by Meg Cowley
Harad shrugged. “You do not. I helped you escape with a gift of our newest and most expensive warfare technology, experimental as it may be. Make what you will of that. But you have my assurance that you will have a chance to redeem yourself here in Roher. I am impressed that you have made it so far.”
~
Zaki splashed absentmindedly in the bath; it was a huge depression carved in the floor of his room and lined with polished stone – a novel concept compared to Caledan’s wooden tubs. The warm water filled with oils soothed his aching body, and he could have fallen asleep there, drowning in the enticing scents and the sheer comfort of such luxuries.
He ate from the snacks offered to him by the tiny serving boy next to the bath for the sake of it. Despite gorging himself on a meal after his meeting with Harad, he felt the need to eat after his enforced starvation, as if the supply of food might soon cease again.
Not concentrating on what he consumed, Zaki chewed upon the latest bite whilst contemplating his father-in-law’s plans.
Why would he have me incarcerated only to then help me escape in order to come all the way here? The device was a brilliant contraption. I wish we had such technology in Caledan. Perhaps he knew I would escape, that I would reach him here. Perhaps he seeks to help me regain the throne of Caledan with all of Roher’s might, not that poxy guard with which Harad and I returned to Pandora.
He relished the thought, but it was not satisfying. He still did not feel confident that he had a grasp of Harad’s plans. All I know for certain is that he uses me for his own ends. I must work this to my advantage. It may be a game, but it is not his. I must use his resources to take back my kingdom.
As he hauled himself out of the cooling bath, a maid hurried to wrap a towel around him. Neither the woman nor the boy spoke. Zaki took a moment to appreciate her slender form as her uniform pressed against his skin for a moment. It had been a long time since he had remembered the existence of women, let alone enjoyed one. Her dark skin fascinated him. His was burnt from the harsh sun, but hers glowed.
Thinking about the woman reminded him of his wife: a much less tempting prospect. Zaki sighed. A wife and a daughter. What use are women? I suppose I must visit her.
~
It was mid-afternoon by the time he had dressed and followed his guide to Demara’s chambers. He wore Roherii clothes, far different to Caledonian attire and better suited to Roher’s hotter climes. Loose fitting, the finely woven, light material slithered across his clean skin, sending it tingling with pleasure.
To have new shoes upon his feet pleased him more than anything. The soles were so soft that he sunk into them, his newly scrubbed and tended feet relishing the relief. All of his old clothes had been disposed of; they were not even worth cleaning to salvage the fabric.
The palace was as different to Pandora’s castle as the garb was to his own. Pandora’s castle was spacious, yet it held a darkness to it that daylight could not shift. It was a true castle, built for war and only later converted for living in comfort. In contrast, Harad’s palace had been constructed purely for luxury.
Spacious, high corridors linked the various quarters and private apartments within the building, which were given over to various branches of the family. The palace sprawled over a wide space, and in places was several stories high, extended as needed.
Instead of windows were giant openings with drapes hung on the inner wall and shutters outside to protect against sun or rain if needed. Arrans had certainly never known the same winter snows as Pandora.
The palace was constructed from the red stone that had built most of Arrans, but most of the surfaces were marble or polished stone. Floors were laid in patterns, some even made of the tiniest coloured tiles to depict scenes. Wooden floors were all of the highest quality, laid in intricate designs – all far from Pandora’s simple stone floors or wooden boards.
Open dining areas, large courtyards with fountains and greenery, and frequent open mezzanine levels held up by the columns that seemed to be a staple of Roherii architecture offered chance glimpses at the scenery over the city, the countryside or parts of the palace and grounds.
Zaki shook his head at such opulence in disbelief that such a place could exist, but he was also envious of the lifestyle Harad surrounded himself with. At last his escort gestured towards a door.
“Hic est. Demara.” The man knocked on the door, which was opened by the tiniest crack. A young woman’s face peered out.
