropped. “Anything other than friendship just will not work, Ansel.” I said, “We’re from two different worlds.”

“Opposites attract.”

“You’re destined to be the King of Teravinea — I was born a nobody ... a commoner from a tiny corner of the kingdom.”

“I’m currently without a throne — still basically a nobody myself.”

Frustration building, I tried again. “You have a lavish lifestyle accustomed to beautiful rich women dressed in silk and lace — I’m a plain girl who wears boys’ clothes half the time.”

“And your beauty far surpasses those women in silk and lace.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks — a combination of anger and self consciousness. I uttered an exasperated sigh, and said, “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

He shook his head. “I know what I want.” He said pointedly. “Look, Amáne, I understand you’re not ready to commit yourself to anyone, yet. I have time. I want you to know I won’t give up
on you — I’ll wait for you. I promise.” He emphasized the word ‘promise.’ “I want you to be sure ... to follow your heart. I have a good idea where it will lead you, but you need to figure that out for yourself.”

I couldn’t tell him that I can’t follow my heart. I had already figured that out. Maybe after my quest for the dragon egg I could rethink my position — if an option still remained. But until then, I had to fight my heart. I had to build a wall around it that he could not enter.

Ansel drew closer and gently pushed my hair back from my face, first one side, then the other. He tenderly brushed the tear that had escaped the corner of my eye. Bending toward me, he kissed my forehead first and then moved to my lips.

The part of me that wanted him to forget me lost ground to the part of me that wanted to offer him something to remember. This was to be the last time I would allow him to kiss me, so I might as well make it memorable ... for both of us. After tonight, we will go our separate ways and maybe the next time we see each other, he’ll have moved on.

There was a desperation in my actions as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled myself closer. I kissed him back — lingering longer than I should have.

If time could have stopped right then, I would have been where I wanted to stay for all eternity. But that could not be. Too soon I pulled back and put my fingers on his lips to hold him from another kiss. I put my hands on his chest and slowly pushed him away — both of us frustrated.

Still trying to catch my breath, I felt ashamed of myself for my boldness — and for giving him false hope. I whispered, “I can’t, Ansel. We have to leave it as friends ... or nothing. Maybe
some day I can explain.”

The pain in his eyes added to the agony of my heart. I turned, stepped up onto Eshshah’s forearm and pulled myself into the saddle, then reached down to lock wrists with him. He mounted up without my help, settled behind me and held on to the saddle as Eshshah moved to the ledge.

We flew back down to the clearing where Braonán was putting out the fire and preparing to depart. Ansel slid off. I had planned on leaving right then, but Braonán said he had a parcel he wanted me to take to the Healer. Dismounting, I followed him to the horses. He pulled a package out of his saddle bag and handed it to me.

As I turned to leave, Ansel said my name softly.

I looked back at him and pleaded in a whisper, “Please don’t.”

He bit back what he was about to say. Instead, he unfastened his cloak, swung it over my shoulders and clasped it at my chin.

“You’ll want this for your ride home.”

I lowered my eyes, tears already flowing, and executed a low curtsy, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Without thinking, I glanced up at him. I saw the flash of absolute disapproval in his eyes.

This is how it has to be
, I thought. I turned and walked slowly to where Eshshah waited — I could feel Ansel’s eyes boring into me.

But, I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t ...

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

I found the daunting project of writing my novel called for a sense of reclusiveness — an existence in my own little world with only my characters for companionship. This was not a problem for me. I love my characters and have no regrets spending so much time with them. But even so, it is a solitary undertaking. Luckily, I’m a loner. That said, I could not have managed a project like this unaided. If I didn’t have the support of my family, I probably wouldn’t have arrived at this particular moment.

My husband, Lloyd, my biggest fan — You proudly told everyone you knew about my project ... even before I wanted anyone to know. I had to remind you for two years that I was not an author, yet, but a writer, never having been published. I no longer need to go against your claim. My daughters, April and Alanna — Your editing skills exponentially improved my work. Their daughters, Rio and Mila (sound familiar?) — You were inspirations. My sons-in-law, supportive. Jason, I salute you. — Your enthusiasm is like a Valaira. You’ll make a fine rider. My brother, Dan — I valued your suggestions. My sister, Doreen — Your eagerness for more kept me going. Thanks for double-checking my facts. Nolan, your support was priceless. Scott Saunders, my expert in combat and weapons — Without your recommendation, Amáne would only be wielding a sword. It was because of you she took a liking to the glaive. Scott’s friends, Julie and Gerry Adams, who also belong to The Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc. (SCA), local kingdom of Caid - You welcomed me to your home where my attention was riveted by your sword and spear practice with Scott. Ouch. The SCA (
www.sca.org
), is the place to turn for all things Medieval. Eric Magruder — Despite my early rough draft, you gave me hope. My favorite line was when you said, “... the only thing I’d change is the name of the writer — I’d put my name on it and submit it.” Linda Armstrong and Armstrong School of Highland Dance, including mother/daughter Pamela and Alison Ashworth, Kaylee Finnigan, Erin MacNeil, Katherine Arthur and Clementyne Vega — You were my first young-adult readers. Your fire and spirit for my project boosted my desire to see it to fruition.
Jessica Hamabe — I laughed at your comments in the margins. You may recognize a few of your suggestions. Mia Stefanko — Your editing skills and time you took out of your busy schedule went over the top. Forrest Vess, my ear, who had to listen to me rambling on and on about dragons and tattoos and query letters — Your artistic opinion and suggestions for the cover art were what I needed for those who judge a book by its cover. Pete Walker, your linking mark/tattoo art is a hit. My Tuesday night writing meet-up group, including, but not limited to Al, Candace, Craig, Devon, Donna, George, Pam — Thanks for your attention to detail. Your input was indispensable. All my friends and acquaintances who read and enjoyed my story, you know who you are, thank you, thank you, all. If I have left anyone out, my sincere apologies. This has certainly been an exciting ride, exceeded only by a flight on the back of a dragon.