“And your name?”
“Kiara.”
“Kiara,” I echoed, sounding the syllables out. Strong, confident, and beautiful, I decided. Fitting.
I studied her delicate features, her smooth skin, her warm brown eyes, her softly curled chestnut colored hair, and the sense of goodness that radiated outward, rendering her even more beautiful, more precious and in need of my protection. A feeling was growing inside me, a desire to keep her to myself and deny anyone else access to her. Surely, surely, no one else could appreciate what I saw in her, for only one who knows the true depth of darkness can appreciate the light that may yet dispel it. Why else would Heaven deliver her to my very doorstep?
“Do you travel alone?” I asked next.
“Father brought me,” Kiara assured me, “though he had to hurry home once he saw me in.”
I could see right through her carefully worded answer, but I let it slide. It was obvious the merchant didn’t need to hurry home so much as he hurried to leave this place behind forever. I wondered how he would sleep that night knowing he’d brought his daughter to the beast’s very door, then abandoned her there.
“Am I—am I to stay here long?” she asked hesitantly. “My sisters believed I would be devoured by the beast my father described.”
I forced out a hollow laugh, stung by her honesty but glad for it, too. I prayed it was a reflection of some sense of bravery, for she would need much if she was to survive being here with me. However long that would indeed be.
“Rather, you are to be mistress of my castle,” I magnanimously proclaimed. “And I shall be as your humble servant,” I added with a slight bow.
I have no idea where such words came from, even now, reliving in exact detail that first encounter. True, I had no plan for when the merchant returned, but it certainly would never have included turning over my sanctuary to his care. Perhaps I would have locked him up for a while, terrorized him until I grew bored then set him free, but I was utterly blindsided when Kiara stepped through the doors, utterly bewildered by my sudden and irrational urge to please her. She was so small, and yet every word she spoke, every move she made was sure. Through each movement, in every sound, I saw her goodness like the glorious wings of a newly formed butterfly, delicate and free, magnificent and precious to behold. I was almost ashamed to stand beside her, to offer her the meager offering of my towering self whose very heart had been shrouded in rage and entrapped in ice. Even before the beast overtook me, I had never expected to meet anyone like her, and in my cursed darkness everything that was good and warm about her shone that much brighter.
“Some refreshment?” I suggested. “Before I show you around.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you,” Kiara replied gratefully. She was about to follow after me, but paused in her step.
“What is it?” I inquired, unsure as to what could have already gone wrong.
“Well, good sir, what do I call you?” she asked.
The slimmest of smiles snuck across my lips. “My name, of course,” the words easily slipped out. “Azahr.”
“Azahr?” Kiara repeated. “Like the general? Or the prince?”
“It’s a popular name among a certain kind of people,” I said carefully.
Kiara didn’t even blink. “Among many kinds of people,” she corrected. “In the years after the prince was born, dozens of villagers named their sons in his honor.”
“And so was born a legion of fearsome warriors,” I intoned.
Kiara shrugged. “Maybe,” she agreed. “Granting such a name gives parents hope that their sons will be victorious in whatever challenges they may encounter. Just as we all hope daily for our soldiers’ safe return from war.”
I simply nodded in return. I’d always been certain my name was less a prayer and more a mandate that I live up to the first Ignatius Azahr, the most victorious general of our line. Our kingdom’s borders had reached the farthest under his command, he’d made possible an era of peace, trade, and prosperity unmatched in Delphe’s history. Despite Father’s efforts to make it so, perhaps my name really wasn’t a burden, but a promise, a guarantee that somewhere within me was the potential to overcome anything I faced.
I quickly dismissed the thought. The beast fed on strife and darkness and fear. It didn’t care to find meaning in names and legacies and dreams.
Even now, I’m not entirely certain why I offered Kiara my name instead of the title I hid from her as long as I could. Even the servants were instructed to call me no more than “sir” in her presence, dropping all address of nobility whenever she was around. It worked long enough for us to begin building a relationship without my title getting in the way, though I often wonder that Kiara never put together the pieces sooner. I can only assume she was too overwhelmed with the sudden shift her life had taken, though she never showed it. Or perhaps, notwithstanding my attempts to assuage her fears, it simply took her that much time to gather enough courage to ask.
I have conjured a variety of possibilities for my decision over the years, but none strikes me more than this: there was simply nothing more that I wanted her to know about me. I didn’t want her to know who I was or see the truth of the infamously ungrateful, insatiable, bitter man I had been for almost eight years. To know that I was only ever a second son, a second choice for the kingdom.
I felt ashamed in her presence, not only of the knowledge that I was selfishly and irrationally keeping her there, but also in the knowledge of all that I had done, of the way I had behaved for so long. I also dreaded, truly and desperately dreaded, the moment when she would see me in my entirety, that moment she would realize I would never, could never, be enough. And then another dark void would yawn open, a new breeding ground for a new type of beast.
As such, I suppose that somewhere deep within the remains of my tainted soul, I urgently prayed that giving her a simple name, giving her the most basic part of myself would somehow help her find within me the man she thought me to be.
The servants were delighted, to say the least, when I introduced Kiara.
