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Leafblade

By: Isaac Coyote

Chapter 1: Aunair Manor

Midday was quickly approaching as Tarin meandered through the trees. Although he was there with a purpose in mind, the young coyote clearly wasn't in any hurry to accomplish it. The rains of the past few days had let up, and because of this, the ground was still wet. Puddles remained scattered across the forest, but Tarin paid them no mind, walking through them without concern. A few drops of water fell from the trees and occasionally mixed in with Tarin's fur, but he ignored that as well.

A small patch of mushrooms drew Tarin's attention, and he paused to give them a good sniff. They smelled musty, and perhaps a little sweet, but not what he was searching for. He pushed himself back on his feet and kept wandering.

The midday light filtered through the trees, giving a lucent air to the environment. Tarin's casual air and lack of attempt at being quiet kept the smaller denizens of the forest away, but the occasional bird would sing to the coyote. It was one of his greatest pleasures. Sometimes he would walk as he listened, other times he'd stop and listen until the bird had completed its composition and flew off to serenade another visitor. Today, despite his hesitation to complete his task, Tarin could not stop and enjoy the melodies of the birds.

Tarin wasn't immediately aware of the other presence. It wasn't until he realized the birds had gone silent that he realized something was amiss. A quick sniff of the air, however, gave him the faint scent of rosemary and lilacs. Among the other scents in the air, they might have gone without concern, except neither scent was indigenous to the forest. "You're never going to catch me if you constantly smell like your mother's garden." Tarin commented without turning around.

A voice Tarin recognized responded. "It was not my choice to be bathed in such an insufferable manner."

Tarin turned around to find Rayac standing behind him. The young wolf was a bit taller than Tarin and a couple of years older than him. His fur was a mixing of brown and black, though the black was more dominant in his features. He wore simple blue breeches and white tunic, both a little small for him, but he held himself with an air of nobility. On his right hip rested a sword.

Rayac Aunair was the son of the noble family that employed Tarin. Rayac's choice of dress suggested that he had, yet again, snuck out to spend time with Tarin. The coyote covered his muzzle to hide a laugh, but Rayac still caught it. "I cannot help it if your clothes are better suited for movement and stealth."

"Of course," Tarin replied with a smug look. "Noble clothes are made for drawing attention. It is difficult to go unnoticed when your clothing is shouting at everyone you pass."

"You always have such a way with words." Rayac replied, unamused.

Tarin turned and started walking again and as he predicted, the sound of footsteps told him Rayac was jogging to catch up. "I am perfectly capable of hunting for mushrooms by myself, Rayac."

"The forest is dangerous," Rayac replied casually. "You'll need someone to protect you."

Tarin smirked at his friend. "From the vicious mushrooms."

Rayac laughed at Tarin's response. "There are bandits in the forest."

Tarin knelt to sniff another patch of mushrooms. It had the same musty sweet scent, so he stood again. "I've come out here a couple of times a month since I was a pup and I've never seen them."

"You are still a pup," Rayac retorted, earning a dangerous glare from Tarin, but he ignored it and continued, "And how many of those times were you out here without my company?" Tarin actually stopped to consider that question, but only answered it with another glare. "One for me."

"Must you be so smug about it?" Tarin asked, sounding hurt.

Rayac placed his arm around Tarin in a friendly hug. "As many times as you outwit me, my friend, let me revel in my few victories."

Tarin couldn't help but smile at this. "Very well, you can have your victory." Rayac hugged Tarin tighter before releasing his grip on the young coyote. "Be honest. You don't come out here for my protection."

"I do." Rayac insisted, affronted. He then shrugged, reluctantly continuing his response. "Mostly. I also enjoy being with you when you can be yourself. You are phony at the manor. I only see the real you when we are alone."

Tarin stopped walking, his eyes turned away from Rayac, a little embarrassed. "What makes you certain this isn't a mask I wear for you? Why are you sure the real me isn't the one inside the manor?"

