Torgan Wine Ch. 20

When they reached the Torgan Princes, she almost didn't realize it. They were waiting in the long stone chamber Draeseth had referred to as the gatehouse, but she and Onsh were on the other side of the stonework she had admired. Both Princes looked more angry than surprised.

"I... uhhmm-"

Draeseth didn't give her time to attempt to muddle through. "He insisted you stay for dinner and stay the night."

"Yes."

"You didn't argue." He scowled at her.

"I do not argue with Dagas." She tilted her head amending her statement, "Unless they are being not so nice."

"He insisted nicely?" The Torgan narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something else. Burgath took hold of his arm hissing something inaudibly at him and he closed it for a moment looking to Onsh-Lothlaerith. "She is bound to me. You will get nothing from her."

In Aran he reminded her with a pained look, "You are exclusive to me, Isonei. Do not forget."

"I will not. It is important."

He stepped closer to the stonework. "I will trust you to keep your word, and if you wish to leave them in the night we are not far. It is called The Spear and Flail, the sign bears the weapons." Nodding, she reached her hand through and he bent to kiss her fingers with a faint smile. "Tomorrow we cross into Torga. Come to me when you are released in the morning."

She glanced to Onsh and quietly corrected him in Aran, "You make it sound as if I'm being held prisoner. He politely insisted and I accepted the invitation. He's very sweet."

"You also think my brother sweet, Lady Isonei."

"He can be." She gave Burgath a pointed look and Draeseth made a pleased sound in his throat.

"If she does not come out to us in the morning, Onsh-Lothlaerith, we will return to enjoy your hospitality again." Draeseth's words could have been polite, if not for the almost threatening tone. He pressed another kiss to the backs of her fingers and released her hand. "Sleep well."

"Sleep well." Isonei drew her hand back.

"You've spoken to them as you wished, now, it's time to dress for dinner." Onsh took the hand that Draeseth hadn't kissed and walked purposefully toward the door they had come through. The sound of Draeseth growling something in Torgan followed them into the corridor.

"He doesn't like you in Lerian gowns." Onsh glanced at her as they walked. "You let him choose your clothes. Why?"

"It uhhmm it pleases him and uhhmm..." She shook her head and sighed lapsing into Aran, "It seems to make him terribly happy, and I don't mind it. The dresses are pretty. And warm, something I'm coming to appreciate."

"The daughter of Liadith should have more steel in her."

"My Daga says I'm loyal and loving, but so soft that I require a match who is hard and unyielding. It's apparently a very difficult task. Only Draeseth seems to be-"

"He is not worthy." Onsh released her hand and pulled his hair back, "How can you allow-"

"I'm not going to allow you to insult him. I see things in him that no one else seems to. And he sees things in me that you clearly don't. Where you see only faults he sees someone he loves and wants to protect."

"I see more than faults, daughter of Liadith." Something in his eyes seemed to dull. "You dislike me?"

"No, if I did I would be avoiding you."

His short exhale almost sounded like a soft laugh but there was no smile on his face. "How could you do that in this house?"

"Thank you for your time, I won't take up any more of it. Would you be so kind as to have a servant attend me in your stead?" Her tone was frosted honey.

Onsh's lips parted; he looked as though he'd been struck and didn't know where the blow had come from.

"You asked." Isonei couldn't keep the satisfied smirk off of her face. "In Aran I can do it easy."

"I see why they let you speak it." He looked almost amused for a moment. "Your room is this way, little blossom."

"Little blossom?" She asked with amusement, "You're being charming?"

"I can be charming." He took her hand again and pulled her forward. "And you're deceptive like a little thorned blossom."

"How? I don't pretend I can't speak languages that I can." Isonei teased him, "And I usually refrain from poking people."

"Which makes the sting worse." His eyes shimmered as if there were a fire behind them. "And I don't speak Aran. Pretending not to understand gives me an advantage."

"And somehow I'm the deceptive one, clever nightingale?" She watched the flush creep up his grey cheeks as he led her hurriedly through the labyrinthian house.

