The Consort (Tellaran Series) by Ariel MacArran Page A

met his gaze. “And you? Do you still hate the Az-kye, Kyndan?”
    His face turned toward the celebrants strolling beneath the cheerfully colored lanterns. The warriors with their black animal skin clothes and swords, their ladies brightly dressed as exotic birds, the merchants, the beggars, the men and women of the companion life offering their sexual favors for sale; the street children, barefooted in their tattered clothing, enjoying the openhandedness of the festival patrons, their faces sticky with quen’dila candy.
    “I wake up sometimes, shaking so hard I feel sick and I can’t—” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “It was so godsdamned hard to come back here. I didn’t want to. I didn’t even know if I could without—without—”
    His eyes were unseeing, haunted. She touched his arm and his gaze focused on her.
    “If you had not returned to Az-kye, had you not fought for me, I would be Jazan’s mate now.”
    His face was tight. “I know.”
    “Thank you for claiming me today.” Tears stung her eyes. “I would have been clanless too, had you not come for me.”
    “No.” His eyes flashed blue fire and his hands came up to clasp her shoulders. “It never would have been you, Alari!”
    His fevered glance went over her face and he pulled her against him bending his head toward her. She could feel the rise and fall of his quickened breath, how his heart pounded under her palm. Kyndan’s mouth poised a hairsbreadth from hers, his body trembling. In a rush of nervousness and excitement and courage Alari lifted her mouth toward his—
    He let her go and she stumbled a bit at the sudden release.
    Had she done something wrong? If Tellaran men were so bashful perhaps their women were equally demure. Had she been too forward?
    He was avoiding her gaze now and her body suddenly went cold.
    Kyndan knew what had been done to her.
    Was that it? Her heart hammered with hurt. Did knowing what Jazan had done so disgust him that he could not even kiss her?
    “Listen, I—” Kyndan took a step back. “Come on. I’ll get you another one of those pastries.”

Kyndan climbed out as soon as the litter stopped at the Az’anti estate and offered his hand to Alari. Kinara’s house too was strung with lanterns for the festival and they were still lit. It was late in the evening but the sounds of celebration in the city could still be heard.
    “Are you certain the clan leader will not mind?” Alari leaned forward in her seat, looking anxiously at the clanhouse. “That I have come to visit unannounced?”
    “You’re family,” Kyndan reminded. “You don’t have to be announced . Besides it’s this or back to the palace.” He looked pointedly at her dress. “You probably aren’t going to want to head back there wearing that anyway.”
    “No,” Alari agreed quickly.
    Kyndan took her hand. “Come on. Even if we don’t wind up staying, your other dress is inside, remember?”
    Reluctantly she stepped down and stood with her hands clasped before her as Kyndan paid the litter bearers.
    “It’s all right,” he assured when she turned worried eyes to him. He touched her back to draw her along with him. “Really.”
    The guards tensed at his approach, clearly not recognizing him in the Az-kye clothing.
    Kyndan raised his hand to them in greeting. “Is Kinara here?”
    Their stances eased at the sound of his voice but they regarded his clothing, and Alari, with unquestioned curiosity.
    One of the warriors gave him a nod. “The Ti’antah is within.”
    “’Kay, thanks!” Kyndan returned as he and Alari crossed the courtyard to the clanhouse.
    One of the little housemaids opened the door. She looked about thirteen, her clothes plain but neat, her braided hair worn up. Kyndan didn’t recognize her but the clanhouse required a large staff to run and there were always servants coming and going between his sister’s holdings.
    “Do you wish to speak to the head of housekeeping, you must go around to