by Jill Myles
But what if one day, he got tired of it…and me? And just left me here? In the next moment, I knew that was a silly fear. Alek was nothing if not a good man, and he would never leave me alone in the darkness. Not like that. He wouldn’t do that to anyone.
“I have a present for you,” Aleksandr said, his words ruffling against my dusty hair. His cheek was still pressed against my hair, his breath – smelling of the apples we’d had earlier in the journey – warm and comforting. “I thought I’d save it for a bit longer, until we were sure it was evening, but this is close enough. We’ll stop here for the evening.”
“And where is ‘here?’”
“Who knows?” He said in a cheerful voice. “But I have a few peat bricks that Joanne gave me in return for chopping wood. They’re small but they should burn for several hours without having to tend them, so we won’t go without fire.” He squeezed my shoulders, hugging me. “I promise.”
I nodded, feeling a little vulnerable and fragile. “Is that your present?”
“Well, no.” There was a pause, and even though I couldn’t tell the shade of his cheeks in the flickering torchlight, I suspected he was blushing all the same. “I brought this for you. I’ve been carrying it inside my jerkin, waiting for the right moment.”
And he produced a flower. Slightly crumpled and drooping from its journey, the petals curling. In the darkness, it looked to be a deep reddish color.
The sight of it made me a little sad. What kind of girl was I that I couldn’t accept his flowers? Alek was a good man, but he wasn’t a good husband for a princess. For one, he was far too poor. I needed the things that money and influence could buy. I needed fine dresses and perfumed baths and expensive jewelry. I needed a house with a nice roof over my head and servants to see to my needs. In short, I needed to marry the dirty Lioncourt king.
And taking Alek's flower wouldn’t be the right thing to do. “You know I can’t take it,” I began.
“I know,” he said. “But tradition says I should offer it anyhow.”
I looked at the flower, and looked at our small, brightly burning torch. “Can we just burn it, instead?”
To my relief, he laughed and tossed the flower atop the torch. “That we can.”
Chapter Twelve
The peat brick, combined with the torch, allowed us to have an impromptu little campfire. Alek shrugged off his over-jerkin and helped me put it on to stave off some of the cold of the tunnels. I wore it over Joanne’s thin gown and felt a little warmer, and a little more comforted. Using Aleksandr's thigh as a pillow, I curled up next to him and the wall, and he kept guard over the two of us, sword in one hand, and his other stroking my hair as I slept.
Alek woke me some time later, when the peat brick had burned away and it was time to move on again. I stretched, feeling dirty and cold and still tired, but no longer as hopeless. Sleep and Alek's warm, comforting presence had helped. He let me keep his jerkin and we prepared another torch, then set off for another day of walking. This time, I carried the torch and Aleksandr the sword. It made me feel a little better to have control of the light, and my mood was a little more improved.
When Alek reached for my hand, I willingly twined my fingers with his.
As we walked, we told stories. Alek told me stories of growing up in the monastery, with the monks who prayed all day and spent their evenings painstakingly copying text from the Libram for others to share. It had been a quiet upbringing, and when he turned sixteen, he was offered a place at their side. He’d declined it, not wanting to spend his entire life in prayer, and so they’d sent him to the Lioncourt army instead. He’d been there up until last year, he told me, living the life of a foot soldier and hunting bandits on the borders, or participating in patrols. His stories of the boyish mishaps he and his fellow soldiers had gotten into had me laughing. For all of his complaints about the soldier’s life, he had seemed to enjoy it – and the camaraderie – very much.
“And what happened last year to make you want to leave such a life?” I asked him, teasing.
He grew silent for a long moment, and then turned to me and grinned. “Why, I was struck by the gift of song and wanted to share my music with others.”
I laughed. “You are teasing me. You mean to tell me that you left a very happy life as a soldier to be a poor minstrel? A very bad one to boot?”
Aleksandr's cheerful smile remained, though he feigned mock grievance. “I never thought of myself as a bad performer until I met you.”
