Elnor's mood hadn't improved. The sting of that morning's humiliating session lasted well into the afternoon and carried on until evening. He hardly saw Julene. They both got caught up in the day's chores and Sanctuary routine, hardly speaking a word to each other.
Upon observing his gloomy behavior, Zani sent Elnor out to run errands at the market. Naturally, that meant their guest couldn't come with him. As he passed the Social Club, their suspicion, that Adrev was up to no good, was reinforced.
The gang leader looked up from his game of zhamaq. "Jolan true, young Elnor."
Elnor returned a barely civil nod.
Adrev flashed a devious smirk, as though he knew something the young warrior did not. Elnor narrowed his eyes back in warning. Like everyone else, the older man knew the consequences of challenging the Qowat Milat.
Unmoved, Adrev turned back to his fellow players and revealed the dagger of death card, winning the round. His evil laugh echoed down the street.
Elnor continued on toward the market in a huff. He hurried through Zani's list of tasks and returned before dusk.
Julene once again helped him clean up after supper. It was as if the night already passed and the suns dawned to bring cheer back to his life. He hadn't smiled all day, but now he found himself laughing while they sloshed around suds and water.
She hummed during the lulls in their conversation, and he recognized the same tune as when they'd playfully splashed each other at the riverside. Only a few days had passed since then, and yet so much happened.
"What's that song?" he asked.
"Oh, some old Irish ballad we used to sing when we were kids."
"I thought you sing in French?"
"Breton," she corrected. "We borrow words from French, but it's not the same. And actually, I'm more Basque than Breton."
He wasn't interested in the nuances of Terran cultures. "It would fill my heart with joy to hear you sing this Irish ballad."
She gazed outside past the sheer curtains toward the waterfalls plummeting down the cliff. Her golden voice filled the kitchen space.
The gypsy rover came over the hill
Down through the valley so shady
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.
He blinked. "Your voice is beautiful, Julie. Why did you stop?"
"You have to sing the chorus with me," she insisted. "And I'll sing the verses."
"As you wish."
Ah-dee-doo
Ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo
Ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.
He followed along as best he could, trying to make sense of the ridiculous words as he committed them to memory.
She left her father's castle gate
She left her own fine lover
She left her servants and estate
To follow her gypsy rover.
Elnor's face felt hot. After that second verse, he welcomed the non-nonsensical chorus, thankful for an escape from communicating the rush of emotion those lyrics stirred within him.
Light from the candles danced in her hair, the color of polished brass. He admired her pleasing features, all the while imagining himself as the gypsy rover – and Julie running away with him, far from Vashti and everything they knew.
Her father saddled up his fastest steed
Roamed the valleys all over
He sought his daughter at great speed
And the whistling gypsy rover.
He came at last to a mansion fine
Down by the river Claydee
And there was music
And there was wine
For the gypsy and his lady.
"He is no gypsy, my Father," she cried
"But Lord of these lands all over
And I shall stay 'til my dying day
With my whistling gypsy rover."
Ah-dee-doo
Ah-dee-doo-dah-day
Ah-dee-doo
Ah-dee-day-dee
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.
Emboldened by the song lyrics, Elnor decided it high time to find out more information about Tristan. He'd already asked her if she was going to marry the prince and she'd said no.
It wasn't that Elnor didn't believe her. She'd answered to the best of her knowledge. But there must be more to the situation. He needed to delve deeper and judge for himself how things truly stood.
"He is the son of Guenevere, the High Queen of Nua Breizh. Her only son," Julie explained. "She loved a Romulan soldier, but their marriage was forbidden."
"Because he's a Romulan?"
"Because he's a commoner. In fact, I've heard it whispered that my father intended to marry her."
While this wasn't what he wished to hear, he checked his displeasure and waited for the rest of the story. "What changed?" He busied himself by stacking the dried plates.
