Violet and Verde

A violet huntress pursues verdant prey.

S’Avetina is a young priestess of the Lord of Night. Although she is a mage, she has failed to bond to a dragon, leading her family to fear that too much out-crossing has weakened their Loftoni blood. Ave is under immense pressure to marry another Loftoni and soon. Then she meets S’Rak, a young priest, just off the line, and a dragon-bonded Loftoni. To her immense surprise, her family is dead-set
against the match due to Rak’s past. But in Okyro, women do the courting, and women make the choices. Will Ave choose to continue her hunt, or will she yield to family pressure and let the young priest go?

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Violet and Verde

Copyright © 2013 AC Ellas

ISBN: 978-1-77111-711-1

Cover art by Martine Jardin

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Violet Visions

Violet and Verde

By

AC Ellas

For the romantics lurking within.

Ave walked out of the temple, using a side door less frequented by the comings and goings of the brethren simply because it let out into an out-of-the-way courtyard that had nothing to recommend it, only a view of the eastern wall a few paces distant and a staircase zigzagging its way to the top of said wall, fifty feet high. She craned her neck to see the top of the wall. The priest was there again, she observed, the same place he’d been every morning for the past two weeks, watching the sun rise. She had to admit that she was intensely curious about him. She didn’t even know his name, but there were wings under his hooded cloak, which meant he was Loftoni, as she was, and therefore fair game.

All priests and priestesses who served the Lord of Night were expected to wed. It was a sacred duty. Those who could not, for whatever reason, have children of their own bodies, were expected to adopt and rear some of the many foundlings left as offerings for the temple or to foster some of the orphans created by the War. Ave’s mother had been gently pushing her to find a mate, and the pressure exerted by her peers to conform to the familial duties was growing ever more intense. As a result, she’d dutifully met the young Loftoni males in Okyro, searching for even one that she could stand to be with for more than a quarter hour.

All the Loftoni males she had found who were old enough to court and wed were dragon-bonded. Being young, they were supremely narcissistic, totally self-absorbed in themselves and their soul-bonded dragons. They lacked any vestige of personality and were so egotistical that Ave dreaded having to take one as her mate.

There was no question that she might be permitted to take a non-Loftoni as spouse. She was only a quarter Loftoni herself, and no dragon had ever come for her, even though she had wings. Her family insisted that she marry a full-blooded Loftoni, and this struck her as particularly unfair. Neither her grandmother nor her mother had married Loftonis, after all, but had followed their hearts.

She had resolved to meet, and eliminate from consideration, every unmarried male Loftoni in Okyro. Then, she could marry whomever she pleased and nobody could say she hadn’t tried to find a mate amongst her own kind.

Next on her list was the priest on the wall, assuming he was young and unwed, a big assumption on her part, but he intrigued her. The fact that he took the time to watch the dawn hinted that he had some romance in his soul and might be a man worth knowing.

Ave climbed the steps with a swift, sure step, only using her wings to aid her balance a little bit. She hoped her guess was right, that this priest was young. Surely, if he were older, she would have seen him before now. All the dragonwings were on a rotation that had them in Okyro at least once a year. Of course, she was assuming that he was dragon-bonded. And why not? As far as she knew, of all the winged Loftoni in Okyro, only herself and her grandmother didn’t have a dragon.

She reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the narrow ribbon of smooth stone, the outer edge protected by a knee-high parapet that seemed a waste of time as a protective measure to her.

The priest on the wall turned his hooded head in her direction, then took a step sideways.

Ave wondered if he was making room for her or trying to escape her company. His movement seemed to have elements of both. She paused, locking her gaze on the rosy glow to the east, hoping to put him at ease. A shy one, she had deduced, and immediately planned her assault to take that into account.

The rosy glow strengthened, transmuting to fiery orange as it touched the ground. Then, the incandescent brilliance of the sun broke over the horizon, sending shafts of light that appeared, at first, a dazzling white, and softly golden further out, as the periwinkle sky lightened several shades to palest blue. At last, she murmured, “Good morning,
siflion
. The sunrise is lovely, is it not?” Calling him brother was not inappropriate, since she was a priestess herself. Had she been a layperson,
sεravion
would have been more appropriate, but both terms were denoted by the shortened, honorific S’ placed before the spoken name of all who’d sworn holy vows to the Lord of Night.

The priest looked at her, turning his head enough that she could see his face beneath the hood. He was indeed young and very handsome, despite the twisting scars that ran from his right temple to his jaw. “Yes,
siflion
, the dawn is nearly as lovely as you,” he said, his lovely, light tenor voice rippling lyrically in the still morning air.

Ave felt the heat in her cheeks as she blushed, surprised and flattered by the unexpected compliment. “I am S’Avetina, of the Arrai,” she said, almost too quickly, then wanted to sink into the stones of the wall. How forward could she be? How obvious? The violet glyphs of her Arrai robes were perfectly visible, after all, just like the verde glyphs of his Thezi garb.

The priest’s thin, perfectly sculpted red eyebrows arched, but he didn’t call her on her faux pas. Instead, he inclined his head with a gravity that was belied by the twinkle in his peridot eyes. “Well met,
siflion-sεravion
Avetina,” he said with mock formality. “I am S’Rak, of the Thezi.”

