by CJ Brightley
I didn’t exactly take his help for granted, but after a few weeks I’d forgotten how utterly absurd it was. I realized it again when the king himself strode into the kitchen looking for him and he was chopping onions with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Like everything else, he did it with excruciating precision. Each onion slice was cut at the same angle, each piece of consistent size.
“What are you doing?” The king was baffled.
“Playing with knives.” He was in a strange mood.
“Well, I need you for something else. Could you finish soon?”
“Aye.” He washed his hands and smiled at me, a private smile for me alone, as he left. The king was already speaking quietly.
He spent a week interviewing men to choose who would serve as the director of a school that the king established. He had high expectations for it; he and the king had already outlined several courses of study. He questioned the men in great detail. How would they teach? What did they expect in compensation? How quickly would students progress, and when would they be judged ready to work? What assistance would the school provide in helping them find appropriate positions upon completion of their studies? I brought them lunch one day during an interview, and to be honest, I might have cried under the intensity of his questions. He did ultimately choose a man to lead the school, gave him a budget and a schedule for hiring teachers, building the schoolhouse, and other tasks.
I helped Saraid in her herb garden, tending rows of basil, mint, garlic, yarrow, a dozen kinds of peppers, chicory, feverfew, lavender, thyme, oregano, saffron, sage, and tarragon. There were more, but I didn’t know them all, and some were so finicky that she wouldn’t let anyone help with them. We worked in silence most of the time, but it was a warm silence, comfortable.
“Ria, do you know what Sendoa’s intentions are toward you?”
I felt my face heat. “I’m sure they’re quite honorable.”
“I don’t doubt that. He’s an honorable man. Does he intend to marry you?”
I jerked a weed out of the soil with unnecessary vigor. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want him to?”
“What do you think, Sari? I turn red every time I see him!” I’d never wanted anything so much.
She nodded quietly and we worked for some time in silence before she spoke again. “You know I was married once.”
I looked up in surprise. She’d been alone as long as I’d known her. She must have been nearing sixty, still slim, her hair a beautiful mix of pale gold and bright silvery grey. We’d never been especially close, but I’d always respected her and liked her quiet compassion.
“Yes. I was married.” She smiled slightly, keeping her eyes on the plants rather than looking at me. “To a soldier, an officer in the suvari. He died years ago. We were young. He wasn’t much like Sendoa, except in one thing. He had the sort of courage that breaks a woman’s heart.”
She sighed and looked up. “Do you understand me, Riona? A man like Sendoa will break your heart. Not on purpose. But once you’ve loved him, no one else can ever satisfy you. If he dies, if he goes away to war and doesn’t come back, you’ll be alone. You’re a pretty girl, and you’ll have suitors at any age. But you’ll never love anyone as you love him. Encourage him if you want, but do it with your eyes open, knowing what you risk.”
I swallowed and stared at the ground, my mouth dry. She’d put into words what I most feared. I knew people die. Soldiers die. I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d live forever, nor to think his death wouldn’t destroy me. But I pictured my life without him, and I pictured it with him, even for only a limited time, and I had only one answer.
“I don’t want anyone else.”
10
Kemen
There were dances and banquets I was supposed to attend, but for two months I managed to be conveniently unavailable. I could think of few things I would enjoy less than embarrassing myself among noblemen and ladies by my lack of culture and sophistication. But Hakan finally requested that I begin attending the palace events. As his friend and advisor, it wasn’t entirely respectful to miss them all.
I didn’t know how to dance, so Kveta taught me. She was a good teacher, patient and kind with my mistakes. When I took her hand at the beginning of our first lesson, I almost expected her to shrink away, though she’d been more than kind the few times I’d seen her since I’d escorted her from Enkotan.
Instead, she gave me a sparkling smile and put her hand in mine, instructing me how to position my arms and where to put my feet. “Relax, Kemen. I’m not a snake. I don’t bite.”
We moved around and around the room as she taught me different steps. After a week, we had musicians accompany us and provide the tempo.
“You learn quickly. You’ll be a superb dancer. Your rhythm is better than mine.”
I shook my head, but it did come easily after the first few days. Physical things always do; it’s in other areas that I have more difficulty.
“You’ll be very popular at the banquet next week.”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Really. You’ve been avoiding them, but now you have no excuse.”
She was right, though I couldn’t have been more surprised. The festivities began with dinner, and I sat at Hakan’s right hand, as I was always honored to. After that the dancing began. Hakan and Kveta danced alone first, then the floor was opened to everyone.
I stood back. I enjoyed watching Hakan and Kveta dance, and the music was pleasing and joyful. My clothes were even stiffer and more ridiculous than usual. My old ones had been thrown away, but my new everyday clothes weren’t too uncomfortable. But for official functions and special events, I had more ornate clothes of fine fabrics woven with gold and silver. My position apparently required such finery, at least in public. I thought I looked ridiculous in them, but I wasn’t used to noble fashions. I had given specific instructions that they were to be as plain as possible, but my idea of plain and the seamstress’s idea of plain were apparently quite different.
