“Aenna, we were so afraid for you. You can’t know how horrible it was, not knowing if you were still alive, where you were, or what wicked things were being done to you. By the Gods themselves, I screamed your name into the night so many times that my throat became raw and I could no longer make a sound.
“I wanted to keep searching when morning came, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. She convinced Father it would be unsafe, and they had my riding gear locked away. But I didn’t care. I ordered a guard off his horse and took that one. They had to drag me in protest back here several times, and each time I went out again.
“Jarik organized teams that went to comb every direction in a circle around Endren, even into the mountains. Mother locked my doors from the outside, so I climbed down from my balcony and crept back through the palace to go out again. But I twisted my leg whilst dropping myself down from the balcony, so when they dragged me back to Endren yet again, I gave up the fight. I became convinced it had been so long that you must be dead. So I gave up and stayed in my room, grieving for you. I’m sorry, Aenna,” he finished in a tearful whisper.
“You wouldn’t have found me,” I said. “They had me in a smuggler’s box under the cart and then sold me to slave traders.”
Shock and dismay crossed his face, and he began again his litany of apologies.
“Kurit, stop. I can’t bear to hear it. Just hold me, please. I dreamt of returning home to be in your arms.” He stopped speaking and went around the bed to lie with me. He slipped under the covers with me and tenderly embraced me.
Hearing his heartbeat, feeling his strong arms around me and small kisses on my forehead, I remembered how I had longed for him and broke into tears. It was such relief to be there, such sweet relief, that my body was soon racked with sobs, all my anxiety and fear finally coming out.
He held me, spoke soft words of comfort, kissed my cheeks and forehead, and begged me not to cry. Soon exhaustion returned, and I slept enveloped in him, warm and safe in his arms.
Chapter 13
AFTER ANOTHER FULL night and day of being stuffed with food and cared for with great attention by Kurit, Leiset, and even King Tarken, I began to feel much better. I was still very tired, and my feet hurt worse than they did while I had been walking, but I had the strength to sit with people long enough to tell the story of what had happened. I had wanted to wait for Jarik’s return, but messengers were probably just then finding his search party to inform them of the good news, and the others were so eager to know what had happened that I did not wish to make them wait. Also, the trial for Sashken would soon be held, and my testimony needed to be recorded while it was still fresh in my mind.
Kurit brought our son to me to be fed, though Tash was still supplementing my feedings with his nutrient-rich mixture. Kurit left my boy with me, went to tell the others to gather in my receiving room in the afternoon, and then arranged for a scribe to attend to record my words.
When he returned, I reminded him our child still had no name.
He smiled—a rare thing, as he remained plagued by guilt regardless of my assurances otherwise—and said, “I thought about that last night. I went over many honourable ancestral names in my mind, but there was always something wrong with them. Either the name had a nice sound but had been attached to someone I didn’t approve of, or the name sounded wretched even though it came from an honourable man.
“So I pondered the notion of creating a new name for him, and I thought perhaps we could combine other names. When King Rudik was an infant, he had an adventure much like our boy did. A maid carried him out of Endren in a basket of bread because the palace was under attack by a rebellious faction of the King’s Guard. When he was a grown man, Rudik took back his rightful throne and restructured the King’s Guard. He wrote the oath they still recite today. But Rudik … what a harsh name. I thought perhaps, since the naming traditions of your homeland still very much follow old Maellan patterns, we could add that in. I put them together and thought of Raelik.”
I looked at the sleeping baby in my arms. “Raelik,” I repeated. It was a good name. I smiled at Kurit and nodded. “He shall be called Raelik, then. I like that.” I passed the boy to his father and sighed happily to watch how Kurit’s face lit up in delight with his son’s wiggling and soft, sleepy noises.
After we had taken our lunch together, Kurit carried Raelik and me to the receiving room. He set me gently on the couch and bundled me with pillows and blankets. The baby was awake, so I rocked him in my arms to keep him happy.
