Page 66 of Seaspoken
One thing is certain—we can’t give them any reason to believe we mean to attack. I drop back down below the surface and give hurried orders to the chief warriors among each tribe. They form into ranks and then fall back a short distance, where they will linger just below the surface in case the elves charge.
Keliveth and I find our footing on the sand. Then we emerge from the water, hand in hand with our heads held high. A few others follow behind us—Arcorlan and Lirana, Cirali and some of her comrades, and a chosen leader from each tribe. We leave our weapons behind. My hand feels empty without a spear or a blade. I tighten my grip on my mate’s fingers and walk forward with steady strides.
Falamar’s jaw goes slack as he watches us step from the surf. We halt little more than a spear's throw from the king and his lords. They stare back in disbelief.
I level my gaze at Falamar and speak in the ancient elven tongue. “Your Majesty, I come to treat peace with the elves of Kara Davonashi through an alliance by marriage.”
The color drains from the king’s face. He opens and closes his mouth as if unsure what to say. Behind him, Lord Thëalanin starts to speak, but I cut him off before he utters more than a syllable.
“Five years ago, I stood at your gates with an offer of friendship, which you refused. Now I stand before you and offer your people one last chance to set aside bloodshed. Keliveth Dalzana has won my hand and is now my husband by the rites and traditions of the merroc. Through this union I would put an end to all our warfare, if you will content yourselves to live on these shores in peace and never raise your hand against my people again.”
As I speak, I walk forward with slow, measured steps. Falamar holds his ground. He finds his voice at last, and his words are like barbs. “And does the Seamother also desire peace? How can we trust that she is not planning to sweep us all into the depths as we speak?”
“I am the Seamother now.” I flick my hand toward the waves, and they leap up in a tremendous shower of water. “The seas answer to my call alone. Do not doubt that I could ask them to drown you where you stand, and they would obey. But whether you believe it or not, Falamar, I do not wish your harm. Treat with me, and you will find me reasonable where my mother was cruel.”
The words about not wishing harm are almost true. I still have to grip the folds of my skirt to keep from balling my hand into a fist and smiting the disgusted look from Lord Thëalanin's face. I resist the urge for everyone’s sake. It will probably take our peoples years to leave behind all our enmity, but a political alliance is the first step down that path. I can content myself with that victory for today.
I focus on the king. His gaze sweeps over the small line of tuath warriors who stand behind me. A thin hope flickers in his eyes as he looks back to me.
“If such a treaty is established, my people could remain at Kara Davonashi in peace?” His voice is quieter now, less harsh.
Lord Thëalanin steps forward and lays a patronizing hand on the king’s shoulder. “Your Majesty, she’s clearly lying.”
I turn a vicious glare on Lord Thëalanin “Your king addressed me, not you.” I look back to Falamar, who is staring back with amazement. I wonder if anyone has ever reprimanded his lords before. “Kara Davonashi is the ancient work of elven hands, a remnant of the friendship that once existed between your people and mine. Live there and seek that friendship again. Dwell on our shores with the promise that you will not provoke my people and with the knowledge that you live in our keeping.”
Lord Thëalanin snorts. “No elf would ever—”
Falamar holds up his hand abruptly. The advisor’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. Falamar looks at me for a long moment, as if weighing the future in his mind. The setting sun casts his face in tired shadows. I catch a glimpse of the man beneath his façade—so young compared to his lords, and so weary from battles and intrigues. The proud set of his shoulders dissolves, and the haughtiness fades from his face. I see my words wearing down his proud resolve like waves smoothing stone. For the first time I’m certain that under all his posturing is a man who never truly wished for war.
“Seamother ...” he says slowly, “if you will live in peace with us, then we will do the same with regard to you. I only ask that my people not be deprived of the food and goods we need to survive.”
“No one who lives within the shelter of my people is ever denied such things.” A smile spreads over my face. Keliveth squeezes my hand, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him smiling too.
Falamar whirls around to face his army and starts shouting orders to his commanders. In turn, each company of soldiers breaks formation and retreats from the shore.
“Your Majesty.” Lord Thëalanin speaks from between clenched teeth. “This is madness. You can’t trust this woman. If you would listen to reason—”
“Silence, Thëalanin. All of you. Enough.” Falamar turns to his lords with an aggravated sigh. “I’ve listened to your ‘reason’ for years, and it has not brought us peace or safety or anything else worth having. I am not going to throw away the one chance we have to live here in peace. If any of you have a problem with my actions, you can go find another damn king to order around.”
Falamar stands taller, as if bolstered by his own words. When he meets my gaze, I nod my head in respect. Hope for him blooms within me. No matter what he has done in the past, he has a chance to become more than a frightened young king.
We all have a chance to be more than war has made us.
All I want is a nightalone with my new mate.
I sigh as the drums and flutes call out a joyful rhythm and I’m swept into yet another dance. The beaches of Thura are a blaze of bonfires and rune-lanterns, and the air is warm and filled with the perfume of the maraseya flowers. Tomorrow we start the work of healing the lands decimated by war. Tonight is for dancing and singing and feasting.
A little too much of it. I spin through the patterns of the dance, greeted at every turn by words of praise and congratulations from my people. I smile graciously in return, but my eyes are only searching for one face. I want nothing more than to slip away from all this with Keliveth, yet I haven’t seen him in the chaos since the first moon rose.
I weave through the next round of steps. All at once my elf is there. He spins me out of the dance and into the shelter of the overhanging branches. I sag against his bare chest with a sigh of relief. His elven robes are gone, replaced with a loincloth and a short strand of shark teeth and small purple shells around his neck.
“Where have you been?” I speak quietly, determined not to draw the attention of any more well-wishers. I have the rest of my immortal life to be their Seamother, but right now the events of the day lie too heavy on me. Everything has changed so fast that I can barely comprehend it.
I want to set all the politics and diplomacy aside for a while. My gaze slides over the contours of my mate’s chest, then up to his mouth. I’m achingly aware that we still haven’t had the chance to celebrate the first victory of today, when he won the challenge for my hand.
Keliveth’s gaze sweeps appreciatively over me, from my coral crown to the drape of my gossamer white dress to the tattoos that run down my legs. Then he catches me in a kiss. My lips part beneath his, and I give myself over to the heat that washes through me.
He breaks away too soon. I let out a growl.