by Victor Poole
"You did a very nice job of cutting it," Delmar said. He felt the short hair at the back of his head. "I like it," he said.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?" he asked.
"Being like this," she said, waving her hand up and down in the air.
"Like what?" he insisted. She tipped her face at an angle, and looked at the reflection of moonlight that showed up in his eyes.
"Broken," she said.
"I don't think you're broken," he said.
"Damaged," she amended.
"You're fine just like you are," he said.
"I am not fine," she said with a laugh.
"Kiss me," he said. She regarded him suspiciously. A part of her wanted to, but the larger portion of her mind told her she would regret it.
"No," she said. He wound a hand around her waist. "Stop trying to make me feel better," she said.
"Never," he replied.
"I'm not like you," Ajalia said. She pulled away from Delmar, but he followed her, his palm warm and fast on her side.
"How are you not like me?" Delmar asked. His voice was low, and warm, and soothing.
"Stop!" Ajalia said, but she laughed in spite of herself.
"Tell me how," Delmar coaxed.
"You're sweet," she said. "You're real." Delmar put his mouth against her neck. "Stop," Ajalia said firmly.
"No," Delmar said, his mouth full of her jaw.
"I mean it," Ajalia said. A shiver of tears was at the edge of her words.
"Give me one good reason, and I will stop," Delmar said calmly, nuzzling behind her ear.
"I'm no good for you," Ajalia said at once, "I'm going to use you as a political lever, I haven't finished putting the household together, and we aren't married." Delmar raised his face and looked at her.
"You've never talked like this before," he said. He sounded surprised. Ajalia felt as though she were going to burst suddenly into sobs.
"And I hate my mother," she added. Delmar examined her eyes. She looked away from him, ashamed.
"You're a great big baby," Delmar exclaimed. "I thought you were some kind of scary smart person, and you're just a big scared baby."
"I am not a baby!" Ajalia said. Delmar lifted her efficiently into his lap. "Stop!" Ajalia said, struggling to extricate herself. Ajalia knew she was strong, but Delmar pinned her arms gently, and she could not budge.
"You're afraid of me," Delmar observed.
"I am not," Ajalia retorted.
"Then look me in the face," Delmar said. Ajalia buried her head in Delmar's neck.
"I don't want to," she said, her voice coming out stifled. Delmar lifted her face, and kissed her firmly on the mouth.
"I'm going to take care of you," he announced.
"I'm not a baby," Ajalia insisted.
"You're my little bird," Delmar murmured, stroking her hair. Ajalia's cheeks were hot.
"This is humiliating," she snapped.
"Be nice to me," Delmar commanded. She pressed her lips together.
"No," she said. He kissed her again. "I'm a mean person," she added, when he had finished.
"Kiss me," he said. She could smell his skin.
"No," she said.
"Then I will kiss you," he announced.
"I don't want to be alive anymore," Ajalia said suddenly. Delmar wrapped his arms more firmly about her.
"Why?" he asked briskly.
"I'm tired of things," she said. "Everything hurts."
"That's because you aren't kissing me," he said easily.
"Be serious," Ajalia said impatiently.
"I am being serious," Delmar said.
"Kissing does not solve problems," Ajalia said tartly.
"Does too," he said, and kissed her. The warmth of his caress, and the utterly relaxing way Delmar made her heart race, combined to send sickly aches of sweet longing over her spine.
"This is ridiculous," she said firmly. Delmar snuggled his arms around her, and stroked the back of her neck. "Stop making me happy," she said. He chuckled at her. "And stop laughing at me," she said, but she was smiling.
"Marry me," Delmar said. Ajalia made a grumble. "We could do it the old way," he suggested. Ajalia sighed, and wrapped her hands around his arm. She was feeling very much as though she were about to fall asleep.
"What's the old way?" she asked idly, looking up at his chin. A scruff of beard had begun to appear there again, as it had in the forest. Ajalia sat up. "Do you shave?" she asked, putting her hand on Delmar's chin. He looked down; Ajalia realized, after a moment, that he was embarrassed.
