by Katie Roman
“Breaking hearts, Aleka?” he asked in his slow drawl. Aleka chuckled to herself, finding something sweet in Francis asking the same question as his father.
“I don’t need to leave the grounds to break hearts. There’s plenty around here.”
She winked at Francis and drew closer to him, batting her eyes. “Wouldn’t you say so, Francis?” She gently touched his sleeve.
“You’ll cost me my job, Miss Akoni.” Aleka could see him smiling in the dark. His teeth flashed white in the moonlight, making his smile even more entrancing. He bent his head and softly kissed Aleka. She reached up and stroked his cheek, returning his kiss, and then broke away and laughed.
“Good-night, Francis.”
He opened the kitchen door and let her slip in. “Heartbreaker,” he whispered, but still smiled into the dark.
Any hopes she had of going to bed unnoticed were dashed when she saw her mother at the prep table. Halia had a ceramic bowl that she was peeling apples into. The table was also covered with blue veined cheese, onions, and sliced ham.
Halia looked up when Aleka entered and her dark eyes narrowed. She wiped her forehead with a cloth rag and gestured Aleka to come over.
“Out gallivanting while there’s work to be done?” Halia said in Narerocish. “Help me peel these apples.”
“Why are you still awake? And why are you cooking at this time of night?” Aleka set her violin on a stool and grabbed a paring knife to help with the apples. “Didn’t you prepare enough food for the dinner? What more could you possibly make?”
“The Admiral is still awake and he is hungry.” Halia grabbed another apple, but before she could begin peeling it, Aleka put her hand over it.
“You made a lovely dinner, Mama. He can’t expect you to stay awake and cook for him all night.” She felt her jaw tighten in anger, not understanding why her mother groveled the way she did. Queen Kunegunda would never have submitted to such nonsense.
“We must do as our betters say,” Halia snapped.
Aleka sighed, lowering her head, and took a deep breath to regain her composure. Halia was not Kunegunda; she was simply Halia, and Aleka’s flights of fantasy into the past didn’t represent their present.
Halia pulled her hand away and set back to work on the apple. “Where were you? Down at that tavern?”
Aleka unhooked her belt purse and dropped it on the table. The coins clanked together, filling the silence in the kitchen. She locked eyes with Halia, neither saying anything at first, the coin purse answering Halia’s question.
“You’re not some peddler,” Halia said, eyeing the bag like it was a bug to be squashed.
“It never hurts to have a bit extra. Besides, I earned this money. I wasn’t out begging for it.”
Halia sighed and shook her head. “Of course you did.” Halia’s posture sagged in defeat. “Play us a song, dear. I could use the music while I cook.” Her voice was suddenly thick, and she turned away from Aleka.
A wave of weariness overcame Aleka. She knew her mother meant well, and only acted as she saw fit. Aleka leaned in and kissed Halia’s temple. Then, she did as her mother asked. She played softly while Halia worked, and they didn’t speak again for a long while. Finally, Aleka felt her eyelids begin to droop.
Halia touched her cheek. “Dear, go on to bed. I will be alright.”
Aleka looked at all the food laid out on the table. Halia was still working with the ham and apple pie. She had her wooden rolling pin out and a ball of dough waiting to be flattened.
“Mama…”
“It’s alright. The Admiral is only here for a few days, then things will return to normal.”
“He’s not your employer,” Aleka said softly. “Does Lady Ghilian know he has you preparing a feast for him at four in the morning?”
“Please, Aleka, go to bed. We must do as our betters ask.”
Aleka opened her mouth to respond, but Halia put a finger to her lips. “To bed.” Halia kissed Aleka’s cheek.
Knowing it was fruitless to continue arguing, Aleka packed up her violin and skulked to the room she shared with her mother. It was set off the kitchen and carried all the smells and warmth of the kitchen proper. Normally she enjoyed falling asleep to the smells of the day’s meal, but tonight she smelled apples and ham and it turned her stomach. The Admiral asked far too much of her mother.