I laughed even harder at that. “Now I know you are teasing me. You cannot hold a tune – how can you possibly think yourself talented?”
“I fear my talent was entirely spent in soldiering,” he agreed. “It was truly the best life I was suited for.”
“Then why leave it?” I persisted. It was a mystery to me.
His expressive face grew a little sober in the torchlight, and his hand gave mine a squeeze. “We don’t always choose our fate, remember?”
A small sigh escaped me. How well I knew that. “I’m very sorry, you know,” I said, the words not coming easily to my throat. I didn’t like to apologize – it made me vulnerable and I hated being vulnerable. I pulled my hand from his and switched arms holding the torch, feigning tiredness. I wasn’t that tired of carrying the torch, but it was a good distraction, and forced me to concentrate on something other than the handsome boy walking next to me.
“Sorry for what?”
“That you were stuck marrying me. You had the great misfortune of being the first man to show up at the palace that morning,” I said in a light voice.
He shook his head, and a soft laugh escaped him. “No one forced me to marry you, Rinda. Your father is the king, but he is also the king of Balinore, and he cannot force a Lioncourt man – even a minstrel – to obey him. I could have simply said no.”
Surprised, I stopped walking and turned to him. “Then why didn’t you?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he fussed with his sleeve, and then lifted his sword to swipe at some of the thicker cobwebs overhead.
“Alek? Why did you marry me?”
Alek glanced over at me, then at the tunnel ahead of us. And then he looked over at me. “When you came in, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. And then when you smarted off to your father, I thought you were brave. And then when you insulted me with your scathing words, I thought you were clever, if a little mean.” He gave a small shrug and looked away again. “I thought you were perfect.”
Of all the answers I’d expected to hear, that wasn’t the one. My mouth hung open a little, and I stared at him, wishing I could see his expression better in the torchlight. I swung it toward him, only to pause.
Alek was staring ahead, his brow wrinkled in concentration.
Fear immediately skittered down my back and I ducked closer to him. I couldn’t see anything beyond the flickers of the torch “What is it?”
“I thought I saw something.”
My heart lodged in my throat, the air sucked out of my lungs. “You…what? Spiders?”
“No,” he said, staring ahead, then gestured at me. “Give me the torch.”
I handed it to him, and then crept behind him, like a coward. “What is it?” I strained my ears, desperate to hear anything. But all I heard was the raspy, rapid sound of my own breath and the torch.
“I think it’s…a cart.” Aleksandr stepped forward, and I followed quickly behind him.
As we walked forward, the tunnel widened – where it had been uniform and smooth before, it expanded, until the ceiling grew so high that I could not see it, and the room felt cooler, damper. Torchlight seemed like it was not enough. The darkness was still heavy and thick, but the echo of our footsteps changed – we’d entered a large room of some sort. A heavy, musty scent mixed with dampness in the air.
“Where are we?”
Alek lifted the sword ever so slightly, as if bracing in case something should come charging out of the shadows. As I watche
d, he squinted, and stared up. Something cold and wet dripped on my forehead and I wiped it away, frowning.
“I think the tunnel opened into a cavern,” he said. “Stay close.”
He did not have to tell me that twice. I latched my hands on the back of his belt and followed behind him, tugging on it as we walked.
The room we found ourselves in must have been used by other travelers in the past. We walked past a discarded broken cart, several old barrels, and the remains of a campfire or two. Discarded trash left by travelers lay littered on the floor, but all of it seemed very old and covered in mildew.
“Do you think someone is coming back soon?” I asked Alek in a hushed voice. “They’ve left all their stuff behind.”
“I don’t think anyone has used these tunnels for decades,” he said, and leaned over the side of the cart, poking at the wood with his sword. “This wood is old and musty, and whatever they were carrying in the back of it rotted a while ago.”
I peered over the edge of the cart next to him, and a soft, rustling sound caught my ear. I turned my head, and when that didn’t help, walked to the far side of the cart. “I hear something,” I said to him, staring into the shadows. “Running water?”
