She took Cybralle's hand and drew her to the bed where she lay down, opening her arms for her consort. They lay like that in long silence, before Cybralle spoke again.
“She was too reserved.”
Mesmeria stroked over Cybralle's graying, dark hair. “She is in shock.” Cybralle nestled deeper in her arms, and Mesmeria tightened her hold.
“I fear the worst is still to come.”
“I know.”
***
The moment her chamber door closed behind her, Sterling's legs gave in, and she slid down the door to the floor. A deep keening filled the room as her eyes wildly searched their quarters. She was not here. Orla would never be here again.
A wail tore from her mouth and soon the room was filled with the sound of deep, wrenching sobs. She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.
“I came back…I came back, but you left.”
She lowered her head until her chin fell on her chest. “You promised you would wait for me.”
There was a soft knock on the door. Sterling quickly dried her tears, but did not move. Whoever was out there would move on once they realized that she did not want company. The knock sounded again.
“Sterling?”
This time, Sterling surged to her feet and wrenched the door open. The sight of the woman caused a lone tear to spill over and trickle down her face.
“Lima…”
“Oh Sterling…”
She did not know who moved first, but the next moment she was caught in a desperate embrace. This was the closest she was ever going to be to Orla again—the woman who had borne her. The tears started again and, even with Lima's gentle shushing, they refused to let up.
Sterling did not know how long she had stood there, crying while her heart was breaking, but when the tears finally let up, her throat was raw and her eyes almost swollen shut. She felt a soft kiss on her cheek and tried to focus her gaze on Lima. The woman's face was also wet with tears, but her lips formed a loving smile.
“Why do you not rest for a while?”
Sterling quickly shook her head. Sleeping meant closing her eyes, and she doubted she would be able to handle the dream images of Orla which had visited her every night for the many months she had been away from her.
“I cannot.”
Lima reached up and brushed a red lock away. “You have to at least try, Sterling. Your body needs the rest,”
Sterling clung to Lima, as the woman slowly began to steer her in the direction of the bed. “I am scared.”
She was gently settled on the bed. “I will not leave you.”
“She is in my dreams. Whenever I close my eyes she comes to me.” Sterling said in a choked voice. “I cannot bear to see her now, knowing that she is forever gone.” Lima pushed her back on the bed, but Sterling sat up again. “I do not want to be here.”
Lima stood back. “Where do you want to be?”
“Just not in this room.”
Lima was quiet for a moment. “Where do you want to go?”
Sterling swallowed as memories rushed through her mind. “The small bench outside your house.”
Lima blinked in surprise, but Sterling held her gaze to convey how serious she was. “I want to go there.”
After a few moments of silence in which Lima seemed to study her, Sterling saw the woman nod. “Then I will take you there.”
Chapter 15
Cybralle gently disentangled herself from Mesmeria's arms. She dressed quietly and started for the door.
“Where are you going, my love?” came the sleepy voice from the bed. She quickly doubled back to the bed and placed a gentle kiss on her wife's lips.
“I was just going to see how Sterling is doing. I know…you said I should give her time and space to grieve.” Cybralle kissed Mesmeria again. “I am worried about her and I want to see her.”
Mesmeria lifted herself onto her elbow. In the soft light from the fire, Cybralle could see the worried look on her wife's face.
“She did not join us for supper. Maybe you should take her something to eat.”
“I will.”
Mesmeria laid back and snuggled into the warm bedding. “Hurry back.”
“If she does not want me there I will be back speedily.”
With a large yawn, Mesmeria waved Cybralle away. The hallway was deserted with only a few lanterns casting away the shadows. It was well into night, and the castle was quiet. Cybralle made her way over to the wing of the castle where Sterling's rooms were. She knocked softly and waited for a reply. When her second knock was not answered, she carefully tested the door handle. The door swung open and Cybralle waited for her eyes to get used to the darkness before she moved deeper into the room.
Her eyes fell on the bed and she frowned. It was empty. She scanned the rest of the rooms, but to no avail.
“Where could she be?” Cybralle muttered to herself as she left the room. A good place to begin her search would be the stables. She quickly made her way down the hallway, down the stairs and through the side door. She nodded at the guard on duty, as she crossed the flower court on her way to the stables.
***
Sterling was terrified.
Since her arrival, she had been mourning constantly, missing Orla so much that she felt her heart was leaking, filling her chest cavity with blood. Now that darkness had fallen, she was absolutely terrified of what the night would bring. Being awake was like being caught in a nightmare, but going to sleep would be even worse. Orla would be waiting for her in her dreams. Her fear stemmed from the fact that she would have to wake up again and it would kill her to say goodbye to Orla again.
She rested her head on her knees and shuddered. Sleeping was inevitable, but at least she had control over when she wanted to go to sleep and she was going to cling to that. Lima had accompanied her to the small house she and Orla had shared before. There they had sat together in silence, each busy with their own thoughts, each mourning their personal loss. After a while, the cold had chased Lima inside but Sterling remained. The cold was nothing compared to the stark desolateness inside her heart.
“She misses you too, you know?”
