When we had arrived at the Fells, the group of waiting ministers from the Nevertide kingdoms and Hazel’s questions about the Impartial Ministers had given me an idea. It related to something I had originally dismissed out of hand, but the more time I spent with Hazel, the more it tugged at my mind—and could no longer be ignored.
“I need to attend to something. Will you wait here for me?” I asked Hazel courteously. I knew how eager she was to get to her brother, but I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to do what needed to be done.
“Uh…yeah,” she breathed. Color had risen in her cheeks, distracting me once again. How much time could I spend around Hazel without being permitted to touch her the way I wanted to? It was testing my sanity every passing moment, and it was becoming increasingly impossible to find the will to restrain myself.
“I won’t be long,” I replied, and then left her standing by my vulture. I searched the departing crowds, looking for a preferable candidate. So many of the ministers I found intolerable, and my own weren’t exempt from that judgment. Averting my eyes from Queen Trina, who was knowingly smiling at me in a way I found repugnant, I saw King Memenion talking to one of his ministers—a sentry of fairly high regard, who had been in the service of Memenion for decades. I waited until their conversation came to a close, and Memenion walked away from the pavilion.
I approached the minister swiftly, ignoring the bemused stares of Ashbik and another of Queen Trina’s sidekicks.
“Tarkus,” I called, before he could turn back to join his king.
He turned to me in faint surprise before resuming a placid expression.
“King Tejus.” He bowed. “To what do I owe the honor?”
I glanced around us before replying. The pavilion was empty, but I drew him toward one of the arches, using the stonework to offer us some privacy.
“A question,” I replied.
“I am not at liberty to discuss the trials with you, your highness.”
“It doesn’t concern the trials,” I reassured him. “I wanted some information. I have heard rumors of a transformative effect occurring when another species marries a sentry royal. Are they true?”
Tarkus’s face turned a puce color and he looked over my shoulder in the direction of Hazel.
“You can’t be serious!” he exploded.
“The question is hypothetical,” I replied through gritted teeth. I wanted to reprimand him for his insolence, but I needed answers more than gratification.
“I would hope so, your highness. Your reputation would be at stake; forgive my unruly tongue, but you are already under suspicion by many, and the Hellswan name, as I’m sure you know, is not as…immaculate as it might be.”
“Hold that tongue before you lose it,” I replied curtly. “I know all this. I came to you for information—will you give it to me or not?”
Tarkus bowed his head again, his color slowly returning to normal.
“Forgive me… These times are tense, lesser men let the madness get to them.” He sighed. “You are referring to other species becoming sentries, correct?”
I nodded.
“As far as I am aware, it is a specific part of the marriage ceremony that is the catalyst for the transformation.”
I listened to his words, my heart sinking. I had half hoped that it was all some strange myth—tales told of old magic that no longer existed. I would have preferred Tarkus to have laughed at me and called me a fool than reply with solemnity.
“What part of the ceremony, specifically?” I asked dully.
Tarkus eyed me warily.
“I am not sure, exactly. But there is a part of the ceremony, as I am sure you know, where the appointed minister binds heart, soul, spirit and mind. During this ritual, both sentries will typically syphon off one another. When that part of the ceremony is conducted by a sentry and a non-sentry, the abilities of the sentry are somehow transferred to the other species. I believe this is the moment that the transformation takes place.”
One part of the ceremony. One ritual.
Would a marriage still be binding if that ritual was missed or altered in some way?
“Has it happened in recent history?” I asked.
“Not for many centuries. The last known record was a nymph who married a king. She took on sentry-like qualities.”
“Which king?” I asked with interest.
“A long-dead king of the Thraxus kingdom. It is the only record I know of, though perhaps there are more in the archives. I can inquire with the Impartial Ministers if it would please you, your Highness?”
“No,” I replied swiftly. I had trusted Tarkus because I’d heard that he remained silent on private matters, and Memenion held him in high regard. The Impartial Ministers I did not trust. “That will be all. Thank you for the information.”