He raised my face in his hands again, this time kissing away my tears from my cheeks. Then he looked at me, expecting an answer.
Still unable to speak, I nodded slowly.
“You’ll give me a chance then?”
I nodded again, although I was already putting my heart in a safe place within my soul, since I suspected that once we returned he would brush me aside in favour of a more worthy choice. But none of these thoughts did I betray to him, neither in expression nor word.
He was delighted that I had agreed to give him a chance, and he kissed me again, as he had the night before, merrily and with an ease of spirit. I tried to return it in kind despite my doubts.
Happily he grasped my hand and said, “Let’s be off then, shall we? And, please, no more tears. Aenna, it breaks my heart to see tears on the cheeks of such a strong woman. I promise, I shall prove to you everything I’ve said. You shall see soon that I am sincere.”
* * *
I tried to cheer up as we walked hand in hand towards the city. I was unable to entirely hide my concern from him, though—that much was clear from his behaviour along the last stretch of the journey. He was as he had been that first day, roguish and full of jests, trying to make me smile, and his very silliness often made him succeed. Still, my heart was heavy with the fear that it would all soon end.
When the city walls came into view, I stopped. Kurit stopped with me, still holding my hand in his own, and asked what was wrong.
I looked at him worriedly. How could I explain that despite my concession to allow him to demonstrate his affection, I doubted very much that he would do so? Beyond those walls was not a bright future with this man as he promised but inevitable sorrow, and I was afraid. He had told me I was worthy of him because I was so brave, and yet there I stood, fearing so much.
He misinterpreted my worry. “Aenna, we’re safe now. Guards stand ready at that gate to escort us to comfort and safety. They are probably expecting us to emerge from the wilderness any day now.”
Wonderful, I thought. Guards stand ready to take us to the palace where I shall be told, ‘Thank you very much, now please don’t make a scene on your way out.’
My continued silence and refusal to continue walking seemed to worry him. I thought, Ah, now he’ll see that I am not so brave and bold as he imagines. Now he shall realize how wrong he was and reconsider his feelings for me. Here begins the end, I told myself.
Instead, he touched my cheek softly and smiled at me with great compassion. “Our future is bright, Aenna. I know it’s a new world for you, but I’m here to help you into it.” Then he kissed me, and I didn’t know whether to be overjoyed, deeply touched, or despondent.
When he tried to pull me along again I went, forcing my feet to move as opposed to trying to explain to him my tumultuous emotions.
We approached the northern gates to Endren just as the cloudy sky began to show signs of impending darkness. It was a busy gate, with all manner of people entering and exiting the city, some on horseback, some in traders’ caravans, and some on foot pulling carts behind them. Several guards stood questioning those who entered, and scribes were at hand, no doubt recording what goods were being imported and exported for tax purposes. Archers stood watch atop the walls, surveying the commotion below.
Kurit gave my hand a gentle squeeze and winked at me. “We’ll sleep in soft beds tonight, our bellies full.”
“After a bath,” I said, trying to seem happy.
“Indeed. You’ll enjoy a hot bath with scented salts to wash with.”
That, at least, was a pleasant thought. I tried to relax as we approached the gate. Within a few paces of the guards’ station, I heard a robust voice cry out, “The Prince returns!”
The assorted folk near the gate moved out of the way at the announcement, and an armed man sporting the King’s crest on his armour stepped forward quickly. He bowed to Kurit and said, “The Temples be blessed, you have returned safely.” Then he looked at me, saw my hand in Kurit’s, and bowed his head again. “My Lady,” he said, clearly not knowing what to say after that.
“This is the Lady Aenna of Alesha, who has travelled with me after bringing me news that saved my life,” Kurit said in a clear, proud voice that made me smile and blush. Then he pointed to the man in the crested armour and told me, “This is Graek, Captain of the Endren Force, the guards that protect the city.”
Graek bowed again to me and said, “Lady Aenna, I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.” He rose again and turned to Kurit, which I was glad of, since I could feel my face warming and suspected I must look like an overripe tomato.