Rayac places a gentle paw under Tarin's muzzle and turned it to face him. Their noses touched as Rayac stared into Tarin's eyes. "I know you, brother mine. I've cared for you since you were brought into my mother's home. You were so young and scared back then, having just lost your parents to bandits." Tarin stared back at Rayac as he spoke, eyes locked with his. "I watched you become the coyote you are today. I know when you really are and when you are masquerading."

Tarin felt himself getting lost in Rayac's deep brown eyes. With a start, Tarin shook himself away. Rayac didn't resist or attempt to hold Tarin. The coyote's eyes stopped on a small patch of mushrooms and as an excuse to not talk about what just transpired, he knelt down to sniff the mushrooms. His nose was assaulted immediately by a repugnant odor. Tarin recoiled from the mushroom and, despite several experiences prior telling him he wouldn't find any, checked his nostrils for the blood he felt should be coming. Rayac's chuckle from behind him didn't help his mood. "Perhaps you would like to find the next batch yourself?" Tarin inquired.

Tarin could hear the smirk in Rayac's voice. "Father would be upset if he found out I was hunting Vaeran Mushrooms myself."

Tarin pulled the mushrooms out of the ground and added them to a small pouch on his hip. "He will be equally upset if he finds out you are out of the manor with me."

"Is that a threat?" Rayac asked, sounding more impressed than insulted.

"No, not really," Tarin replied, standing again. "Just pointing out a simple fact that if your father is going to be upset already, why not do something else that will upset him at the same time?"

Rayac opened his mouth to respond but just stared at Tarin until he finally gave up. He crossed his arms and looked away from Tarin. "I thought you said I could have my victory."

"Do not pout, Rayac, it doesn't suit you." Tarin replied. "You still have your victory, but if you want it to last, you should not speak with me."

Rayac smiled at Tarin, finally looking back at him. "I could never do that." He threw his arms around the younger coyote and held him. "What would I do without you, brother mine?"

"Spend long hours in the manor and grow up to be a dull noble wolf." Tarin replied without hesitation.

Rayac growled playfully into Tarin's ear and pushed him to the ground. As he was already in the wolf's embrace, Tarin had no chance to defend himself, but it also gave him the leverage to bring Rayac with him.

They both landed with a resounding splash in a rather large puddle. They ignored the water, however, and continued to wrestle playfully through the mud and grass for several minutes before Rayac finally managed to pin Tarin on his back, both paws held over his head, with Rayac straddling the coyote.

Rayac smiled teasingly at Tarin, daring him to try and escape. Without thinking before he acted, Tarin licked the side of Rayac's muzzle. Rayac pushed himself to his feet and stepped back quickly, refusing to look at Tarin again. Tarin felt his face heat up at Rayac's reaction. "I'm sorry," Tarin forced out, embarrassed by his actions.

"Do not apologize." Rayac replied, "It is not necessary." He turned to meet Tarin's eyes again. Tarin lost all embarrassment in those brown eyes. "I thought I had beaten you, and you used a..." Rayac paused to find a word, "... unique strategy to catch me off guard. It worked."

Tarin felt an overwhelming wave of disappointment he didn't understand come over him. He nodded slowly. "Of course. I should let you win sometimes."

Rayac knelt over Tarin, grabbing him by his wrists. "If you let me win, it wouldn't be any fun." Rayac then lifted Tarin to his feet with Tarin's help. "We should head home soon. Father is probably concerned where we are by now." The two started walking towards the manor.

"Where you are," Tarin corrected. "And your mother is going to be upset at you for getting dirty again."

"It will mean another bath." Rayac commented, sounding disgusted at the concept.

"What is the occasion?" Tarin asked, "You prefer unscented baths, yet I could pick up your scent before you entered the forest. You just start enjoying smelling like flowers?"

"I did not smell that strongly." Rayac insisted. "It is because father is having guests tonight."

Tarin's expression went neutral. All the frustration of past experiences desperately fought to escape him, but he held them at bay with a measure of falsified apathy. "Am I going to be hidden away, or am I going to be one of your father's trophies again?"

