by C.M. Owens
* * *
The sky was tingeing in cascades of oranges and saffron colors when Jevan came up beside her. He offered her a roll, and she grabbed it from him. She wolfed it down in about five seconds, her stomach rumbling.
“I had not realized it was so late,” she admitted, as she reached for the second roll he held in his other hand. “Is dinner already over?”
Jevan smiled fondly. “I am sure they put a plate aside for you,” he responded. He handed her the skin at his belt, and she gratefully drew down the ale within.
Jevan waited until she had finished before continuing, more quietly, “There is a tough choice ahead; I understand that.”
Kay looked out over the ocean, as she had been doing for the past hours, drawn into the ebb and flow of the waves. She thought of the longings which filled her heart – and of the needs of the keep around her. The duties of her station and the desires of her soul seemed at war.
She shook her head and turned to look at Jevan. “Jevan, can we talk a moment of Sarah, your wife?”
Jevan nodded, his face becoming more serious.
Kay looked down for a moment. “I know it is still hard for you, even after two years. We all mourned when Sarah died during childbirth. She was a wonderful friend.”
Jevan smiled slightly, holding her gaze. “I have sworn to keep Sarah’s memory alive for Joey and Paul,” he responded quietly. “They only had a few years with her, so it is my duty to ensure they know what an amazing mother they had. That they know everything there is to understand about her.”
Kay leant against the crenellated stone wall, the cool breezes rising as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Her voice, when she spoke again, was as soft as the wind which slipped along the castle wall.
“How did you know?”
Jevan nodded slowly, his gaze unfocusing. “There were women who were more beautiful, who had hair that shone like burnt gold; whose lips were like ripe plums. But I looked at them and I knew that charms fade, that beauty slips away, and that any attractions of lust of eyes are of the moment only.”
His voice became quieter. “There were women who were more adept at alluring talents – who told sweeter tales, who designed snares and nets woven from words. But those talents are made for courting and rarely last beyond the threshold of commitment.”
He looked down at his hands, rubbing a finger along the gold band which still adorned his finger, almost caressing it. “What sustains a couple through ice-enshrined winters and through sultry summers, through the parched deserts and the stormy seas, is an absolute trust in each other, and a friendship which backs each other up without question.”
Kay felt her friend’s loss as a wound in her own heart, and she put a hand on his arm. “It must be hard to be without her,” she offered softly.
Jevan’s head dropped, and she saw his eyes fill with tears. “It is something you grow to accept, never something you get over,” he responded, his voice ragged. “It was months before I gave up hope that somehow she would return to me.”
Kay stood holding his arm for long minutes before he drew his sleeve across his face, looking back up at her.
“Your sister would say to go with the logical choice,” he commented finally, his voice still rough.
Kay chuckled wryly. “You know her well,” she agreed. “And for Keren-happuch, perhaps those are words of wisdom. She needs a man who can fortify the keep, who can detail the ounces of ale and servings of cod.”
Jevan’s voice was soft. “But for you, Kay, what is it that you long for?”
Kay turned, her heart aching, staring out at the rolling sea, at the movement of waves beneath the mother of pearl moon as it shimmered into life in the onyx sky.
“God, Jevan, it is so much more than a longing, it is a craving, a cascading desire that saturates every corner of my being -”
His arm came around her, and he pulled her close, pressing a fond kiss against her forehead. “Ah, my child,” he offered gently, “then you should tell him.”
There was a movement behind them, and Kay pulled apart, turning to see who approached. Reese stood there, a pair of rosy red apples in one hand, a jug of ale in the other, his face lost in the shadows.
Kay’s heart leapt into her chest. Had she said anything to compromise her sister? Just what had they been talking about? Her mind raced over the topics - Jevan’s wife and his sense of loss. Perhaps she was safe?
“Thank you,” she choked out, taking the fruit. Jevan accepted the pottery jug, and then Reese was turning, fading into the deep darkness of the night, and was gone.