A War of Words

Abden snorts, a wet sound seeming to beg for a tissue, before he replies, “Then let it be lost, we will survive. No spectacle should be needed to tie us, a hundred years of hand holding is enough.”

       “Yes, a hundred years,” Ufari starts, his voice carrying a laugh, “Yet how often does our kind mingle with theirs? It’s rare to be sure.” He paces the wooden floor, the sound of his footsteps

 falling in tune with his thoughtful hum. “I believe there have been a total of three marriages between us, aside from those forced by the pact.”

       “What’s your point?” Abden demands, making a show of crossing his arms.

       Ufari raises his index finger, winking at the man, “It’s quite simple really; the tentative acceptance between us would shatter without this marriage.”

       “You’re leaping. A marriage alone does not put an end to hate,” Abden looks around the room, clearly expecting some show of support. He finds none, at least not openly.

       The devious smirk Ufari wears tells me he has Abden right where he wants him, this is confirmed when he strikes back, “No, it does not. And, as Kirsa has already made clear, it still dwells within the hearts of Saffron. The princess herself detests us. But should her opinion be swayed, it may well change the mind of others; or at least open their hearts, even the tiniest bit. It would be progress. Something which has eluded us for the past hundred years.” 

       Silence takes hold of the room, as Abden glares at Ufari. The tense atmosphere has me hugging my abdomen. I hadn’t truly realized the importance of this marriage, how much is at stake. Resentment grasps my heart, aimed pointedly at my brother. But I don’t have time to dwell on it before the conversation starts up again.

       “But do you truly believe Arken could sway her? The boy is obsessed with the hunt, I doubt the princess would find it very appealing. Her husband constantly running off I mean,” Taro, one of the advisers whom had yet to voice an opinion, says quickly. His obsidian gaze flicks over to each face, in search of validation.

       Abden is quick to give it to him, “My thought’s exactly. Even if your words are true, Ufari, Arken is not the man to bring about your vision.”

       “I disagree,” Finani begins, having finally found her voice, “Arken is a good boy, when he sets his mind to something there is no stopping him. And you know how rarely Balt takes a shine to any of his students, I can't recall another he's taken such pride in..”

       “I have never denied the boy’s talent, it’s the very reason I believe he’ll be fine on his own,” Abden replies, the sharpness of his tone striking me as more than a little defensive.

       I’m relieved. So far, the odds are in my favor. With that thought in mind, my gaze slides to the only person in the room who has yet to provide his thoughts; Yangi. 

       The tallest in the room, at just under seven feet, stands off in the corner. He silently observes us with piercing blue eyes. His wife, Finani, waves him over in a hurried gesture. He answers her request by moving to her side, his hand curling around hers so casually that it appears their hands were made to clasp one another’s. 

       He plants a tender kiss on the top of her head, fingers slipping through her pitch-black tresses, before he speaks, “You do deny it, Abden. You deny it by agreeing with Taro. Though I don’t believe you truly think him incapable, I do think you want him out of the way.”

       Abden scoffs, “To what end?”

       Yangi laughs, the sound deep and tinged with ridicule, “The very end you presented; you want your grandson to take his place.”

       My eyes fall on Abden, who has grown noticeably pale. Yangi’s words have struck a cord, leaving the man to sputter as my anger rises. I bite my lip to keep from speaking, my hands gripping the soft texture of the cushion beneath me.

       “That’s ubsurd,” Abden finally manages, his voice seeming to shake with anger, and perhaps a bit of fear, “I’m the one who suggested ridding ourselves of the wedding.”

       “The fact that you offered your grandson as an alternative is enough to make me suspicious, it shows me it has been on your mind,” Yangi responds, his stern expression unfaltering under Abden’s heated gaze.

       “I will not stand here and be treated like this. You have my vote, I am leaving.” Abden barely lets the last word pass his lips before he’s charging out the front door, giving it a hard slam. 