"My mother finds my beard upsetting," he admitted. Ajalia stared at him, wide awake.
"Why?" she asked.
"She wants me to be younger," Delmar said. He rubbed at his jaw, where the dark shadow climbed up his cheek.
"You're going to grow it out," Ajalia said. Her voice was different, sharper. Delmar looked at her.
"Why?" he asked. She waved a hand at him.
"Image of the new Thief Lord," she explained. "It makes you look older." And, she added silently to herself, alluring. Delmar scratched at the beginnings of his beard, his eyes doubtful.
"My mother will come and bother you," he warned.
"I'll marry you, if you grow it out," Ajalia said. Delmar stared at her with his mouth open. "I will," Ajalia said. He looked as though she had struck him on top of the head with a heavy object; his eyes were narrowed, and his mouth snapped closed.
"I really do want to marry you," Delmar said defensively.
"And I want to marry you," Ajalia said, "as long as you have a beard."
He glared at her. He turned to one side. He backed away from her, and examined her expression.
"You were very adamant about not marrying me," Delmar said.
"Now you have scruff," Ajalia explained. Delmar's nose was beginning to wrinkle in suspicion.
"I had scruff this morning," he said slowly.
"Well, there's more of it now," she said sensibly. Delmar looked at her for a very long time.
"My mother hates my beard," he said.
"And she's insane and evil, and hopefully she'll die of a horrible disease next week," Ajalia said promptly. Delmar's eyes were thinned into slits; his breath was coming in and out of his nose like a slow bellows.
"I don't trust you," Delmar said.
"What's the old way of marriage?" Ajalia asked. "Can we get married now?"
An involuntary smile was squishing its way out of Delmar's compressed lips.
"This is all very sudden," he explained. Ajalia shrugged helplessly.
"You look different," she said, and it was true. Aside from the clothes, and the glinting red earring, and the shorter hair that fell over Delmar's face, he looked quite mature. The shadow of brown along his jaw and his chin seemed to add ten years to his face; his cheeks had sharpened, and hollowed a little, and his eyes seemed now like bright piercing arrows.
"You're handsome," she told him.
"And you like me now?" he asked.
"I've always liked you," she lied. He glowered. "Sort of," she amended. "But you don't look so foolish now."
"I didn't look foolish before," Delmar said snippily. Ajalia remembered the first time she had seen him.
"You looked awful before," she told him.
"Well," he said, and then could think of nothing more to say.
"What is the old way?" she asked.
"You don't mean it," Delmar said. He sounded depressed. Ajalia felt a surge of violent rage building up in her chest.
"That's just great," she said angrily. "You kiss me, and you tease me, and you ask me to marry you, and as soon as I say yes, you start to cry."
"I am not crying," Delmar snapped.
"You're pathetic," Ajalia said, tears rising up to her eyes.
"Are you crying?" Delmar demanded.
"Of course I'm crying, Delmar," Ajalia wailed. "Why wouldn't I cry?" Delmar watched her, a seriously doubtful look on his face.
"I'm
sorry," he said cautiously. Ajalia uttered a sound like a snarl of wet cats, and walked away. Delmar edged after her. "Can I make it better?" he whispered. She laughed, but she wanted to shout at him. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"Let's go back to before," she said. "Before all this."
"I don't want to go back," Delmar said. Ajalia looked at him. He smiled at Ajalia. She did not smile at him. "Cheer up," he said. "Now we can get married." His eyes tried to sparkle at her, but the usual flicker of happiness that he threw her way was unable to come to life. He sat down on the railing, and watched Ajalia stare at the sky.
"Well," Delmar said. "What do you want to do now?" She shrugged. "Can I still marry you?" he asked tentatively. She sighed, and nodded.
"I don't care anymore," she told him. "Do what you like." She went towards the stairs, and climbed down until she came to the room with the balcony, where she had placed her things. She went towards the desk, and sat down in the chair. She put her hands over her eyes, and leaned her elbows on the surface of the desk. She heard Delmar follow her into the room. He put his hand on her head, and patted her.
