Ajoran smiled easily. "You won't mess it up, it's not like if you forget a word or stumble over a part that it's ruined. It's just a ceremony, after all. The ceremony is nice, and it's a way to commemorate our union for sure and to share that moment with the community, but it's not really what binds us together. And anyway, I'll help you. I'll teach it to you while you make this...pie. I am very excited to try it." Ajoran had a relaxed nature when he wasn't facing some kind of threat or was on duty, though when he was, he was sharp, rigid, and highly focused. That was one of the reasons he'd been put forth as a candidate for a taja. But at the moment, it would have been hard for a passerby to believe that this man was an off-duty taja, who often could be identified just from their mannerisms whether they wore the symbols of their office or not.

Ajoran led Darin into the palace through a side entrance, not the main one, and led her down a few halls to the kitchen, which smelled comfortingly of woodsmoke and curry. A few cooks were about the place, each of them receiving barked orders from an absolutely ancient elf woman seated in a chair against one out-of-the-way corner. Her hair was white, though the salt-and-pepper ends suggested it once had been a more customary Azurei black. She was one of the few elves that had deeply carved wrinkles in her brown skin. She caught sight of Ajoran and made a shooing motion with a knobby hand. "Ohhh no, not you again, begone, I have no dainties for you to bring your woman." She spoke bluntly, but there was a warm sparkle in her dark eyes that betrayed her tone. 
Ajoran smiled. "Nice to see you too, Iari, as always. But I'm not here for your pastries today. I'd like you to meet someone. Darin, this is Iari, she runs this place. Iari, I'd like you to meet Darin, the Seed Bearer of Astra." 
Iari's heavy brows lifted at once. "Ri'atal..." she said softly, almost to herself. "I'm honored to meet you, young one. What brings you to my kitchen, Darin?"

--

For a long moment, Ridahne's face did not change from the stoic, blank expression she held as she listened to her prisoner's panic. She let the silence sit between them like a knife at his throat, looming, threatening, and then a slow and decidedly unkind smile began to touch the corners of her lips. She leaned in close. "Eija-alihn," she corrected softly, voice riddled with implication. Not every outsider knew what the eija-alihn were, or how they differed from a standard eija, but she guessed Harai had spent much time in Azurei and knew the ways of her people well enough to know the meaning of the term. 

"I do believe you've told me everything useful that you know. At this point, the only reasonable thing left for me to do is slay you, like any good farmer would slay an animal that has gone mad." Ridahne let an ounce of her own derision surface there. "You and the rest of the Red Hand are like birds that have eaten too many poison berries and can no longer determine which way is up. There is  much you do not know or understand, and you seek to meddle in forces you cannot begin to comprehend. I ought to slay you out of pity. I'd like to, personally. I could, too. I could cut off your head and walk out this door and no one would question me. But if I am to be the executioner, I will not also be the judge." Ridahne filled the cup with the last of the water from the pitcher and helped him drink it. "You have been cooperative so far. That will benefit you." 

Ridahne opened the door and the diffuse light of cloudy day poured into the dim room like a rush of water. With it came cooler air that even Ridahne was grateful for. She turned to the two men guarding the door. "Douse the brazier. Keep his hands bound but there is no need as of yet to string him up as before. Give him all the water he asks for, and make sure he is fed. But do not release him until further notice." 
The two taja nodded curtly. "Yes, Astra-Taja." 

Ridahne blinked. Did they mean her? Yes, that made sense...if Darin was Astra-Sol, then that did make her Astra-Taja. She said nothing more to them, but she knew that their sharp, trained eyes would see how she beamed with pride at that thought, even though she tried to hide it. But as she walked away and made her way back towards the palace, her heart sank. She'd learned so many troubling things, and they all weighed upon her heart like anchors. But how was she supposed to tell Darin about her suspicions about this Martin fellow? Perhaps she wouldn't need to speculate, perhaps the mention of him would be enough. She didn't know, and  couldn't bear the thought of ruining what had been an otherwise fun day.

Ridahne needed time to think, so she first went to the bathhouse for a long soak. Smelling of juniper, she found dry clothes laid out for her. These were of similar cut to the ones she'd been wearing: a loose uri and a cropped, tight fitting top that seemed to wrap around her and spill loosely over one shoulder. These, however, were black and gold silk. Clean, dry, and dressed, Ridahne stole through the halls until she found her usual way up onto the roof, where she sat for a long time and tried to think of what she'd say to Darin, and what to actually do with the prisoner.