Riona served wine and refreshments during the dances. In my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman there, though her dress was simple. I smiled at her when I caught her eye, and she blushed most becomingly.
“Would you dance, sir?” Kveta was smiling up at me, one hand out gracefully.
I took her hand but leaned down to speak in her ear. “Now you’re being cruel. I thought better of you.”
She looked up at me with wide eyes and I smiled to show her I wasn’t entirely serious. I was terribly nervous, but I was only teasing her. She couldn’t be cruel if she tried.
It felt like everyone watched me, waiting for me to step on her feet, stumble over my own, or turn in the wrong direction. After the song finished, I would have fled to the side, but Kveta kept my hand in hers.
She whispered in my ear, “Ask her,” and nodded toward one of her new Erdemen friends, a young lady named Citulali who had come to visit the palace several times.
My heart sank. I didn’t want to disappoint Kveta, but neither did I wish to be publicly humiliated by the lady’s refusal.
“Go on.”
I bowed to Citulali stiffly. “Would you dance?”
She smiled and took my outstretched hand and I blinked in surprise. The dance was pleasant; she smiled as if I were any Tuyet gentleman and not a Dari soldier. After that, Kveta pointed me to another of her friends. I saw a definite flicker of fear in her eyes, but she smiled and nodded. Her hand trembled in mine.
The night was surreal. After that, an older lady asked me to dance, which so startled me that I couldn’t find my voice for a moment. Then another. It was almost intoxicating. I didn’t imagine that any of them really liked me, but it was a feeling of acceptance, of Tuyetness, that I hadn’t expected. The ladies were pleasing. Their hands in mine were small and white and fragile, their lips pink, their eyes all blue or gray, their faces milky white. Their hair was done in fantastic arrangements with feathers and pearls, gemstones and gold.<
br />
When the night was drawing to a close, I stood on the side with a glass of wine. Kveta was dancing with Hakan, and I smiled to see them so happy. He would marry her, it was in his eyes, and they would be happy together. I barely noticed the man standing next to me until he spoke.
“Quite a successful night, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” I smiled even more as the music ended in a rush and Hakan kissed Kveta.
“Who did you choose?”
“What?” I looked down at him for the first time.
“Who did you choose? For the night.” His smile looked predatory. “I’d take that one. Her name is Ilara. She has quite a dowry, not that you need it.”
“I’ll ask you once not to speak of her that way. Or of any of the others. I don’t believe they’re for sale.” My words were clipped in my anger.
“Some of them aren’t, you’re quite right. But some are. Chenylu Kalyano, there, she’s not for sale. But she’s generous if you ask.” He was looking around the room, but when he glanced up at me his smile faded. “I was just curious.”
“I’m not buying.”
He shrugged and edged away. My stomach turned with disgust and I made my way to the doors to the garden, with a few stiff smiles for the looks I couldn’t avoid. The air was cool and fresh, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my anger. Maybe it was better for a girl to work like a slave on a farm than to be sold like meat in a market.
“Sendoa, is it? I’d hoped to find you here.” The voice was smooth and pleasant. She was a little younger than Riona, exquisitely dressed. At my silence, she smiled.
“I’m Melora Grallin.” She leaned against the railing next to me and ran one white hand over the feathers in her hairpiece. I was glad Riona didn’t put anything silly in her hair. Once, when I helped her across a stream in the forest, my nose was nearly in her hair for a moment; it smelled of sunlight and laundry soap and warmth.
“Beautiful night.” She patted at her hair again.
I nodded. There was a long silence, and she glanced at me sideways.
“Are you always this quiet?”
I smiled a little. “Yes.”
“Cultivating an air of mystery? It’s quite effective. I’m surprised I was the first one out here.”
I can’t pretend that I didn’t know what she meant, but I didn’t really believe her. Kveta’s kindness and friendship had granted me some measure of acceptance, but I was still a Dari among Tuyets, and a common soldier among nobles.
The door opened behind us, and I turned to see who it was, half-hoping it was Kveta or Hakan to rescue me from the awkward silence. The light streamed out, and the figure turned back almost immediately. “Sorry, sir.” It was Riona with a tray of wine glasses and little pastries.
“Wait, please.”
She turned back at my voice, her eyes downcast, and offered us the tray with a respectful bob of her head. Lady Grallin took a pastry with careful fingers but no word of thanks to Riona. I traded my empty glass for a full one, though I didn’t want any more. She kept her eyes down as she turned away, and I spoke quietly.
“Riona.”
After a long moment she looked up to meet my eyes.
“Thank you.” I was gratified to see a glint of humor in her smile before she ducked her head again.
Lady Grallin watched her go with an odd expression before turning back to me. “I’ve heard all sorts of fascinating rumors about you. Would you tell me the truth of them?”
“Rumors of what?”
“One of the best is that you were offered the crown and the Hero Song. Is that true?”
“Aye. It was a kind gesture.” I turned back to look at the dark garden.
“I doubt that was all it was.” She smiled, and I thought she looked much prettier when she didn’t try so hard. “What about the skirmish on the border? That gained the respect of the Rikutan king for His Majesty?”
I looked down at my hands on the railing. “What about it?”