Sterling's head snapped up at the unexpected voice. Scanning that darkness around her, she sat up straight when she could not see the other person.
“Who is there?” She reached for her dagger, having left her sword in the room and slowly climbed to her feet.
A man stepped from the shadows behind the small hut. Sterling quickly sized him up. He was tall and well-muscled from what she could see in the faint light filtering through the windows from the fire Lima had started.
“It is just me, Your Highness,” he said softly, as he took a step closer and the light fell on his face. Sterling's hand tightened on the handle of her dagger. She had never seen this man before and, even in his motionlessness state, he radiated a strange, feral aura.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The man executed a graceful bow which would make any of the nobles at Court jealous. Sterling's interest was now truly piqued.
“Romulus Harpon at your service, Your Highness.”
Sterling frowned. The name meant nothing to her. “And what brings you here?”
The man straightened. His eyes were intense as they looked at her. “I heard what happened to your consort.”
The silver eyes hardened. She did not want anyone talking about Orla—least of all this stranger. She turned and walked to the door, but just as her hand touched the handle, the man spoke again.
“She misses you.”
The breath exploded from Sterling's chest, as her legs suddenly gave way and she crashed to her knees. Was it not enough that her heart was slowly splintering up inside her chest, just waiting to shatter and kill her? Now this man comes from nowhere and hurts her even worse than the news of Orla's death did. He was giving her hope when there was none.
She took a shaky breath, her chin resting on her chest, as silent tears trickled do
wn her face. “I have made many enemies in my quest to defend my kingdom and its people. I have made widows out of more women than I can count or remember.” Sterling bit back a sob. “If I have in any way caused you harm through my actions, I apologize, but…” The sob escaped. “…but for you to hurt me like this?” Sterling lifted her head slowly. “Rather, draw your sword and run me through, but do not try to give me hope where there is none. Orla is gone. Be human and let me try to live through that.”
***
Cybralle had looked everywhere—the stalls, the garden and finally the blacksmith's shop. But Sterling was nowhere to be found. With purposeful strides, she walked back to the palace. She startled the guard when she came to a stop before him.
“Have you seen the princess?”
“She left the palace almost four candle marks past, Commander.”
“Was she alone?”
“No, Commander. She was in the company of the royal guide.”
Lima! Cybralle knew immediately where to go. She was just about to turn the corner of Lima's erstwhile home, when she heard her daughter. Sterling's voice was raw with pain, as she pleaded with her unknown companion. Cybralle’s maternal instinct kicked in, as she reached for her sword, ready to storm in and defend her daughter. A man's voice stopped her.
“I swear, I am not here to torture you, Your Highness.”
“Then leave me the dignity to mourn in peace, Romulus Harpon.”
Cybralle's eye widened at hearing the faceless man's name. It could not be possible! Romulus Harpon died almost twenty years ago. She knew because he took an arrow to the chest and died from his wound. He had been of her best warriors, and she was saddened by his death and the loss of his expertise. She drew her sword. This man could be impersonating the long dead warrior. What would he gain from using a dead man's identity? Cybralle abhorred treachery and she liked it even less that this imposter was in the presence of her daughter.
She stepped around the house, her sword drawn. “Romulus Harpon died in battle twenty years ago. Who are you and what do you want with my daughter?”
Sterling turned to look at her. The man, however, just stood there, his back still turned to her. Cybralle slowly skirted the man, her sword in the ready. Suddenly alarmed, Sterling climbed to her feet, her dagger also drawn.
“Is it true what my mother says?” Sterling asked, her voice was sharp. Cybralle had almost moved around the man when he spoke again.
“The commander is correct.”
Cybralle felt her senses buzz, readying her body for the anticipated battle. The man turned his head in her direction and Cybralle faltered. She blinked at the man, as she lowered her sword.
“Rom!”
“Commander.”
Stunned beyond words, Cybralle could only stare at the man, taking in the familiar features. Romulus was indeed alive! He did not even look as if he had aged that much. What was she missing?
“What sorcery is this, Rom? I saw you take an arrow to the chest. No one could survive such an injury.” She studied the man closely, sensing the strange aura surrounding him.
“We cannot talk here. I do not want to meet with Lima.” Romulus said. He sounded resigned.
Cybralle's eyes narrowed. “Why should I trust you, Rom?”
The man took a step closer and Cybralle quickly lifted her sword. “Because I am not the enemy. Besides, I am on an errand.”
“What errand?”
“Where can we go where we will not be disturbed?” Romulus' eyes glittered now with impatience.
Cybralle prayed she was not ever going to regret her decision. She sheathed her sword. “Follow me.”
She led them through a few backstreets, passed noisy inns and drunken soldiers loitering in the streets. They came to a stop before a sturdy door. Cybralle knocked three times. The door opened into a small room that looked like the office of a scribe. There was a desk which was littered with scrolls and ink pots. Except for the desk, the only other piece of furniture was a large cupboard. Giving the man at the door a curt nod she led her companions deeper into the room.
“What is this place?”
Cybralle grinned at the blatant curiosity in her daughter's voice. “The kingdom's best kept secret.” She walked over to the cupboard and looked at Rom and Sterling. “Watch your heads.”
