Ferus : Book 6 of the Heku Series (39 page)

“Em, put your hood on,”
Kyle said. She heard his voice but wasn’t sure which one was
him.

“Oh right… I’m sure the
hood will help hide the fact that I’m not heku,” she said, and
pulled up her hood. “Like the height won’t give it
away.”

Chevalier chuckled, “Just keep it up.”

“Can you make these any hotter? I’m naked
under here and still cooking.”

“What?” Dustin asked, shocked.

“I’m kidding…” she said, grinning. “Where do
I stand?”

“Beside Chevalier,” she heard Zohn say.

Emily scanned the tall figures in green
robes and sighed, “If I’ve ever slept with you, raise your
hand.”

Chevalier chuckled and put his hand out,
“Over here…”

Emily took his hand and
stood beside him. Six members of the Cavalry moved to stand behind
the row of heku, and she heard the fans kick on, ones that were
installed when she was pregnant to keep her scent from the
audience. She looked out over the crowd and the faces all turned,
staring at her. She caught sight of Lord and Lady Thukil and broke
out of the line, then jumped off the stage and ran toward them,
throwing her arms around Lady Thukil.

“I’m so glad to see you!”
Emily said, and then hugged Lord Thukil.

Dustin cleared his throat, “We aren’t to
leave the platform.”

“Shut up, Dustin,” Quinn said,
irritated.

“Good to see you too,
Dear,” Lord Thukil said, and then whispered. “I don’t think it’s
customary for you to leave the others though.”

“They’ll live, how have
you been?” she asked, ignoring the eyes on her.

“Good, and you?” Lady Thukil asked, smiling
widely.

“Child, they’re waiting to
start,” Lord Thukil said nervously.

Emily finally turned and
went back up the stairs and stood by Chevalier. The robe was
swelteringly hot and with the lights on the Council, she thought
she might faint.

The doors at the end of
the great hall opened and everyone turned to look. The former Elder
stepped in wearing a blue robe. Emily tried to see what he looked
like, but wasn’t able to from this distance.

Quinn stepped forward, and
his voice boomed through the great hall. Emily sighed when he spoke
in Latin, and resigned herself to another ceremony she wouldn’t be
able to understand. After a few minutes, Quinn stepped back with
the others and Camber began to walk toward them.

Emily could tell he was
tall, even for a heku, and his muscles were bulging from under the
robe. He had massive broad shoulders, long brown hair that was tied
back into a single low ponytail, and a brown goatee. He looked
angry at something, and his mere presence made the audience stir
uneasily.

When he got to the stairs
for the stage, he stopped, and Chevalier began to speak. Emily
shifted uncomfortably as Cambers eyes fell to her and he frowned
slightly. Chevalier stopped speaking and Zohn began, again in
Latin, yet the former Elder’s eyes never left Emily. She felt
herself starting to panic. She knew he couldn’t see her face, but
his eyes bore into her and his angry expression deepened. Before
Zohn stopped talking, she slowly moved so she was halfway behind
Chevalier.

“Salvē, Camber,” Quinn
said, and the audience began to clap.

Camber finally turned to
look at Quinn, “Thank you. It is good to be back.”

Emily watched as the
audience began to quickly file out, while the Council stood still,
with Camber before them. He again turned his eyes to Emily, and she
moved another inch behind Chevalier.

Once the audience was
gone, Quinn spoke, “Now for the introduction… this is the current
Council of the Equites…”

“It’s disturbing though… and confusing…”
Camber said.

Quinn stopped and turned to him, “What
is?”

“Quid nōmen tibi est?”
Camber asked Emily.

“She doesn’t speak
Native,” Chevalier said, a slight irritation in his
voice.

“I’ve never seen a heku
that small,” Camber said, and then frowned. “Nor one that hides
behind another.”

“She is not a heku,” Zohn
said. “We will explain it…”

“No… has the Equites
fallen to having a mortal on the Council?” Camber asked
angrily.

