WayFarer

by Janalyn Voigt

  “I don’t know the Kindren dances.”

  Her blush brought a smile to him. “Come, I’ll teach you.”

  “Please, no.”

  “Please, yes.”

  “I can deny you nothing when you smile at me that way.” She rose with him, and he put a hand to her back.

  “That’s worth remembering.”

  Elcon led his laughing bride into the dancers but paused to explain the steps. Aewen stumbled and put her hands to her cheeks as if conscious of her blush. They laughed together and began again. He lost himself in the simple pleasure of dancing with his bride.

  The partners shifted and the dance brought him face-to-face with Arillia. Her eyes widened, and he put out a hand to stop her, for it seemed she might break from him and run. He should prevent that for his sake and for hers. But Arillia did not run. How odd to dance with her in the same way as before when nothing was the same at all. The dance brought them close and he spoke near her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  “I hope you are not.”

  Did she deliberately misunderstand him? The dance moved them apart, and as Elcon turned to a new partner, he decided to let the matter drop. He’d made his apology, however inadequate. He could do no more to ease Arillia, especially since spending time in her presence left him with a strange feeling in his stomach. He loved Aewen, but it seemed Arillia could still touch him with regret.

  He spent a restless night and, to quiet himself, slipped into the solitude of the inner garden. The mist parted to reveal Arillia walking with her maid near the fountain at the garden’s heart. She’d already seen him, so it would be rude to withdraw despite his longing to flee. When they met he said the first thing that came to mind. “Forgive me. I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Arillia’s gray eyes, which he’d once found so calming, pierced him. “No Elcon, there’s no need.” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps you will join me.”

  He misliked the idea but paced beside her anyway as her maid trailed at a discreet distance. They passed beneath the strongwood tree where he’d once promised to court her. The memory of it took him and, from the look on Arillia’s face, she remembered too.

  “Each morning grows colder.” Her words ended on a rising note he’d heard before whenever she’d wanted to weep.

  He turned her toward him, but not for his kiss this time. “I meant what I said last night, Arillia. I’m sorry.”

  “The frosts of winter will soon paint the mornings.” She would not meet his eyes.

  “I broke faith with you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am sorry. When I met Aewen, I—I couldn’t seem to help myself.”

  She put her hands to his chest. “Please, Elcon—” Her husky whisper filled his ears.

  “Will you not forgive me?”

  Her eyes closed, and the eyelids fluttered. “Speak no more.”

  He longed to continue his plea, to wrest from her the forgiveness that would expunge his guilt, but this time he would yield to her need rather than his own. When she opened her eyes tears trembled on her lashes. He saw, too, all he had taken from her, and from himself. He had not known the future he’d once held in his arms. He’d despised it as too attainable. Now it was gone forever. He deserved to live with guilt and regret, just as Arillia would live with the pain he’d caused her. As Arillia’s tears fell, Elcon caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. He let go of her then, backing until the mist shut her away from him, as it must.

  ****

  Aewen smiled and reached for her new husband but found only bedding. Frowning at the silent chamber, she pushed back the covers and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed as she stretched.

  An image of the golden raena with silver eyes arose unbidden.

  Aewen sighed. Raena Arillia embodied everything she could never be. Where Arillia’s locks resembled a ray of sun on an overcast day, her own dark hair called to mind the thickening shadows of night. Arillia would always be a Kindren, whereas no matter how hard she tried, Aewen would ever remain an outsider. Arillia moved with ease within the social parameters at Torindan, but Aewen didn’t even know when she blundered. She must embarrass Elcon, although he did not tell her so. Instead, he withdrew and left her to flounder alone. Hadn’t he spent much of their wedding feast engaged in conversation with Shraen Eberhardt?

  She called Murial to tend her and thus stilled the voice of introspection.

  “You sleep late this morn.” Murial pressed her lips together, but her eyes gleamed.