“Makes sense,” he said, holding the torch aloft and staring up at the ceiling. “Caverns usually have some sort of water running through them. This will give us a chance to refill our waterskins before we leave again.”
I tucked my arms close to my body, shivering in the damp cold. It seemed a little colder in here than in the normal tunnel, and my gaze kept going back to the cart. I glanced over at Alek. “Can we build a fire and rest here for the night?”
I expected him to turn me down, citing that we needed to keep moving. Instead, he walked over to the cart, studied it, and then handed me the sword. “Let me scout the area before we make any decisions. I want to check that there aren’t any surprises before we settle in for the night.”
“Surprises?” I said with a knot in my throat. “You mean like spiders?”
“Just like spiders,” he agreed grimly. “Give me your dagger, just in case.”
We traded – I took his sword and he took my dagger and the torch. I climbed into the back of the cart and waited with the sword clenched in my hands as he scouted the small cavern, staring intently at the ceiling and floors of every nook and cranny. I didn’t blink as I watched him in the flickering light, frightened that if I took my eyes off of him for so much as a second, he would disappear from my view entirely and I’d be left in the darkness.
“Don’t go too far,” I warned him.
“I won’t leave you,” he reassured me, and it did make me feel better. I relaxed, trusting him even when the darkness seemed consuming.
Eventually, Aleksandr finished his inspection of the cave and returned to the cart. He handed me the torch and with the dagger, began to dismantle the soft, damp wood of the cart. “It might not burn well,” he cautioned me. “Not with how damp it is down here. Don’t get your hopes up too high.”
I slid off the cart and began to pile the wood that he pulled apart in a clear space on the cavern floor. Though the ceiling was covered with dripping needles of rock, the floor was just as smooth as before, and I could feel the faint hum of magic that had been left behind. The shapers had simply taken the existing cavern and made it a hospitable stop for other travelers, I guessed – though why they’d leave their belongings behind was a mystery. I didn’t share my concerns with Alek, busy moving the wood. As he handed me the pieces of wood, I pricked my finger on my needle and made sure each large piece had a small thumbprint of magic on it. It wouldn’t hurt to help things along.
Soon enough, we had the fire going despite the wet wood, and the small cavern was filled with cheery light. I felt better than I had in what seemed like days, and moved closer to it, warming my hands. “I’m so glad we stopped,” I said to Alek happily. “Though I’m not sure why these people left their things, I am thankful.”
He nodded absently, digging through his pack. “It could be that they couldn’t continue to bring this stuff with them.”
“Yes, but I suppose the question is why.”
“I’m going to try not to think about it too hard,” Alek said with a wry grin, then yawned. “I don’t want to scare myself into imagining things in the tunnels that we have not yet seen. After all, there’s been no sign of any creature – spider or otherwise. The tales could just be that – tales.”
Yes, but if they were just tales, then were the stories of making it through the tunnels in three days part of the lie as well? I didn’t share my suspicious thoughts, not wanting to worry Alek with my negativity. “If you say so,” I said, watching as he gave another jaw-cracking yawn. For the first time, I noticed how very tired his eyes seemed to be, and even the fire wasn’t perking him up like it did me. “Are you all right, Alek?”
He shook his head, as if shaking off grogginess. “Just a little tired. It’ll pass.”
He hadn’t slept since we’d left on the journey. At least, he hadn’t sleep that I’d noticed. “When do you plan on sleeping, exactly?”
“When you’re safe,” he said in a firm voice, and then ruined it with another massive yawn. A sheepish look crossed his face. “I’m not tired, truly.”
I pulled my knees close and hugged them, scooting a little closer to the fire. “Really? Then stop yawning.”
“Rinda, it’s my duty to protect you,” he said, moving to place another piece of wood on the fire. He moved to sit next to me and tucked his legs in close. “If that means I have to go without sleep for a few nights, it’s not a big deal. Soldiers do it all the time.”