“Highness, Lord Jarik returned several days ago with the maid Gilaela. He went back out immediately with no less than a full battalion of the King’s Guard to seek those that plotted against you.”
“Has he returned?” Kurit asked.
“Yes, Highness. They met with the wretched rogues along the road and slew most of them on the spot, capturing the rest for interrogation.”
“Were any of our men hurt?”
“Only one, Highness, and he is already recovering. The bandits were unprepared for our forces, I’ve been told. Several other groups of men have been sent to search for you, but Lord Jarik forewarned them that you would be attempting to hide yourself.”
“Are they still out?”
“Yes, Highness, but of course they’ll be recalled as soon as possible now that you’ve thankfully returned safely on your own.”
Kurit nodded. I had turned to face him, trying to hide my blushing face, which was finally fading. Our hands were still entwined, and I tried not to let his public affection steer me away from my determination to withhold my heart in doubt of the bright future he had promised. In fact, as we stood, I had noticed a man coming slowly through the crowd, staring at us, and felt greatly self-conscious, wondering if he saw how Kurit held my hand and disdained such a filthy girl being touched so by the heir to the throne.
“Have the prisoners been interrogated?” Kurit asked.
“I suspect so, Highness, but I have not been told of the results. I do know, however, that the rogues were of Daufrae.”
“Daufrae?” Kurit asked. “We pondered the possibility, but the problem with Raen was so long ago.”
“Indeed, Highness. It seems that Raen recently returned in secret to Daufrae to gather those loyal to him and hatch a mad plot to take the throne of Keshaerlan.” As Graek said this, I wondered if any of the men I had seen at the Traveller’s Torch had in fact been Lord Raen himself.
My pondering was interrupted as I again found myself distracted by the man who was still watching us. I peered at him around Kurit’s right shoulder, wondering if I looked so despicable that I was worthy of such a stare.
Then I realized he was not looking at me at all, but rather glaring at Kurit. The very moment I wondered why Kurit’s return would illicit such a hateful glare, I saw the man flip aside his cloak and lift a crossbow towards Kurit.
I remember every moment that followed in sharp clarity because time slowed to a crawl, and all sound melted into a low hum. Without hesitation or thought, I shouted in alarm and pushed Kurit with my free right arm. I shoved him hard to my left as the man fired a bolt. Kurit had not expected to be shoved, and he fell easily to the side, letting go of my hand in the erupting chaos.
I neither heard, saw, nor felt the bolt as it landed, but there it was, protruding from my left shoulder, where a moment before it would have gone through Kurit’s back into his heart or lung. I stared at it, dumbfounded—still not feeling it, time still crawling.
Then as I inhaled after my cry of alarm, I did feel it and cried out again, this time in pain. I fell backwards to the ground, landing in the well-trampled snow. As the injured shoulder hit the ground I was wrenched with a horrific agony, and the shock of it made everything loud and fast again—too loud, too fast. I tried to lift my head, and before pain from the movement forced it back down, I saw guards rushing to the man who had tried t
o kill Kurit, the assassin’s fallen form already stuck with several arrows.
My head rolled to the right, away from the pain of my left shoulder, but when I turned back to look at it I saw Kurit on the ground underneath Graek, who had no doubt thrown himself in protection over the Prince. Kurit scrambled out from beneath the captain and half crawled, half slid in the snow over to my side.
“Aenna,” he cried in anguish, reaching my side and moving as though he wished to hold me, stop the bleeding, or any number of actions between which he could not decide. Panicked, staring at the bolt, he shouted, “Brave Aenna, what have you done?”
It seemed silly that he would call me brave, for I had certainly not intended to take the bolt for him! I had meant only to push him out of the man’s aim and simply hadn’t thought of the consequence of then being in the bolt’s path myself. My act was not brave at all, but rather quite stupid.
I reached up and touched his worried face to let him know that I was not dead. It was harder to do than I thought, as I found myself unexpectedly weakened. He took my hand, pressed it to his cheek, and then kissed my palm. He leaned forward on his knees and brushed my hair from my face and kissed my forehead.
