The Avatar of Calderia by David M. Echeandia

Author:David M. Echeandia [Echeandia, David M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780989596206
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Bitter Concessions

“You want me to marry him???” Ellianthia’s hazel eyes flashed dangerously as she wrenched herself free of the firm grip her father had on her shoulders and thrust her balled fists down on her hips, the sharp movement setting the golden bracelets on her wrists to jangling. “Did I hear you correctly, Father? You want to Handfast me to a gods-be-dammed human?”

One look at her father’s face told her that he meant what he had just said, but she shook her head nonetheless, as if trying to clear a fog from her mind. “You can’t be serious, Father! Me, wed to a man whose father killed my brother and your son?” Her faced flushed, her breasts rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, the Elfin maid stamped her boot.

“I don’t give a gods-damn what peace terms you agreed to with that barbarian excuse for a king. I would not marry that murdering scum’s bastard if Sallamarian himself came down and commanded it!”

“Actually, he did just that, as I already told you,” replied Rillandariel mildly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wooden wall of the now empty council chamber. He had learned over the years that indulging the impulse to yell back at his daughter during one of her rages gained him little, and only served to further stoke the fires of anger seething inside her. It was usually best to approach her as one approached a snarling tree panther—slowly and calmly, making no sudden moves. Thus, his voice was pitched low and smooth as he continued.

“I have told you, and all the others at the War Council, what Sallamarian told me, the warning about the coming invasion and the urgency of making peace between us.”

“Yes, so I recall, Father,” she growled sarcastically, as if to say her paternity was suddenly in question. “But you said nothing about me marrying some oafish, lumbering, hairy, foul-smelling human!”

She thought of Darillian, slender but strong, graceful and tender—and with a smooth, hairless chest, as was the way of all Elfin males, unlike the wooly humans she had met and killed in battle. She remembered the gentle, delicate caress of her lover’s fingers on her body’s tender places in the night. Then she imagined thick, clumsy human hands groping her crudely, tearing her clothing off and throwing her down on her back. The repulsive image made her stomach churn with disgust and her blood begin to boil anew.

“And just when is this travesty supposed to take place?” she snapped.

“Not for some little time yet. King Gavan told me that Prince Killian must undergo the Ritual of Awakening to his gods-given power before the Handfasting can occur.”

“Gods-given power, my arse!” she snorted. She leaned forward and thrust her finger into her father’s face, her voice spitting fire. “I will not be a fawn led to the slaughter. Gods-chosen or not, does that bastard lay but one hand on me, I will slit his throat and pull his tongue right out through the hole!”

Rillandariel sighed as he looked at his fuming daughter.

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