“Kurit was furious—bewildered, but furious. He knew that she deliberately drove his friends away but could not understand why. He felt that he might lose control and say something unbecoming of a son, and certainly inappropriate to a Queen, so we concocted the need for him to be away, far away, where she would not trouble herself to visit. We had been at the outpost for nine days when you stumbled into our lives.”
I sat quietly and considered Jarik’s story. Hearing it, her behaviour towards me began to make a twisted sense. She couldn’t abide anyone to steal her son’s attention, except perhaps the like-minded wife she had chosen for him in Sashken. I realized then why she despised me.
“He stormed away, having lost yet another battle to her, and then returned with a peasant girl to marry. I was her ultimate fear—I was everything she could not abide,” I said. After another pensive pause, I asked, “Jarik, do you think I was merely a convenient way to get back at her? Did Kurit want me just to punish her?”
Jarik quickly shook his head against the idea. “No. He wanted to avoid trouble, not court it. I truly believe that he failed to consider Kasha’s reaction until he was actually speaking to her again. I think he became swept up in love for you and happily forgot about his mother.”
I rose and walked across the room. I stood staring at a landscape painting, wishing I could live inside its gentle fields and soft breezes, wishing to be anywhere but where I was at that moment. “So what’s to be done now?” I asked.
Jarik sighed and said, “The drinking has to be curtailed, if not stopped, before he does something regretful.”
“He doesn’t listen, Jarik. You’ve spoken to him. I’ve spoken to him. Today he snapped viciously at his own son. Nothing gets through to him.”
Jarik rose and came to stand behind me, putting a hand of comfort on my shoulder. “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear,” he said, “but I think that it might have to get worse first. He has to do something stupid enough to make the problem obvious to himself. Where reason fails—”
“Suffering prevails,” I finished, as in the very old and well-known poem. “But in that poem, the warrior Prince knows only the folly of others, not his own. Not until it is too late and his family is dead.”
He put his hands on my arms and turned me to face him, but I kept my head low, not wanting to see the pain that I knew would be upon his face. He put a gentle hand under my chin, though, and lifted my eyes to his own. Then he said with clear sincerity, “That’s not going to happen to you and Raelik. I wouldn’t let it happen. Nobody in this city would let that happen. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It just popped into my head. I’m sorry.”
I sighed and said, “No, I know it’s not the same. We’re not at war with our own people as in the poem. I am more concerned for Kurit’s safety than my own. He could fall down the stairs, lean out of a tower window and fall to his death, or any other number of things. He could be killed, and we can’t let that happen. I can’t wait for tragedy before I act.” I went back to the couch and sat there listlessly. “But I don’t know how to act. Could we have Tash speak to him?”
“I tried that. I didn’t tell you because Tash said Kurit laughed him off. Called him a doddering fool.”
My bitter anger came back, and I said, “Why won’t Kasha say something? She must see that there’s a problem. She can’t possibly want her son to be suffering like this.”
Jarik said nothing but turned his face away from mine in that way I had well learned meant that he was hiding something from me.
“What is it? What troubles you?” I asked. He did not answer but kept his face turned. “You don’t think she deliberately guides him to the drink, do you?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
He sighed and muttered, “Aenna, really. You don’t want to know.”
“Jarik, if there’s something you know that can help Kurit—”
“It won’t help him. It’s the cause. Part of the cause, I think. I’m not sure.” He grumbled and ran his hands through his hair. That gesture of frustration was uncommon to him and reminded me of Kurit. My heart sank.
“Tell me, Jarik. You cannot protect me from this.”
He glanced at me sadly, then turned away again. “There have been times, Aenna, when you are in your workroom or safely in the nursery with Raelik that I have not stood outside the door but instead have sat with Kurit and Kasha in the parlours. I’ve been present when she speaks ill of you. She tells him that you are the cause of his problems, that you seek to destroy him for your own power since you would be regent until Raelik is of age to rule. She turns your words into venom and tries to convince him that you neither love nor need him.”
Jarik turned his eyes to me again and held his hands out in supplication. “I am sorry, Aenna. I have tried to defend you, but she orders me away. She …” He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. “She has also threatened that if I allow myself to be taken in by your supposed enchantments, I shall be asked to leave the palace.”
I bolted upwards from the couch in anger and shouted, “She wouldn’t dare!”
“Perhaps not now, but at the time of that particular threat she was still Queen, and she meant it. Regardless of that, she tells Kurit that he has no problems, he is doing nothing wrong, but that you are bewitching him to make him doubt himself and weaken his will.”
My head swam in fury, frustration, and sadness. I dropped myself back down to the couch and put my aching head in my hands.
Jarik was soon back at my side with an arm around my shoulders. “He doesn’t believe it, Aenna,” he said emphatically. “You have to know that he is not blind, he knows his mother is mad with hatred, and he doesn’t believe her words. Not in his heart. He loves you. That hasn’t changed. I know him, and I know that inside that drunken fool is the Kurit we used to know, and he adores you, and it’s probably killing him in there to know he’s hurting you and now his little son. But Kasha is driving him mad, and being unable to fight her effectively, I think he instead seeks to drown his tortured self.”