Kurit sat by my side as the small audience gathered. The King sat near me, trying to keep his face schooled for the upcoming unpleasant tale, but every time little Raelik made a sound or got his tiny fist into my hair—which had been cut to waist-length—the King’s reserved countenance would break into an endearing smile. I worried that he would request my child be taken away so as not to be a distraction, but I could not bear to have him gone from my sight when I was awake. No one made the request, and I was glad of it.
Kasha sat facing us head-on, as though sitting to make a judgment. It would make it hard to avoid looking at her, but with Kurit by my side, I felt that I could safely speak without being nervous.
Leiset, Gilrin, King Tarken’s manservant, and a scribe stood at the back of the room.
I began the story from the point where Melly delivered the note until meeting with Graek at the gate. I told every detail I could recall: the descriptions of the men along the way; the threat of the Wusul to kill my child, to which Tarken said I was correct that war would have been a likely result; the townsfolk who cast stones at me and how I considered seeking help from Lady Aelwin or Lord Cael but had become too afraid that I would be turned away at the gates; and the birth of my son.
I expressed terrible regret and guilt for the crime of murder, to which everyone but Kasha responded quickly with words of comfort, agreeing that it was not murder to kill in self-defence or the defence of one’s child. I confessed also the crime of having stolen the handfuls of grain and the blanket, but the King assured me he would try to help me later determine the location of the farmhouse and have money sent to them in repayment for what I had taken.
They all listened intently to the entire story. Whenever I spoke of being afraid or in pain, Kurit would close his eyes and squeeze my hand, which he held throughout. He became furious with the Wusul and the townsfolk who had driven me away. Tarken calmed Kurit’s anger on the latter by saying official messengers would be sent throughout the northern provinces to ensure every town knew my name and that of my son. He said further that it would be determined which town I had been to, and those people would be notified of their misguided crime. He said he would not have them punished for their ignorance but hoped being told by the King’s Guard that they had been so wrong would shame them to act in greater charity in the future.
The King told me that I should indeed have gone west to Staelorn, for there Cael’s soldiers knew of my disappearance, and I would not have been turned away. Still, he said he understood my fear and did not speak in condemnation of my decision.
Kasha spoke not a word throughout but glared at me coldly. When these other discussions had ended, she finally did speak in an accusatory tone. “How fascinating that you were allegedly able to strangle a Wusul soldier with hair that would hardly wrap fully around your own throat,” she said.
“Mother!” Kurit snapped back. “We had to cut a great deal of her hair away on her return. It was long enough at the time!”
The Queen looked unconvinced. “And are we really to believe you gave birth to a child without any medical assistance?”
“Your Majesty,” I replied, “many women give birth with little assistance. Peasant farmers’ wives cannot afford to pay physicians or midwives to help them, and if no other family lives close, it is only the husband who can help. Many children enter life this way.”
“Oh, of course,” she said mockingly. “Peasant women. How fortunate that you yourself—”
She cast him a reproachful look for it but did not continue the sentence. Instead she said, “Now that you’re here, there’s no reason for you to cling to the child as though he’s your doll. And there will certainly not be any more tolerance for your feeding him. That’s what wet nurses are for.”
“Wet nurses?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation as though I were a stupid child.
“Aenna,” Kurit said quietly, “a wet nurse is one who not only cares for the baby but also feeds it from her own breast.”
I looked at him in revolted alarm. “How disgusting! I’m his mother, and I can feed him myself!”
“You shall do no such thing,” Kasha said. “It is unseemly and not proper for the child.”
“Not proper for the child?” I snapped. “What do you imagine kept him alive out there? Fervent prayers and desperate hopes? I’ve fed him this long. It is my breast he is used to, and it is my breast that will continue to feed him. It is not unseemly or inappropriate for a mother to nurse her own child! What hideous beast of a soul ever created the notion otherwise?”
“Someone with a great deal more intelligence and sense of propriety than you!” Kasha retorted in hot anger.