Rayac locked his eyes straight ahead, not looking at Tarin, or any other part of the surroundings. "King Alshaer and Princess Liandra are visiting." He said with a perfectly measured response.

Tarin stopped dead, a look of horror taking over his face. "Three months have already passed?"

"No," Rayac explained. "He has some news he wants to deliver to father directly."

Tarin shuddered, despite the lack of a breeze. "Princess Liandra treats me as if I were one of her possessions."

Rayac frowned, looking at the ground. "By law, you are my father's possession, until you come of age. Under that logic, she is borrowing you."

Tarin growled, "I know the laws."

"Forgive me, Brother." Rayac said, sympathetically. "As soon as you are of age, you will leave here and never look back."

Tarin looked to Rayac, but Rayac didn't even glance in his direction. There had been hope in Rayac's voice, but there had also been sadness. Tarin wanted to tell Rayac he'd never leave, that he'd stay, but he dared not. He could not make that promise. The thought of freedom was far too tempting to just push aside before he even gave it a chance. He spent several moments thinking of something to say, and by the time he had figured out exactly what he needed to say, Rayac stopped walking.

"There's the manor." There was a moment of silence before he started walking again. "There is no point for stealth anymore. We will walk in the front doors."

"I will get the flog for this," Tarin replied coldly.

Rayac winked at Tarin. "If there's one thing I've learned from you, coyote, it is how to talk my way out of trouble."

* * *

Rayac felt a pang of guilt as he watched Tarin get pulled away. He didn't hesitate before following his father into the next room. Rayac closed the door behind him and turned to square off against the Great Lord Aunair.

Lord Aunair was an old wolf, with hints of graying to his normally black fur. He was a little on the large side, but not enough to be considered fat. He wore a fancy green tunic with gold embroidered sleeves and a pair of red breeches. He stood, facing Rayac, with a look of pure rage on his face. "It would do you well to explain why you were out in the forest with the coyote and why you both returned soaked through your fur." His voice never rose above speaking level, keeping a careful tempo, which was more of a sign that he was enraged than him shouting would have been.

Rayac met his father's gaze with practiced apathy. "Mother told me the coyote was sent out into the forest alone to pick mushrooms for the cook." His voice carried a perfectly selected tone of casual conversation. While he knew this would further enrage his father, if the words were carefully chosen, he would have no target to direct that anger towards. "Since no one else thought to supervise him, to ensure he did not slack in his duties, as coyotes are fond of doing, I decided to follow him as an assurance that he kept on task without delay."

Lord Aunair stared at Rayac, rage on the verge of breaking, but still tightly reigned in. There, among the rage and hatred, was a faint glimmer of hope. "And...?"

Rayac had predicted this response, so his reply was carefully worded before entering the room. "While I cannot be certain he did so because he detected my presence, or because he actually listened to orders, he did not slack in his duties in any way."

The rage faded a little, dwindling down to a faint level of anger. "Why did you both return muddied and wet?"

Rayac shifted his eyes to the right wall, attempting to create an impression of embarrassment. "On our walk back to the manor, we discovered a patch of ground that was not as sturdy as it had appeared. We discovered, rather suddenly, that it had actually been a puddle, quite deep in fact." He motioned with his paw around waist level. "It wouldn't have been as bad, had the sudden fall not caused us to lose our balance and completely submerge ourselves."

The look Lord Aunair gave Rayac made him feel as if he wasn't there. For all he could tell, his father was studying the door behind him for flaws in the wood. Finally, he nodded. "You know you are not to be leaving the manor."

"Yes, father." Rayac replied, meekly.

"Your mother is going to be upset when she sees you like this."

"Yes, father."

Lord Aunair walked around Rayac to the door. "Then we will consider ourselves blessed that she has left for her walk through the garden." Rayac looked at his father uncertainly. "You will proceed straight to the bath and make yourself presentable again before your mother returns." He smiled at his son. "If you do this, I will not punish you for your actions and your mother will not be angry with me for letting you sneak out."