Her maid. Zaki recognised her in a flash, though he had never bothered to learn her name.
Her eyes widened as she looked him up and down, her mouth ajar. The escort must have introduced him, for he heard his name amongst the babble of Roherish, but instead of being admitted that instant, the lady withdrew her head and called into the apartments within. A muffled voice replied and the door opened, the lady moving to the side to allow him to pass. Zaki strode in, his guide following.
Before open doors that led to a stone edged balcony sat his wife. Demara held a babe swaddled in layers of colourful fabric and gazed into its face adoringly. As she looked up, her smile faded and her face closed.
“Husband,” she greeted him.
“Wife.” His reply was just as awkward, yet it was as if nothing had passed between them, that he had not endured the last months and she had not ridden away and left him to his fate. Her face showed no emotion at his unexpected return. Does she care? he fleetingly wondered.
She gestured for him to sit and he perched on the opposing chair. Silence fell.
“Would you like to see your daughter?” Demara asked him after the lengthy pause, shifting the babe in her grasp.
Zaki nodded curtly. If I must.
Without a word Demara passed him the girl. She was tiny, made huge by the cloths swaddling her, and so young he could not tell her gender. Would that you were a boy, he wished. He stared at her, but could not see the attraction that had caused Demara to gaze at her with such open love. It’s a baby. Unremarkable. He sighed.
Tiny eyelids fluttered open, revealing brown eyes matching her mother’s. They bored into him.
“She is called Leika,” Demara volunteered, shifting in her seat with agitation as if she wished to take the child from him again.
Zaki looked down at his daughter and thrust her back at Demara.
“Do you not love her?” Demara asked, indignant. She clutched Leika to her chest, stroking the cloths.
“She is a girl.”
“She is your daughter.”
“Yes, a daughter. What need do I have of daughters? None. I need a son. A daughter is nothing more than an insult.”
Demara’s mouth fell open at that, and her eyes flashed with rage. “You dishonour me with your callous words. Get out!” She stood and turned away, dismissing him with her body too.
“I will not,” he replied, incredulous that a woman should give orders to him.
But the maid stepped forward to add insult to injury. “Please, this way, sir.” She gestured towards the door.
Zaki stood. He prowled towards the girl with menace.
With no fear in her eyes, she clapped.
From seemingly nowhere, several guards appeared.
Zaki’s eyes flicked around the room.
“Please, this way, sir,” the maid said again. Her next words must have repeated her sentiments to the guards in Roherii for they crowded Zaki, forcing him from the room.
The moment the door shut in his face, he struggled against the guards, but to no avail.
“She is a woman! How dare she order me about! I command you to let me back in.”
The guards moved him along, blank faced, as if they could not hear him.
When he was alone in his own chamber, he stood white-faced, his entire body shaking with fury. How dare she! My own wife, ordering me around and throwing me out! He stormed around the room in a chorus of curses.
Eve
The door opened before her without a sound and her father beckoned her in. Ev
e entered with deliberate slowness, wishing she could be anywhere else.
“Have you made your decision?” He sat forward in his chair, his eyes fixed upon her expectantly.
“Yes, Father.”
“And?”
She took a deep breath in and exhaled. There’s no going back from this. The decision made her miserable, but there was no outcome she would be happy with. At least this way, I’ll get to go to Ednor. There, she could practise controlling her magical abilities, which had blossomed a few months before in a confusing incident while she had been rescuing King Soren’s sister Irumae from captivity. She could also visit her mother’s – and her own – ethereal kin: the Eldarkind.
Eve swallowed. The deep breath had done nothing to still her jumping heart or her shaking, sweaty hands. “I’ll do it.”
Her father raised an eyebrow, but did not speak.
He wants me to say it. Ice cold shivers crawled down her spine. “I will marry the man of your choosing,” she forced herself to say. It came out in a monotone, but she could not have managed any more. To say it was torture enough.