Emily felt her heart skip
a beat. His voice was malevolent and threatening.

Zohn’s voice was calm and
steady, “Let us explain… She is a member because she is bonded with
an Elder.”

“It doesn’t matter who
stooped to marrying a mortal. She shouldn’t be in the palace,
shouldn’t be a member of the Council, and should not be here in
front of me!” he roared.

Emily gasped and started
for the back doors, but Mark stopped her.

“Brave too, I see… how embarrassing.”

Chevalier lowered his hood
and his eyes were furious, “Do not talk about her like that, and I
didn’t stoop to anything.”

“The great Equitis married
a mortal?” Camber asked, shocked. “Maybe I should be talking to the
Valle…”

Camber gasped, his eyes
wide, and he grasped his chest.

“Emily…” Zohn said
softly.

The burning pain within
him lasted no more than five seconds, and he stood up straight. The
look on his face changed from hatred to confusion.

Emily started for him,
“Don’t talk badly about the Equites!”

Mark reached out and took her shoulders to
stop her from advancing.

“What…” Camber said, watching her.

“My wife,” Chevalier said,
and put his hand out for Emily, “Is the last remaining
Winchester.”

Mark let her go, and she
took Chevalier’s hand and lowered her hood to look Camber in the
eye.

“Mē miseret,” Camber said,
and his usual angry expression returned. “No other faction has a
Winchester?”

“No,” Chevalier told him.

“Fascinating… you found
one.”

Emily frowned, “Don’t talk about me like I’m
a car.”

“A what?” he asked, frowning again.

“Never mind,” Quinn said.
“But I suggest you show respect to this Council. Emily is quite
passionate about loyalty to the Equites.”

“Why don’t we let Emily go while we do the
rest of the introductions,” Zohn suggested. “We can meet back up
with her at the reception.”

Mark nodded and held his
hand out for her. Emily glanced again at Camber, and then took his
hand as the Cavalry followed her out of the great hall.

Camber grinned when she
left, “Leave it to Chevalier to not only find a Winchester, but
bond with her.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”
Chevalier asked, frowning.

“Nothing bad… I assure you. It’s just a
shock to find that you’ve done what my life’s work could not
accomplish.”

Emily grumbled under her
breath all the way to her room. She couldn’t believe the nerve of
that heku, and she was ready to ash him and be rid of him. Mark and
Silas walked into her room with her while the others stayed out by
the door. She stopped just inside the door and frowned at the
clothing covered bed and her tailor standing beside it.

“I stayed to help,” he
said, and smiled.

“I’ve been getting dressed long enough I can
do it alone,” she said, irritated.

Mark chuckled, “Not like this you
haven’t.”

“It used to take two or
three handmaids to get someone dressed,” the tailor explained.
“You, my Dear, are stuck with me.”

“Why do I get the feeling
I’m going to regret this?” she asked, and turned to
Mark.

“Just go get the basics on in the bathroom,
you’ll be covered enough to come out and get the rest on.”

“The basics?” she asked, confused.

“Here,” the tailor said,
and handed her a stack of white cloth. “Come out when you are
done.”

Emily shook her head and
took it into the bathroom. She laid out the three items of clothing
and studied them. First, she slipped on the thigh high stockings,
those were simple and something she’d seen before. The next was a
simple, white, knee-length chemise that she easily slipped on. The
last was obviously calf-length pants, but was also the light white
linen with an elastic waist and elastic at the calf with a small
ruffle at the bottom. She looked into the mirror and frowned at the
odd clothing after putting them on.

Next, she turned to her
hair and put it in a simple bun at the nape of her neck. She’d seen
hair similar to that in old movies and thought it would be the
easiest.

Emily stepped out and
gasped at Mark and Silas. They were each in waistcoats that were
tightly cinched at the waist, and tall hats with white ruffled
collared shirts and long pleated pants. Mark had a cloak tied
around his neck, but Silas had on a dark cravat instead.