Rayac laughed, and while it sounded convincing, he didn't feel it. "Very well, father. Thank you."

Rayac didn't hesitate to leave his father's presence. The urge to run threatened to overtake him, but he resisted and kept a steady, casual pace. He loved his father, but their view on Tarin was something they couldn't see eye to eye on. For some reason, Lord Aunair had a strong prejudice against coyotes. This had always bothered Rayac, but what made it worse was the house shared his prejudice. The only people in the manor who even considered Tarin something more than filth was Rayac and the Lady Aunair. Rayac had inquired with the house staff, and with his father, but every time the question was brought up, Tarin was punished. Rayac decided knowing was not worth putting his only real friend through torture.

What disgusted Rayac most about the conversation was how easy it was for him to pretend that Tarin didn't mean anything to him. Every time the words 'the coyote' left his muzzle, he felt a piece of himself break. He swore that, one day, he would face his father directly about Tarin. The only thing preventing him from following through now was knowing that Tarin would be punished for it. Rayac was a very well behaved noble son, solely for the reason of keeping Tarin, his father's favorite whipping boy, from being punished in his stead.

Thinking of Tarin had distracted Rayac and when he finally realized where he was, he found himself in the servants' quarters. He wasn't sure if that was something he had intended to do, or if he just made a wrong turn in his state of distraction, but he decided to use this opportunity to see what was being done to Tarin. Rayac knew he was being punished, he just hoped it wasn't unjust.

He didn't have to wander long before he heard the shrill voice of Ghaus, the head of the servants. She was shouting so quick and loud Rayac had no hope of interpreting what she was saying. Rayac was pretty sure she was also speaking in Haetan, her native tongue. Rayac only knew a couple of words in Haetan, and even thinking about those words brought back the taste of soap to his muzzle.

Ghaus was a fat old badger and had been head of the servants since Lord Aunair's father reigned over the manor. She spoke gruffly to everyone, including Lord and Lady Aunair, and no one thought to discourage her from doing so. This came from having helped raise Lord Aunair as a young pup, just like she helped raise Rayac. It was only because he cared for Tarin that much that he risked a glance at his punishment.

Ghaus was standing next to Tarin, not yelling at him, but at the rest of the servants who were standing and watching. All of their attention was on Tarin, who stood head down with his ears drooping. From what he could pick out, Ghaus was yelling in Haetan, an action specifically reserved for the worst forms of misbehaving. He could tell she was being extremely cruel with her words because Tarin kept wincing at them. Tarin had picked up Haetan within his first year at the manor, though he only admitted it to Rayac. He was certain that not even Ghaus was aware of his understanding of the language.

It was this moment that Rayac's full attention was drawn on Tarin. He had been so focused on Ghaus and her shrill yells that he had been oblivious to the fact that Tarin was standing in front of the entire servant staff without a stitch of clothing on. Rayac found himself half in the door before he realized what he was doing and quickly ducked out of sight. As he disappeared behind the door frame, he saw Tarin's head move in his direction. Ghaus never stopped yelling, so he knew at least she hadn't noticed. He silently hoped Tarin hadn't seen him. Tarin was being unfairly punished in an immoral way for something he had no control over. It would kill Tarin if he knew Rayac had seen him like this.

Rayac peeked around the door frame. Tarin was still standing, naked and submissive. Nothing in his demeanor had changed, so Rayac was convinced he hadn't seen him. Wishing he had not come here, Rayac turned and left towards the bath. Once he was out of earshot of Ghaus, he ran. He didn't let himself stop until he reached the bath.

The bath was ready when he arrived, with a servant waiting to aid him. He dismissed him with a rather stern gaze. Once he was truly alone, Rayac sat down in front of the door and cried.