Her father broke into a wide smile, relaxing back in his chair, and then stood to embrace her. He clasped her to his chest, but she was wooden in his grasp and he soon released her. “Good, I’m pleased. I already have some suitable matches in mind. I will begin preparations.”
Her father’s uncharacteristic excitement was tempered by her growing feeling of nausea. I have to leave. She bade her father a quick farewell and rushed to the stables to saddle Alia, knowing a ride would calm her and clear her head.
Alia whinnied in greeting as she entered the stable. It was cool and quiet – a reprieve from the hot summer sun – but the darkness and enclosed space did nothing to ease Eve’s discomfort. As she fumbled with the saddle’s buckles, someone entered the stables behind her. She turned, expecting it to be one of the stable boys.
Luke. Damn it. She had avoided him in the days since returning to Arlyn. Her heart quickened.
“Eve,” he said, moving towards her. “Are you well? I haven’t seen you for ages. I’ve been worried.”
“Thank you, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m going for a ride.”
He scrutinised her face. “I can tell when you’re lying,” he said after a pause. “You know you can talk to me.”
I wish I could tell you, she thought to herself, leaning her cheek against the cool leather of the saddle.
“Eve?”
I suppose he’ll find out anyway.
“My father is arranging my marriage,” she said.
“No! It cannot be true.”
“It’s true.” She sighed. “I had to promise him. It’s the one way he’ll let me return to Ednor. I either agree to marry the man of his choosing, and he will permit me to go to Ednor to train, or I do not agree, but he will make me marry anyway, with no certainty of visiting Ednor.”
Luke frowned, shaking his head. “Lord Karn would never-“
“I don’t know anymore, Luke. At least this way he’s promised me that I may go – for as long as I need to – to be trained in controlling my… skills. I don’t understand them well enough. Sometimes I worry they’ll burst out of me again. There’s no one I can ask for help here. If they discovered my abilities, they’d shun me.”
“Please don’t do it,” Luke pleaded. “There must be another way!”
I wish I didn’t have to, she wanted to say, but instead she answered, “I don’t have a choice, Luke.” She made to move away, but he reached out to grasp her hand. She flinched as he touched her, but did not pull away. His hands were warm and clammy, matching her own.
“If you have any feelings for me, Eve, please don’t do this. We’ll find a way to make it work.”
She did not answer, closing her eyes to block the world out. Don’t make this harder for me, Luke!
Even the few days apart had left her feeling lost after they had spent so much time together in the months before. His sudden appearance had removed any notion of indifference. Nevertheless, her feelings did not mean she could change her father’s mind.
Even so, she still found herself stepping forward to lean upon his chest. He took her in an embrace, his warm arms surrounding her and hers encircling his waist.
“I know that you have feelings for me too,” Luke said, “even though you don’t want to admit it.”
Tears flowed from Eve’s eyes. This is so unfair! Why can’t I make my own choice, like Father did! “I wish things could be different,” she croaked.
“I’ll ask for your hand instead.” He leaned back, catching her eye before wiping the tears from her cheeks with a soft touch of his thumb. “If you don’t marry whoever your father wants you to. I will save every penny I have to raise a house and provide for you.”
“There’s no way he would agree to that. He wants me to marry at least a sir, if not a lord,” she said, and the tears poured from her cheeks as she held back sobs.
“I’ll try anyway,” Luke said. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles.
Eve pulled away. Grabbing Alia’s reins, she ran from the stable without a backwards glance.
~
Her father had invited her to dinner; a worrying sign that meant something serious was afoot. He never eats with me. What does he want?
Eve slipped into her chair, opposite Karn. They were not in the main dining room, which was too large for the two of them, but instead in the small dining room, which gave beautiful views of the forested mountains.
The smallest smile flitted across her lips as he greeted her with unusual cheer, but it did not reach her eyes. She tried to covertly scrutinise him.
