Commontongue

Commontongue
Everyone at court cheered in the fighting arena, under the stone pine trees. Next to me in the royal booth, Luther gasped, watching, joyful, as Gaia pinned Gallen to the ground.

“Ten! Nine!” the judge counted down.

I couldn’t bring myself to share the day’s cheer. Only yesterday, Roisin had tried to kidnap their child. I suspected that it was an attack designed to unsettle both Gaia and I. Had it succeeded, Gaia wouldn’t have fought Gallen today, and Luther and I would have been too distracted by the kidnapping to focus on the kingdom’s affair…

What were they up to? The noose was tightening, yet we were still in the dark.

Roisin was now rotting in a cell, interrogated by the palace guards, who had reported that despite a sleepless night of questioning, she had revealed nothing. And something about last night still bugged me.

Who managed to get all of Cleta’s servants to the kitchens?

We had interrogated all of them, but they each had been summoned by a different servant, who each in turn had received the order from other people...

Luther sprang to his feet, clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience. Gaia and Gallen would be wed tonight. But they had a long road ahead of them before they could restore trust, even though that morning, Gallen had asked his parents to leave the court. Sorka’s kidnapping had shaken his beliefs.

Still, I feared that their departure might not be enough to put an end to the harassment.

“If you so much as look at her the wrong way,” Cleta was already threatening Gallen when Luther and I reached the pens to congratulate the couple.

Gaia was changing and listening absent-mindedly, the shadow of a smile on her face.

“Cleta, may I please have a minute with my future wife?” Gallen asked, containing the annoyance in his voice.

Luther took my hand. “Let’s leave them alone,” he whispered. “We’ll have plenty of time to speak with them later.”

Will we? I thought.

Neither of us had brought it up, but we didn’t need to verbalize it to know that the prophecy most likely didn’t hold any secrets for us to crack.

“Luther, what did you mean yesterday about sorting it all out?” I asked on our way back to the palace.

“Oh,” he waved a dismissive hand. “I was just lost in the heat of the moment.”

I frowned, staring at him. “You were.”

“I was!” he replied. “What do you say we spend the next couple of hours together? I want to be alone with you for a moment,” his tone was gentle now.

There was something different, almost broken in his voice, but I was too annoyed that he would dismiss my questions to notice.

So I scowled at him. “I happen to have a Commontongue lesson. I’m not giving up on educating our court on the ways of humans before our wedding.”

I observed him. He smiled at me, but his eyes betrayed a hint of sorrow.



“Relationships between men and women are entirely different in Thornland,” I started the lesson.

My class was smaller today than usual, which I had predicted given the celebrations happening all over the palace, ahead of tonight’s marriage banquet for Gallen and Gaia. In honor of their wedding, I was giving a lecture on Thornland’s marriage traditions.

“Humans don’t necessarily marry for love. They form practical partnerships. The women deal with the household, while men earn money, fight, elevate their social status at court…”

“You mean women just stay at home?” someone asked.

“Correct,” I replied. “Their main role is to be supportive of their husbands, to take care of their comfort and happiness. That is why the Commontongue word for wife, Cafidere, literally means trusted friend. In the same way that the word seahorse literally means a horse from the sea.”

Seeing as the class was enthralled by the lesson, I continued.

“As a matter of fact, Commontongue has a few of these types of words. Our word for conflict, for example, literally means stay away. It might come as a surprise to you, but socially, humans are quite conflict-averse. We don’t solve our interpersonal problems through fist-fights.”

“But humans don’t mind going to war?” someone justly noted.

“No, indeed. War is a different type of conflict, that’s why we have a separate word for that. And that one has no other meaning, sadly,” I joked. “Just war.”

In the midst of a great conflict, your silver-haired wife will die, I predict.

The prophecy surged up in my memory.

Why was the word ‘conflict’ picked over ‘war’?

Two words in that sentence had double meanings in Commontongue, but not in Shadowongue. Conflict, and wife.

“Tatiana, are you okay?” Kenai asked, concerned. She had become one of my most hard-working students.

A hundred thoughts were swirling in my mind, but I couldn’t get any to come into clearer focus. I had never considered that a demon prophecy could take on a new meaning for a human...why would it?

“I’m sorry,” I said to the students. “I have to adjourn class for today.”

I ignored their surprise and rushed out. I headed to the small room I was using to decipher the prophecy.

Once alone, in the quiet of the office, I took a deep breath, calming my frantic thoughts. Was there a chance that the prophecy addressed me too, since my fate was bound to Luther’s?

I carefully rewrote the prophecy on a clean piece of scroll, forcing myself to be patient, to follow logical steps.

In the midst of a great conflict, your silver-haired wife will die, I predict.

May this prophecy be your guide, to which you have been tied.

Under the words in Shadowtongue, I translated the prophecy in Commontongue.

I gasped.

Three words jumped off the page, three words that were different from all the others. They each had a literal meaning in Commontongue, but not in Shadowtongue.

Conflict meant “stay away.”

Wife meant “trusted friend.”

Guide meant “famous warrior,” originating from one of Thornland’s very first kings, who was a great warrior, and led the kingdom into independence from its enemies.

A chill ran through my entire body. I held my breath, unable to believe what I had just found. The prophecy concerned both Luther and I. Therefore it made sense that its secret meaning would be in the language of humans. So much of this situation involved humans.

Stay away - trusted friend - famous warrior.

This was the solution to avoid my death. Staying away from a trusted friend and famous warrior.

It could refer to several people, but it was a start. Narrowing down the list of my trusted friends that were also famous warriors wasn’t too difficult.

Could it mean Luther? But if I’m destined to marry him, how could I stay away from him? I hoped fate wasn’t truly that cruel.

Or Cleta? No, not Cleta. She isn’t famous.

Duke Franco. The name came to the forefront of my mind. Throughout my first life, I had believed him to be a trusted friend, my closest ally. And thanks to his campaigning during the previous war, he was a famous warrior.

Is he going to try and assassinate me? Again?!

Carefully, I folded the piece of scroll, and, clutching it tightly, I ran to our chambers, overjoyed. I had to announce the news to Luther right away. We would be able to marry, all we had to do was narrow down the possibilities.

“Luther!” I called excitedly from the threshold of our apartments.

But I was met with silence.

“Luther?”

I doubted that he would be taking part in any of the early celebrations, and the palace was so crowded today that it was unlikely for him to attempt going to his office. Too many courtiers would stop him.

I walked into our bedroom, sure that he was sleeping, but the bed was empty. Instead, I found a small painted hummingbird on my pillow, carved out of sandalwood.