“Nice,” she said, and
couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t even go there… wait
til you get in yours,” Mark said, and leaned back against the
wall.

“Dear…” the tailor said
nervously. “Remove the brassier.”

Emily blushed and
disappeared into the bathroom and came back out shortly.

“Ok,” the tailor said, and
held up a whale boned corset.

Emily gasped, “I have to
wear that?”

She turned and glared when Mark started to
chuckle.

“Come on, I’ll put it on you,” the tailor
said.

Emily sighed. She’d
already agreed to go to the reception, so she went over to the
tailor. He wrapped it around her and then began to fasten the
ties.

“Ok, hold onto the bed,” he told her.

“Do what?” Emily asked,
and turned around.

“That bed won’t hold,”
Silas said, and walked up. “Hold onto me.”

For the next thirty
minutes, Emily held tightly to Silas as the tailor tightened the
whalebone corset. She felt like he was breaking ribs as he
tightened it so tight that Silas had to hold onto her so she didn’t
fall. By the time he got to her waist, she felt like she could no
longer breathe.

“You, Dear, will be the
only one at the reception with a waist,” the tailor said, and she
felt him tighten another strap.

Emily tried to talk, but
no noise came out. She just held tightly to Silas as another strap
tightened.

“There, that part’s done,”
the tailor said, and moved to the bed.

“I… can’t… breathe,” she managed to say.

“That’s why women used to
faint all the time,” Chevalier said from behind her. Emily turned
to find him in period clothing already. His waistcoat had a high
stiff collar and was also cinched at the waist, and fit snugly
against his massive shoulders. He had on a black cravat and a knee
length black cloak.

“I don’t… want to… faint,” she said, still
trying to breath.

Chevalier grinned, “Then take small
breaths.”

“We have a long way to
go,” the tailor said, and held up the first of many stiff, ruffled
petticoats.

“What… is that…” she
gasped when Silas came toward her with what looked like a belt with
a pillow attached.

“This goes over your butt,” Silas said,
amused.

“Why?”

“I have no idea,” he told
her, and tied the thin belt around her waist. The small pillow
rested just over her butt.

“That’s… stupid…” she gasped. She was
getting mad at the amount of laughing coming from Mark and
Chevalier by the wall.

Silas returned to the bed
and came back with a 6-boned hoop skirt. She carefully stepped into
it, and he tied it at her waist. Next, the tailor began to tie on
the first of six thick, ruffled petticoats.

Emily was finding it a tad
easier to breathe, “Why do I have on bloomers when no one can see
under all of these skirts?”

“It was proper,” the
tailor told her, and finished off the skirts.

“I’ll show them proper.
Get me out of this and hand me my jeans.” She turned and glared at
Chevalier and Mark when their laughter grew louder, “Stop
it.”

“Sorry, Em,” Mark said, stilling
grinning.

“Time for the frock,” the
tailor said, and picked up the black and green dress.

Emily lifted her arms and
he slid the thick dress over her. The heavy dress was cut low and
the neck was wide, showing more cleavage than she was comfortable
with, while the dropped shoulder fell to puffed elbow-length
sleeves. The bodice was black with dark green overlay, and the
skirt was floor-length and black with what she could only describe
as dark green curtains. As the tailor tied the thick green belt,
she looked in the mirror and wrinkled her nose.

She sighed and turned slightly in the
mirror, “I look insane.”

Chevalier moved to her and kissed her
shoulder softly, “Southern bells would have killed for your
figure.”

He fastened a beautiful platinum necklace
around her neck with teardrop diamond and emerald embellishments.
He looked at her in the mirror and grinned, “I like it.”

“How am I supposed to go
to the bathroom?” she asked, and then turned to the tailor, who was
looking at her in admiration.

His eyes grew wide, “Do you?”

“Well… no… but I will at some point.”

“Well then, we get to start over,” he told
her.

Emily frowned, “I’ll hold it.”