“It will be an adventure.”
He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. “I do so love you.”
Complete silence.
“Lily?” When she remained silent, alarm surged in Vyrl. She couldn’t have been hurt, not in the few moments—
“Hai, Vyrl,” she murmured. “And I do love you, too.”
He gulped, comprehending what he had done. Caught up in their predicament, he had spoken his love aloud for the first time. Embarrassed, he started to stutter, but she put her finger against his lips, rescuing him from the need to answer.
Vyrl tugged her close, and they sank down onto the rocky ground, wedged between Moonglaze and the wall. He wrapped his cloak around them both, drawing her inside the warmth. But when he tried to kiss her, she ducked her head.
“Lily, let me,” he coaxed. “We’ll be married tomorrow.”
“Goodness, be patient.” She stroked his cheek. “Would you have us grapple in a cold, hard blizzard instead of having a proper wedding night?”
Grappling with Lily anywhere sounded just fine to Vyrl, but he could tell this wouldn’t be right for her. So he made himself say, “I guess not.” He still held her close, though, settling her body against his.
For a while they just sat, listening to the storm. Vyrl imagined how the snow must look, drifted in great blue swells. Eventually he said, “Do you know, snow isn’t blue on other worlds.”
Lily stirred. “What color is it?”
“White.”
“White? How dull.”
He laughed. “Their clouds are white, too, or gray.”
“People must like coming here to have good water.”
“Actually, the water makes them sick.”
“But why? It tastes so good.”
He kissed her temple. “We have nanomeds in our bodies, little biological machines to deal with the impurities that turn our water blue. Our ancestors were engineered that way. Most people don’t have them. My mother had to receive treatments before she could live here.”
“It must be strange and wonderful, to live above the sky.” Her voice had an odd sound now, as if she feared her own questions. “Don’t you ever want to go there?”
“Not really.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.” Lowering his head, he slipped back the hood of her cloak and nibbled at her ear. “Everything I want is here.”
“Even if you could marry a great off-world queen?”
Ah. Now he understood. “Even then.”
Her relief flowed over him. “She does seem awfully old.”
He laughed. “I must seem awfully young to her.”
Mischief danced in Lily’s voice. “But you are so very fine, especially when you are falling over after running in the plains.”
Vyrl glowered. “I’m not clumsy.”
She snuggled closer. “If I tell you a secret, you must promise to tell no one.”
His interest picked up. “All right.”
“You aren’t clumsy.” With shyness, she added, “The way you move is, well…sexy.”
Heat spread through Vyrl. “Ah, Lily,” he murmured, trying to kiss her again, his hands searching for a way under her clothes.
“Now you stop that.” She thumped him on the head. “Behave yourself.”
He groaned. “You torment me.”
“You can’t tell anyone what I said.”
“All right,” he promised. “I won’t let anyone know that you like me. Certainly they will never guess. We’re only getting married, after all.”
“Even so.”
His good spirits faded as guilt gnawed at him. He owed it to Lily to tell her the truth about himself.
“Lily Opaline.” He spoke in his serious voice, but then paused, unsure how to continue. What if his secret disgusted her? She might not marry him. But she had a right to know before they took such an important step.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re so warm.”
“I have to tell you. You should know—about me…”
“Have you misbehaved?” Her laugh chimed. “Do tell.”
“I’m serious.” He wanted to tease her, to lose his worries in familiar banter, but he couldn’t. If he didn’t tell her now, he wasn’t sure he would have the courage later.
“You sound somber,” she said.
He forced out the words. “I’m not normal.”
She snorted. “Well, I know you’re not normal. I mean, really, I have never seen any boy eat as much as you do.”
Exasperated, he said, “Lily, I’m extremely serious here.”
“You sound terribly serious,” she said amiably.
There was nothing for it but to reveal the dreadful truth. “I dance.”
Silence.
“Lily?”
“You do what?”
“Dance.” He waved his arms around. “You know. I spin and kick and jump around to music.”