He pulled my hands from my face and softly said, “Look at me, Aenna.” I did so, and he said, “Kurit loves you. Don’t lose sight of that.”
I felt my heart seize in agony again at Jarik’s words. I whispered aloud to him the thought that had haunted me for weeks: “I don’t think he does. I don’t think he ever truly did,” I confided. “He was infatuated, confused perhaps by feelings of gratitude, perhaps unintentionally seeking a way to rebel against Kasha, but I doubt now that he ever truly loved me as much as he thought he did.” To speak these thoughts to another person made them seem real. The pain of it was almost unbearable.
Jarik pulled me close to him suddenly and roughly. He wrapped his arms around me protectively, as if he wished to shelter me from my own words. “Oh, sweet Aenna,” he whispered, rocking me as I felt tears roll from my closed eyes. “Good Lady Aenna, that is the most despicable crime, that he would make you think that. His love was true. I knew him better than anyone, and the light in his eyes when he beheld you could not have been contrived and does not come from mere infatuation.”
“Then what has changed?” I asked, my words muffled with half my face pressed into his chest. “I asked him just now if he still loved me, and he would not answer.”
“Don’t take that as a lack of love. He is battling against himself to control the demons in his soul. He may have forgotten how to express his love, but it can’t have faded.”
“How can you be so sure?”
For a moment he held me without saying anything, and then he pushed gently on my shoulders that I might sit up and look at his face. His gaze held mine as he brushed tears from my face. “Because any man who doesn’t love a wife such as you is a fool, and despite his recent behaviour, Kurit is no fool.”
I felt very weak and pathetic sitting there crying as this good man tried to comfort me and failed. In an attempt to regain some semblance of self-control, I slowly rose. I walk
ed again to stare into that landscape painting and let its tranquility wash over me. I closed my eyes and felt my pain falling into the back of my mind, as if being slowly draped by a thick curtain. It was still there, I was very aware of its presence, but I pushed it out of reach for the moment. I could not stand to envision myself so helpless as to continue weeping in Jarik’s arms when there was no point to it, no comfort in it.
I opened my eyes again. The painting had not changed, though I felt that if I stared at it long enough, I might see the wind brush through the waves of grass. An odd calm settled my mind.
“Your words are kind, Jarik, but I still don’t believe it,” I said. My voice sounded as though it were outside of me. I sounded very much like a Queen to myself. “I must accept that either he loves me no more, or perhaps he does as you say but it is meaningless if he finds himself fighting against it.”
The curtain had drawn closed on my agony, leaving me serene and detached. “I can go on,” I said, for it was the truth. “It is hard, but I am strong, and I have my son to love and his love for me. I have dear friends in you and in Leiset. It remains my duty to ensure the people do not learn of the King’s failings.”
I turned to face him with what I imagined to be an elegant smile. “I shall wear a happy mask and assure them that all is well.” I let the smile fade and said without any emotion at all, “If the Kurit that loved me as you say he did still lives inside that man, then I shall pray he surfaces one day again, but I cannot wait for it nor rely on it without risking my son, myself, and this kingdom.”
Jarik rose from the couch, though he did not approach me. “I have always known you to be strong and greatly respected that in you, but it is terrible to hear those words, Aenna. You deserve so much more.”
I expected his words to impact me, but the curtain remained closed and I felt nothing. No anger, no sorrow, no joy—nothing at all. “We only deserve what we earn,” I said. “I have earned the respect of the people. I have earned the adoration of my son. Of those things I am confident. But somehow I have failed to earn the continued love of my husband. I must still attend to my duty. Duty cannot be sacrificed because we don’t like something in our own lives.” I wondered if I looked as stalwart and regal as I felt.
With great elegance, Jarik approached, took my hand, and bowed to kiss it kindly. “And that, Your Majesty, is why you are a good Queen, though it saddens me to hear you say such things. You treat others with kindness and respect, and you ought to be treated likewise. Don’t imagine Kurit’s weaknesses to be your fault. Mark my words, dear Aenna, the time will come when he shall see his folly and he will learn to conquer his demons and love you again, as one so magnificent should be loved. I just pray that he doesn’t destroy your good heart along the way.”
Then he reached out to touch me with what would have been inappropriate affection from any other man. His fingers gently drew along my cheek and down my chin. Then he turned them around and ran the backs of them softly down my throat. His hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed it tenderly. “But that’s why I am here, as a friend to Aenna, as Champion to the Queen,” he whispered in a voice rich with love. “I pledge to do all that is in my power to ensure that his madness does not destroy you. Please, do not shut your emotions away and become cold, unfeeling. If you must do that in public, then do so, but with me, I ask that you be true to yourself.”
Still numb, I managed to serve him a tiny smile as I said, “You are a good man, Jarik. I am not proud of needing you, but I can’t imagine what I’d do in these times without you.”
“You will never have to learn that, good lady. I am eternally here for you.” He pulled me into an embrace.