She was grateful to him for responding in kind, even though their sects were plainly writ upon their garb for all to see. It allowed her to look up from the stones and smile at him.

He continued on, apparently oblivious to her recovery. “And if I could be so bold as to ask, how is it that a lovely Loftoni lady, with such marvelous tesserine wings as I see you have, ends up an Arrai and not a Thezi?”

Ave sighed, surprised he hadn’t already heard the story. She thought everyone knew about her dragonless state. “I’m only a quarter Loftoni, my sweet Thezi. My half-Loftoni mother married for love and not for race, and as a result, I inherited my father’s talents and her wings, but no dragon ever came for me, for that ability is one I lack.”

Rak murmured, “Surely that is one of the only lacks you have.” He looked at her for a silent moment, a faint smile playing on his lips. “May I ask something of you, Avetina?”

“Of course…and call me Ave, as my friends do.”

Rak’s eyes laughed in delight as he gravely replied, “You may call me whatever you wish, since Rak is so short that it cannot be shortened further,
siflion
Ave.”

Ave pressed her fingers to her mouth as she tried not to giggle. Oh, this young Thezi was a find, for certain. “What did you wish to ask of me, Rak?”

He drew closer, holding out a bare hand, palm up. “I wish to ask your permission to court you,
siflion
.”

She drew in a deep breath of delighted surprise.
Handsome, romantic and bold
, she mentally chalked up. She grinned at him and placed her hand, palm down, in his. “You have my permission to do so,
siflion-sεravion
Rak.”

Rak’s smile lit up his eyes in a private joy shared just between them. “Have you had supper yet, m’lady Ave?”

“No, I have not. I just came out of the temple and saw you up here again, and I couldn’t resist finding out who you were.” She glanced at the eastern sky with the wariness of a desert-born creature. Yes, the Hammer was fully risen now, ascending into the washed-out blue vault of the heavens. Already, it was growing hot. She looked back at Rak in silent inquiry.

“I know a very nice little public house,” Rak offered with a challenging gleam in his eyes. “Their food is excellent and a refreshing change from the standard temple fare.”

“I accept your invitation,
siflion
.”

* * * *

Ave sat at the small table across from her mother, Thezine Ravinia, and after the polite talk of the weather and the quality of the tea had been disposed of, Ravi asked, “Are you seeing anyone currently? If you’re not, I should mention a few names to you…”

Ave flushed, trying to cover her annoyance. How like mother to come prepared with a list of potential suitors! After a moment spent bringing her temper under control, she replied, “Yes, Mother, I am seeing someone.”

“Really? What’s his name?” Ravi was sitting up a little straighter, her eyes bright and interested.

Ave wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to tell her mother, but Ravinia was relentless, and she’d ferret out the information one way or another. “Yes, really,” she said, with an artificial sniff. “And you should be pleased, he’s dragon-bonded. His name is Rak.”

But Ravinia didn’t look pleased. She looked horrified. “
Rak?
Ave, have you lost your mind? Don’t you know what he was? What he is?”

“Mother, Rak and I have met several times already. He is a pleasant, charming and kind man. Unlike most of the dragon-bonded, he has both personality and a sense of humor.”

“Ave,” said her mother, “he was a slave.”

“So? Slavery is illegal here. And good for him for escaping.” Ave covered her confusion with anger. This conversation would have been a lot less awkward if Rak had told her this himself. Did he think she wouldn’t find out?

“Not just any slave,” Ravi pressed, “but a Royal Dancer of Zoth and the King’s Champion, the one the minstrels were always singing about. The one who flayed his victims alive.”

Ave could feel the blood draining from her face. Although she had never been outside of the badlands, she was familiar with the eastern kingdoms and all their customs. Of the Riverlands kingdoms, Zoth was the most ancient, the most cruel and the Royal Dancers were known of even here. And yes, the tales of the King’s Champion were gruesome, meant to serve as a warning for those who’d dare defy the King of Zoth. But was Rak to blame for any of that? It wasn’t as if he’d have had a choice in the matter. She took a deep breath. “Mother, that changes nothing except my sympathy for him. I don’t care about his past, I know the man as he is
now,
and I like what I see very much.”

“Actually, my dear daughter, it’s Rak I must be concerned for, because I am his wingleader. His youth was a horror you couldn’t begin to imagine, and even now, he is…fragile. If this doesn’t work out between the two of you, I fear the effect your break up will have on him.”

Ave stood up abruptly. “Mother, thank you for the tea.” She walked swiftly from the room, angered by her mother’s words. She respected her mother too much to sit there and argue with her, even though she felt her mother was wrong. She didn’t want to admit that she felt more than a little attraction for Rak.

She walked, head bowed, lost in her own thoughts. That Rak had been a Royal Dancer surprised her in that she hadn’t known that there were male dancers. She found herself wondering what sort of dance a male slave would perform, and she felt her cheeks reddening at what she imagined.

* * * *

Rak was waiting for her at the evening service, standing casually just on the Thezi side of the invisible line that separated the Thezi section from the Arrai. Ave wondered what he’d have done if the Arrai glyph wasn’t next to the Thezi, or if she had been in another sect entirely. But the Arrai glyph was always next to the Thezi, so she took her place beside him with a faint smile, but on her side of the line.