One bright, sunny afternoon he was in a particularly foul mood. The weather had been wonderful the previous three days, so we had been outside in the afternoon of each day for several hours. As a result, Kurit had stayed up later at night to drink and suffered headaches the next day. I had told him to remain inside if he was not well, but he had grumbled something incoherent and followed me out to meet Lyenta and Raelik in the garden.
So Kurit sat with his eyes squinted against the glare of outdoor light, his arms crossed and an angry look upon his scrunched-up face. Raelik kept looking to his sour-faced father and would almost become upset. I managed for a while to distract him with a ball, but soon his attention could not be drawn away. I worried that his sad little face would burst into tears and was even sadder when it didn’t. I realized he was getting used to Kurit’s moods, and that broke my heart.
Unable to bear the scene, I said, “Kurit, dear, if you are not feeling well, you should go back inside.”
He cast me an irritated look and muttered, “You want us to have these ridiculous father-son playtimes outside. So I’m here. Don’t keep changing your mind, Aenna. I don’t dance that fast.”
I resisted the urge to point out to him that he was hardly participating in a father-son playtime. “I’m not changing my mind, Kurit. I just don’t want to see you uncomfortable.” I saw Raelik looking from his father to me and back again and wondered how much longer it would be before he knew his parents lived in misery. My heart felt heavy at the notion of my innocent little boy learning so soon of such awful things. I forced a smile and called to him, trying again to distract him with the ball.
For a minute or two more he played with me happily, but then once again he looked to his father. A sweet smile spread over Raelik’s face. He grabbed the ball in his chubby hands and ran joyously over to Kurit with it. The little boy offered the sour man the ball, holding it out in his small arms proudly and saying, “Papa, here’s the ball for you.”
Kurit made no reply, which Raelik decided was part of this new attention-getting game.
“Papa!” cried Raelik. Kurit ignored him, choosing instead to squint his face in another direction. “Papa Papa Papa!” Raelik squealed with delight, his little legs stamping happily as he chanted.
Finally Kurit looked at him and said, “Papa doesn’t want your ball, Raelik. Take it to your mother.” His voice was strained with irritation, but I breathed a sigh of relief that he did not snap at the child.
“Raelik, dear, come to me,” I said. “Papa doesn’t feel well.”
The boy just giggled and continued to yell out, louder and louder, “Papa! Papa! Papa!” Kurit closed his eyes to shut the world out, but Raelik would not be ignored. He threw the ball happily at Kurit, obviously trying to initiate a game. Unfortunately, the boy managed to flip the ball right into Kurit’s face.
Because Kurit’s eyes had been closed, he was taken by surprise and fell backwards off the bench, legs and arms flailing. Raelik giggled hysterically at the wild scene, but I already feared the coming result and leapt to my feet.
Sure enough, Kurit stood up and began to yell at his son. “What in the Temple’s name do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, looking as though he wanted to pick the child up and throttle him. I ran over to pull Raelik out of the way, a maternal fear seizing my mind and filling it with horrific images of Kurit harming my boy.
Kurit brushed the grass from his arms and backside angrily. “You do not throw things at people’s heads! Hasn’t your mother taught you how to behave at all?” he yelled.
Raelik burst into frightened sobs and turned himself away from Kurit, into my arms. He clung to me in terror as I picked him up and tried to calm him. I couldn’t even hear Kurit’s next shouts over Raelik’s loud cries right beside my ear, but I clearly saw my husband’s fury.
“Enough, Kurit!” I shouted.
Kurit stopped speaking and seemed to suddenly see the scene before him, as if he had not seen us the moment before. His face fell and his shoulders slumped, yet I did not feel the least bit of sympathy for him. I was enraged and wanted to attack him for his behaviour towards my baby boy. But the crying child in my arms needed to be calmed, so I simply turned my back to Kurit and walked towards the pale and shaken Lyenta.
I tried to softly soothe poor Raelik, bouncing him in my arms, speaking hushed words of affection. When his crying became more of a need for continued comfort than sobs of terror, I looked to Lyenta, who was still facing where Kurit had stood, and whispered, “Is he still there?”