I wasn’t sure that soldiers could go for nights on end without any sort of sleep, however. I watched Aleksandr out of the corner of my eyes, and noticed how his motions seemed slower, as if every part of his body was drooping with exhaustion. I’d noticed him moving slower over the past day, but my own terror had overridden any thoughts of anyone but myself.
How selfish I was.
I complained all day about the journey. I complained about walking. I complained about the food and the travel dirt. And then when I was tired, I lay down in Alek’s tent and went to sleep every night as if that should be my right simply because I was fatigued. Meanwhile, Alek had not slept in days and was continually working to try and make this experience as pleasant and safe for me as possible.
It wasn’t a nice feeling to realize. I nudged Aleksandr with my elbow. “Give me your sword.”
He gave me a puzzled look, but handed me the sword’s hilt. “What is it? Did you hear something?”
I shook my head and placed the sword on the far side of my body, where he couldn’t reach it. “I don’t hear anything, Alek. And look, we have a fire, a nice, quiet cavern to sleep in, and a bit of time before we should leave.” I gave him a faint smile, trying to hide any fatigue or nervousness I felt. He deserved a bit of sleep far more than I did at the moment. “Why don’t you sleep and I’ll watch over you?”
Surprise shone in his face, his mouth moving in a silent protest even as the firelight flickered over his features. “I…Rinda, I’m fine–”
“You’re not fine. You’re exhausted, and it’s time that you took some rest for yourself,” I said in my most imperial princess voice. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens or I get frightened.”
“A–are you sure?” The emotion on his face was hard to distinguish – it looked like exhaustion mixed with gratitude.
“Of course I’m certain,” I said, maintaining my princess-like demeanor. “How else are you to protect me if you’re too tired to even lift your sword? You can’t guard me very well if you’re falling over on your feet.”
“Oh. Of course,” he said, his hopeful smile dimming into an abashed expression. “Very silly of me. You’re right, of course.”
I didn’t feel right. I felt like a snob, being mean to him simply because I could. But I couldn’t get my throat to unlock and apologize. Instead,
I just patted the stone next to me, indicating he should lay down.
After a moment’s more hesitation, Aleksandr lay down next to me, next to the fire. His eyes immediately slid closed and he propped his head up on his pack, like a hard, lumpy pillow. “Wake me if you’re frightened, Rinda. I’m right here for you,” he said in a soft, sleepy voice.
“Of course I will,” I replied.
His face softened into a boyish smile, though his eyes didn’t open. I watched him, fascinated by his face – so strong but innocent. Handsome, too. I felt a little flutter in my chest. Why oh why did he have to be a poor man? It was a cruel trick of my father’s to pair me with someone so sweetly handsome…and so very poor.
As I regarded him, Alek's eyes opened a crack. “I’ve forgotten,” he murmured, almost in his sleep.
“What did you forget?” I said, and found the words aching in my throat.
“Your betrothal present,” he said softly. “I’m out of flowers.”
I shook my head and stared into the fire. “Save yourself the trouble. You know what I’d do with it.” I waited for him to reply and protest, or a smiling rejoinder.
But there was only silence. Alek slept next to me, and I watched the fire, my thoughts murky.
~~ * ~~
Time passed slowly without Alek's cheerful presence. He slept peacefully next to me, and didn’t stir when I’d get up to place more of the dismantled wood onto the fire. The cavern was eerily quiet with no one to talk to, and so I spent my time thinking of what I’d do once I got to Lioncourt.
And I had no idea. Every idea I thought of that would get me to the palace and in front of the King of Lioncourt seemed unnecessarily cruel to Alek. He had no idea of my plans, and to ask him to march me to the court so I could annul our marriage seemed…rude. My other option was to sneak out on my own and make my way to the palace without Alek's knowledge, but that seemed even worse.
I could always hope for him to decide that he did not wish to be married to me after all, but as I watched him sleep, I knew that wouldn’t be one of the choices. Aleksandr was as charming as he was pure-hearted, and I’d believed him when he said that he thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world. It had melted my hard heart a little.