Aleka changed into her thin, but serviceable night dress, tucked her violin case under her small cot, and climbed under the sheets. For a while she lay on her side, staring at the line of light coming from under the door. She drifted off, only to be woken by a scream from the kitchen.
Aleka wasted no time in clambering out of bed. The screams persisted for a matter of seconds before falling silent. She flung the door open to find the Admiral standing next to the prep table with Halia laying on the ground. He held a bloodied knife in his hand.
“What did you do?” Aleka screamed. She tried to hurry to her mother’s side, but the Admiral knocked her back. Aleka landed on her backside. She moved to get up and get to her mother, but the Admiral pointed the knife at her, the edges dripping blood on the floor. Aleka’s body twitched with inaction. She needed to get to Halia.
From the floor, her mother groaned. Dark red blood oozed across the stones on the floor. The smell made Aleka gag. The metallic odor stung her nostrils, almost as if she could taste it.
“Let me help her,” Aleka said. She wanted to sound like she wasn’t terrified, but her voice came out in a choked sob. “Please, please, I beg you, let me help my mother.”
The Admiral looked from Aleka to Halia for a long moment before throwing the knife down and striding from the room. As he passed Aleka, she could smell whiskey coming off him like he had bathed in the stuff. It mingled with the coppery scent of blood, burning her nose and mouth.
She scrambled across the floor, half crawling, to get to her mother’s side. There was an ugly slash on her throat and several on her hands and wrists, like she’d tried to block him. Where was Francis? Or any of the guards, for that matter. Why did no one but Aleka respond to Halia’s screams?
“Mama, you need a healer.”
Halia nodded and shut her eyes tightly against the pain. Aleka smoothed her hair and took one of Halia’s bloodied hands. Then she screamed for help.
Chapter Three
Francis was the first to respond to Aleka’s screams. He raised the alarm, waking Lord and Lady Ghilian. The commotion at their home likely woke the entirety of the castle grounds, but Aleka didn’t care. She beat her fists against Francis’s leather armor as they waited for help, screaming at him as her chest tightened and her heart raced.
Where was he? Why didn’t he respond to Halia’s screams? Why did he allow the Admiral to attack her in his drunken state? Through it all, Francis allowed Aleka to beat on him.
“I was out walking my patrol, Aleka, otherwise I would have been here, I swear,” Francis said, deflecting her blows.
“You should have been here!” she shrieked, flaying at him wildly.
The castle healer hurried by, not saying a word as he entered the kitchen. Aleka continued to throw herself at Francis.
“My mother is dying because you weren’t here!”
She went for Francis’s face, trying to claw at him, but someone pulled her from behind. “Steady there, Miss.” Aleka recognized the voice of Lord Ghilian’s valet. He kept Aleka in a bear hug, pressing her arms to her side so she could no longer attack Francis.
From inside the kitchen there were raised voices as the castle healer tried to stop Halia from bleeding out. Aleka continued to berate Francis for his incompetence.
“Bastard! Knave! What good are you? You are supposed to protect the people of this household and you failed!” Angry sobs forced their way out and she struggled against the valet. “You should have been able to stop it!”
“Steady, there. Young Francis was patrolling as he always does,” the valet said calmly. “This is not his fault.” The grip around her t
ightened the more she fought to break free. “Calm down. The healer is seeing to Halia now, Aleka. It will all be fine and your mother will be right as rain. You’ll see.”
Aleka knew that even if a miracle occurred, Halia would never be “right as rain” again. She would always bear the scars from the Admiral’s drunken assault.
The castle healer exited the kitchen, blood coating his white tunic. “Someone call for a carriage. She needs to be taken to Kamaria’s temple. Her injuries are beyond my skill.” He wiped his hands on a handkerchief, leaving dark stains on it.
“The temple is all the way in the heart of Golden Road!” Aleka shouted as Francis went to fetch a carriage driver.
“The priestesses there are trained healers,” the castle healer said. “They are the very best and will be better suited to patch Halia up. The temple is the only place in all of Glenbard equipped to help your mother now, young miss.”
“Where’s the Admiral?” Aleka cried. “Have him arrested while we take her to the temple! He needs to be taken in for his crime!”