"Hey," he said. She let out a muffled grunt. "I'm sorry," he said again. Ajalia put her head deeply into her arms, and stopped breathing. She could feel Delmar standing behind her, watching her. She wished he would go away. She felt stifled and ashamed near him now. She heard a creak; he sat down on one side of the desk, and picked up her hand.
"Mrrumph," she said.
"I'm not that embarrassing," Delmar said, as though he were telling her how to make the best of a tough situation. She looked up.
"What?" she demanded.
"I'm not completely horrible," Delmar said. His face looked somewhat tortured.
"What are you talking about?" she asked. He stared at her.
"You don't really want to marry me at all," Delmar explained. "You feel sorry for me. It's okay, though," he said, resignation in his voice. "People would find out, and then I'd be an outcast."
"Is that what happens if you marry an owned woman?" Ajalia asked. "You're thrown out of the city?"
"Well, usually you're stripped of all you own, and sold to Talbos, or sent across the sea to the Saroyan slave markets," Delmar said, "but I don't own anything, and I have rank, so I'd be thrown out into the desert." Ajalia looked over Delmar with new eyes; his face was calm and composed.
"Why on earth do you want to marry me?" she demanded. "You'd die out there."
"Yes," he said, "but I really like you." Ajalia studied Delmar's eyes; she could see him more clearly in this room. The angle of the moonlight that came in the balcony bounced against the white stone, and filled the front part of the room with an unearthly blue glow.
"You're insane," she said finally.
"I like you," he said again.
"Why do you have a death wish?" she asked.
"You said you didn't want to be alive anymore," he said. "I can feel that way, too. And you're clever and strong, so you'd get away from them before it was too late."
Ajalia stared at Delmar; she could not fathom what would move a young man such as he was to throw away his life so wantonly.
"That makes no sense to me," she told him. "Why don't you just try to seduce me, like any other rational person?" He looked as though she had accused him of murder.
"I don't want to sleep with you," he said prudishly, "I just want you to belong to me for a while."
"Wait," Ajalia said, "what?"
"I want you to be my wife," Delmar explained. He sounded as though he were telling a child to accept that the sky was blue.
"But why?" she demanded, a hot flush creeping up her cheeks.
"Because I love you," he said patiently. He looked at her, and his gaze was frank and open. Ajalia felt like her insides were crumpling into horribly sharp pieces.
"Well, then no," she said. "I won't marry you." Delmar did not look surprised, but his eyes gleamed a little.
"I told you so," he said triumphantly. "I told you that you just felt sorry for me."
"No!" Ajalia said loudly. She glanced at the window, and lowered her voice. She had heard for herself how words could carry in the empty stone streets, and she knew that the Thief Lord had spies, or at any rate, gossipy neighbors, which were almost the same thing. "I don't want you to be dead," she hissed.
"I'm already dead inside, so what does it matter?" Delmar shot back. She looked at him and opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. "You hate life, too," he added vindictively.
"I do not," Ajalia said. She did not notice Delmar's hands, which were creeping ever nearer, and his eyes, which had taken on the gleam that had been in them on the night he had first kissed her. "I did not say I hated life," she repeated.
"You said," Delmar pressed in a low voice, his face coming closer to her, "that you were tired of being alive, and that everything hurt."
"Well, that's different to hating life," she said, flustered.
"It's not," he told her. "And anyway, no one counts the old way as marriage anymore, so maybe I won't die."
"Wait," she said for the second time that night; she felt as though her head was spinning. "What?"
"The old way of marriage," Delmar said quickly, his voice urgent. Ajalia saw now how close he was to her, and how his body leaned in towards her. She heard the cautious tremor in his voice, and saw the angle of his jaw, and the way his lips parted. "You said you'd marry me," Delmar urged.
"And then I took it back," Ajalia said. She watched Delmar cautiously. "What do you want?" she asked. He had a dangerous look in his eye.
"Will you marry me?" he asked again. She regarded him suspiciously.
"What's going on?" she asked finally. He grinned at her.