She shook her head. “No, Majesty. His Majesty left when you walked this way.”
I sat back on the grass with Raelik in my arms and cuddled him until his tears stopped. I spoke to him as happily as I could in an effort to cheer him up. After some time of pleasant words and Mumma’s tickles, he was made to smile again. But when Lyenta offered the ball, his small face grew sad and he clung to me again. I asked Lyenta to take it away and bring another toy. She went quickly to do so and returned a few minutes later with a wooden horse.
Between us, we were able to interest Raelik sufficiently that I was able to excuse myself and head into the palace to find my wretched husband. I went first to his workroom, but he was not there, so I went upstairs to the south wing.
Jarik stood at the hallway entrance and blocked my way. I was furious at Kurit and in no mood to let go of my anger long enough to deal with whatever Jarik’s problem was. I glared at him and tried to pass. He stopped me.
“Not now, Jarik,” I said quietly, trying not to snarl at him.
“I saw what happened. I was on my balcony, watching over you as always, and I saw it all,” he said.
“I’m delighted you were entertained so,” I snapped and tried again to duck around him. He was, of course, too fast for me and prevented my passing again.
“Aenna, don’t go after him now. You’re furious, and understandably so, but you’ll do more harm than good in this mood.”
“I no longer care what good comes out of my marriage,” I whispered forcibly, “for there is no good in it. But I will not abide him to destroy my son. Let me pass, Jarik, or I’ll fight you to pass, and though I shall not win, I shall make an ugly scene of it nonetheless.”
Jarik sighed. “He’s in his rooms. Kasha is with him. Don’t put yourself through this, Aenna,” he said sadly as he stepped aside. I shot past him and went straight to Kurit’s chambers, not even pausing to knock on the door.
Kasha was indeed seated there with him. In Kurit’s hand was an almost empty glass.
Kasha glared at me for my rude entry, but I refused to even return her gaze. I looked directly at Kurit and announced, “I would like to speak with my husband alone.”
“I am his mother, and my son holds no secrets from me,” she replied darkly.
Still keeping my eyes locked on the sullen and well-on-the-way to drunk Kurit, I said, “I would like to please speak with Kurit alone.” I emphasized the ‘please’, despite knowing that it would do no good. Sure enough, Kasha remained still in her chair.
“Fine,” I snarled, deciding that I wasn’t going to be dissuaded by her presence. I stepped closer to Kurit and spoke in a low tone of fury. “If you want to live inside a liquor bottle and treat me as dirt, that’s one thing, Kurit, but don’t you dare, don’t you ever treat my son like that again!”
“You are dirt,” Kasha said coldly, “and deserve to be treated as such. And Raelik does not belong to you. He is Kurit’s son, the heir to the throne. You are but a peasant in pretty clothes and should feel fortunate that we allow you to even be with the boy.”
Kurit rolled his eyes, sighed, and muttered, “Mother, don’t. Not now.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to ignore her. I knew that her words were spiteful and meaningless, and I pushed her out of my mind. I asked Kurit, “How could you treat him like that? He’s just a little boy!”
“And if you continue to treat him like one, he’ll end up as unworthy of the crown as you,�
�� Kasha droned.
“Mother, that’s enough!” snapped Kurit. His face then fell, and he muttered to her, “Leave us, please.”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. I saw her eyebrows raised in indignation, but nonetheless she took her leave.
When she was gone, Kurit’s face grew dark and angry. “Don’t you ever embarrass me or question my actions in front of anyone ever again,” he growled.
I crossed my arms angrily and said, “I asked her to leave.”
“You should have waited until later,” he said, rising to pour himself another drink.
“When?” I asked coldly. “Should I have waited until you had had enough to drink that you could forget what you had done to your son?”
“I did nothing to him,” Kurit grumbled as he drained half of his glass in one gulp. “I just didn’t feel like playing with the ball. Pardon me if I have more important things to do!”