“Mother, that’s enough!” Kurit shouted. “If Aenna wishes to nurse our child, then she shall do so. For all we know it could harm Raelik to have him switched now to a wet nurse.”
“I warned you that she would twist your mind,” Kasha continued, rising to her feet. “You agree to her filthy peasant ways now, and the next thing she’ll have this kingdom upside down in turmoil!”
“Out!” shouted Tarken, who was also on his feet. His face was red with fury, and he pointed to the door. “Leave, Kasha! The girl has just gone through a harrowing ordeal but still has brought us home an heir. Who are you, that you can be so cruel and filled with such hate? I don’t know who you have become! Leave us! I won’t abide you to send this family into chaos because of your inexplicable hatred. Go now!”
The Queen treated me to an angry stare, and I knew she wished that I had died somehow along my way. Whether she had a hand in the abduction, I never learned. But at that moment, I had no doubt that she wished dearly Sashken had succeeded. She left in a fury, closing the door so hard behind her that the noise echoed down the hall outside.
Kurit went quickly to his father’s side, for the older man was still red-faced and puffing in a manner that worried me. His breath wheezed as he sat down. The King waved Kurit away and grumbled that he would be fine—his heart was just racing faster than he should have allowed it to. His manservant offered to fetch Tash, but King Tarken refused. “I don’t want to hear another time how I’m supposed to remain calm. I’ve heard it from him before.” He finally did accept a glass of water from Gilrin, and in time the wheezing stopped.
“I didn’t mean to provoke her,” I said quietly when the awkward silence became too much to bear.
“You didn’t,” Kurit said, returning to sit with me. “If you hadn’t argued about the wet nurse, it would have been something else. She was looking for a reason.”
“I shouldn’t have allowed her to join us,” the King said. “I thought now, with all that had happened, she’d finally be able to put her prejudices to rest. I can’t imagine what it will take to do so. I’m beginning to doubt she’ll ever accept you, Aenna, and for that I am truly sorry. But enough of this. There should be no sad faces here. You are back safe with us, my brave young woman, and your gift of a grandson delights me. Let me hold the child, please. It calms me.”
I handed the infant to Kurit, who gladly passed him on to the King. The scribe politely excused himself as those who remained spent a happy time passing the little Prince around.
* * *
The next afternoon, I knew almost immediately when Jarik had returned, for he burst into the palace and ran straight to my room, causing a ruckus as he ran in his armour. He did not wait to knock on my outer door but came to where I sat on the couch, knelt before me with his head bowed, and said, “Good Princess Aenna, I most humbly beg your merciful forgiveness for failing in my duty to protect you. I thank the Gods themselves for returning you safely to us despite my abhorrent culpability in this matter.” Though his head was down, I could see by the side of his sweat-beaded face that his eyes were squeezed shut in shame and regret. It broke my heart to see him suffer so.
“Jarik, stop,” I said, leaning to rest a hand on his armoured shoulder. “Please—this wasn’t your fault. I knew you’d feel this way, and all while I was gone I worried so for you and Kurit that you would take such blame upon yourselves. You could not have prevented what happened.”
He lifted his eyes sheepishly to mine. “I could have indeed, had I been by your side as a Champion ought to be.”
I sighed sadly. “Jarik, please. Don’t do this to yourself. And don’t stay there kneeling before me. You know very well I’m uncomfortable with such servitude, especially from a friend. Come,” I said, patting the space beside me on the couch. “Sit with me here. I’ve missed you so.” His eyes not leaving mine, he slowly rose and did as I asked. I took his clenched fist and held it as a ball between my hands. “I was so afraid that I would not see either of you again, and the thought that you both would blame yourselves and seek all manner of self-destruction as a result almost drove me mad. I looked forward so happily to your return today. Don’t make it sad. I’m here, safe as can be. Kurit and you are also well, if not a little ragged from worry and running about Keshaerlan searching madly for me. All is well again. There’s no reason to be melancholy or regretful.”
His eyes closed, and I knew my words had not reached him.