  Aewen felt the rising warmth of a blush. “I do. My husband slept ill and disturbed my own slumber.”

  Murial looked puzzled. “What but the delights of the marriage bed keeps a bridegroom awake on his wedding night?”

  Now her face truly heated. “Enough of such talk.”

  Murial brushed her hair in silent obedience, but Aewen could not keep her own rule. “Whatever keeps Elcon from sleep has to do with Raena Arillia. I’m sure of it. Have you heard of her, Murial?” She should not seek gossip from her servant in this way.

  The brush paused mid-stroke. “Aye, I know of her.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’ll not like it.”

  “I like not knowing even less.”

  Murial continued brushing. “Well, then. Elcon was meant to marry Raena Arillia from childhood. He might have done so had he not met you.”

  She released her breath. “She loves him?”

  “They say he broke her heart.”

  Aewen touched her hands to her cheeks. “I took him from her.”

  “You did, but he went willingly. He loves you. Let it be.”

  How could she ignore the grief she’d given another, even without intent? Here, then, was another reproach at her door.

  Elcon returned and swept her into his arms just as Murial tightened her girdle belt. She pulled away, fussing about the lacing, but Murial shushed her. “Laces be only laces, flitling.”

  With that reminder, she relinquished thoughts of Arillia and pulled Elcon down for her kiss. He responded with breathtaking fervor. Blushing when he released her, she glanced at Murial in embarrassment.

  The corners of Murial’s mouth lifted. The connecting door to the outer chamber closed behind her with a small click.

  Elcon smiled at Aewen. “Do you blush in front of your servant, wife?”

  Aewen tilted a smile up at him. “I suppose I do.”

  His laughter held an odd note that troubled her. “Are you well this morn?”

  He sobered, and she almost wished she had not asked the question. “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged and looked away from him. “Sleep held little charm for you last night.”

  “That’s true enough.” He touched her shoulder. “With such a beauty in my bed, I lay awake thinking of my good fortune. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

  He lied. Such tossing and turning did not come from counting joys. She turned back to him. “Tell me about Raena Arillia.”

  Elcon looked as if struck. As he peered out one of the windows, she seated herself on the bench before the fire. Just when she’d decided he’d forgotten her, he turned. “You have a right to know.”

  She laced her fingers and waited as he crossed the room to her. “Arillia and I were raised with the understanding we would one day wed.”

  Murial had said as much, although she didn’t inform him that she already knew. She examined her clasped hands.

  Elcon heaved a breath. “No, it’s worse than that, if I’m honest. I’ve not requited myself well, with either you or Arillia.”

  She jerked her gaze to his, and he gave her a sad smile.

  “You see, I promised Arillia I would court her when I returned from my journeys. I came back with you instead.”

  She stared at him, waiting for what he would say next.

  He paced before the fire. “You are not the only one who forsook another and bore shame so we might wed. I broke faith with Arillia and disregarded the understanding between her parents and min
e in order to marry you.” He came to stand before her. “I should not have asked it of you, nor should I have disgraced Arillia.” Kneeling, he touched her face. “Despite my sins, I love you.”

  She caught his hand and brought it to her lips to receive her kiss. “I hope you find my love enough to sustain you, Elcon, and that you will not wish for what might have been.”

  His eyes widened. “We have made our choices, Aewen. Let us leave such speculation aside, for it cannot profit.”

  Outside the window in the inner garden a breeze stirred the leaves. Elcon was right. They had both chosen the path before them, a road paved in dishonor.

  15

  Conception

  “What now?” Elcon did not bother to hide his irritation in finding Benisch at the door. When contrasted with the peace wrought by his avoidance of Elcon since the wedding, the steward’s intrusion seemed all the more unbearable.

  Benisch’s face spasmed, and he pushed past Elcon into his outer chamber. “I must remind you, Lof Shraen, that you do not speak to a mere servant, but rather address one joined to you by your father’s blood.”