"Here. This will be your room." The way he spoke she thought she must have accidentally insulted him. He pushed the door open on the small suite of rooms. The windows along the outer wall were open as if it were being aired, letting in the cold evening air, and the strangely heavy looking drapes were wide.

Isonei shivered, hugging her arms to herself as the wind blew in, but approached the windows nonetheless. The view was breathtaking, the rooftop gardens of the city below were laid out before her and the last rays of sunlight lingered over the rolling fields stretching out past it toward the forest. "Lovely."

"You're cold; we should close the windows and the drapes." Onsh-Lothlaerith began closing the windows, but when he reached for the drapes she stopped him.

"Leave them open, it's such a strikingly beautiful view."

"The wind will slip through the cracks and chill you, little blossom. You hands are already..." He touched her hand and his felt almost hot.

"You are warm!"

"You're like ice." Onsh began roughly rubbing her arms and shoulders.

An older servant appeared from one of the rooms and began pulling the drapes. "Daga Lothlaerith suggested a winter gown; and airing the rooms."

"Can one be open? Outside is lovely. I have a cloak." She frowned in disappointment as the drapes were pulled against her wishes.

"The drapes can be opened in the morning. We are going to go to dinner when you've changed, and it will be dark when you return to your room. You won't get to enjoy the view but you would have to endure the cold." Onsh's face had softened almost to a look of pleasure.

Isonei grudgingly let him lead her to the room the servant had come out of. A rather small but comfortable looking bedroom was behind the partially closed door. Aside from the bed there was only one other piece of furniture, but it was enormous. On one end a basin stand was built into the large wooden oddity. She ran her fingers over the large, plain, wooden doors.

"What is it?"

"A closet. Clothes hang inside; there is some space for other items..."

She opened a door curiously. The inside was empty except for a few hanging sachets, and surprisingly her cloak, but it smelled strongly of flowers and herbs. On the inside of the door Onsh opened for her, as she closed hers, a mirror was held by leather straps. "Clever!"

"The dress may be a little large, Lady Isonei." The servant came in with a brown gown and small flowers in the color of Lothlaerith stitched around the bust and wrists of the long sleeves. "It was made for Daga Lothlaerith's wife some years ago." The man sounded almost apologetic.

"I know I am small." She smiled at the man warmly. "I have not seen uhhmm..." Remembering some words was far harder than it should be and the word for long sleeves escaped her.

"My mother... is in the crypts." Onsh looked pained and Isonei touched his arm comfortingly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Isonei paused a moment and he looked at her curiously.

"That wasn't what you were asking."

"No. I can't remember the word for long sleeves. Every Lerian dress I've worn has bared the shoulders and the sleeves were open in the middle and loose."

His face briefly returned to the default displeased expression he'd been wearing for most of her visit. "Summer dresses. You've only worn summer dresses."

"My father never let me stay for the rain; I haven't been in Leria when it was cold."

"This isn't cold yet... just brisk." His lips twitched. "What do you wear in Ara in the winter?"

Plucking at her Torgan gown, she answered, "This is much warmer than my warmest Aran gown. I thought Torgans must all be suffocating under the layers. I'd offer to show you the gowns my father sent with me but they're on the other carts, I think." She remembered how unhappy Draeseth had been to have the painting unpacked. Showing any of her gowns would probably upset him even worse.

"Don't be concerned for the Torgan's anger. I won't allow him to take it out on you." Onsh's green eyes burned, the shifting shades strongly resembling bewitching green flames.

It took a moment before she remembered she should reply to him. "He wouldn't. His anger isn't something I need to be afraid of."

"Your eyes are so pale, soft polished steel with the barest hint of blue-green beneath it." His hands moved up her arms as he stepped closer.

The patiently waiting servant was joined by a maid. The realization of other people in the room was enough to break Onsh's burning gaze.

"I will... I will leave you to dress." He left quickly and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

°°°°°°°°°°

The dress had been decidedly too long but whoever had made it had done so cleverly. It had been easy for the maid to shorten the skirt at the waist, the sleeves however were bunched because she couldn't bear to tuck the pretty flowers under to shorten and smooth them.