“Please, Jarik, be happy for us all. I have returned alive to you, and my son lives as well.” His eyes opened quickly at that, and I realized he must not have been informed about the baby. “Yes, I have a son. I gave birth to him on my way home. He is healthy and grows stronger every minute, it seems.” I knew my face was alight with joy to speak of my darling child. I called to Leiset, who had been in the room with me when Jarik entered but had quietly removed herself to her room thereafter. When she returned, I said, “Could you please have Lyenta bring in my son to meet his uncle Jarik? Oh, and as you pass, would you please also knock on Kurit’s door and have Gilrin wake him and send him in? Thank you.”
She left, and I returned my attention to the distraught warrior beside me. “I’ll show you how strong the boy is. You shall adore him, Jarik.”
“I have no doubt of that. He is your child and shall therefore be precious in my eyes.” Still there was no hint of happiness on Jarik’s face.
“As he grows, he shall learn honour and goodness from you, my dear Champion,” I said, trying to make him feel better. Instead, I could see that my words gave him greater cause for shame, for his eyes closed sadly again. “Oh, Jarik, don’t break my heart so. It’s bad enough that I have to order Kurit to sleep in the afternoons because he lies awake all night watching me, fearful I shall suddenly stop breathing or be snatched away again, out of his very arms.” I pressed his still-clenched fist to my cheek. It smelled still of metal and horses and leather, the rich, manly smell of a warrior. I held it to my cheek until it finally relaxed and he pressed his soft palm to me.
“There now,” I whispered. “Much better.” I looked at his face. His eyes were on me, a tender look of sorrow still present. I lowered his hand from my face to the couch between us. “I know you still ache inside. I understand that. But, please, do try in the days that come to remember how to smile. I should be very sad indeed if I should go long without hearing you laugh.”
He said nothing but just stared at our clasped hands.
The door opened and Leiset came in with the nurse, who held my Raelik in her arms. She brought him to me and excused herself, as did Leiset.
I held the infant up for Jarik to see. I unwrapped his blanket sufficient
ly to let his wiggling little arms out and put my finger into one of his tiny little fists. “Look how strong he is. By the Temple, he could almost support his own weight with that grip!”
Jarik did not smile as I did, but a gentle, almost happy look was on his face as he beheld the baby boy in my arms. I suppressed the desire to giggle at the sight of this otherwise tortured warrior being so softened by the sight of an infant. I leaned to Jarik to place Raelik in his arms. He started to protest, but I would not hear it. I put my boy into the strong arms of his mother’s Champion.
My heart swelled with adoration and delight to see the look of love on good Jarik’s face. It seemed the mightier the man, the more gentle the heart. Raelik caught hold of one of the links of his chain mail, getting his tiny finger right into the narrow holes. With all of the adeptness of a watchful parent, Jarik gently removed the armour from the boy’s hand.
Jarik lifted his eyes to me in amazement. “You have created a miracle. How did you do this?”
I smiled as Jarik handed my son back to me. “It is a long and rather dreadful story, I’m afraid.” The door opened, and Kurit stepped quietly inside. “Tomorrow at Sashken’s trial, the full text of my story will be read in the court,” I continued, nodding to Kurit. “If you wish to hear more after that, I shall gladly sit and speak with you about it.”
Jarik looked then to Kurit as he sat in a chair near us. They said nothing. I saw them exchange an awkward glance, each humble and sheepish to the other. Immediately I realized that each felt they had failed the other in failing me. Though I knew it would be a battle to release them each of their guilt for me, I refused to stand by while their friendship died in misplaced guilt to one another.
“No,” I declared. “Absolutely not. This shall not happen.” They looked at me, a matched look of puzzlement that otherwise would have made me laugh. “I see your faces when you behold one another. You each think the other is angry with you, because you both feel such silly guilt. I’ll not stand for that! I’ll not watch a lifelong friendship spoil because men are too foolish to actually speak their feelings to one another.”
Sorrows of Adoration Page 27