“We will talk about this in two days.”
Dorian’s widened blue eyes met Aydra’s, and she swallowed hard as she felt Nyssa’s hand wrap around her own.
The noise of the horses hooves on the stone as the carriages pulled up diverted all their attentions, but Aydra couldn’t help the nagging in the back of her mind at the look on her brother’s face when she’d said it.
It sat there the entire of the time she introduced herself to the Blackhand Elders and their guests.
There were seven Blackhand Elders of the four Blackhand towns. The Elders were much like their Bedrani Council, only they did not have a King and Queen in charge, only the High Elder had the last vote on matters. There were four Blackhand towns, the largest of them being Dahrkenhill, where four of the Elders, including the High Elder, resided, followed by the towns of Monsburne, Greathill, and the Bryn.
Aydra had only met Blackhand people once in her life, and that was the last the Elders had traveled to their kingdom when she was a mere ten years old. And there were a few characteristics about them that she remembered. She remembered their beards, their all rugged mountain appearances, and lastly, their charm.
She remembered Zoria had taken two to bed with her the night they came, and Vasilis had been so furious that the burns he’d punished her with the next morning had made Zoria bedridden for a week.
So when she found herself grinning at the men and women who exited the carriages and felt her brows heighten at the mere charismatic smiles on their faces, she understood why her late mentor had risked such.
She leaned closer to her sister at one point, who was already blushing, and whispered, “Choose one.”
Nyssa did a double-take up at her sister, and Aydra watched a look grow in her eyes that she recognized in her own core.
“What happened to a queen taking multiple pleasures in her bed whenever she likes?” Nyssa asked with a raised brow.
Aydra stared at her, pride swelling in her chest. “Nyssari Eaglefyre,” she mused mockingly, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. “What have you done with my little sister?”
Nyssa chuckled under her breath as one of the men approached. He bowed to both of them, the braids in his long tawny hair falling over his shoulders when he did. He introduced himself as the Elder from the town of Monsburne, a small farming town which was closest to Magnice at the edge of the Blackhand Mountains.
Aydra couldn’t help the laughter growing inside her as the man spoke with her sister. She shook her head as she looked around, the Elders and their company chatting with her siblings and their own Belwark guard.
“We’ve a great breakfast prepared in our dining hall,” Rhaif told them after a few minutes. “Please if you’ll join us. I’m sure you’re tired after your long journey.”
One of the gruff men Aydra had heard bellow a loud laugh earlier pushed past Rhaif up the stairs. “Which way?” he asked.
Aydra bit her lips together, denying the laughter that threatened to emit from her.
“You’ll excuse Dag,” came the voice of the High Elder behind her at the bottom of the steps. “He’s new to the Elder guard. Never been one to turn down food.”
Aydra turned full towards the man as he stepped up to her, and she took in his figure deliberately. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving only his straight darkened mahogany hair in the middle to be braided down the middle of his head. He was only a couple of inches taller than her with strong shoulders that struggled against the black v-neck tunic he wore.
“I make no judgements,” she assured him. “At least his appetite is healthy.”
The handsome Elder chuckled, one stray short hair falling out of the braid and over his eye. “That it is.” He took her hand then and kissed the top of it. “Hagen Vairgrey, High Elder of the Blackhands, at your service.”
Aydra eyed the Blackhand’s light brown eyes as his long red beard brushed her hand. “I’ll have none of that, Elder. The days you are here are not about services. They are about celebrating the Echelon coming together for the first time in this Age. Repairing relationships we’ve long squandered.”
His full lips twisted into a smirk, thick brows raising on his forehead. “Tell me, Sun Queen, how is it we will be celebrating such a relationship?” he asked in a gruff voice.
She felt her lips press together at the sultry gaze he stared at her with. “Dancing,” she replied simply. “I’ve been told your brethren are quite fond of it.”
The Blackhand flashed her a wide grin. “You should visit Dahrkenhill for such a celebration,” he mused, holding out an arm for her to take. “Dancing. Ale. Herb. None of these fancy dresses and uptight decorations. Simply a gathering of our family. Celebrating life, love, and freedom as we should.”
Aydra tucked her arm into his. “Sounds like my kind of party.”
The noise of Lex clearing her throat behind her diverted Aydra’s attention from the Blackhand on her arm. Aydra did a double-take at her friend, who nodded silently towards the corner. Aydra excused herself from Hagen and darted to the corner with her Second.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aydra asked in a hushed voice.
Lex’s gaze darted around the thinning throng of foreigners near them and then back to Aydra. “The Chronicles are lies.”
Aydra frowned. “Excuse me?”
“The Chronicles failed to mention that I would be questioning my entire sexual history upon meeting these Blackhand men.”
Aydra clapped her hand over her mouth at an instant, unable to hold back the laughter emitting from her throat. “Hilexi Ashbourne!”
“And you… will you be having a guest join you and the Venari tonight? Because he is—”
“No, no,” Aydra interrupted. “I need you to handle that for me and give me details.”
Lex straightened up
