“What?” Commander Ty’rial shook his head. “What have you been living on then?”
“Before he died, Guffin used to bring me honey bars—a kind of crispy, sweet snack,” Ellina told him. “They were always his treat to me, ever since I was little—a specialty of his home region. His own sister made them for me but since she lives so far away, she would always make a huge batch of them to send by him. So those are what I’ve been eating—honey bars—for weeks.” She sighed. “Only I’m almost out of them and though I never thought I’d say it, I am so tired of honey bars,” she finished, making a face.
“Well, you don’t need to eat them anymore,” Commander Ty’rial said firmly. “From now on, I will be your personal taster as well as your bodyguard. You will eat and drink nothing unless I taste it first.”
Ellina looked at him uncertainly.
“But…what if you are poisoned?” she protested. “I don’t want you to put yourself at risk for me.”
“Don’t worry about that, little one. Er…” He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty. I will be just fine. Besides, I’m supposed to be protecting you—remember?”
“I know. It’s just…” Ellina bit her lip and looked up at him. “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all,” she admitted in a low voice.
The nobles in the palace would be scandalized if they ever heard of someone of her class letting on to care about what happened to a servant. But she couldn’t help it—she liked the big Kindred now that he had thawed a bit, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him dying because of her.
The way Guffin did, whispered a little voice in her head.
To her surprise, he smiled just a little.
“If you think poison can hurt me, you don’t know me very well, Your Highness.”
“I don’t know you at all,” Ellina protested. “Which is why it’s so shameful that I cried all over you just now.” She leaned forward and brushed at the wet patch on his uniform shirt. It was woven of some heavy, satiny material and was golden, which made his eyes look amber. “Please forget I did this,” she said, frowning in distress when the wet mark persisted. “It would be considered most improper among all the upper circles.”
She made a face, to show what she thought of the social castes in question but at the same time she was serious. If word got out that she had sat on her guard’s lap and cried and let him hold her, the nobles would scorn her even more than they already did.
“It’s not shameful or improper to need comfort,” he rumbled. “Here—your, er, third eye still looks a bit damp.” He pulled a clean white handkerchief from one of his pockets and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Ellina blotted all three of her eyes carefully. “Oh—that’s sore,” she exclaimed, as she dabbed carefully at the third one, just above and between her brows.
“Did the tears hurt it?” He looked at her anxiously.
Ellina shook her head.
“No, it’s just that I don’t normally cry from it. The umlu or third eye is usually only used to guide one—it is the source of our intuition,” she explained. “It is said that only when a Chorkay experiences true grief and loss will tears come from the umlu.”
“It’s not surprising that you cried from it, then,” he said. “When you were grieving the loss of one so close to you.”
“Guffin will always be close to me.” Ellina sighed as she folded his handkerchief and handed it back to him. “I just won’t see him again until I ascend to be with Thufar.”
“My people believe we go to be with the Goddess,” he told her. “Speaking of which, oh Goddess in the Flesh, are you ready for your public audience on the Grand Balcony?”
“I guess so.” Ellina nodded. “No, I know so,” she amended, lifting her chin. She was, indeed, the “Goddess in the Flesh” as he had reminded her—it was time to act like it. Especially when she was going to be appearing before the full court and all the common people at once.
“Here.” The tall Kindred rose smoothly, though he had been kneeling all this time, and offered her his arm.
“Thank you.” Ellina took his arm, noticing again how muscular he was. She looked up at him, trying to be bold at meeting those strange changeable eyes of his. “You know,” she told him, “I wasn’t sure if I liked you before this. But now, well…I feel almost like you’re a friend.” Which was nice—she could use a friend besides her grandmother and Lor.
Then she wondered if she had been overly familiar—perhaps the big Kindred wouldn’t like to be thought of as a friend. Perhaps he was only there to do a job and befriending her was no part of it.
“That is, I mean, only if you wish to be friends,” she said quickly. “Not that you have to be, Commander Ty’rial. I know you’re only here to protect me, so—”
“You can call me Ty, my Lady,” he interrupted her gently. “It’s what all my friends call me,” he added, with a smile.
“Oh. All right…Ty.” Ellina returned his smile with one of her own and nodded her head regally. It was time to put on her dignity. “Thank you,” she said. “You are most kind, Ty. And you may call me Ellina—but only when no one else is around,” she added. “Because it wouldn’t be considered proper.”
He nodded.
“I understand—in your position, you must preserve appearances at all costs.”
“I really must.” She sighed. “The nobles of the palace are horrible gossips—especially if they think one of their stiff-necked protocols has been broken.”
“Well, we’d better go or we stand in danger of breaking one now. Come, my Lady—your