* * *

Tarin's room was small, even by servant standards. There was enough room for him to pace if he needed to, but not much else. A small window, no bigger than the size of his head, gave a good view of the garden. The glass didn't fit properly, though, so there was always a breeze coming in through the window. This was a blessing during the heat of the summer, but it made his room unbearably cold during the winter months. His bed wasn't much of a bed. It was a pile of old clothes and blankets that he slept in. At the end of his bed was a small trunk for his clothes. The trunk was wooden and beginning to rot, but it did well to hold his belongings. Tarin didn't own much, what he did own was in that old chest.

By the time Tarin returned to his room, he wanted to bury himself in his bed and not come out for the rest of the day. On most days, he might have gotten away with that. However, Princess Liandra was going to be arriving in a few hours. Princess Liandra had taken a liking to Tarin for some reason. While he did like the attention she gave him, even if she was still treating him like a servant, at least she was kind about it. When he would irritate her, which he tried very hard not to do, she would make him scrub floors or some other menial task. Tarin reveled in the idea of punishment not involving physical violence or humiliation. What had him reluctant to face the princess was what she did when he wasn't being punished.

Princess Liandra had taken it into her head that she was going to train Tarin to know the proper way to act in the presence of royalty, under all possible conditions. She even went as far as to teach him how to properly behave at a party, but not as a servant. She taught him how to properly behave at a party as a guest. She promised that on her next visit, which was to be soon since she and Rayac were betrothed, that she would teach Tarin how to dance. Tarin just didn't expect that next visit to be so soon.

Tarin shivered. The breeze that his window failed to hold back reminded him he was still damp and naked. He searched through his belongings until he found an old shirt that barely fit him anymore. With the lack of anything suitable to use, Tarin began drying himself with the shirt. He was mostly dry, after having stood for an unknown amount of time, dripping himself dry, so it didn't take long. As soon as he was dry, he began searching out his best servant clothes. As much as he was not looking forward to Princess Liandra's visit, she liked it when he was looking his best and he liked making her happy.

The house colors were green and gold, which is usually what the servants wore. However, Tarin had a red tunic, a little fancier than anything any servant should wear. It was a gift from Princess Liandra. She claimed she made it herself, but Tarin assumed this meant she stood over the seamstress giving direction on how it will look. The origin of the gift was probably the only reason Lord Aunair hadn't thrown it out. He wore it whenever Princess Liandra would visit and would put it away when she left. It was a little fancier than he preferred, but it was surprisingly comfortable and easy to move in. He knew he would get in trouble if he ever wore it when she was not visiting.

He set the tunic down on the closed lid of the trunk with a pair of brown breeches, but chose not to get dressed yet. The breeze had reminded him he was still cold, so he decided to take a moment to wrap himself in the few blankets he had and try to warm up. He toyed with the idea of a quick nap, but disregarded it without much thought. Any sleep he managed at the moment wouldn't be restful.

The door to his room opened and Lady Aunair walked in, closing the door behind her. Lady Aunair was an older wolf, getting along in her age. Despite her age, though, she was still a remarkably beautiful wolf. Her fur was mostly dark grays, with the hint of brown mixed in. She wore a simple violet dress with no special embroidery or design to it. It was her favorite dress for walking through the garden.

Tarin rushed to get to his feet, only remembering halfway out of his bed that he still wore no clothing. At the last moment, he held onto the blankets, keeping them wrapped around him. This act, however, cost him any grace he might have mustered in his haste. His legs got tangled in the blankets and he fell to the floor clumsily, and with his arms busy keeping himself wrapped in the blanket, he had no support to keep him from falling. He managed to tuck his muzzle to avoid an impact, but his forehead hit the ground with a resounding thump.

"Are you hurt, young one?" Lady Aunair asked, kneeling beside him, concern overtaking her expression.

"I am indecent, my Lady," Tarin replied hastily, pushing himself off the ground, while still remaining kneeling. He also fought with the blanket to remain hidden inside it. "It would not be proper for you to see me as I am."