"Lord Bochra," she searched her memory, "he was a commander then – liberated Nua Breizh from the Dominion. He disobeyed his orders from the Empire to do it, because he was in love with Guenevere. It was the only way they would be allowed to marry."
"There must have been other conditions," he probed.
She nodded. "Theirs is a morganatic marriage. And so, Tristan can never be king."
Elnor shook his head. "It still sounds like prejudice to me. Believe me, I see it here almost every day."
They'd finished the dishes and she sat down on one of the stools. "Perhaps there's some truth in what you say," she considered. "I don't make the rules."
Elnor lifted a brow. "But some day you will?" he ventured.
She nodded slowly. "The duty to lead our people will one day fall upon my shoulders," she admitted.
He sensed her reluctance. She didn't want him to know that. It was as though a dark cloud had descended upon the room. He tried to push past his disappointment and take a diplomatic approach. "I'm glad you told me the truth. But why didn't you want to tell me?"
"Because you already look at me like I'm some kind of porcelain doll on a pedestal." She turned away. "I just want to you to see me as an ordinary girl with some resemblance of a normal life."
He didn't know what porcelain was, but he understood the gist of her meaning well enough. "I can't do that." He moved around to see her face and smiled as he tried to catch her sea green eyes. "Even if you weren't a princess, you're anything but ordinary."
His attempt to charm didn't lighten her mood. She was pouting. "Don't mistake my meaning. It was a compliment."
She at last met his gaze, though she still appeared doubtful.
"If you knew how much I think about you, Julie, I'd be very embarrassed."
Finally, that made her smile. Her cheeks glowed. Dare he hope she thought about him as much?
He didn't get the chance to ask her. A soft gong sounded in the main area, calling everyone to the evening chants. Life in the Sanctuary passed by a strict schedule, though Elnor noticed of late that the sisters had relaxed those regulations for him.
The community filed into the temple. Elnor took his normal place among the sisters. He was happy to see Julie sit down behind him to watch the nightly ceremony. Zani kindled the incense and led their sacred incantations. Sweet smoke wafted through the temple, rolling past painted columns and out to the settlement below their mighty tree's roots.
As he intoned the familiar hymns, Elnor's mind returned to the imaginary scene by the river Claydee. He pictured himself and Julie having a picnic on soft emerald grass with music and wine. They admired the rolling valleys of Ireland and laughed together. He was a roving gypsy, and Julie the noble lady who ran away with him.
Why not? he asked himself. Am I less worthy than a soldier of the old Empire?
Zap!
The next few moments seemed to pass in a daze of disruptor fire and yelling. Green blood spurted everywhere amidst flashes of steel.
Tristan thought he must have blacked out. The last thing he remembered was the intense pain in his chest. He gasped for air like a fish hurled out of water.
Some time passed, though how much he couldn't guess.
Paol's face blurred into focus. "Are you alright, my prince?"
Dry, dusty air burned into his lungs, causing him to cough. At least now he could breathe. "What the hell just happened?" he croaked, as soon as he could speak.
"I saved you, Your Highness," said a feminine voice outside of his vision.
He cricked his neck to find a Qowat Milat nun crouched next to Herve, peering down at him. So, he hadn't imagined her. Glancing around, he saw two of the bandits on the ground, smothered in blood and still as death. The others must have fled.
"I am Latra," she said. "Those were Tenqem Adrev's gangsters. They meant to kidnap you for ransom."
"I gathered that. We're in your debt, Sister Latra." He rolled over onto his knees. Then his heart skipped a beat. "My cousin, Julene?"
"The princess is well. Adrev did threaten her, and we've confined her to the Sanctuary for her safety. We suspected he might pursue you instead, and I followed you here."
He got to his feet with Paol's support. Fear for his cousin's life turned to rage. "I'll kill him..."
"That will only put you both in greater danger," Latra warned. "Adrev has powerful friends, not the least of which is Kar Kantar. I would advise you to repair your ship and leave Vashti as soon as possible."