“I have something to discuss with you, Eve,” he said at last as they finished the main course.
It was her favourite meal – chicken breast wrapped in salty bacon rashers and served with sweet, roasted potatoes and vegetables – but she had not been able to enjoy it, worrying what her father would say. Please don’t let it be about marriage, please, she prayed.
Her father cleared his throat. “I have found a suitable match for you.”
No! Her heart sunk and her face fell in dismay.
“I am happy to announce that you will be betrothed to Dane Edmundsson of House Arendall. It is a good match, do you not agree? A familiar face to you – and Edmund, of course, is like family to us.”
Eve was silent. Dane Edmundsson? She couldn’t remember him well. It had been many years since she had last met him.
“What do you think?” her father prompted, his smile fading.
“Isn’t he really old?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Eve!” Karn stifled a chuckle. “You should not say such things! He is older than you, yes, but he is not old. I believe he is about thirty-two. I forget when his birthday is. A fifteen-year age gap or thereabouts is not so great, and not as large as it could be! Despite what you may think he is still young, but well established upon his lands and from a good family.”
Eve had stopped listening. Fifteen-years different! That’s almost double my age. She tried to imagine his face, but her memory of him was so incomplete that it was Dane’s father Edmund’s face she visualised.
She stared at her plate, which was still half full. The vegetables were growing cold but the chicken steamed. The meaty smell wafted into her nose, but she felt nauseated and pushed back her plate, taking a great gulp of water to empty her mouth of taste.
“Aren’t Arendall lands far from here, in the south?” Eve asked, realising the implications.
Karn nodded.
“Then we won’t see each other much?”
Karn frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ll be here and he’ll be there, won’t he?”
“Oh, Eve.” Karn shook his head, smiling with a tinge of sadness. “You will be expected to accompany him wherever he desires, perhaps to his own lands, to Pandora, or even elsewhere, should he so choose.”
“I’ll have
to leave? No! Please, can’t I stay here?” Please don’t make me leave Arlyn! Eve’s heart pounded with the force of a horse kicking a stable door, and her mouth dried as though parched for days.
“It is the way things are. You will return. After all, these are to be your lands, but it may not be for some time.”
Eve swallowed, wetting her lips. “Is there no one closer?”
Her father shook his head. “You are worth far more than all the lordlings hereabouts combined. I would not have considered any of them.”
Eve slumped in her chair, wishing it would somehow swallow her up and take her to a land where she did not have to marry a stranger, and an old stranger far away at that. However, its wooden surface was hard and unyielding, offering her no comfort.
Karn continued to speak, but Eve’s eyes had glazed over as her attention drifted.
“Eve, pay attention,” he admonished. “Did you hear what I said?”
She straightened in her chair.
“I take that as a no. Within the month you will be betrothed at Arlyn chapel. The marriage will then be arranged at Pandora, or perhaps on Arendall lands.”
So soon. Eve’s belly lurched in fear. “Please may I be excused?” She stood up before he had finished giving his permission and ran to her bedchamber as swiftly as possible. She threw open the shutters, which the servants had closed, breathing in great gulps of the cooling evening air.
The room lay in the shadow of the March Mountains, and the familiar scent of pine wafting through the window reassured her. Her breathing slowed but her pulse was still erratic, and the fear coiled in her stomach refused to dissipate.
What have I agreed to?
~
Before long, the day of the betrothal was upon her; no amount of dreading could delay it. The dawn matched Eve’s mood. The weather was miserable. It was one of the first days heralding autumn. A deep mist clung to the ground, smothering everything with dew and coldness, permeated by drizzle.
It was dull, the sun too low in the sky and too weak yet to break through the haze, so daylight came late to Arlyn that morning. Eve woke, thick headed in the faint light, feeling as if she had woken in the eleventh month of the year, not the ninth. Shivering under the cooling water as she washed with deliberate slowness, she tried to steady herself for what was to come.