“You will be all right, dear Aenna. I swear it, you shall live,” he said in anguish, which told me he doubted his own words.
I nodded slowly and carefully, trying not to move the injured shoulder. “I can breathe enough,” I whispered, wanting to assure him, “although it hurts to breathe deeply and move my shoulder.”
He seemed comforted, for he smiled and told me again how brave I was. I began to seriously question his understanding of the word. Kurit held my hand, stroked my cheek, and then shouted to a nearby guard to fetch a litter to carry me to the palace.
“I’ve walked all this way, and now you offer to have me carried,” I said softly, trying to smile without wincing.
“Aenna! How can you jest at such a time?”
“Because if I don’t,” I explained slowly, “I might begin to cry, and I am trying very hard not to do that.”
He looked at me with grave concern, squeezed my hand, and said, “You need not be that brave. Cry if you must—there is no shame in it.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said, feeling nauseous and dizzy from blood loss. I held my breath and closed my eyes until the feeling subsided, and then looked back at him and continued whispering, feeling quite weak. “If I cry, my shoulders will move with the sobs, and it will hurt worse. Tell me something pleasant, so I won’t weep.”
Just then the guards arrived with a cart and horse, no doubt appropriated from one of the people entering or exiting the city. Kurit and a guard lifted me, trying not to allow the injured shoulder to move, but movement in general made me feel ill again, and I heard myself moan in pain and nausea.
I think I must have fainted momentarily, for when I next opened my eyes the cart was already moving, Kurit holding me in his arms, pressing a cloth around my wound as we sped through the city. I looked at him, and he said, “Don’t fret, we’ll be there soon, and you’ll be all right, I promise.”
I nodded and whispered, “Something pleasant. Tell me something pleasant.” He looked so worried, I began to wonder if there was something I didn’t know, that perhaps he suspected the bolt was poisoned. I was afraid and wondered if the feeling of sickness could be poison and not just loss of blood after all.
“Pleasant. I can’t think of anything,” he said frantically. His usual propensity for eloquence and poetic words had clearly left him. Then his face softened, and he said, “I know. I will tell you about the palace gardens. Oh, Aenna, when you are well I shall take you to the palace gardens, and I promise you have never seen such a sight! A stream runs around the hedges and flowerbeds, passing around great sparkling fountains with majestic sculptures. There are little footbridges over the stream, and in the summer fish are brought in, and you can watch them swim by. And the flowers are many and of every lovely colour you can imagine. Some of them climb on trellises, where young lovers hide to steal an unseen kiss, although everyone knows that if a couple goes walking in the garden, they are seeking to do just that.
“It was built generations ago. My ancestor King Rueklin commissioned it for his beloved daughter, who was injured as a child and could not walk. He built her this garden that she might be carried out to a different part every day and enjoy the beauty of it and not have to stay locked behind dark palace walls. And I shall take you there when you are well, my Aenna, and perhaps steal a kiss of my own, if you would allow it.”
He let go of the cloth momentarily to lift my right hand, kiss it softly, and then press it to his cheek where I could feel tears. I deeply moved that this good man, this Prince, was so adoring of me that he would weep.
The cart passed under a great arch, and facing upwards, I could see the pointed iron spikes of the portcullis directed imposingly towards us. The cart stopped abruptly, and I tried not to let Kurit see how the sudden jolt had hurt, but the look on his face proved me unsuccessful. I felt nauseous again and struggled to calm my stomach, knowing full well that to be sick would be unbearably painful.
A litter was brought from inside the palace. Kurit started to move me, but despite his efforts to minimize my discomfort, I cried out in pain and lost consciousness again for a moment. I awoke again on the litter, afraid to faint again, thinking that if I did I might not wake up.
