Sacrifice

by Cayla Kluver

  “I understand. Perhaps some fresh air would help.” He was unexpectedly astute, but at least was not asking any more questions. He glanced at Steldor, who motioned us from the room with but one piece of advice for me.

  “You’ll have to scream more loudly from out there.”

  Grayden escorted me into the corridor and through a back door that I anticipated would open upon a garden. But what I saw instead was my version of Eden—a row of paddocks beside a large stable, all filled with beautiful horses.

  “I’m afraid it’s not exactly fresh air,” Grayden jested, walking to lean against the nearest fence, leaving me to follow.

  “It’s fresh enough.”

  I gaped at the well-bred animals, not even aware of Grayden’s eyes on me.

  “Your uncle told me of your love for horses, Shaselle,” he said, startling me out of my trance.

  “Do the Cokyrians know about them?” I inquired, hoping to discourage him from a reprimand like the one Taether had seen fit to provide.

  “They’ve taken a few, but we were able to hide our best.”

  “How very fortunate.”

  My eyes roved over each and every one of the horses, approximating their age and probable stage in training, assessing their form and temperament and noting their reproductive potential. Eventually it dawned on me that silence had fallen. I turned toward Grayden to offer some excuse, but to my surprise, he was gazing at me with affection and sympathy in his green eyes. He smiled and produced a small box, which he extended to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

  He shrugged. “A token of friendship. I would be honored if you would accept it.”

  Curiously, I took the box from his hand. Anticipating jewelry, I prepared for a show of fake enthusiasm. Such a gift would be a sweet gesture, and undoubtedly beautiful, but I was not one for baubles.

  The box did contain jewelry, but not of the type I supposed. On a lovely chain of gold hung a small, golden horse, head high, legs outstretched in a gallop. I looked at Grayden, stupefied, although I didn’t need to feign my pleasure.

  “As I said, your uncle told me of your love for horses,” he explained almost shyly. “That it was a love you shared with your father.”

  “But I…I don’t understand. What are you…?”

  Seeing how flustered I was, he reached out and took my hand.

  “I’m not asking for anything, Shaselle. I just… I think you’re used to being seen as a problem. Maybe it’s presumptuous of me to say that, but your family apologized for so many things about you that I can’t help drawing the conclusion.”

  Not sure how to react, I opted to remain silent.

  “I think you’re only a problem for those people who are trying to turn you into something you’re not.”

  “A lady?” I wryly suggested, regaining my sense of humor. I leaned back on the fence, certain he would agree.

  “No,” he said, and there was conviction in his voice. “They need to stop trying to turn a free spirit into a traditional wife.”

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Could he truly believe what he was saying? Men played games to placate women. But I knew of no man other than my father who would enjoy seeing a horse pendant around the neck of the woman he was courting.

  “I do have a question for you,” Grayden said, leaning against the fence next to me. He hesitated, obviously uncertain about where our relationship stood. “The Harvest Festival is approaching. If you have no other plans to attend, would you consider accompanying me?”

  My eyes again filled with tears. There was no good reason—why should I be breaking down now, when Grayden was being so understanding, so tolerant of my eccentricities?

  “Come,” he said softly. “I’ll take you back to your cousin.”

  I let him escort me into the house, feeling like an ungrateful fool. I hadn’t even thanked him for his gift, and I desperately wanted to do so. But I couldn’t conjure the words to convey how I was feeling, and so I murmured farewell at the door.

  Just as he had before, Steldor glanced at me over and over again on our journey home, until I finally addressed his conduct.

  “Really, Steldor, I know I’m in a fine dress, but I can’t possibly look that different.”

  Since I had opened the conversation, he said what was on his mind. “Are you all right? You didn’t seem…yourself…when we left Lord Landru’s, although I never heard you scream.”

  For once, I didn’t feel like I was lying when I said, “I’m all right, I truly am. In fact, I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.”

  “Well, judging from your conversation, you and Grayden are made for each other.” I gave him a shove on the shoulder, and he laughed. “I don’t suppose you noticed all the horses? I hear Grayden is very good with them. Although he might lack Baelic’s way with people, I think he may have your father’s way with horses.”

  “I did notice,” I said with a smile, thinking it had turned into quite a beautiful day.

  When we arrived at my house, Steldor escorted me to the front entry and came inside to bid a cheery “Good day” to my family. With a wink for me, he departed, closing the door to leave me in my mother’s care.

  “How was lunch?” she asked, watching me bound up the stairs.

  “The soup was excellent,” I called over my shoulder, knowing she wasn’t inquiring about the food, but not yet ready to talk about Grayden. I hurried to my bedroom, forestalling further questions.

