Sons of Ironstorm: Book 5 - Griffon's War

A Meeting of Scions

  "That, my friend, was a lover's kiss," Mram'met finally observed as they finished the descent into the cool depths of the fortress where the Picean enclave had been built into the Diamond of Stone thousands of cycles before.

"All things considered, understandable. But I thought you were holding them at arm's length until you trusted them more?"

Lawrence frowned.

"Aye, so did I. But Sauralin said I needed to start somewhere in building that trust. So, while she was meeting with Fjendin and the other kings and queens of the Races alliance to begin their planning of the defenses, I thought I'd have breakfast with the remaining Covenant sisters."

"Sisters? Until you're more comfortable calling them 'wives'?" Mram'met asked.

"Until I make them wives, more like," Lawrence said.

"Fair enough. Although, while I'm no expert on elf-human mating rituals, judging by that kiss, I would say that particular 'sister' already made the leap to 'wife' in her mind," Mram'met retorted.

Lawrence grunted noncommittally.

"While we're on the subject, when are you and Dani going to stop light stepping around and get married?" he asked, changing the subject before it got too uncomfortable. And watched as Mram'met's whiskers, muzzle and ears danced with frustration.

"I wish it were that easy, my friend," the big cat said with the muraan version of a sigh. "She and I have indeed become very close and intend on becoming mates. But in Muraan culture, it is the female that makes the proposal to link lives, families, and Houses. She has the proposal bundle of aromatics required by our culture and rituals prepared and ready in her quarters right now, but without a shaman to lay the bundle before, and get the Maker's blessing, we are stuck in ... what is that word in Taren? Ah, yes. Limbo!"

Lawrence sighed and nodded.

"I get that, my friend," he said, putting a comforting hand on the clearly frustrated muraan male's shoulder. "I really do! If Dragon's Claw wasn't currently under attack by demon forces, I'd pop open a gate and get Koros here in a shade and get it done for you."

"If they weren't under attack, I'd take you up on that offer," Mram'met grimly replied.

Then they went down the last flight of stairs and stepped into the staging area that was set up just outside the main entrance to the enclave. Where they found Tearn and Qo'sa waiting for them in the cool light cast by magical light globes in shades favored by piceans, Qo'sa floating in the entrance itself, a pool of magically renewed sea water.

"Ah! Brrrrk ack ack, my friends! It's good to see you!" Qo'sa exclaimed happily from the pool.

"Good to be seen, my silvery comrade," Mram'met rumbled as the two walked towards the quadan and the picean scions to reach out and shake hands with both. "I hear another tenday on sea rest then your healers will release you from the enclave."

Qo'sa made a very human-sounding sigh as he let Mram'met's big hand go to settle back into the entrance pool.

"Sadly," he replied. "Pathfinder Ir'na has taken up the training of our troops for the brreek coming battle in my absence. Leaving me to stare at the ceiling of my ack ack quarters, feeling useless."

"Shouldn't have marched across half of Ramnor, Qo'sa," Lawrence said with a teasing grin. "You've been on dirt longer than any picean in history!"

"Bah!" Qo'sa retorted, waving his hand in casual dismissal of Lawrence's teasing words. "And I would've stayed on dirt if it meant defeating the Return and their brreek masters!"