Lord and Lady Ghilian exited the kitchen. “That’s enough, Aleka,” Lord Ghilian said.
“You are mistaken,” Lady Ghilian said. “Edward is not capable of such violence. This must have been an accident.”
“No! I saw him! I saw him standing over her with a bloody knife!” All around her people milled about, but they watched the scene furtively.
Lord and Lady Ghilian made for the carriage house while two house servants carried Halia’s bloodied body out. Aleka followed them to the carriage house and yelled to make herself heard, but was ignored among the commotion. Even Lady Ghilian refused to acknowledge her. Rather, Lady Ghilian was aghast at her accusation and denied her son had anything to do with the assault on her cook. Lord Ghilian calmly issued orders, and then saw to it that Halia was gently loaded into his personal carriage and taken to Kamaria’s temple for healing, acting as though it was an accident instead of a violent crime committed by his son. Aleka ran behind the carriage, having not been allowed to ride alongside her mother.
Once at the temple, Aleka’s only comfort was from the silent priestess healers who went here and there about their duties. The healer priestesses to the goddess Kamaria had taken vows of silence, so none of them could offer Aleka much needed words of comfort. They patted her shoulder and gently touched her cheek, but not one word was offered to console her. Aleka didn’t worship the Cesernan god and goddesses, but she knew Kamaria’s temple had the best healers in the whole city. It was Halia’s best chance.
Now she sat on the cold floor outside the sick rooms, since Lady Ghilian was inside with her mother and wouldn’t allow Aleka to enter. Aleka knocked her head gently against the stone wall, finding the dull headache it caused to be the only thing reminding her this was all real. A priestess came by and stared down at her, shaking her head as Aleka continued knocking on the wall.
The priestess held out her hands to help Aleka to her feet.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” Aleka snapped, though her voice cracked as she spoke. The tightness in her chest persisted, while a sense of dread blanketed her.
The priestess scrunched up her face and pulled Aleka forcefully to her feet. For someone whose life was dedicated to scholarly pursuits and stitching wounds, Aleka found the priestess to be shockingly strong as she pulled Aleka up with ease. The priestess put an arm around her shoulders and walked her down the corridor to an empty sick room. She sat Aleka down on a pallet with crisp sheets that smelled of lavender, poured water from a pitcher into a clay mug, and firmly pressed it into Aleka’s hands.
Aleka knew the silent priestesses used their own sign language to speak to one another, and wished she knew how to thank the woman in the language she used. Since she didn’t, she settled with a mumbled “thank you” as she took a drink. The priestess smoothed down Aleka’s hair and felt around the back of her head gently. Aleka offered a weak smile in return.
Aleka cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. “My mother worships the goddess Huiki. She carries around a little wooden idol everywhere she goes. It was in her apron pocket when she...” Aleka looked up at the priestess, who watched her with her head cocked to the side. Without breaking eye contact, Aleka pulled the little wooden idol from her belt purse.
The idol was made of dark, stained wood, and over the years the features had rubbed off. At one point Huiki had a painted red skirt and a wreath of red flowers over her bare breast, but now only flecks of red remained and the flowers looked like bumps on a log. But it was something Halia loved, so Aleka saved it from her pocket. She handed the idol to the priestess.
“I’m sorry we don’t follow Kamaria, but can you give it to her?”
The priestess touched Aleka’s cheek and nodded. Then she turned on her heel, leaving Aleka alone once more.
She sat, staring into the mug of water, her haggard features reflected in the still water. Her hands curled over the clay, wanting nothing more than to crush it. Pretending it was the Admiral’s neck, she imagined crushing the very life out of that mug. When her fingers proved too weak to break it, she hurled the mug against the wall, shattering it into large, brown pieces. Aleka curled up on her side and watched the doorway for some news to come through.
An ache in her chest kept her from sleep. To Aleka, it felt like her heart was being ripped into pieces, like a part of her soul was dying. Her legs twitched, anxious to get up and see her mother, but she knew it was useless since she was denied entrance to Halia’s sick chamber. There was nothing she could do but wait, and as she waited her thoughts turned dark.