Lady Aunair paid his warning no mind. She gently took his muzzle in her paw and inspected his head. Tarin did not resist, he knew better. She touched his forehead with her other paw and he winced back from her touch. Her grasp on his muzzle tightened, preventing him from retreating, but even that gesture was gentle and caring. "It appears you will be fine." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Now, as to your adventure with my son in the forest." She said, releasing his muzzle.

Tarin winced, looking up meekly at Lady Aunair. "Yes, milady?"

"I could ask Harold," Lady Aunair started, "but my husband seems fond of telling any story he knows so that it is your fault." Despite kneeling at his level and using a tone not belittling Tarin in any way, her presence was very intimidating. "Rayac would take the blame on himself if I gave him the chance. You, however, would be honest with me." She smiled at him. "Am I correct?"

Tarin had not originally planned on being honest. If he told Lady Aunair that he was fully to blame for what had occurred, she would have treated him fair. However, she had carefully chosen her words to play a sympathetic chord in his heart. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, and if he hadn't loved her as if she was his mother, it wouldn't have worked.

Tarin retold the entire afternoon to Lady Aunair. The entire time, he tried to find a way to make it sound as if Rayac were mostly innocent, without steering from the truth, but he wasn't finding any leeway in the events. He told her about their wrestling around in the puddle, but he left out the details of its conclusion.

When he finished, she did not reply immediately. She almost appeared to be weighing Tarin's story in her mind. After a moment, she smiled him. "Thank you for being honest with me." She spoke up finally. She helped him to his feet. When standing, she was taller than him, but she was the only adult in the manor who didn't loom over him. "Now, we will discuss your punishment."

Tarin bowed his head submissively. "Whatever milady decides is fair."

Lady Aunair lifted his muzzle and met his eyes. She had the same passionate brown eyes that Rayac had. "I am not punishing you. I was referring to the punishment Ghaus inflicted upon you."

"She was humbling me." Tarin explained.

"Perhaps it is her that needs humbling." Lady Aunair replied. "What she did was unjust. You had done nothing wrong. Even had you been at fault, what you suffered was indecent." She placed a paw on Tarin's head and scratched him behind the ear. It was something she did to relax him and he loved it. Despite himself, he closed his eyes and leaned into the scratching. "I will speak with Ghaus about this."

Tarin stepped back, shooting a pleading look at Lady Aunair. "No, please!" She responded to his outburst with a look of shock. "My apologies, milady." He replied, returning to meekness. He bowed his head, waiting for whatever backlash would come from his brashness.

Lady Aunair returned her paw to scratching his ear. Surprise kept Tarin from immediately enjoying it. "You have nothing to apologize for." She stopped scratching and raised his muzzle once again to look into his eyes. "You also will have nothing to fear from Ghaus. I assure you, she will not punish you for my intervention. I will make it clear to her that she will not retaliate, and if she does, you are to find me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, milady." Tarin commented automatically.

"Are you just saying that because you know I want you to?" Lady Aunair asked with a skeptical look.

"Yes, milady." Tarin replied honestly.

Lady Aunair laughed a warm laugh that seemed to penetrate Tarin and make him feel better. "Boys." She stated. "You and Rayac are determined to test me, and at the same time, make it hard for me to remain angry with either of you." She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. "Now, you must get ready." She stepped back and waited by the door.

Tarin watched Lady Aunair in silence, waiting for her to leave. When it was evident she was doing no such thing, he hesitated. "Now, milady?"

"Yes," Lady Aunair replied, "Get yourself dressed." When Tarin still hesitated, she added, "I recall you being less shy about yourself before."

Tarin's face and muzzle burned. He recalled an incident ten years prior, where a young Rayac was rebelling against the Lord and Lady. Princess Liandra was on her way for her first visit to the manor, and Rayac did not want anything to do with that. As an act of protest, he marched around the castle without a stitch of clothing on. Tarin, not wanting to disappoint his new friend, was right beside him, wearing just as much as the wolf. It was one of the few times he could remember Rayac being punished and it was the only time they were punished side by side. He was barely four years old at that time, but he still clearly remembered everything that happened that day. Anyone who had been in the manor that day could recall it as well.

