Page 36 of Chained Knight

Christ, I probably look like a clown in RenFaire dress-up. But the stitching on the gown was exquisite, the material of excellent quality, and every item in the house had begun to look distressingly, utterly normal.

At what point was she going to start considering her life before waking up in the pond a multicolored nightmare, and this the reality? Human beings were adaptable almost to a fault, but if Ari started believing she was what these people had been waiting for, she would no doubt overlook some tiny, crucial clue.

The consequences would be drastic, if not violent. Just because these folk didn’t know about cars or phones didn’t mean they were stupid, and their laws and norms weren’t hers. She was a foreigner, and couldn’t forget as much even for a moment.

A shadow loomed before her. It was the chained man; somehow, he had crossed the entire room. “My lady.” Quiet, andgrave. “The Carcanet is returned. Will it please you to partake, and hear our counsel?”

I am so not ready for this. Was she going to start droppingtheeandthoulike a drama kid finally getting a soliloquy chance? These people sounded sophisticated; she would simply stumble, falling flat on her verbal face. “Will it help if I do?”

“More than you may ever know.” No trace of sarcasm in the words, that feverish gaze fastened on her face. It felt almost indecent, to be studied so closely. Once more he offered his gauntlet, the right this time, palm-up. “Soon it will feel natural.”

I’m not betting on that, my dude.Still, Ari laid her fingers in his hand, and was grateful all over again when the iron glove didn’t snap convulsively shut. A strange, unwilling feeling settled on her, impossible to name.

Was she losing English? It was hard to tell, and the very concept of misplacing her own language was too terrifying to contemplate at the moment.

He led her to the biggest chair in the room, its almost severe lines softened by cheerfully threadbare pillows. Ari hoped she wasn’t taking anyone’s seat. It was fantastic to get off her feet, though, and even better that the skirts hid her legs.

Hannixe set off for a row of wooden cupboards along the back wall; stripe-headed Keners hurried in her wake. Everyone else remained standing, watching Ari, and she began to get the idea she should say something.

Thankfully, the chained man piped up. “Take your ease, knights of the Keep, so long as our queen is at hers. To all present that signal honour is granted, and shall endure so long as Underdark does.” He arranged himself at the right hand of the chair, a bare foot away, and while the hovering was faintly comforting it was also scary as fuck.

She was all dressed up and a formal meeting was about to start; go figure, it was equally anxiety-producing in this worldorthe one she’d left behind.

It took a few seconds for the guys to sink back down, and the rule of human behavior that said everyone stayed in their first-chosen seat—even if getting up was part of the program—apparently held here too. It was just like the beginning of a middle-management bitch session, except with everyone in old-timey Eurotrash drag.

I’m definitely feeling better.A hot bath and new clothes did wonders for a girl’s equanimity.

“I have but a s-single tray,” Hannixe said, “though thankfully you shall not have to share cups. But ’tis less mannerly in the forest, I wager.”

Sarle and Majan shared a glance, eyebrows up, speaking without words. Jazarl shook his head, Naithor stretched out his legs with a sigh, crossing his arms high on his chest.

“I had half forgotten the sound of your voice, Grey Lady.” Laughter ran under Darjeth’s tone. “Or confused it with a fox’s bark.”

“If I speak for my lady, Darjeth, ’tis only because she has little patience for lackwits,” Keners shot back.

“Oh, aye, and you have more?” It was impossible for the pale blond man to smile any wider, the expression of a class clown with all of lunchtime to perform in. He rubbed at his cheek with callused fingertips, and wrinkled his nose slightly. “Well-matched you are indeed.”

“Soon Hannixe’s tongue will be sharp as ever,” Alzarien draped himself on the bench near the door; he had slicked his crimson hair back and his boots looked suspiciously like they had been polished. “And you will be too occupied in crying mercy to remember when ’twas silent.”

“Crying with laughter, perhaps.” Darjeth was having agrandtime, one knee twitching as he lounged.

Ari couldn’t help but smile as well, and looked quickly at her lap to hide it, letting her hair fall in a damp curtain. At least the dark curls weren’t frizzing; they hung sleek and well-behaved, probably because Hannixe applied the comb.

Who would want to disappoint her? And it had been… nice, Ari decided, to have someone mess with her hair. She listened intently, ready to soak up every possible clue, hint, and inference.

“Pity Leshe is not here.” Majan interlaced his fingers, stretching out his legs from another hard wooden chair set at an angle to the others. He settled his shoulders, clearly arranged for deep thought and serious conversation. “She would enjoy the contest most roundly.”

“And complain we could be riding instead.” Jazarl dangled his hat from one capable hand as he sank into one of the cushioned seats; a full quiver leaned against its leg. “Speaking of wagers, I believe I have won one, Darj.”

“Oh, aye, and when we return to the Keep the item is yours.” Darjeth made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “If the Golden did not smash it, that is.”

“Do not speak lightly of such filth in my lady’s home.” Keners came back into view, carrying a wooden tray bordered in ornate scrollwork. Hannixe hovered behind him, cradling a dusty green stoneware flagon. “We have a bottle of the greater drink. A full measure for the ladies and a scant for every knight, unless our lord prince finds it best to observe the prohibition.”

“Madman,” Jazarl muttered. “Steal into the Keep for a single bottle.”

“My lady was determined to rescue some small effects.” Keners halted with the tray, handling it easily despite its thickness and the load of glassware and goblets clustered at itscenter. Each piece looked distinctly handmade. “Could I let her go alone?”

“Four Golden slain that night,” Sarle aimed the words in Ari’s general direction, as if she could be expected to know all the in-jokes. Or as if he was inviting her inside the popular kids’ holy circle, a bit of social mercy. “The entire place in uproar, the Bright King’s servants riding every direction for days, and later we find ’twas because the Grey Lady wished a visit and a few trinkets. We did not dare testherhospitality for some while afterward.”

---