Chapter 3: A Whore for Peace

Allinna Hallen

Bolides of sunmetal shot off from the sun as it exited the Hollow, streaking light in the darkening sky. Little of the curious metal would make its way to Synall, falling predominantly on the Sunways continent.

Allinna watched the display of streaking lights through the hexagonal window of Synall cathedral. Her cousin Vanryn stood next to her, a comfort. Lekin, tringy and awkward, stood in front of her. On the cusp of his second decade, the first signs of a mustache darkened his lip. Though the wispy facial hair could be the Mollogg heritage.

The sunmetal watch she had stolen from Amich was heavier now that the sun was leaving the Hollow. Allinna had been disappointed that Lekin had nothing of interest in his pockets. He likely didn’t even hide a blade on his person which felt like an insult to his father.

Looking out into the cathedral Allinna saw the Hallen and Halnt families separated by the nave of the cathedral. Scanning over her father and her uncle, her eyes locked on the Tyrant. He sat spread out. Mauln Halnt was paying little heed to the proceedings and instead toying with his ornate rings.

Allinna's hands gripped her skirt. She thought of killing the Tyrant. Not that she could do it. Would it not solve an issue? Allinna asked herself. Disgusted, she took her eyes away from the monster in the cathedral.

She heard Vanyn’s cool low voice but did not comprehend what she said. People in the cathedral began shifting and moving to leave.

The boy Lekin said something barely above a whisper. Then stared wondrously at his fiance. Lekin’s eye examined each eye, noticing the difference. Lekin studied his bride, examining one eye and then the other.

Allinna noticed with annoyance. “Just pick one.” The boy shrunk

Stammering, he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

Allinna rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Sorry.” The boy’s ears were too big for his head. He did not yet have the ox-like build of his father. “The different colors, it is unique…I like it.”

“I have different colored eyes. And they call me the freak.” Allinna snapped. Taking the first step down the dias, Allinna broke protocol. Stepping until she felt the hard stone on her heel. Allinna stepped on the interwoven triangles symbolizing Ardorism. The center of the weave was she stood was supposed to be a holy space for prayer. She prayed only for Mauln Halnt’s spontaneous combustion.

Mauln Halnt’s mother was the first to step to them. Allinna tried to remember her name as she grabbed her hand. “Are those tears I see in your eyes child?” She was frail, as old as anyone Allinna had seen. Her hair had faded from age, though Allinna guessed it was as light as the sun in her younger years. Though wrinkled, her skin was pale and her noose long and narrow; she was the perfected example of a Leklieven. Fitting for their former queen. Although she birthed the Tyrant, she had a firm motherly grasp on Allinna’s hand. Halnt’s mother’s hand shook with age as she grasped Allinna’s hand.

“I-” Allinna closed her eyes and swallowed. “I am just so damn happy for this union.”

The mother of Mauln Halnt smiled gently. “You ought to be. You ought to be honored, child.” She reached for her other hand, Allinna did not resist. “Lekin may not be comparable to his father, but his name has power. Given an heir is produced, there can be more freedoms given.” Her white hair showed traces of once being blonde.

Allinna laughed sarcastically. The room grew quiet, perhaps the laugh was too sarcastic. “Why mother of Mauln Halnt, would I ever want to be free?” She smiled at the grandmother and tried to push forward to dinner where she could drink herself into mindlessness.

Her eye moved onto someone she had been trying not to see. At the end of the nave she saw the man she truly loved.

An unruly orange beard bloomed out of bulky plate armor. They called him Gyffli. Their eyes locked, though Allinna could hardly see the orange bearded man’s brown eyes. His adopted father, Jerrvo, saw what was happening and made an effort to hurry him away.

Allinna half raised her hand to him, and so ensured another fight to retain tears within her. She breathed. Why hadn’t he taken her last night, he could have stopped this? Why hadn’t he kidnapped her like she wanted? Allinna paused and thought only of taking the bulky man on the ardor triangle. Blasphemous? Perhaps, more than love, Allinna wanted to spite them. Spite her father, spite Halnt, Lekin. The whole Halnt clan could drown in Abyss.

Allinna hadn’t seen her father grab her arm. His left arm hooked around hers, his right tucked in his coat pocket. “Now.” Sephren Hallen said in the best kingly tone he could muster. “I would appreciate a few quiet moments with my daughter. Go begin the feast without us.”

The Hallen family gave the Halnt clan a wide berth as they exited. More than one of the Hallen family had been slain indirectly by Halnt. Sephren held his daughter’s hand loosely as the families exited.

Allinna swallowed her ire, she would for now. Caught in the dissonance of apathy and empathy towards someone was…arduous.

Vanryn slowly put out candles on the dias. Allinna knew without asking that she was taking her time so she could walk to the reception with her.