She grinned at the identical confused looks which came over the others’ faces. Opening the cupboard doors, she led them down a set of stairs until they reached a door. She gave them a quick look over her shoulder before she opened the door.
Both Sterling and Rom gasped in shock, as their eyes took in the room. Cybralle could definitely imagine their surprise. She remembered when she was brought here by one of her men almost ten years ago. She was completely stunned that such a place even existed, least of all in the royal city. The owner was a nobleman who, after having traveled extensively throughout the known world, had brought back the idea of an exclusive entertainment establishment for the nobility. No questions were asked and no answers were offered.
Her eyes took in the scene before her. She had not been here in years, but not much had changed. The place was still decorated in the lush Persian style of rich flowing silks, flowers and scented candles. The floors were covered with thick Oriental carpets, strewn with flower petals. On an elevated platform were three scantily clad girls of Oriental origin doing a slow, sensuous dance to a foreign sounding melody coming from a group of musicians in the corner of the hall.
A serving girl quickly made her way over to them. “Your table awaits you, milady.” Cybralle threw a quick glance at Sterling, not in the least surprised by the myriad of emotions flashing over her daughter's face. First there was confusion, then disappointment and then anger.
“Does mother know?” The question was hissed through clenched teeth.
“Who do you think I bring here?” Cybralle almost laughed out loud at the astonished look on Sterling's face.
“She knows?”
Cybralle nodded before leading them to a table in the corner of the hall. The serving girl came over with a platter filled with cold-meat cuts and pastries. Another girl placed two flasks of wine on the table. She turned to look at Rom, who had been quiet all this time, his eyes flickering over the room. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned to look at her.
“Any inn would have sufficed.”
Cybralle shook her head. “You would have been recognized. I did not fancy myself answering questions to which I do not know the answers.” She filled three goblets with wine and waited until they each had taken a sip. “What is it you wanted to tell us?”
The man emptied his goblet and quickly served himself again. Feeling generous tonight, she gave Rom a few seconds to boost his courage. In the meantime, she studied Sterling. The girl looked drawn and pale. Her slumped posture radiated defeat and her eyes, the few times they had met hers, were dark with sorrow. She desperately wished she could take the crippling pain from her daughter, but there was no possible way to do that. She jumped slightly when Rom slammed his goblet on the table, an air of determination about him.
“I know where the princess's spouse is.”
Sterling, who had been taking a sip from her wine, spat her mouthful of wine across the table, spraying Cybralle who sat there blinking at Rom. Cybralle vaguely remembered seeing Sterling move, but when the table flipped over onto its side, she quickly surged to her feet. Sterling had her dagger pressed against Rom's neck.
“I have warned you before,” Sterling said in a lethal voice, even as fresh tears began to seep out of the corner of her eyes and course down her cheeks.
Moved by her daughter's tears, Cybralle gave the man an accusing glare. She noticed that even with the sharp, dangerous-looking dagger pressed against his neck, Rom appeared unflappable. His eyes were dark as they held Sterling's. “Why are you doing this, Rom? Why are you hurting my child?”
The man's dark-blue eyes were open and honest, as he carefully angled his head to look at her
. The action caused the knife to move, earning him a razor thin cut to his neck which immediately began to bleed.
“She keeps on mumbling the princess's name from sun up to sun down.” Rom swallowed. “Some days she mumbles something about…about…I think it sounds like ‘keeping the faith'.”
Cybralle saw a look of incredible pain cross over Sterling's face, before she pulled away from Rom and sunk onto the chair. Cybralle quickly went to kneel at Sterling's chair. “Are you all right?”
She watched closely as Sterling shut her eyes and lowered her head. “She made me promise to keep the faith before I left for the Wastelands.”
Cybralle clutched Sterling's knee. “Do…do you think it is her?”
“I want to try anything before I just give up on her,” Sterling mumbled. When she lifted her head, Cybralle felt her heart lift at the look of purpose on Sterling's face. Sterling turned to Rom. “If she is alive, why did she not come back to me?”
Rom, using a small piece of cloth, dabbed at the cut on his neck. “That, you will probably have to ask her yourself. She has been very sick and is still recovering.”
“Where is she and when can we leave?”
Cybralle saw a shadow come over Rom's face as he looked at her. “Unfortunately, I can only take one person with me. Taking more than one can become too dangerous.”
She shook her head. “You must be addlebrained if you think I will let my daughter and heir to the throne travel unaccompanied with a man who miraculously returned from the dead.”
Rom shrugged. “There is nothing more I can do, Commander. Either I take the princess with me, or I take you with me.”
Cybralle skewered Rom with a hard stare, before she turned away to look at Sterling. She could read the answer in Sterling's eyes even before she voiced it.
“I need to find out if it is her, Umah. If she is injured she needs me.”
Looking at her daughter, Cybralle felt fear winding down her spine. She was not like Lima. She doubted she would be strong enough if she was to lose her daughter. Sterling was the best part of her. She had helped conceive her on a star-filled night in a small hut in the forest. The ritual had taken a lot from her, but she had gained something priceless in return. She was not ready to lose that…not yet.
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