Only Jaxel raised an eyebrow and murmured, “This is the merchant returned?”
“So it would seem.”
“Vast improvement.”
“Indeed.”
“If I may, Your Highness,” he dared to add, “I hope this isn’t simple amusement.”
“How could it be?” I asked, annoyed. “Besides, I’ve put her in charge.”
Jaxel spoke his next words carefully. “I hope this means His Highness doesn’t consider her a prisoner,” he amended. “Though the prince will eventually have to grant her freedom if she is to ever truly accept him as he is.”
“Nonsense,” I quickly dismissed his words, ending the conversation.
There was more than one meaning to Jaxel’s concerns, more than one hope buried deep inside, but I was in no mood to entertain any at the time. It wasn’t that the possibility of such talk didn’t exist, it just didn’t seem likely, no matter how much I wanted it to be. How could I ask her to try to save me, to rekindle the humanity left in me? To accept me, all of me, unconditionally? How could I ask such a thing of her? Better not to think on such impossibilities, better to simply take whatever I could for however long I could.
No doubt Jaxel’s words came because the servants also instantly recognized the light Kiara brought in with her, the sharp contrast to my constantly shrouded being, theirs, too, by extension. I don’t know what future they saw for Kiara, or how long they anticipated her stay to be, but it was quite evident they would gratefully welcome each day that had her in it.
And all that on only the first day.
Kiara was patient and gracious with everyone and everything, and I’ve come to believe that what made her so unique was her rare ability to accept without judgment, to rejoice without envy. Although it may have been her nature, she had chosen to cultivate such traits so they blossomed, the truest testament to who she was and who she wanted to be on this earth.
B
ut I did not know that then.
All I knew is that no matter how taken I was with her, I also had to protect her from myself.
Those first few days and nights, I barely let her out of my sight, even when she thought I was elsewhere. I climbed the rafters and watched her tentatively explore my small domain, fascinated with the way light rippled and danced around her. At night, I melded with shadow when she moved through the castle with her light and her candles. And when she had gone to sleep, I stalked the hallway before her rooms, willing myself to cease, to thwart the beast and its desire to unequivocally claim her in whatever manner it could.
Although my father had neither disowned me, nor taken my inheritance, nor locked the doors of the royal treasury against me, I had become frugal in the years since I left home. There seemed little purpose in spending money on things from which I could derive no pleasure. However, with Kiara I held nothing back, ordering for her a fine new wardrobe to rival that of any royal princess. I hung upon her every wish just so I could have the distinct honor of fulfilling it. And if I ever had thought to falter in my behaviors toward her, Ms. Potsdam was quick to keep me in line.
“Your Highness must treat her right,” she warned, stopping just short of wagging her finger in my face. “After what she’s been made to go through, the poor girl must be terrified.”
“Look closer, dear Potsdam,” I told her, “for there is nothing that Kiara could need that she does not have.”
“And what about the things she wants, Your Highness?” Ms. Potsdam challenged. “She’s been taken from her father, her family, her life, surely she has innumerable friends who miss her dearly.”
“We are her friends now!” I snapped. “I will not free her yet! I cannot.”
Ms. Potsdam shot me a look, but immediately stepped down. Wrong as it may have been to hold Kiara captive, there was certainly not a soul there who wanted to see go. In the least, they were able to clear their consciences in the thought that she looked happy and was very well taken care of, by themselves no less. They slept even better once she’d been with us long enough to tell us about her family and the siblings who didn’t appreciate her nearly as much as they should have. And certainly not in any way comparable to those of us at the castle.
“Just try to think about the things she may want, Your Highness,” Ms. Potsdam stressed. “Things valuable because they are personal, and not just pretty and expensive.”
“I shall certainly see to it,” I reassured her.
And I did.
I gave her free leave of my jealously guarded library of sheet music. Each precious page so obsessively protected, each sanctified note so painstakingly collected.
The music room had been dark for months, ever since I’d given up trying to find pleasure or peace in it. I purposely made it one of the last rooms on the tour of the castle I had drawn out over three days. Already, Kiara was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place meant to be her prison, already she was proving herself less of a mistress and more of a friend, as she easily charmed over each of the castle staff.
With great ceremony, I pushed open the door, then stood aside so I could watch her reverentially step forward, taking pleasure in the way she placed a loving hand on the piano, the flute, each instrument in its place, lastly caressing the harp and surveying the room with an uncontained delight that made it all worth it.
“It…it’s wonderful,” she breathed.
“You—you like it?” I stammered, overjoyed at her reaction.
“I love it!” she exclaimed. “It’s the most wonderful room that ever was!”
Her fingers skimmed over the harp’s strings, and a faint spray of music escaped in a trill of jubilation. “It’s been a long time,” I overheard her whisper to herself.
Very carefully, she picked up a small stack of music and began reading the titles, her excitement growing with each page.
“I know this one!” she cried merrily, pointing to a title. “And this one, too!”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. From the moment I saw her I had thought her perfect in appearance, but her love for music, and seeming ability to play, was too good to be true.
“You like music?” I inquired.
