Shyana & Stendarr
Written May 2003.

Shyana curled up on the large couch in the bower of the manor, willing all this insanity to go away; to just dissolve. Outside, the rain poured, and the storm raged on. Not that it would stop her father, the Lord Ralhan, from proceeding with the dinner and dance planned for tonight. And by the time all the guests had left, she would be expected to choose a husband.

Her sister, Seria, poked her head in through the door.

Lucky her, thought Shyana. She’s not first born. She can take as long as she wants to choose her husband.

“The bard just arrived,” she said, jumping onto the couch beside Shyana. “He talks like all the rest. All pretty tales and no brains. He thinks a dance requires all love songs.”

Shyana blanched at the idea of having to dance with all the princes. The talk of bards though, brought her back to a conversation that she had had with Lintea, her best friend, a week ago.

“I think we can blame all the evils of the world on bards,” Shyana had been saying, although she didn‘t know how they had gotten to the topic. Maybe it was her impending ball - as her father termed it. Or maybe it was because she was fairly drunk. “Take that love at first sight nonsense, for instance. It’s not going to happen! And now, all the world thinks that when they meet the right person, they will suddenly fall head over heels in love.”

Lintea looked sober all of a sudden - at least, sober considering that she had just downed three glasses of wine, and was starting on a fourth.

Shyana, noticing her friend’s sudden alertness, said, “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” in a rather defensive manner.

Lintea shook her head. “My mum said that it’s what happened with her. If it’s a lifebond, it happens at once, or never. You can’t make it happen again.”

Shyana sat quite still, trying to digest all this new information at one go. She shook her head, still not quite able to believe it. She wondered if it would ever happen to her, and if so, who it would be with.

Shyana’s mind was drawn back to the present by the arrival of her father. “It’s time,” was all he said. But it was enough. It was another reminder of her duty. Duty. She was beginning to really hate that word.

As he left, she got up, shook out her dress and walked out the door. As she reached the balcony that looked over the dance floor, she glanced over the people on the floor, all waiting in anticipation for her entry.

Her eyes stopped on one, and she stopped in mid-step to stare at him, although she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that it was rather impolite. He wasn’t the best looking of them all, but the slight smile on his face when he saw her made his eyes suddenly brighten and changed his face from something plain to something truly exquisite.

From the look on his face, he was having a similarly tongue-tying expression.

In the end, the continuation of the dance was superfluous. But her father, not wanting to embarrass himself by just sending them all away after they had made long journeys to come to this event, had told - no, ordered - her to carry on as if nothing had happened.