“Really. Like drowning yourself in that glass,” I retorted.
“Aenna, that’s far enough!” Kurit shouted, pointing a threatening finger at me. “I’ve tolerated your little jabs to my limit. I don’t want to hear another snide comment about the fact that I enjoy the occasional drink.”
I could not help but chuckle. “Occasional?” I said incredulously. “Kurit, it’s not occasional when you’re too ill of drink to stand the sunshine and too upset at being sober that you scream at your son for no reason.”
Kurit’s face turned red as he shouted, “I didn’t want the cursed ball!”
“He was trying to cheer you up!” I shouted in return. “He’s a good little boy who saw his papa was upset, and he was offering you something he likes as a gift to you, as a way to make you smile. Now, if you want to pretend that you don’t have a problem and these ‘occasional’ drinks aren’t making you treat me with anger and disrespect, that’s one thing, because I’m an adult and I can take it. But I will not stand by while you hurt and confuse an innocent child for no good reason!”
“What do you mean, you won’t stand for it? Who do you think you are?” he yelled.
“I’m your wife!” I said in loud exasperation. “Or have you forgotten that?”
“No, but you seem to have forgotten your place.”
My eyes widened, and my outstretched hands sank to my sides. I blinked at him in awe and quietly repeated in question, “My place?”
Kurit threw back another swallow of his drink and took an angry step towards me. “You seem to forget that I am the man here. I am the King, my word is law, not yours, and I was the one born into this life and educated to properly handle it.”
I sighed and shook my head. My hands on my hips in frustration, I said, “I see now what is going on here. Your mother has gotten to you.” I looked at him in earnest and asked, “Do you no longer find me as worthy as you once did? Now you throw this in my face, that I am but a simple peasant girl?”
“You’re twisting my words,” he muttered. There was a hint of shame in his voice, but he was still too angry to admit any fault.
“No, I don’t think that I am,” I said, feeling miserable. “Your mother has poisoned you against me.”
His fury returned and he shouted, “Watch your tongue! I’ve had enough of the way you treat her!”
Aghast and baffled, I stammered, “What? How I treat her? I don’t, I can’t understand … how can you say that?” I threw my arms in the air again and cried out, “I have always tried to respect her, but she despises me unfairly!”
“She does not. She’s just trying to protect me from you. If you gave her half a chance—”
“Give her a chance! By the Temple, Kurit, I have tried everything I can think of to please her! If I knew how to earn her acceptance, I would do it! I can do nothing to please her! I run circles around myself trying to do the right thing, to improve things—”
“Oh, yes, let’s not forget the Great Goddess Aenna and her wonderful little peasant market,” he said bitterly, eyes narrowed.
Again I was caught off guard by his words. My mind reeled at his accusations and became tangled in his absurdity. “What do you mean by that? Now you don’t approve of what was done? I don’t understand,” I said with a sigh.
His face took on a look of what I can best describe as revulsion. I took a step backwards from him, horrified at his venomous glare. In a voice dark with fury and loathing, he said, “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t understand me at all.” Then he turned his back to me to pour himself another drink. “Get out of my sight,” he snarled.
I closed my eyes for a moment in shocked sorrow. My head pounded, my chest ached, and my limbs felt as stone. I could not believe, even after all the other bitter fights and angry words, that he could be so cold to me. I turned as I walked to the door, but before opening it I asked the dreadful question, “Do you have any love for me left in your heart?”
I looked over my shoulder to him. He was leaning on the table with both hands as though he were in great pain. He said nothing. I waited a few moments, but he neither moved nor spoke, so I left in silence.
Jarik was in the hall, but I deliberately did not look at him. In my heart I longed for his comfort, but I felt so despondent, and I did not wish to inflict my misery upon him. I tried to pass him out of his reach, but of course he would not allow it. He put his hand on my arm to stop me as I passed. I diverted my gaze at first, hoping he would give up and let me go. When he did not, I slowly turned my eyes towards his, which were filled with sorrow.