The neckline could almost have been Aran if there hadn't been two broad strips of gauzy cream colored cloth sewn to the bust that crossed and encircled the neck. The dress was lighter than the heavy Torgan gown, and when the maid noticed the coldness of her hands her cloak was pulled from the closet. While she waited for it, the maid brushed her hair and put it into a style similar to that she'd worn at the Daga Liadith and Arissa's ceremony days before. The top instead of smooth, however, had two Lerian fishtail braids flat against her head.

When she was ready, with her warm cloak on, she found Onsh-Lothlaerith back at her door wearing the clothes she expected of an Onsh. The flowing sleeves in his family's blood-like blue-green and the jerkin with the same stitching were very striking on him lending his eyes a stunning tinge of blue. It also looked as if he'd managed to straighten his slightly wavy hair letting it hang down sleekly.

"You look handsome and properly like Onsh-Lothlaerith."

"That you can say without stumbling?" He gave her an annoyed look.

Isonei laughed and nodded reaching out to touch the stitching on his jerkin, "That I can say."

"Did you practice it while you dressed?" Onsh took her hand and began to lead her through the corridors.

"No, I said uhhmm something like to my Daga." His hand was still much warmer than hers and it felt nice.

He paused and looked at her curiously, "What did you say to him?"

"First?"

His head tilted slightly.

"First, I said he looked handsome as the statues. Then he," she gestured to her face and imitated Daga Liadith's irked expression, narrowing her eyes.

Onsh smiled almost shyly. "And then?"

"Then he said 'Do you mean I look handsome and properly like a Daga?' I say, yes! You look handsome and properly like a Daga, as the statues." Isonei moved her hand over her face again and made her Daga's annoyed face.

"What did he look like before?" The man almost sounded like he was teasing.

"He asked! I say-"

"Said."

"I said, sometimes like Onsh-Liadith."

"Was he offended?" Onsh-Lothlaerith looked at her in surprise.

"No. He said, sometimes he feels like Onsh-Liadith but uhhmm before the ceremony he felt very much like Daga Liadith. It suits him." Isonei straightened and put her fingers against her breastbone, "Very proud. Very handsome."

"I look proud and handsome as Onsh-Lothlaerith should?" He came to a complete stop and turned to face her.

"Yes!" She touched his sleeve at the shoulder and then ran her fingers down the stitching on his chest. "It suits."

His bewitching eyes began to burn again, but instead of holding her gaze transfixed they dropped to her cloak and the gown beneath it. A pained expression passed over his face, "Why did you not bring any of your scarlet gowns, daughter of Liadith? I would see you dressed as you should be... Walk with you dressed as you should be."

Isonei hesitated; perhaps it was a good thing they had been left at home. "My Draeseth finds them provocative. He-"

A string of words that sounded Lerian but weren't recognizable to her slipped out of his mouth as he turned away, his face falling back into the displeased expression he'd given up almost entirely since Draeseth had left.

"I don't know those words."

"They are not words the Onsh-Lothlaerith should be using in your presence." Daga Lothlaerith's stern voice came from a staircase beside them. "Some of them are accurate, however. I wish to know how an uncommonly lovely creature became bound to..." His mouth twisted bitterly.

"The Beast of Kroscur?" She ruefully volunteered. "He isn't a beast, or a brute, he's sweet and incredibly charming when he wishes to be."

"And when he doesn't wish to be?" The Daga took her hand and walked with her further down the corridor.

"Then... he can be easily mistaken for one."

The Daga snorted softly. "How did this happen?"

"The Festival of Maeralya. We both attended the royal masquerade."

"That is when and where. I asked how it came to be."

"I was being pursued by someone who refused to accept a polite rejection. Draeseth saw me trying to find a place to hide from him and offered to take me under his cloak. He frightened off my pursuer by drawing himself up and rolling back his shoulders."

"He protected you, and you were grateful?"

"Of course, but that isn't why I drank with him or why I stayed in the morning. He was so..." Isonei laughed quietly and shook her head. "He thought that if I drank from his vessel I would be required to bed him and he didn't want that. It was incredibly sweet. After we drank, we went to his room to talk."

"And he persuaded you to stay in the morning... with only words?" Daga Lothlaerith looked at her dubiously.