Tarin reluctantly stripped himself of the blanket and set it on his bed. Lady Aunair averted her eyes politely. In a moment, he was fully dressed again. "I am ready, milady." Tarin announced.

Lady Aunair glided to him and began fussing over his clothes until they were straight and proper. "We should bring a mirror in here for you." She mused as she worked. "There, now you are ready."

Tarin rushed to the door and opened it for Lady Aunair. She nodded in thanks as she stepped outside. "You will follow me to greet his Majesty and her Highness. You will follow me on my left," This announcement caused Tarin to stare at her, wide-eyed in shock. The left side of any noble lady was reserved for her personal servant. She didn't give him a chance to question it, though, as she continued talking without even acknowledging his reaction. "When her Highness arrives, you will remain with her. Follow her, as you will follow me, on her left side. You will remain with her until she leaves."

Tarin dared a question at this point. "What purpose is this serving, milady?"

"His Majesty is arriving on urgent business," Lady Aunair explained. "Her Highness was not able to fully prepare for the departure. She was not able to properly inform her servants of the departure. I would offer her the aid of my personal servant, but her mother just passed away and she has returned home to assist in matters."

Tarin waited, but no further explanation came. "How am I involved, milady?"

"Her Highness requested you by name." Lady Aunair responded, "In as much as she is able."

It took a moment for that to sink in. "She requested me?"

Lady Aunair placed her paw on Tarin's shoulder, smiling gently down at him. "You are the obvious choice, young one. You are the closest servant to her age, she actually likes you, and you are the kindest person in the entire manor. If she had not chosen you, I would have."

Tarin looked away to hide his embarrassment. "Milady is too kind."

"We should hurry," Lady Aunair spoke suddenly, "His Majesty's coach was seen not too far down the road. They should be here any moment." She started down the hall, glancing over her shoulder at Tarin. "Do not forget, my left side, and do not stray."

Tarin fell in behind Lady Aunair on her left side. Every time they passed a servant, he averted his eyes. He knew what attention this was bringing and he was not looking forward to the talk that would follow this day's events. He knew he would not receive any physical punishment, but sometimes the talk was far worse. He could practically feel the rumors building already.

Lady Aunair wasted no time in the entry hall. She made a direct path for the front door. Upon reaching the door, she was forced to wait. The door servants had been staring at Tarin and didn't realize that Lady Aunair was waiting until she forced a polite cough. They immediately pushed the door open with a muttered, "Forgive us, milady." She smiled warmly in response and walked out, no words being said about the delay.

Just outside the door, Lord Aunair and Rayac stood, watching the gates of the manor silently, both sharing the same reluctant demeanor. Tarin knew why Rayac was not happy about this visit; he was never happy spending time with Princess Liandra. Why Lord Aunair was discontented by the visit was beyond Tarin's knowledge. Lord Aunair and King Alshaer had been good friends since before Rayac was born. Tarin didn't know the details, but that was how Rayac and Liandra became betrothed. Something important was going to occur tonight. Tarin felt a small amount of relief, knowing that if he was spending the entire evening with Princess Liandra, he wouldn't be present for the bad news. He then immediately felt guilty for his selfish thought; Rayac wouldn't be so fortunate.

The gates began opening, announcing that the King and Princess would be arriving shortly. Tarin watched silently for the grand entrance, but it didn't come. A moment of silence passed before all present began to get a little uncertain. Tarin glanced to Rayac, who was looking back at him. Tarin hoped Rayac had some understanding, but the confused look Rayac had did nothing to assure Tarin.

Movement from the gates drew Tarin's attention back. The King of the grand kingdom of Alshaer and his beautiful daughter Liandra were making their way through the gates. The grand entrance Tarin was expecting turned out to be rather simple and quite shocking. The King and his daughter were walking, unescorted, to the front door of the manor.