  “I’m surprised you would reproach me with our relationship.”

  “We are cousins.”

  “Distant cousins.”

  “You tend to forget the truth of even that. If, like you, I had been blessed with the shil shael, you’d remember.” Benisch had long rued the fact that he’d not inherited the hereditary soul touch of the sons of Rivenn. “You’re reluctant to claim me, son of Talan that you are, and yet your shame is not that different from my ancestor, Iewald’s.”

  “If we were not kinsmen that remark would see you to the dungeon.” Elcon kept his voice light, but fury burned within him. Iewald, Kunrat’s illegitimate son, had betrayed his legitimate brother, Talan, at the beguilement of Merriwyn of Old, thus weakening the virtue of the House of Rivenn and enabling Freaer to escape imprisonment. How dare a son of Iewald accuse Talan’s son? And yet unease stirred within Elcon. Had he also betrayed his kingdom for love?

  Fright stamped Benisch’s features. He must realize he’d gone too far. He rasped a breath. “Lof Shraen, I have word of Freaer.”

  Elcon leaned forward. “Tell me.”

  “He now occupies Pilaer, which he fortifies daily, and readies for another attack of Torindan.”

  “How come you by this news?”

  Benisch gave a cagey smile. “I have ears, Lof Shraen, in certain places.”

  Elcon waved that aside. “I’m not interested in gossip, Benisch. I need facts.”

  Benisch sniffed. “I overheard part of a conversation between Craelin and a messenger from Whellein Hold. Craelin will soon bring you this information.”

  Elcon eyed Benisch. “How came you to overhear a private conversation?”

  Benisch waved his hand in a parody of Elcon’s earlier gesture. “They need to take more care.”

  Elcon blinked. Whether or not Benisch should have eavesdropped, his logic was unassailable. Craelin should have been more careful. Still, Elcon had no wish to indulge in gossip with Benisch. He sat back in his chair. “Go find Craelin and tell him I wait for him.”

  Benisch opened his mouth as if to say more but then hesitated and inclined his head. “As you wish.”

  In Benisch’s absence, Elcon paced through the room. When a tap came at the door, he turned.

  Anders looked in. “Do you require food, Lof Shraen?”

  Elcon waved him away in annoyance but then called him back. “Send Kai to me.” While Kai had no formal duty to offer advice, more and more in difficult situations Elcon looked to his quiet presence and well-reasoned responses. His mother had done the same. Remembering his mother made Elcon smile but also hitch a breath at the thought she was no longer alive.

  When Kai entered the room, he made no inquiry but waited in silence as Elcon concluded his pacing. Craelin arrived and Elcon moved to the table with a brief nod to acknowledge his bow. “Come then, we’ve much to discuss.”

  The men took their accustomed places at his side, and Elcon aimed a glance at Craelin. “Tell me how I come by news of Freaer’s movements first from my steward Benisch.”

  Craelin’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in his chair. “I, too, would like to know that. We met under measures of utmost security.”

  Elcon lifted an eyebrow. “I am told he overheard the conversation.”

  Craelin drummed his fingers. “Impossible—unless…” He slapped his hand on the table and sat forward. “Word of mouth has it that a passage leads from one of the guardrooms to the stables. We’ve searched for it long and hard without success. Benish must know its entrance.”

  “Don’t use that particular guardroom for matters of security again. And renew your search for the passageway. We will need to question Benisch further. I’m afraid his penchant for gossip may have led him astray.”

  “I’ll see to it at once.”

  “Now, tell me all that this messenger said.”

  “Freaer rebuilds Pilaer Hold and lays claim to the fenland of Weithein Faen. Rumor holds that he arms for another attack on Torindan, and that he argues an earlier right as Rivenn’s heir.”

  Elcon nodded. Freaer came from the same illegitimate branch of Rivenn’s descendants as did Benisch.

  Craelin pressed his lips together, as if to hold back words.

  “Go on.”