“But you can’t dance. Men don’t do that.”
“I know. But I do. Every morning I have at least three hours of class with my instructors. Often more.”
“Oh, that.” She laughed, relief in her mood. “Everyone knows you exercise a lot. It makes you strong, good with a sword.”
“Yes, well, ‘everyone’ doesn’t know all of it. Lily, I dance. Classical, mostly, but some modern and jazz.”
“What is jazz?”
“An art form from the world Earth.”
“You are making fun of me.”
“No. It’s true.” He stopped, unable to voice his next question. Will you still marry me? What if he repulsed her now?
She spoke uneasily. “I don’t like this game.”
“It isn’t a game.”
“Men don’t dance. Only women.” In a matter-of-fact voice, she added, “And, Vyrl, you are definitely not a woman.”
“No, I’m not. But I dance.” He shifted her in his arms. “Before my mother ran for election to the Assembly, she was a ballet dancer. Men among her people perform, too. No one thinks them strange.”
Lily was silent again. Apparently he had appalled her beyond speech. She kept her mind well guarded, shielding the worst of her revulsion. He hadn’t realized she could raise mental barriers that strong.
Finally she said, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Do you hate me now?”
“Hate you? Saints above, what a thing to ask.”
“Will you answer?”
“I could never hate you.” She sighed. “Although sometimes you do truly drive me crazy.”
He squinted at her. “You think I’m crazy?”
“Broadie Candleson told us once that he saw you spinning around, like you were dancing. We laughed at him.”
“I was dancing.” Vyrl felt as if he were poised at a chasm. “You haven’t answered me.”
Silence.
He couldn’t believe his stupidity. Why had he opened his fool mouth? If he had never said anything, and never danced again, she would have never known. Now he had lost her because he had to make his blasted declaration.
Lily spoke slowly. “You must have to hide it all the time, always watching everything you say and do.”
“Always.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Yes. Also my brothers and sisters.”
“But they never talk about it?”
“Not outside the family.” His brother Del-Kurj gave him a hard time, but only in private. In a family of empaths, it was too obvious to everyone how much it meant to Vyrl; they knew how deeply it would hurt him if they ruined his joy in dancing by letting people outside the family ridicule him.
He could sense her pondering, but the unusually strong guards around her mind made it impossible to judge how much his confession had repulsed her.
“Will you show me?” she asked.
He blinked, confused. “Show you what?”
“Your dancing.” She relaxed against him. “If you have trained so much, for
so many years, you must be very good.”
“Saints above.” Lily wasn’t hiding her revulsion. She didn’t feel it. That couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. Could it? In a voice tight with his fear of rejection, he asked, “Does that mean you will still marry me?”
She pressed her lips against his cheek. “I would marry you if you were a beggar in Tyrole, if we had to sit in the market pleading for food.”
He tried to answer, but his voice caught. So instead he held her tight, unable to speak.
“Uh…Vyrl.” Her words came out strained. “I can’t—breathe.”
Mortified, he loosened his grip. “Hai, what an idiot you fell in love with.”
Her laugh trilled, rippling over him like water. “You are a force of nature, Vyrl, sometimes stormy and sometimes sunny, your moods changing as fast as the wind, but you are most certainly never an idiot.”
Moisture threatened his eyes. Incredibly, she had learned his darkest secret and still chose him.
A nicker came out of the dark. Something nudged Vyrl, and he realized the lyrine was nuzzling him, its horn poking his arm. He scratched its head again. “She still wants me,” he told Moonglaze.
That night, huddled against the wall of a cliff, wrapped in a cloak, he slept for the first time in the arms of the woman he loved. He prayed it wouldn’t be the last. The storm had delayed their trip and tomorrow their parents would realize they had run away.
Then the search would start.