“I love music! Playing, listening, all of it!” Kiara gushed.
She spun to take in the room again, an easy way to avoid meeting my gaze. I didn’t think on it, I was too focused on her excitement.
“Then this room is yours,” I said simply.
Kiara stopped mid-spin and turned back to me with wide eyes. “All of it?” she asked, her voice so low I hardly heard her.
“All of it,” I confirmed.
Kiara couldn’t contain herself. She clapped her hands and laughed with more joy then I’d experienced in a long while. It was worth being stuck in that forsaken place just so I could see that smile on her face, just so I could see how she found a moment for happiness and laughter despite her worry and uncertainty.
“Which do you recommend to start with?” she asked with forced calm.
Having only just met her, and despite my observations of her character, the question gave me pause. Then I strode over to the music and sifted through the pages, finally stopping at one piece with edges stained and worn from my fingers constant hold on it during the first winter of my banishment.
“It isn’t entirely pleasant,” I qualified, handing it over, “but it makes a man think.”
Kiara accepted the pages and slowly slid her fingers across the bars of music, carefully hovering just above the imprint of the composer’s pen. Her brow furrowed as the notes took shape in her mind.
“What is it about?” she soon asked.
“A man. At war with himself,” I said shortly. “At times he acts like one kind of man, at times another; a man of cool, calm reason, those are the higher notes, and a man of fiery, untamed passion where the notes grow faster and lower. Then see how they finally weave together? It’s a never-ending battle, an unstable balance that tears at his very existence, until he expires from it entirely.”
Kiara nodded in thought. “Something so…real will be rather difficult to play,” she said sincerely.
“I look forward to hearing it whenever you are ready,” I replied, silently wondering how much of it she would really be able to understand, and what that would mean if she could.
Just over a week into Kiara’s stay at the castle, she created another moment of joy.
“It’s such a lovely day outside, just perfect for a horseback ride,” she announced at breakfast that morning. “I don’t know the area well enough though, so I would be very grateful if you would accompany me, Azahr.”
I almost choked on my food. “Of course,” I managed to say, my mind already racing for a way to explain to her why my horse wouldn’t let me near him.
Later that morning, after changing into proper riding attire, I met Kiara at the stables where she was fawning over the lovely golden Palomino brought out for her to ride.
“Oh, what a darling,” she cooed. “And so handsome, too. Aren’t you?”
As expected, considering how easily she’d won over everyone else at the castle, the horse instantly fell in love with Kiara, and its gaze followed after her even when she stepped away. Conversely, when my horse, which I had raised from a foal, caught sight of me, it loudly, rudely, whinnied its displeasure.
“Quiet down, boy,” I said in the most soothing rumble I could muster, but my horse was a smart animal and wasn’t falling for it.
I tried reaching for his nose but it ducked out of reach, probably thinking on preserving its very life. My cheeks flamed red in embarrassment and I knew my rage would soon follow dangerously close behind.
“He gets skittish whenever the wolves howl as they did last night,” I explained to Kiara. “Something about the mountain air makes them seem nearer than they are.”
Kiara nodded solemnly, accepting my excuse. She raised her hand to my horse, and it melted into her touch.
“There, there
, dear,” she said softly, stroking his nose, his neck, his mane with her gentle hand.
I stared, openmouthed. Not because she was able to calm the horse, I expected nothing less, but because she showed no fear before it. My horse was a giant and powerful animal, it had to be to carry a man my size, plus it was trained for war and hunting and chaos, not frivolous trots on crisp mountain days. And yet, she didn’t hesitate to reach out for it, to see it as it truly was, a beautiful horse hidden in a shell of might and domination.
“Quick, while he’s distracted.” Her whisper broke through my thoughts, startling me.
I didn’t understand at first, so she motioned quietly to my horse’s saddle. Stealing around the side, I flung myself onto the horse before it could shy away again. At first the animal did protest, but my will was stronger, and as Kiara forced its gaze back to her, she was able to calm it once more.
Only then did Jaxel help her onto her horse, and we rode away together.
That was the first time in months that I was able to approach, let alone mount, my horse. It was the second small piece of my humanity that Kiara unknowingly returned to me.
I would like to say that when Kiara entered my life, I was quickly cured of the darkness, but breaking a curse and destroying a beast aren’t so easily done. If anything, she was a shiny piece of metal, novel and curious enough to distract the beast for a time. I would say she gave me the will to fight the predator that took more and more from me each day, but that’s not true either. Rather, at first, it was only a matter of showing me how a bright flame could reduce darkness to a mere shadow, cause it to scuttle away and hide, easily contained, easily ignored. As such, the beast was very much alive within me, still nibbling at me day after day. I was still subject to violent fits of rage, especially if something wasn’t perfect for Kiara, but I managed to keep my temper hidden from her, at least for a while.
I wouldn’t blame anyone for mistaking my unusual control for the assumption that I might actually be improving, that I was finally taking back each part of myself, gaining on the beast bit by bit as it had done to me. Thinking on it now, I clearly see how such a misconception would form. But force a lid on a steaming pot long enough and it will eventually blow.
Human Again Page 8