"Nothing," he said.
"You're lying," she shot at him. He leaned away from her, his arms crossing over his chest. "You are," she insisted.
"Will you?" he asked. She studied him.
"Are you doing magic?" she asked suddenly. His smiled faltered.
"No," he said, too quickly. She narrowed her eyes in triumph.
"I knew it," she hissed. "I knew you would try something like this."
"Something like what?" Delmar asked innocently.
"Don't use that tone with me," Ajalia said angrily. "This is just like what happened with my scars, and you said it would be fine, and then I was bleeding in the woods and fainting every other minute."
Delmar's face grew sober.
"Well, this is not like that," he said.
"No magic," she said firmly. His face fell a little.
"It was going to be nice magic," he offered.
"No," she said. "And you don't know what you're doing."
"I do," Delmar said. She held up her wrist at him. "Oh, come on," Delmar exclaimed, his face reddening. "The scars are gone, aren't they? You don't faint anymore, do you?"
"That's beside the point," she said.
"No, it isn't, he said.
"Go to bed," she said. Delmar stepped close and put his arms around her.
"No," he said. The dangerous glint was back in his eye.
"Delmar," she said, a warning note in her voice.
"Jay," he said evenly. Her lips worked into a knot.
"Don't call me that," she said.
"Try and stop me, little bird," he growled.
Ajalia put her hands on Delmar's chest. "Delmar," she said. Her heart was starting to thud up in her throat. "Stop looking like that, Delmar," she said.
"You said you didn't care anymore," Delmar said.
"I changed my mind," Ajalia lied.
"You're scared," he told her.
"Am not," she lied. He pulled her close against his waist; she could feel the heat radiating from his body into hers. She felt like she was touching a burning sun. He pressed his forehead against her face, and closed his eyes.
"What are you doing?" Ajalia whispered. Her heart was thumping angrily against her ribs, and her palms were shaking.
"Loving you," Delmar said. She laughed
shakily. "You are like a tender plant," Delmar said, rubbing his cheek against her temple. "You are wilted and sad, and you must be loved back to life."
"That probably isn't true," she said, but she put her arms around his neck.
"Now can I do magic?" he asked.
"Is it going to kill me?" she asked.
"Not if we keep it a secret," he said. She looked at him. He opened his eyes, and met her gaze. His eyes were warm and powerful in the darkness.
"Are you serious?" she asked. He nodded. Ajalia worked her fingers into the back of his hair. Slowly, she nodded. Delmar sighed, and put his hands along Ajalia's spine. His palms were hot; Ajalia glanced behind, and saw that his hands were beginning to glow yellow in the moonlight. "What are you doing?" she asked in a whisper.
"Shh," he said, and took her palms into his hands. The yellow light melted from his hands onto hers, and quivered against her skin. He reached behind his own back, and drew out a shimmering mound of gold from his spine.
"Now," Delmar said softly, guiding her hands towards his back, "at the same time, along my bones." He put his arms around her, and met her eyes. "Ready?" he asked. She looked up at him, and there was so much love in his eyes that she was ashamed.
"I'm not good enough for you," she warned him.
"That's for me to choose," he said.
"What if you're sorry later?" she asked, fear flinging up in her body.
"I won't be," he said. He put his shining hands against her back, and, with a feeling of awful guilt, Ajalia laid her palms along his spine. She felt a jolt like lightning through her body; her heart seemed to split in two. A feeling like death crushed her against Delmar; she could feel his body reaching for air, and choking. For a long moment, Ajalia thought that they were both going to die; she was sure that Delmar had unleashed some awful magic in her, and that her boys would find their blackened bodies intertwined on the floor in the morning, empty of life. A bubble of serenity, of cutting off from the world, surrounded them both. Ajalia could hear Delmar's heart, and the rush of his blood; she was sure he could sense her own sounds of life in the same way. With a crumbling rush, the moment passed, and the magic passed from them. Delmar's hands were around her like a warm shield.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice breathless. She nodded. "I didn't know it would be like that," he admitted.