       “Well then, unless Taro has anything else to say, I think a decision has been made?” Ufari glances at Taro, if he were in wolf form his tail would surely be tucked between his legs.

       “I wasn’t in favor of disowning Arken, I just want to make that clear. I’m just unsure he’s who we need to win over the princess,” Taro hurries through his explanation, his gaze slipping over Ufari’s shoulder to land on me. He swallows hard.

       He was only appointed to his position a month before great uncle’s passing. I assume he fears for his station, as unfounded as it may be. It would take an egregious act for him to lose his standing. In fact, I can’t recall any adviser having been dismissed in the past.

       “Good, the vote is nearly unanimous. We will send out a search party at once, with some luck Arken will be safe at home before Mother Moon takes to the sky.” Ufari finishes with a clap of his hands and a smile on his face.

       The advisers leave one by one, Kirsa throwing me a concerned glance on her way, until only Ufari remains in my home. I raise a quizzical brow at him when he turns to face me, nearly jumping out of my skin when he surges forward and takes hold of my hands.

       “I just want to apologize, Sila. Fulfilling my request must have been difficult, perhaps even a bit torturous. But I felt it necessary, and had every confidence that I would save your brother from Abden’s intentions,” He tells me, his tone dripping with a desperation that I couldn’t quite understand. A desire to please the Chief is one thing, but he seems more like a man pleading for his life.

       I frown, feeling displeased with my own confusion. “It’s fine, Ufari. I was well aware that you meant well, I thank you for your words on my brother’s behalf.”

       “Of course,” He gleams with pride, releasing my hands in favor of placing a fist to his chest and bows deeply. “I’m glad I could be of service to you.”

       I nod, giving him a dismissive wave. He gives me a look that sings his disappointment, but obeys. Now alone, I slouch back and drape an arm over my eyes. I’ve been Chief for a mere two weeks and already I’m exhausted. Things would be so much easier if Arken would stop behaving like a child.

       

       I spend the next hour or so debating, what will I say to my head-strong brother when he returns? Obviously my methods thus far have failed. Perhaps I am pushing too hard? I consider asking Balt for advice, it seems like a wise move. Besides, I still feel that he is hiding something from me.

       I take just three steps out of the cabin, when a familiar scent tickles my nose. A smile claims my lips as I speed off in its direction, stopping only once I slam into the man. My arms wrap around him, while he struggles to keep us both upright. 

       I look up into his deep, blue eyes; they cut into me, seeming to dig out my every thought and feeling. Most seem to find his gaze off-putting, but to me it’s a comfort. At a glance, he can understand me in a way no one else ever has. Though he’d only left us a few days ago, I swear his rich, brown hair has grown longer. Before he’d left it didn’t quite reach his shoulders, but now the soft locks glide over the steel adorning them.

       “It’s nice to see you again, Chief Sila,” He tells me, returning my hug with a vigor.

       “Just Sila is fine, even my advisers still call me by name,” I reply with a short laugh, then regard his companion with curiosity.

       He stands tall, though I guess Yanagi would still tower over him by nearly a foot. Charcoal black waves caress his face in the light breeze, as pale green eyes seem to appraise me. His steel armor reflects the sunlight as he shifts his weight, causing me to squint.

       “Ah, where are my manners?” Riol asks with a laugh, raising his hand toward the stranger, “This is Jaron, he is assisting me on my mission. Which is why I’m here.”

       My brows furrow, “Why? What’s happened?” The first thing that comes to mind is goblins, but surely none could have slipped by us.

       “It’s Princess Irellia, she’s run off,” he tells me, while Jaron seems to mope as he eyes the ground with slumped shoulders.

       I feel an inexplicable dread at Riol’s words, my mouth goes dry. “It seems your princess and my brother are of the same mind.”

       Both men stare at me, eyes widened in shock. With a sigh, I turn and expect them to follow. It seems I’m in for another long, tense discussion. Oh joy.