  The moment I entered, my eyes went to the window across from me, and I sighed, my happiness seeming to leave my body along with my breath. I would never forget; this room would never let me forget. My only hope was that the nightmares would stop, someday, somehow. Perhaps the way to ensure they did was to replace them with dreams, good dreams of someone else. Moving to my writing desk, I took a piece of parchment, a quill and ink, and began to write.

  My dear Lord Grayden, I have given your kind invitation thought, and would be honored to accompany you to the Harvest Festival. Perhaps we shall even make it into an adventure. Looking forward to seeing you again, Lady Shaselle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

  FATHER FIGURES

  ALERA

  Narian had been right—when the festival opened, the people were thrilled. For the first time in over a year, children ran freely up and down the streets, laughing and playing; couples young and old wandered the military training field without fear; and the Market District was abuzz with vendors and shoppers. Cokyrian guards circled and supervised, but relaxed as the day went on—nothing worse than the occasional scuffle broke out, and even enemy soldiers could not resist the entertainment, food and overall excitement generated by the event.

  I was out among the crowd at dawn, participating in games; perusing fabric, jewelry, spices, fragrances, books and treats for sale; and greeting everyone I saw. The celebration was going well, even better than I had dared to hope, for more foreign traders had elected to participate than I had foreseen.

  At noon, I met my mother, father, Miranna and Temerson for lunch. There was no formal dinner scheduled for this first day of the festivities, but the following evening would offer a free meal for all, which I had dubbed the Commander’s Banquet. Narian had made some inroads with the people, and I wanted to continue to show him as a benevolent and caring liaison.

  Joining us for lunch were Cannan and his wife, as well as Narian’s Hytanican family, with the exc
eption of the younger girls. Semari and her betrothed, who was at least double her age, sat beside my sister, while Koranis, Alantonya and their son Zayle were across from my parents. I scanned the area for Narian, whom I had thought would accompany me, but to my consternation, he did not approach until the meal had concluded. Although I had made the decision to invite Baron Koranis and his family with Narian in mind, I now considered that they might have kept him away.

  Whatever the case, he came to my side when our group began to formally tour the festival grounds. Though we had all participated individually in the event during the morning, it was important that we appear together to show accord and remind everyone of Cokyri’s sponsorship of the event.

  My fear about the reason Narian had missed lunch was soon confirmed, for he maintained a considerable distance from Koranis. Both gradually became bookends to our company, which made sense for neither—my father, who was Koranis’s best friend, walked in the center of our assemblage next to my mother and me. There was nothing that could be done about the situation, so I concentrated on the people who lined up to greet us. I waved and nodded to them, accepting the garlands of flowers that were thrust into my hands to wish me good fortune and happiness. Children would occasionally extend a single flower, and I would pass them a treat from a sack of candy carried by one of my Cokyrian guards.

  A little girl, perhaps five years of age and bursting with enthusiasm, broke away from her mother and ran toward me, stopping a couple of feet short, suddenly aware that she was in the midst of strangers. She was holding a purple flower, her dark hair held back by a woven headband, her large blue eyes round with alarm.

  “It’s all right,” I said to her, believing she intended to give the flower to me. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She looked at me curiously, then took a tentative step—not toward me, but toward Narian. He watched her draw closer, his expression uncertain, as though he were trying to determine the girl’s motivations. When she stood before him, he knelt down to accept the flower, while the crowd held its collective breath, and I wondered if they thought he would harm her.

  “You’re brave like my papa,” she said, and the people chuckled. The girl blushed, not used to such attention.

  A smile flicked across Narian’s face. “And you’re beautiful like the woman I love.”

  He touched her cheek, and the girl giggled, then ran back to her mother. A sprinkling of applause broke out, which Narian acknowledged with a nod. When I caught his eye, I beamed at him, suddenly envisioning our future. He would be the father of my children someday, and a wonderful father he would be.

  When the first day of the festival had concluded, I retired early, my feet aching and my body exhausted. Narian had left us after our tour of the grounds, and I had not seen him since, although I hoped he would come to me now. He did, but even as he dropped through my window, he seemed distracted, far away inside his own head. I tried to engage him in conversation, but found it to be mostly one-sided, for I could not hold his interest. Though there was no smooth way to launch into the necessary topic, I did so anyway, doubtful that he was even listening.

  “Are you upset that your family was with us today?” I asked.

  “You invited them?” Judging by the tone of his voice, I had landed upon the correct issue.

  “Yes. It made sense to do so.”

  “I suppose,” he replied, but I knew the answer did not reflect his actual thoughts.

  “They’re old friends of my family, Narian. And I thought perhaps you would…enjoy seeing them again.”

  “Alera, they don’t want my company.”