4
BARD OF EMERALDS
Moonglaze loped through the meadows at the foothills of the Backbone Mountains. The gray cliffs behind them wore cloaks of snow, but down here only a few patches of melting blue remained. Swaying reeds sparkled in the sun, topped with bubbles. Larger spheres dotted the meadows, vibrant in blue, red, purple, green, and gold, some floating off their stalks and drifting in the breeze. Every now and then one would pop, showering the ground with glimmering rainbow dust.
The lyrine raced out of the hills and into the Rillian Vales, stretching his long legs as if he would leave the ground and fly. Lily and Vyrl held on, exhilarated as fresh morning air rushed past their faces. His cloak whipped back from his shoulders and rippled behind them, a swath of blue in the sunshine that streamed across the land.
They thundered past the first villages. Unlike the Dalvador Plains, where houses were whitewashed and had colored roofs, here the entire structures were glowing hues: blue, green, ruby, or gold-stalk. Although Vyrl could have sought out the Bard in any village, he headed for Rillia itself, the largest city in the settled lands. The Bard in a small town might wonder why an unfamiliar young couple went to him rather than their own Bard, but in a large town with many visitors, it would be more natural.
However, going to Rillia also carried risk; Lord Rillia, who ruled both the Dalvador Plains and Rillian Vales, knew Vyrl’s father. As the Dalvador Bard, Vyrl’s father was the highest authority in the Plains, or at least as much an authority as their people accepted. He not only served Dalvador; he also presided over the Bards in the other Plains villages. But Lord Rillia held authority over all the Bards, including Vyrl’s father.
The Bards acted as judges and mediators, performed marriages, officiated at naming ceremonies, and recorded the history of their people in ballads. Vyrl’s father had a glorious baritone, a voice Vyrl loved to hear. Every village also had a Memory. She recorded current events in her mind, performed rites of celebration at festivals, and served as a scholar in the women’s temple, where acolytes learned and stored knowledge. Together, the Memory and Bard formed the government of a village.
This morning, Vyrl watched the skies constantly, fearing to see a flash of gold-and-black metal. He had “neglected” to tell Lily that before he had shown up at her house last night, he had gone to the starport—and sabotaged the shuttle. Lily would chide him when she found out, but even so, it had needed doing. His tampering wouldn’t hold off pursuit for long, only until the port staff repaired the shuttle or the military sent down another from the ships in orbit, but Vyrl and Lily didn’t need long. Only today.
They reached the city of Rillia in late morning. It was large enough to need several Bards, none of whom Vyrl had met. He chose one who lived on the city outskirts in a green-stalk house that glowed like an emerald. As Moonglaze trotted into the courtyard, Lily twisted around to look up at Vyrl, her eyes as huge as a colt startled by a loud noise.
He cupped his hand around her cheek. “Shall we go in?”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes. Let’s.”
He swung off Moonglaze, his cloak swirling, his booted feet landing with a thump on the ground. Then he helped Lily off the powerful lyrine. A towheaded boy came into the yard and waited to take Moonglaze back to the glasshouse, to be tended and fed. Vyrl gave the boy two turquoise stones for his trouble. Although the youth was only a few years younger than Vyrl and Lily, he treated them as if they were adults.
Moonglaze, however, nickered when the boy tried to lead him away. Then the lyrine nudged Vyrl’s shoulder, pushing him toward Lily.
“See?” Vyrl grinned at her. “He knows.”
She patted the animal’s head. “You’re a good lyrine, Moon. You go ahead. We will be fine.”
Moonglaze snorted, then shook his head and turned away. He walked regally past the boy, his horns held high, his violet coat glossy in the sunlight. The youth hurried after him and grabbed his reins, trying to look as if he were leading the great lyrine instead of the other way around.
Vyrl held his hand out to Lily, and she put her small one in his large grip. Together, they walked to the Bard’s door.
Flames flickered within jade lamps, and candles burned around the chamber, filling it with radiance. Vyrl, Lily, the Bard, and the Bard’s wife had crowded into the circular room. The Memory stood by the curving emerald wall, her green robe brushing the floor; with her holographic memory, she was recording the ceremony, every word and promise, and images as well.