Jerrvo stood by the door waiting to leave with the king. Dark sunmetal plate armor making his frame even larger. To Allinna, Jerrvo had an air of impeccable command about him. Not in an overbearing way like Halnt, Jerrvo just obligated respect. Though he was a foreigner, Jerrvo was the moral center of Synall; more Synallean in his temperament and morals than most of the royal family.

Gyffli had gone out with the rest of the people. That was probably a good thing, Allinna recognized. Although it made her sad.

Allinna’s father embraced her. She held him; for his sake. Rolling her eyes she remembered how Halnt had asked for a duel with Jerrvo. Why had he not taken it? Jerrvo could have saved me from this whoring.

Sephren pulled back, his eyes were red. He rubbed his graying beard, Allinna noticed blood on his fingers. Allinna felt the sense in her gut that they would be repeating the same conversation they have been having for decades. It just made her tired.

This time, her father said nothing. His eyes were sunken and gray. He had always been a thin man, but the graying at his temples and sinking cheeks made the aging man look gaunt. “I love you.”

Allinna humphed.

Her father’s eyes cast down. “I am sorry, Allinna. I have…regrets.”

Closing her eyes, Allinna shook her head slowly. “So says the man who is whoring his daughter?” Allinna paused wishing she hadn’t spoken so rashly. Though she was angry, though she wanted to hurt her father, it was still her father. What hurt him hurt her.

Sephren said nothing.

Allinna took his silence as a chance to attack. “You let him dominate you, you couldn’t let him take land. But your daughter?” Allinna’s words broke her father. Her heart sank low. “I am sorry.” She said in a whisper. She had said nothing new, her father had done nothing different. She loathed this cycle, this loop, of conversation. It was like reliving the same hour your whole life. Maybe it would be good to move forward from this. Allinna thought soberly. Her anger told her that wouldn’t help.

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Sephren stepped back. Dropping his hands from his daughter. “No, you are right.” Sephren paused, the light was leaving the hollow quickly. The last streak of cerise light brushed over the center of the Ardor knot where they stood. Allinna stepped back. Tears patterned on the stone floor around them.

Allinna watched her father press the emotions down into himself until he spoke void of emotion, like a cold still lake. “I was a fool for making a deal with a devil.” Sephren turned on his heel and stepped out his hard boots echoing around the hexagonal cathedral.

Standing in the center of the triangle, Allinna’s heart was too heavy to pray. Jerrvo waited for her but asked nothing of her. She breathed slowly. Though pained, tears never came. Sitting in the pew she did not weep. She did not have the heart to pray; to plead to Ardor to stop this. Allinna had already done that. So she sat, unspeaking, with god for a moment.

Long shadows broken by streaks of sun became solid shadows. Sitting in darkness, Allinna did not realize how dark it had gotten.

A masculine voice broke from behind her. “We ought to go, daughter.” Jerrvo Vokwa said with command.

A different voice continued. One that was deeper than most women’s, one cool and welcoming to Allinna. “We will walk with you.” Vanryn Or’Ael paused. “As long as we can. This is not the end, but an end.”

Allinna stood up, her legs stiff from sitting. Vanryn’s dark eyes glimmered lightly in the low light. A feature of being a soulwatcher.

Jerrvo rested a heavy gauntlet hand on Allinna’s shoulder. His dark armor and skin made him a silhouette in the low light. A single dreadlock hung freely framing his face.

“Was I too hard on father?” Allinna asked, coming out of the pews.

“Perhaps, but Seph is often too hard on himself.” Jerrvo rumbled in a low voice.

“I don’t suppose you will help me run away?” Allinna asked, despite knowing the answer.

Vanryn smiled, her elegant angular face seemed more statuesque than flesh in the dim light. “I am surprised you haven’t tried to escape already.”

“She has.” Jerrvo laughed. “Hiding in the tool shed was not your best attempt.”

Allinna fell into Vanryn, such affection was too rich for her but she accepted it. Allinna turned to Jerrvo curiously, “why are you not with father.” She said holding Vanryn close.

“He asked me to stay with you. Gien is with him.”

Walking down the knave, Jerrvo stepped behind the two women, so they could walk with their arms embracing. Stepping out the three watched the western petals close around the sun. With the sun outside the hollow, the true weight of his sunmetal armor returned to him. Jerrvo did not grunt or show strain from it.

Crickets chirped softly, the night was cool. Allinna breathed. “At least the night is nice.” Even in the night, she felt the anticipation that the flowers were days away from bloom. Jerrvo held her arm as she stepped down the steep steps of Synall cathedral. The familiar sweetly acidic scent of Absarka bushes wafted to her. Allinna paused and picked one of the everblooms. “Isn’t there some play where the princess eats one to free her from marrying the man she does not love?”

Jerrvo grew warry. Allinna was just desperate enough, but surely not. He thought.