"No." She remembered to try to use a little Lerian but switched back immediately. "When we took off our masks he changed his mind about going to bed almost immediately."

"Of that I have no doubt." They entered a small warm room holding a low table surrounded by cushions and a well stoked fire behind a decorative grating at one end. "The family dining room."

"You honor me with this privilege." Isonei smiled and thanked him in Lerian, "Thank you Daga Lothlaerith."

"You honor us with your presence." He lowered himself onto the cushions at the head of the table and gestured for her to sit next to him.

She tried to sit gracefully, looking at the table with interest as Onsh sat across from her.

"Your Daga uses an Aran style table?"

"I suppose he does, I didn't know there was a Lerian style table."

"They're becoming almost Aran near the southern border." He frowned. "Some traditions should be kept."

Tilting her head she decided to tease him. "If it eases your mind they do still serve the little bite sized foods you have to eat with your fingers. That's not Aran."

His lips curved crookedly and his green eyes glinted with amusement, "Do they? Tell me; what are your favorite foods, daughter of Liadith?"

"These tiny roasted onions with tart cheese in them, and my Daga used to make these little bites with spiced ground lamb and goat cheese topped with soured cream, garlic, and mint. But his venison was the best I think, it has this earthy sweet, smoky taste and it melts in the mouth." She couldn't help but smile thinking about it. "But Aran food is good too, my father's favorite foods are oysters and scallops and I adore them, but mussels and clams... anything you do with them is good."

"Freshwater mussels?" Onsh asked with interest.

"They grow in freshwater too?" Isonei sat up straighter in surprise. It drew a smile from Onsh and a soft laugh from the Daga.

"They do. Onsh-Lothlaerith enjoys them." He lifted his hand and what she would consider a small bowl of mussels in a thin sauce was brought along with plates and finger bowls.

The plates and bowls were only set in front of her and Onsh. Looking at the Daga with concern earned her a smile. "I don't eat them." He sipped his wine. "Tell me how is Lady Arissa?"

"She's well. I'm expecting a letter any day now insisting I elaborate on the gift I gave them." Isonei grinned impishly and then watched studiously how Onsh dished out his own mussels.

"Something baffles you, daughter of Liadith?"

Her lips twisted ruefully, "In Ara they're served to you. I'm trying to pay attention to how he served himself from the bowl so I don't make a mess."

"It would be a pleasure if you allowed me to fill your plate in your Daga's absence." Daga Lothlaerith gave her a warm smile. "And it will allow you to tell me of the gift you gave that requires elaboration."

Isonei passed the larger of the plates to him gratefully and tried not to laugh. "I'm not certain how appropriate my gift is to discuss over the dinner table. It was several pages of instructions, suggestions, and drawings."

The older man began to laugh but when she looked at Onsh he looked vaguely confused.

"Instructions?"

"Did you learn anything new while you were putting it together?" The Daga teased.

"I learned a new word that my Daga says I'm not allowed to say." She began to laugh as the Daga covered his eyes. "He was teasing Arissa because she wouldn't say the word even though I had drawn one, and I just repeated it." He looked at her with amusement lighting his eyes. "That was when he said I can't say that word because his father would find a way to thrash him if I did."

Daga Lothlaerith laughed again passing her plate back filled with mussels. "Now that she's able to freely learn about these things with her Daga, you still expect her ask for more instruction?"

"I do. She likes to excel. I'm not sure if my Daga knows what he's gotten himself into. Arissa seemed very concerned about doing it right no matter how many times I told her there isn't one right way." Unfastening her cloak, she let it fall and pool around her.

"Mm. Lots of repetition is required to be certain of such things." His green eyes sparkled mischievously.

"It may be months before she lets him do anything else." Isonei put on an expression of mock dismay, "I hope she lets him eat."

The older man's face split in a broad grin, "That reminds me of my own match, I barely survived the first six months."

Laughing she rinsed her fingers and started on her mussels, plucking the meat from one and using the shell as tweezers to pluck the meat from another. "These are good." She gave Onsh a bright smile, the younger man was focused on his food with a sour expression and for a moment she didn't think he would respond.