Vyrl stood facing Lily, holding her hands and gazing down at her face. She filled his sight, her pretty face tilted up to him, a wreath of silvery-green fronds and gold bubbles braided into her hair.
The Bard continued in his mellow voice. “May the love you share fill your lives, and that of your children, grandchildren, and more, keeping alive the line of your heart.”
Guided by his words, Vyrl and Lily promised their lives to each other. Then the Bard sang for them, his lustrous tenor filling the chamber, his words graceful in their evocation of love under the Blue and Lavender Moons.
Vyrl’s thoughts overflowed with Lily. No matter where their life took them after today, he had found his home, not in a place but in the heart of this girl he had loved his entire life.
The Bard and his wife accompanied Lily and Vyrl into the courtyard. While they waited for the boy to bring Moonglaze, Vyrl scanned the heavens and was relieved to see nothing unusual, no metallic glints, just the normal lavender sky and blue clouds.
The Bard pointed out a half-finished tower that rose above the roofs of the town. “The metal-works needs laborers for the new building they are raising.” He glanced kindly at Vyrl. “A big, strong fellow like yourself could earn a place to live, meals for your family, and stones for trade.”
His wife smiled at Lily, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “They’re needing counters, too. Always looking for a girl with a sharp mind to keep records. It could be a fine start for a young couple.”
Their good-natured concern touched Vyrl. “We thank you, kind lady and sir.” Lily murmured similar sentiments. Vyrl wished they could lead the simple life these fine people envisioned for them, setting up a home with no worries beyond food, shelter, and children. “Perhaps when we return, we will visit the metal-works boss.”
The Bard chuckled. “Ah, I am too old. What newlyweds want to start work the day of their marriage, eh?” He paused as the boy came around the house leading Moonglaze. Then he asked, “Where be you off to now?”
“
We aren’t sure,” Lily admitted. “We’re traveling.”
Moonglaze walked grandly up to them, watching Vyrl first with one large eye, then the other, turning his head to give himself a good view. The lyrine growled deep in his throat.
“What ho?” Vyrl scratched him behind his horn. “Are you angry with me?”
Moonglaze nickered, mollified by the attention. He butted Lily’s arm, pushing her against Vyrl.
The Bard laughed. Then he slapped Vyrl on the back. “Off with you, eh? You two go have your time together.”
“My thanks, good sir.” Vyrl was pleased to find Moonglaze had been well tended and the backpack was still secure in the travel bags. Excellent! He swung up onto the animal, relishing the motion, his body thrumming with energy. Reaching down, he helped Lily up in front of him. Then he hugged her hard, leaning his head around to kiss her cheek.
“A safe journey to you,” the Bard called up to them.
The Bard’s wife started to speak, then paused. Although Vyrl couldn’t pick up emotions from other people as well as he did from his family, he sensed her turning over ideas much as he might glimpse a wisp of mist curling through glass-stalk trees.
She spoke thoughtfully to her husband. “I have some concerns about our cabin. With no one to look after it, the place lies empty and unattended. Who knows what might happen?”
“Ah, so, this is true.” The Bard considered Lily and Vyrl up on Moonglaze. “Then again,” he continued, as if speaking to his wife even though he was looking at his guests, “perhaps we may convince some nice young couple to spend a few days looking after the place.”
Vyrl hesitated. His first impulse was to decline; the future was too uncertain for them to take on new responsibilities. But his empath’s mind felt their intent, like a meadow creek burbling with goodwill. They were offering their secluded cabin so he and Lily could spend their wedding night in safety and warmth instead of sleeping in the forest.
“Lily?” Vyrl asked in a barely audible voice.
“Yes,” she murmured, understanding his unspoken question.
Vyrl nodded to the Bard and his wife, letting his gratitude show. “We would be honored, gentle lady and sir, to look after your cabin for a few days.”