Oria's Gambit by Jeffe Kennedy

him for that.”
    “ Then the two of you can sit around and
console each other when I do the summoning.”
    Chuffta tsked at her. “Such
temper.”
    “ This isn’t exactly the best day of my
life,” she snapped at her Familiar—and then felt bad about it.
Just as she had when she’d used Lonen’s buried pain to punish him.
She’d thought she’d been handling all the changes and challenges so
well, but then she combusted into a ball of emotion. Having to
ruthlessly suppress any hint of grien—and maintain the façade of hwil —around the temple priests and priestesses strained her
fragile control even more. Still she didn’t need to be full of
self-pity. This path had been her idea. She started to apologize to
Chuffta, then remembered Lonen’s chiding about how she apologized
too often, and stopped herself.
    But that left her at a loss. How was she
supposed to never apologize for anything?
    “ Maybe by not doing anything worth
apologizing for in the first place.” It could have sounded
huffy, but Chuffta said it like a peace offering, his tail a
comforting bracelet around her wrist.
    They entered one of the smaller temple ritual
spaces, simple and sacrosanct, even though it might not be as grand
as the main sanctuary where she would have celebrated her
temple-blessed marriage, had it not been for Lonen.
    Of course, before the Destrye came, she’d
been nowhere near attaining her mask, so a temple-blessed ceremony
had remained a distant ambition. Important to keep that firmly in
mind.
    Febe positioned the two of them before the
altar, waited for Lonen to unstrap his axe from his back,
instructed them to kneel, then retreated behind the altar. Lonen
looked about, then laid the axe by his left hand. To Oria’s
surprised pleasure, Febe did not banish Chuffta. The temple honored
the derkesthai in general, though their relationship to the temple
hierarchy tended to be more like Grienon’s rapid passage through
the skies, his phases ever shifting, now brightly present, then
abruptly gone. To Oria, her Familiar was like Sgatha, ever present,
looming large in her mind.
    Much as Lonen did, occupying her senses and
attention. It would be welcome when he finally departed, giving her
some peace of mind again. Mental quiet had never been her forte,
but the man had a knack for agitating her.
    As the High Priestess assembled her tools,
saying prayers over the various unguents, consecrating the wine to
Sgatha, the grains to Grienon, Lonen spoke to Oria under his
breath.
    “How does this go?”
    “I don’t know.” She kept her reply barely
audible, but the Destrye warrior was not so easily put off.
    “How can you not know?”
    “I’ve never seen the ceremony. It’s always
private. Now, shh.”
    He didn’t like that answer, his energy
restive and seeking. “You could have warned me,” he had to mutter,
which unfortunately made her want to laugh. Exercising firm
resolve, she managed not to, but the mask was what saved her from
exposing the amusement so not appropriate to a nobly resigned
captive bride.
    “ Maybe not the worst day of your life
either,” Chuffta noted in the idle tone he liked to use to
tease her.
    “ You hush, too.”
    “Take a moment to meditate,” High Priestess
Febe intoned. “Clear your minds. Settle your emotions. Seek hwil in your hearts and contemplate the step you take today,
with Sgatha and Grienon as your witnesses.”
    Oria folded her hands together and bowed her
head, stilling her sgath so it pooled peacefully, creating the
appearance of deep meditation.
    “ Would you like me to lead you into a true
meditative trance?”
    “ Not now, thank you. I’d rather have my
wits about me.”
    “ Done correctly, meditation should result
in greater alertness through a relaxed and open mind.”
    “ Yes, well, we’ve established that I’m
terrible at meditating. Leave me alone. It’s my wedding
day.”
    Chuffta snorted at that, but let it go.
    “What are we supposed to be doing?”