The litter was carried swiftly through the palace. I wished that I could look around me to see the splendour of it, but the speed at which I was carried and my decreasing ability to focus my eyes cast everything into a blur of walls and strange people pointing and gawking. I imagine we were quite the spectacle—the Prince returning not in triumph and pride, but rushing alongside a litter carrying an injured stranger dressed in rags, bags tied to her feet with strips of torn cloth.
The rush ended in a large bedchamber, possibly meant for guests. The men who carried my litter held it beside the bed while Kurit and some unseen other moved me over. I made a cry of pain as they moved me, though I did not wish to upset poor Kurit, who was clearly in full panic by then. The choice had been to cry out or to lose consciousness again, and I was dearly afraid of the latter.
The men bearing the litter left quickly, and a tall, thin, bald man dressed in long black robes and carrying a large black satchel entered. Without question or other hesitation, he began to tend to the wound, cutting away the tattered, blood-soaked clothing.
I assumed he was a healer, and managed to whisper, “I can feel my hand. I can move it too, but it hurts.”
He looked at my face for the first time since entering. “You’re a very brave girl,” he said with an air of authority, “but lie still now, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” He removed the clothing entirely from around the wound and began to inspect it closely.
I turned my head to the right when I felt Kurit take my free hand between his own. He looked less panicked than he had before, which helped me to relax in turn.
“This is Tash, the royal physician,” Kurit said as he rubbed my hand comfortingly. “He will make you well—you shall see.”
Tash began to move the bolt slowly, which naturally hurt a great deal. I turned to him and saw him poking at the wound. He looked over me to Kurit and said a single word that I think I was not intended to understand: “Barbed.”
I wanted to ask if that meant it couldn’t be removed but elected to follow his order not to speak. I must have looked worried though, because Kurit said, “Aenna, don’t be afraid. Don’t worry about a thing now.”
Tash stood and started pulling things from his bag. I heard liquid being poured, and what sounded like something being stirred. He came back into my view with a small cup and began to move it to my lips.
“This will make you sleep,” he said, offering me the brew.
I turned my head away, trying to keep it from touching me. I felt frantic and afraid, desperate to not be made to lose consciousness. He tried to fight me wit
h it for a moment and then stood back and said, “The bolt’s head is barbed. That means I cannot remove it without slowly cutting it out. It will hurt you a great deal, and when I have to cauterize it after, you will not be able to bear the pain. Drink this now, and you will feel nothing.”
I shook my head defiantly.
He looked at me as though I were a delinquent child. “Listen to me. I understand that you’re trying to be very brave, my dear, but this is for the best. If you flinch as I work you’ll make the injury worse. Furthermore, I can’t in good conscience allow you to suffer needlessly.”
“Trust him, Aenna,” Kurit said, leaning forward to brush the hair away from my forehead. “He’s very skilled and very wise. I’ll be right here when you wake. Everything will be fine. Just do as Tash says, please, for your own good.”
My fear of losing consciousness had become irrational, and I knew it, yet there it remained. But I knew fighting it would be stupid, so I finally agreed to drink what Tash had mixed, though my heart raced in fear.
He put the cup to my lips and slowly poured as I drank. “It’s bitter,” he said, “but drink it all down.” As he removed the cup I felt whatever he had given me take immediate effect. I began to feel as though I was floating in a warm lake, reminding me of my childhood when I would sneak away after completing my chores to swim in the springs near the Academy.
Kurit leaned over me and kissed my cheek softly. Between the drug, the childhood nostalgia, and his affection I felt more at ease, but still something in me fought against sleep. He kissed my cheek over and over and whispered, “That’s my brave Aenna, rest now.”
As my eyes clouded over and closed, I heard myself slur a whisper back to him, “I’m not brave at all. I’m frightened—please don’t leave me alone.” If he answered, I did not hear it as I drifted off.
Chapter 4
I AWOKE ALMOST A full day later, just as the sun was setting. The room in which I found myself had a window to the south, so the bright light of the sunset reflected from the uppermost portion of my eastern wall, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was that glow that woke me, and I opened my eyes to see a figure silhouetted at the window, looking outside.
Sorrows of Adoration Page 6