As he held me, pledging devotion to me that should have been supplied by Kurit, I found myself drifting to thoughts of how different my life might have been if I had fallen in love with him instead, if he had not claimed to be the Prince at the outpost. I chastised myself for the thought, but I could not banish it entirely from my mind, not even after he left the room.
Chapter 19
KURIT TOOK TO hiding in his chambers or workroom for several days following that awful fight, though I did not know whether he did so out of guilt, anger, or revulsion towards me. To be quite blunt, I didn’t care. I still very much loved my husband, but this drunken wretch was not the man I had married. It mattered not to me what this Kurit felt, for I did not know him—and did not wish to. I was quite happy to allow him to avoid me.
Then late one evening as I was reading the previous month’s tax records as part of my attempt to prove to myself, if not anyone else, that the market was already a success, I realized that the numbers simply did not add up as they should have. Upon careful inspection of the mathematics that led to the various totals, I saw errors in addition as well as several instances of transposed digits. These calculations were Kurit’s work; he had signed the forms himself. It was obvious by the scrawling handwriting, the messy, scratched-out portions, and the errors that he had been drunk when the calculations were made.
I sighed in exasperation. Flipping through other recent sheets, I saw that the frequency of the errors had increased quite dramatically since the night after our last fight. I realized he was drinking so heavily now that he could not even function in his most basic duties.
“By the Temple and all that’s sacred, Kurit,” I muttered aloud, “let us pray that nothing needing of a King’s proper attention should arise.”
Then I reconsidered my own words. I decided it was insufficient to pray that nothing should go wrong. It became clear to me that I could no longer be complacent about this issue and hope that kind words or occasional nagging might do some good. It was absolutely ridiculous that a King should be so irresponsible that he could not write up a simple accounting calculation without so many errors.
I gathered the sheets together and went to the door between our workrooms. Just before I opened it, however, I caught the sound of Kasha’s quietly condemning voice. I could not hear specifically what she said to Kurit, but by her tone it was safe to assume that she was, as usual, belittling me.
Not wishing to spark another interlude like the one several days before, I returned to my desk and waited silently until I heard Kurit’s inevitable angry reply. A moment later I heard his other door open and close forcibly. Foolishly, I did not give him time to calm himself from his mother’s visit. I went immediately into his workroom without even pausing to knock on the door.
He was standing across the room, pouring himself a drink, as was to be expected. When I entered, he turned and glared at me.
“Go away, Aenna. Whatever brings you here, I’m not in the mood to discuss it,” he grumbled.
“I care not for your mood or whim, Kurit,” I said acidly in return. “You’re the King, and you have duties to uphold, whether or not you find it pleasurable or convenient.”
He rolled his eyes at me—a move he knew infuriated me. I forced myself to remain calm despite his attempt to bait me. He took a long pull from his drink, then said, “What have I done now to displease you, Majesty?”
I began to explain to him, as calmly as I could, that his forms were full of mathematical errors. He cut me off in mid-sentence and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Well, then I suppose I’m just not as bright as you, am I?” He slammed his glass down on the table and then waved his arms in mock prayer and said to the ceiling, “I am not worthy to work under the Great Goddess Aenna! Gods above, your Goddess here in human form has found another of my transgressions. Strike me down, if you will!” He returned his mocking eyes to me and sneered as he picked up his glass once more.
“Kurit, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Of course I am, dear Goddess. I am but a lowly man and not as able or bright or inspired as you. Please, do continue to illustrate my stupidity to me, that I might benefit from your all-encompassing wisdom.”
Instead of having the sense to leave him to his drunken mockery, I allowed myself to be pulled into his madness. Ang
rily, I slammed the pile of forms on his desk and shouted, “That’s enough, Kurit! Look at you! I’ve given up trying to help you or understand you, but I’m not going to stand idly by while you throw your kingdom into disarray with your drunkenness!”
His face became red with anger as he stormed to where I stood. “You will not speak to me in such tones!” he shouted, waving a scolding finger in my face.
“Somebody has to!” I yelled. “You have lost complete control over yourself!”
“No! I’ve lost control over you!” he bellowed.
In what seemed the flash of a second, I found myself struggling to open my eyes, my face tickled by the rug. I realized I was on the floor, though I knew not why. I became aware of Kurit’s voice above me, but it took me a moment to comprehend his words.
“… I didn’t mean to, Aenna. Please wake! By the Gods, what have I done? What have I done? Aenna, my dear sweet Aenna, please …” he repeated in a terrified sadness. His hand was shaking my shoulder frantically. When he noticed that I was stirring, he hurriedly said, “Aenna! Aenna, I’m sorry! I can’t imagine what possessed me to strike you!”
When he spoke those words, the memory of what had occurred replayed instantly in my mind. He said that he had lost control over me. Then his pointed finger had closed into a fist, and he swung at my face, the back of his hand landing on my right cheek. So heavy was the blow that it had sent me spinning across the room. I recalled trying to catch myself on a chair but instead had stumbled over it and fallen to the floor, momentarily stunned into unconsciousness.
My husband had struck me. The very hand that had once touched my cheek in gentle adoration had now been used as a weapon upon that cheek. A rage unlike I had ever known filled my mind.
Sorrows of Adoration Page 40