I knew I was going to break into tears soon and did not wish to do so in the corridor. I wanted to say something to assure Jarik that I would be fine, but I was so heartbroken that I could not conceive of the words. Instead, I heard myself whisper, “I simply do not know what to do anymore.”
He pressed his lips together, though in anger or sadness I could not tell. “Go to your chambers,” he said softly. “I shall join you there in a few minutes.”
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t go to him now. He’ll be furious and think that I sent you. And he’s in no condition to understand any message of reason.”
Jarik nodded slowly and led me instead to my chambers. Once behind the closed door, my tears began to flow. I did not sob, though, for I was so drained by Kurit’s horrible words that I lacked the energy to make a sound.
Jarik led me to the couch, where he sat with me and embraced me tenderly. I cried silently against his shoulder for a few minutes and then, my throat sore with grief, whispered, “I don’t know what to do. Soon the people shall know their King to be a drunkard, and whether or not he continues to manage his affairs well, they shall decry him. His rule will weaken to a dangerous point.”
Jarik said nothing but tightened his embrace slightly.
“I feel as though I ought to know what to do,” I continued, though even whispering made my knotted throat ache. “I keep imagining that I should have some divine, regal knowledge as Queen that guides my hand, but it is not there. He doesn’t listen to me. He actually denies that he has a problem. Meanwhile, Kasha continues to speak against me, diminishing any chance I have to get through to him.”
I sat up and dried my cheeks with my handkerchief. “I don’t understand her. Why does she make things worse? Why does she insist on hating me so?”
In a voice deep with heartache, Jarik said, “Because she is not as wise as you. She was never the Queen that you are, and she hates you for it. Her hate grows with every person who worships you out of love when none worshipped her but out of fear. You stole the love of her son, her people, and even her husband adored you.”
“Tarken loved his wife. It broke his heart that she despised me,” I muttered.
“She put him in a position of choosing, and he chose you, Aenna. Your youth, beauty, intelligence, and wit enchanted him. Compare that to his angry, bitter old wife. I’m not saying he desired you in an inappropriate fashion, for he was a good man who loved his wife, but you touched his heart, and Kasha will never forgive you for t
hat.”
“Kurit just accused me of being harsh to her.”
“That’s certainly backwards.”
“So I said.” I sighed and stared at the grain of the wood table.
“He’s reversing it in his own mind because it’s easier to get angry with you than her,” Jarik explained. “Well, he does get angry with her,” he said, correcting himself, “but it does no good. It never has. He used to get furious with her when she would belittle his friends in their presence. I think one of the reasons he and I grew so close was because she held her tongue where I was concerned. I am the son of Tarken’s sister, and Tarken would not abide her to badger me. But all of our other friends and peers were driven away by her acid tongue and cold wrath. It didn’t affect me because I paid her little heed and frankly didn’t see solitude as a sorrowful thing.”
Jarik stared into the air before him as he recalled earlier days. “But Kurit, he has always liked to be around friends. I think he would like to have more grand balls, more parties, and more friendly gatherings with a circle of friends. But she drove them away. Do you know, that’s why we were at the outpost when we met you? Ostensibly, we went for training, and Kurit was supposed to be working on some long-term scholarly project for his father, but he didn’t even take the books, and you of course know that there was no trainer with us.
“He had just had a terrific spat with his mother. It had been years since he’d had the chance to make a new friend, and Kalren’s son Mardek had come to study some of the archived texts in the palace library. Kurit and Mardek became fast friends, and I liked him as well, but Kasha …” Jarik sighed. “Kasha had to make it an issue. She had to belittle Mardek on every fault, every misspoken word, everything that ever went wrong in Estebek. At first it was just confusing. There was no reason for it, so Mardek admirably ignored her. Then she took to calling him the ‘travelling ruffian’, which made no sense but grew to irritate him. It became clear that her jabs themselves were meaningless and often incomprehensible, but the intent was to insult. He could not go through a meal without hearing something from Kasha. Eventually he wearied of it, received permission to borrow the texts he needed, and left Endren.
Sorrows of Adoration Page 39