She put one hand on my wrist. “That you defeated a whole raiding party alone. I can believe it.” She ran her hand up my arm.
She smelled of perfume and gold. I licked my lips and stepped away to bow as courteously as I could. “Excuse me. I have business for the king I must attend to.”
11
Riona
He stood at a window with a rare smile, quiet and proud.
“What is it?”
“Come see.”
I stood beside him to look out the window. He was watching the young king and the princess, who were walking hand in hand in the garden below. They passed a wheelbarrow that one of the groundsmen had left for a moment, and I frowned in confusion when the princess suddenly stopped and emptied the weeds in it onto the ground. She gave it a quick swipe with a handkerchief and then gestured. The two appeared to have a laughing argument and finally to my surprise the king sat in the wheelbarrow, holding his feet up off the ground. The princess grasped the handles and pushed. The two careened over the lawn laughing like children. I looked up in shock to see Kemen’s quiet smile broadened almost to a grin.
He glanced down at me, still smiling, his eyes warm. Just then the princess lost control of the wheelbarrow, which overturned and flung the king into a bush, utterly undignified, laughing so hard he simply lay on the ground for a minute.
I was staring in complete shock. A king is dignified, staid, serious. Even when a king laughs, he does it with dignity and royal condescension to those around him. At least the old king, Hakan Emyr, was like that. I had never considered that a king could be different.
“What is it?” Kemen was still smiling.
“I just never expected, I thought…” I couldn’t even explain why I was so surprised.
“Why not?” His eyes on my face were disconcerting.
“He’s the king. I thought, well, that he would be more…” again words failed me, and I watched as the king stood and brushed the leaves from his hair. He kissed the princess, a sweet smiling kiss, joyous and pure. I felt my face flush and looked away, feeling as though I was intruding although they were in plain sight. I had the distinct feeling that life under the young king Hakan Ithel would be very different than it had been under the old king.
“A king is a man like any other.” His voice was quiet as he drew back from the window. “Except that his responsibilities are greater. I’m glad to see him happy.”
I looked up at him. He was still smiling slightly. There was a deep, quiet love between them, the love of men who have suffered and triumphed together. I didn’t understand it then, but I did later. I also didn’t realize then how very happy he must have been to show it so openly.
The princess Kveta was excited to see her father again. She was returning to Rikuto after two months at the palace, and I suspected the young king was sending Kemen with a marriage proposal as well. Even a blind man could see their love.
I couldn’t blame her for her excitement, but I have to admit I felt the slightest twinge of envy. I wished my father and mother could be there to see me marry. If I ever did.
Kemen was excruciatingly courteous to me, but the contrast between his careful, solemn kindness and the king’s laughing joy with Kveta stung me. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted to make him happy, to see him smile and know that it was the thought of me that made him carefree.
In the two months she was at the palace, the king took Kveta riding. They read in the garden together. They sang in the conservatory. Her voice was more than passable, but his was breathtaking, a soaring tenor that could bring tears to your eyes. She glowed with pride in him.
I wanted to hear Kemen sing, but I wasn’t bold enough to ask him, and he never volunteered. Once I sang with Sinta when we were in the kitchen. Kemen was cutting peppers beside me and listened with a quiet smile, but he didn’t join us.
One afternoon we walked in the garden in the last of the late summer warmth. He showed me a little green and black snake in the grass, and at my gasp he smiled. “It’s a
grestu. It’s not poisonous.”
He knelt and caught it with deft fingers. I didn’t know a human could move so quickly; the little snake was only as long as my hand and fast as lightning. He held it up so I could touch it, and my fingers brushed his. He was gentle with it as it struggled to escape, and I ran one finger along its cool dry scales. When he put it back in the grass, it disappeared with a flick of its tail faster than I could blink.
“I don’t like snakes.” Though it had felt oddly pleasant beneath my tentative touch.
“They eat rats and mice.”
“That’s one point in their favor. But they still frighten me.”
He only smiled. I wondered if I’d disappointed him.
“Do you like snakes?” I still felt awkward with him, though he was always so kind. I wanted to know him, to understand him.
“They have their own kind of beauty. Did you feel how strong it was, even though it was small?”
I raised my eyebrows skeptically, and I almost thought I saw a sparkle of laughter in his eyes. I don’t know if I’d ever seen him laugh, but I wanted to.
He took Lani riding one morning. She was thrilled, dancing about her work all day. They jumped a small creek, and she said it felt like flying.
Next time he asked me, I would say yes.
12
Kemen
I escorted Kveta to Enkotan to see her father the king Ashmu Tafari and delivered a letter from Hakan requesting Kveta’s hand in marriage. Kveta rode in her carriage much of the time, but often she rode beside me on a chestnut mare. She asked a thousand questions about the Erdemen countryside. It was cooler than in the carriage; the breeze was warm, carrying the scents of late summer, grass and rotting leaves and cows, smoke from a farmer clearing his field. The men stayed back a respectful distance. Of course I had scouts ahead to be sure there was no trouble, but none close on the road before us because I didn’t want her riding into the dust the horses would kick up.