It was the Admiral who caused her mother to be here, and now it was his parents who refused to let her enter.
Aleka had seen Lord and Lady Ghilian rebuke the Admiral for merely speaking harsh words to their cook before, but how would they reprimand him for stabbing her? Lady Ghilian was with Halia now, so surely she was devising a plan to punish him, to see him held accountable. Her denial at home was simply due to shock. Lady Ghilian would see him rebuked harshly for this when she recovered from her shock. Halia would be healed and then justice would be served. Aleka clung to these fevered thoughts like a torch in the dark, letting it light her way as she continued to wait.
After a long, torturous while, Lady Ghilian eventually came into the spare room. Her face was ashen and she wrung her hands together. Aleka sat up on the bed, fearing her message.
“How is my mother?”
“Oh dear, I’m afraid we lost her,” Lady Ghilian said, avoiding eye contact with Aleka. She looked at the wall, the door, and even turned to look behind her, but not once did she raise her eyes to Aleka.
Aleka felt like she was falling. Everything around her swirled into a whirlwind where the only thing she could see clearly was the eye of the storm, Lady Ghilian. Her heart pounded double-time, and an aching weight settled on her shoulders, threatening to crush her entirely.
“But I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she finally managed to say after an eternity passed.
“I know, dear, but…”
“Because you wouldn’t let me in!” Aleka said before Lady Ghilian could finish her thought. “You said I couldn’t go in.” Her voice jumped an octave. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother was alive. Wounded, but alive.
“Aleka, please understand, dear-”
“Don’t call me ‘dear!’” Aleka’s voice was shrill now. She got to her feet slowly. “You’re not my mother! You kept me from her!” Hot tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, leaving wet, salty residue on her skin. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye while she might still have heard me!”
“Please, keep your voice down,” Lady Ghilian pleaded, continuing to wring her hands. She swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was approaching the room. It only fueled Aleka’s anger.
“What? Do I embarrass you?” she cried, her tears now blurring her vision. “Does it ruin your standing to have a mere
servant making a scene? What should shame you is the fact that your son stabbed my mother!”
“Stop that!” Lady Ghilian said, her voice firm now. “You are more than a mere servant, Aleka, and so was your mother, you know that. What happened was a grievous accident.”
“Stubbing your toe is an accident!” Aleka’s voice continued to get louder. “Your bastard son willfully killed my mother!”
Lady Ghilian closed the distance between them faster than Aleka would have imagined. She also slapped Aleka harder than she thought the noblewoman could. The slap stunned Aleka into silence.
“Oh, dear!” Lady Ghilian inhaled sharply and covered her mouth in shock. She took Aleka’s face in her hands, her cool skin offering some comfort, albeit a false comfort. “You are upset and speak only from a place of hurt.” When Lady Ghilian sat them down together and cradled Aleka in her arms, the girl didn’t fight it.
Instead she cried, loud wailing sobs, her whole body shaking with the effort. All the while Lady Ghilian rocked her gently, letting her have her grief. After a while the tears subsided. Aleka’s chest hurt and her throat was raw, but she felt somewhat better to have cried.
“Can I at least say goodbye to her now?” she croaked, her voice muffled into Lady Ghilian’s shoulder.
Lady Ghilian’s body stiffened. “I’m sorry, Aleka, but the priestesses have already moved her body to prepare her for burial.”
Aleka jumped to her feet, pushing away from the noblewoman. “We don’t bury our dead on Nareroc; we burn them! The gods demand it. My mother would never wish to be buried!” She clenched her hands into fists at her sides.
“We’re not on the islands, dear,” Lady Ghilian said dismissively. “She’ll be buried, and Lord Ghilian and I will see to the costs. You may stay here and offer your prayers in the temple, but I expect you home by dinner tonight.”
Lady Ghilian gave Aleka a weak smile that barely turned her mouth upwards, then she flounced out of the room as though she had somewhere better to be. Aleka had always liked Lady Ghilian, but now her mind clouded with dark thoughts.