Vanryn narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She quickly read her soul rhythms. Though this was often considered an intrusion, they were close enough that Vanryn felt comfortable reading her without explicit consent. Sensing and reading the pulses of Allinna's inner spirit, Vanryn relaxed and waved a calming hand to Jerrvo. “Depending on who writes the tale, the man she loves disguises himself as something better to test her commitment.” Vanryn bit her tongue, holding back all she knew on the subject.

“Seems like a foolish thing to do.” Allinna said succinctly.

“The ancient writers were never subtle in their irony.” Vanryn paused, discerning how deep to delve into this topic.

“Wasn’t there a similar Absarka trial in Synall a while back?”

“Partially.” Vanryn took a long breath signaling she was preparing herself for the long response. “The wife had been accused of adultery, she drank the Absarka tea first. The judge deemed her true and was awarded the seed that saved her from the poison. The man of course died. The trial revealed that he had been bedding several of his male servants.”

Allinna clutched the flower in her palm.

Vanryn narrowed her eyes on her cousin. “I can gather what you are thinking. You have no trial over Halnt. Trust me when Halnt killed my mother I tried the same. I even got so far as brewing the tea before father stopped me.”

Jerrvo furrowed his brow curiously. The sundrops too light to fall to the ground cast just enough light to see. “You were only-”

“Fifteen yes.” Vanryn took the flower from Allinna. “I had nineteen pages of arguments. But my father was right. She had been the one to challenge the duel.”

Allinna had an accursed thought. She was not one for patricide but maybe it could free her. She raised the white flower to her eye.

“Don’t challenge your father.” Vanryn said, her voice low and commanding.

Allinna glared at the challenge. “Don’t read me.” She said strongly.

Vanryn stepped forward. Aghast at the acquisition. “I don’t need to. I know you enough to know what you’re thinking.”

Allinna scoffed. She thought of words to attack, but relented. These were people she loved wholly. Disgruntled, Allinna stepped on for a time, Vanryn and Jerrvo following her. The walk down the hill to the palace ballroom was a short walk away, but it felt like a continent she didn’t care to cross.

Jerrvo glanced around looking for places an ambush could spring from, though he had total confidence in the security of his men it helped to be suspicious. Hands clasped behind his back, Jerrvo broke the silence. “A few things daughter. Lekin is not his father, warrant him what he is worth.” He paused, his heavy boots and armor clambered in the night. “Our lives are short, and what we are responsible for lives past us.”

Allinna stepped purposefully, her feet hurting in her heels, and that lent her focus. “Duty is overrated, we ought to be free to make our own choices. Without the yolk of duty.”

“Perhaps.” Jerrvo’s armor clinked under his bassy voice. “I would say as one bound by duty his whole life, that duties do restrict and contain us. Yet they are the things that form us, create us and ultimately fulfill us.”

Allinna scoffed.

Vanryn said nothing. Allinna still scowled at her, she knew she was only working through the perfect words to say.

Jerrvo smiled his large toothy smile that enveloped his whole face. Allinna could never help but smile in return. “You are young. I am sure you have sacrificed unknowable amounts for Synall.” Jerrvo said with a hint of sarcasm.

Allinna crossed her arms. “I am about to.” For a moment she watched her dress plume under each step. If I ditch the heels I can probably out pace Jerrvo in his armor right now. But she knew that was a foolish fantasy. She would run, and then be found and be married at the same time tomorrow. Marriage was unavoidable, inevitable. Inevitability is chains. Allinna thought.

The open shutters around the ballroom glowed from the soulgem light inside. Two figures outlined by a haze of smoke sat on the steps. Another, Gien, stood far off in full plate. One of the hazy figures stood and removed a pipe from his mouth. Allinna knew from the height it was her father. The second figure Allinna knew by its stoutness, her uncle Amich Or-Ael.

“The people are waiting for you, princess.” Amich’s gruff voice called out.

“They will have to wait until the princess is ready, Amich.” Allinna said snarkily.

“Halnt is throwing chairs he’s so hungry!” Amich exclaimed. He turned to Sephren, “if he breaks the chandelier is that cause to execute him?”

The family joined in a small circle. Excluding Gyffli this was all that was left of the royal family of Synall. There were of course other lords and distant cousins, but after two generations of different kinds of strife these were what remained.

“Well.” Sephren said, at a loss for words.

“Let us celebrate an end of a war tonight. Not a marriage.” Amich said raspily. There were no cheers, but subdued nods of agreement were the only answer.

Sephren held his arm out for his daughter. She accepted it and he helped her up the steps.

Allinna spoke softly in his ear. “You are my father. I will love you, but I don’t accept what you are doing to me. I cannot, yet, give you my forgiveness.” She herself was surprised by the sudden feracity of them.

Sephren nodded curtly. That was enough forgiveness for him. Still his mind was in chaos. He had thought he lacked the gumption to act against Mauln Halnt, but now he didn’t care if he lacked the gumption. His daughter could not be bedded to the Tyrant’s blood. Sephren knew now that his cowardice had led him to take more drastic actions.