  “Your mother does.”

  His eyes at last met mine.

  “I spoke to her about you. She would give up her husband to regain her son.”

  “I doubt that’s true,” he said with a short laugh.

  “It is,” I insisted, reaching out to run a hand through his hair. I might have changed her words a little, but I understood her intent. “She told me so herself. Believe it.”

  Narian stared at me, a flicker of hope on his face that quickly faded into his stoic facade.

  “Even if what you say is true,” he said at last, “in order to have a relationship with her, with my siblings, I need to have one with Koranis.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted, for my dinner at the Baron’s home had proven that to be the case.

  He sat on the bed beside me and drew one knee close to his chest. “Koranis doesn’t want to be anywhere near me, and to be honest, I have no interest in a relationship with him. I have no respect for him.” Narian read the sympathy in my eyes. “It’s all right, Alera. I don’t need a family.”

  “Maybe you don’t need one,” I said with a shrug, playing with the fabric of the quilt that lay between us. “But you deserve one.”

  I thought for a moment I had hit a nerve, but instead he made a joke out of it.

  “Just think—if I’d had Koranis as my father, I might have turned into him by now. I’d be brutish and pretentious, but at least my boastful garb would distract you from those flaws. Oh, and this hair you love? It would be gone.”

  I laughed at the ounce of truth in his statement, then fell silent, for some reason feeling sadder about his situation than he was. He reclined upon the pillows, considering me.

  “You know, in Cokyri, fathers don’t raise their children. I think maybe it’s better that way.”

  “How can you think that?” I asked, troubled by the decided tenor of his voice, and he sat up again, not having expected this reaction from me.

  “Your father controlled you and forced you to marry Steldor. How can you disagree with me after living through that?”

  “Because…” I faltered. “Because I love my father for all the good things he’s done. Because he made me laugh when I was a child. That’s what I think about when I see him. Not his mistakes.”

  “I couldn’t forgive him like you do.”

  “Could you forgive me? I mean, if I did something awful.”

  Narian did not immediately respond, unsettling me, but it was in his nature to weigh all things.

  “I don’t know,” he slowly answered. “But I would still love you.”

  He looked at me, an epiphany in his eyes, finally understanding my connection to my family. Then his expression changed, and I knew he was going to raise a difficult issue.

  “Explain this then. If that is how families are supposed to function, and you would forgive your father anything, and clearly my mother would forgive me anything, then Koranis fails because he won’t accept me. The women, you and my mother, are loving, but the man fails.”

  “Yes, but not all men fail.”

  “Prove it. Your father sold you into marriage, and the only father figures I’ve known have respectively made my life hell and rejected me.”

  He lay back once more, watching me, and though he had caught me off guard, I was determined to make my point.

  “Cannan is a just and fair man.”

  “Whose son is Steldor.”

  “Who has faults, yes—”

  “As all men do.”

  Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air. “Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

  “No,” he said apologetically. “Go on.”

  “What about you? Am I, the woman who is in love with you, supposed to believe you’re a terrible person when I know better?”

  “I would be a terrible father,” he said, shifting onto his
side.

  “What?”

  “Come, Alera, you have to admit it.”

  “I don’t have to admit anything, especially when I think you’re wrong.”

  “On what grounds?”

  I was so exasperated I wanted to tear my hair out. And his bemused visage only made it worse.

  “Because I saw you with that little girl this afternoon! You were perfect with her. And if you can be perfect with a stranger’s child, how could you be any different with our own?”

  “It’s different raising a child than talking with one,” he contended. “I never had a father, Alera. No one taught me how to be one.”

  “And did anyone teach you how to love me?”

  This stopped him short. “No.”

  “Well, you’re pretty good at it. So be quiet, and accept that our children are going to love you.”

  Narian’s eyebrows rose, and I started laughing. Taking my hand, he pulled me toward him and I lay down beside him, mirroring his position.

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” I murmured, giving him a light kiss.

  “You never know where a conversation is going to take you,” he said, gazing into my dark eyes. “I’m rather glad you did.”

  We lay contentedly together, occasionally kissing, my fingers twined in his hair. I loved the feel of it, its texture, its color, and I brushed it back along the nape of his neck.

  “You’re tickling me,” he said with a smile. “Are you trying to keep me awake?”

  “No.” I laughed, pushing up on my elbow to look down at him. “It’s just—”

  I stopped, staring at the birthmark on his neck, the mark of the Bleeding Moon, as it had been called in the legend, and my hand began to shake.

  “What is it, Alera?” he asked, alarmed.

  “Nothing. It’s just…” I struggled to form a cohesive thought, for in all my dreams of a life with him, of having children with him, this question had never before occurred to me.