  “Another two ravens have changed their loyalty to Freaer.”

  Elcon pushed to his feet and took the steps needed to reach the hearth where flames devoured and resin snapped as wood went up in smoke. He turned back to Craelin. “Name them.”

  “Merboth and Tallyrand.”

  “What reason do they give?”

  “They say they will not follow a Lof Raelein of Elder blood.” Craelin pressed his lips together once more.

  “Speak all. What else do they say?”

  Craelin glanced sideways to Kai and then back to Elcon. “They take offense on Arillia’s behalf, although Chaeradon itself remains loyal.”

  “I see. Whether I will or not, it seems I must face my own people in battle. Did the messenger have any idea when Freaer might strike?”

  “Shraen Eberhardt believes Freaer will strike before winter. We can’t know for certain, but we may have a little more time than that. Pilaer’s location within Weithein Faen suits it well for defense, but doesn’t lend itself to offensive strikes.”

  Elcon tilted his head. If Freaer approached through the canyonlands to avoid crossing the Great Eastern Desert it would cost him time. But if he drove his armies across the desert without regard for loss of life, he’d arrive sooner. He pushed a hand through his hair, which had fallen across his brow. In truth, none of them could know what Frear would do, or when. “If Freaer were to strike before winter sets in, would we be ready to counter him?”

  Craelin’s gaze held steady. “Let us hope he waits until spring.”

  ****

  Murial bathed Aewen’s face and smoothed her hair. “There now, rest.”

  Aewen bit back the sobs that shook her frame and bent to vomit again. She had never felt so wretched in her life. The cloth, wrung of warm water, passed over her face. She caught Murial’s wrist and pulled her near. “Don’t tell Elcon.”

  “Tsk!” Murial stood back. “You’ll not hide your condition long.”

  Another wave of nausea hit. She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll not tell him. Right now he has enough to worry him.”

  “What can be more important?”

  The nausea ebbed. A measure of strength flowed back and Aewen pulled herself upright. “Promise me.”

  Murial snorted. “I’ll follow your wishes although I think them daft.”

  Aewen eased herself onto a bench before the fire in what had been Lof Raelein Maeven’s inner chamber. She sent Murial a stern look but would not argue now. Nor would she mention the idea that made her toss upon her bed in the night—at least not yet.

  She wiped her tea
rs. “Summon Benisch.”

  Murial looked at her as if she’d lost her sanity, but inclined her head and went to do her bidding.

  Aewen hated wresting Murial from yet another home, but there seemed no other choice. If Aewen disappeared, Faeraven could recover from the damage she’d wrought it. If he thought her dead, Elcon might marry Arillia and thus unify Faeraven. Aewen did not question the advisability of a marriage based on such a falsehood. In a sense, once she left Elcon, she would indeed live no more but only pass through life in shadow.

  She had no idea where to go—there seemed no choices left to her—but perhaps Willowa would in kindness take her in. Or she could flee to the Abbey of Westernost and there spend her life in penitence. This last option appealed less, for they might take her child from her. She placed a protective hand on her stomach. She must do nothing that would separate her from her child. After all, the babe that thrived in her womb would be all that remained of the love she had shared with Elcon.

  She gave a weak smile, thinking of that love, so ill-advised and yet so strong. She and Elcon had done nothing “right” save love one another. She would carry that thought with her. They’d been wrong in thinking love would transcend honor. She knew now that love and honor could not exist apart.

  ****

  Benisch seated himself in the embrasure of one of the windows in Aewen’s outer chamber with a small smile.

  Aewen lifted her chin. “At least I’ve found an ally in your hatred of me.”

  “Hatred is too strong a word. Shall we say that I find your presence inconvenient for the Lof Shraen?”

  “Spare me your false concern for Elcon! Do you think I can’t see that you have little thought for anyone save yourself?”

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. Malice edged his smile. “Be careful the barbs you throw into a strong wind.”