by J D Abbas
The others drew nearer, gathering around Celdorn’s chair, amazed at this child who appeared from beneath the blanket. None of them understood how or why and, at that moment, no one cared.
Silvandir stroked her soft head, his face a mixture of love and tortured pain. Celdorn wished he could relieve that for him, though he held strong hope that all would soon be mended.
Celdorn let loose a loud laugh as the baby wet both herself and him. His shirt and pants were soaked through, but she seemed content to remain cradled inside his clothes, next to his skin.
At one point, Elbrion tried to call Elena back to the present, but she didn’t respond.
A sudden fear hit Celdorn. “When Elena shifts like this, what happens to the child she is carrying? Will she be all right?”
Elbrion rubbed his chin, pondering. “From what Yaelmargon told us about the Alraphim, Elena’s energy is not tied to a physical body as tightly as our own. In some sense, her form is always an illusion, and the same must be true for her child. Her energy, for a time, is contained in a different vessel but is not essentially altered.”
When Celdorn frowned at him, Elbrion laughed. “Yes, I believe both of them will be all right. Let us go clean her up and see if we can move a little closer to bringing her back.”
They carried her to the bathing room, and Elbrion put some water in a basin. As they immersed her, he sang an Elnar lullaby about the peace of Queyon and the waterfalls of light. He continued while they washed her tiny body. They lifted her from the basin and wrapped her in a towel, then they sat on the bench side by side as Celdorn once more held her in his arms.
Elbrion sang light as he called for Elena again. This time she responded. Even as Celdorn held her, he felt her growing. He watched as she transformed from age to age with each passing minute, until she was again the seventeen-year-old young woman they’d grown to love.
“Ada,” she whispered as she looked up at Celdorn.
“Hello, little one.”
“And Ada.” She gazed lovingly at Elbrion.
“Welcome back, Sheya.”
“That was the strangest experience...”
“Do you remember what happened?” Celdorn asked.
“I do, but it was as if I were watching from a great distance, like in some dreams. I could see out through my eyes, but I felt trapped inside a small body that didn’t respond to my thoughts.” She looked at Celdorn. “When I wet on you, I wanted to stop it, but I couldn’t, as if it wasn’t my body—but it felt like it was my body at the same time. So strange.”
“Well, I felt it.” He laughed and looked down at his soiled clothes.
Elbrion asked. “How do you feel now?”
“Peaceful, like a baby would—or ought—to feel. There were moments back in Celdorn’s bed that were anything but peaceful—they were suffocating, as if I were dying.”
“You were. I felt it as well. I believe you were reliving a moment where you almost died in your birth.”
Elena frowned. “I also had moments when I felt fearful and unwanted. The thought crossed my mind that I didn’t want to be born, but then I heard both of you talking to me. I heard the loving words you spoke, and I longed to be born so I could stay with you. I knew my welcome into this world would be so different from the first time.” She looked at them with deep affection—and hope, which warmed Celdorn’s heart.
“We brought your clothes. Would you like to dress?”
She nodded wistfully. She was a little shaky, but they helped her to sit up and put on her clothes. Elena laughed. “It’s so odd being bathed and dressed like a newborn, and I don’t feel any fear. My heart feels like it just might burst with love.”
Celdorn’s chest swelled with an echo of her feeling—and his own.
After she finished dressing, she told them, “I need to speak with Silvandir. I have amends to make. I know I hurt him terribly.”
“I will summon him,” Elbrion offered and left.
“Do not fear.” Celdorn cradled her face. “There’s nothing that can’t be mended.”
Elena’s smile faded. “I don’t know how to answer him, Ada. I’m not sure my heart can be fully his.”
“What prevents it?”
“You know. You were there when he ...when Mikaelin was dying. You heard.” She held his gaze. “But he claims he doesn’t love me, that he was out of his mind at the time. He made it clear he doesn’t want me.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
Celdorn looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “But Silvandir does, wholeheartedly. And he would be a good husband and father.” He wanted to honor Mikaelin’s wishes, but he felt like he was betraying him at the same time.
“I know that, and I do love him ... but ...” She hesitated.
“But what?”
“He’s too good for me. I feel dirty around him,” she whispered. “At least with Mikaelin I don’t feel I have to hide. He understands.”
“You’re not so far apart from Silvandir as you might think.”
Elena cocked her head and paused to consider that. “Even if that’s true, Ada, I don’t know if it’s possible for me to be a wife to any man ... to meet a man’s needs. I’m terrified at the thought of being touched ... in that way. I have only been able to manage it all these years by going away somewhere.” Elena twisted the hem of her shirt. “In truth, though I’ve spent my life servicing men, I remember little of it. I don’t even understand how I came to be in this condition.” She stroked her belly. “I have had no one to ask questions of. I only have horrible flashes of images that terrify me. In spite of what my body knows, I feel like an ignorant child when it comes to being with a man.”
“Silvandir is a good man. He knows your history. He won’t push you to do anything beyond what you’re able. I’m obviously no expert on marriage, but I do understand love. It is so much more than physical union. It’s about sharing your hearts, your minds, supporting each other through the difficulties of life that will no doubt come. It is seeing each other’s flaws and embracing them. You’ve seen it with Elbrion and me.” Celdorn chuckled and shook his head. “He knows me better than I know myself sometimes, and yet he still loves me.”
Celdorn took Elena’s hand in his. “I know Silvandir admires so much about you—your feistiness, your determination, your compassion in spite of all that’s happened to you. I’ve watched him rejoice over your small triumphs and agonize over your setbacks. I also know he will be patient and gentle with your limitations and fears, or I would never have given him permission to ask you.”
“But he deserves better than a worn out husk of a woman.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I have so little left to offer him. As Loqarad made abundantly clear, although I am young, my body is old and used up, incapable of satisfying a man.”
“There’s something I need to tell you concerning that. I just haven’t had the opportunity.” Elena’s eyes grew wide with fear as if she expected horrible news. “When Dalgo examined you earlier, he found that in the healing from your wounds, somehow your innocence was restored as well. Your body is again that of a maiden.”
Elena stared at him. “I-I don’t understand,” she said, distressed. “How can he know that?”
“I’m not really competent to explain it. Perhaps Dalgo can. I just know that it means your body has been renewed as if none of the rapes ever happened. So to whomever you freely choose to give yourself, it will be as if it were the first time.”
“I never even imagined that ... possibility. Mikaelin’s gift was far greater than I realized,” she murmured as tears escaped.
“It was an amazing gift. I also trust that in time you will find complete healing in Silvandir’s arms, little one. Evil will not win.”
“I hope you’re right, Ada.”
Chapter 23
Elena looked up when Elbrion returned with a tentative Silvandir. Her giant of a friend stepped behind the bench on which Celdorn and Elena sat and stood with his head down.
She’d only seen Silvandir b
ehave like this once before, after being accused of raping her. His confident strength was gone. At the moment, he looked more like a little boy in an oversized body.
Vivid images came to her of the night she arrived in Kelach, when he sat with her after her nightmare ordeal. She recalled how angry he was with those who’d hurt her. He’d been the first to come to her after Loqarad’s attack, when his company returned from the villages, his face so stricken at her condition. He’d apologized over and over for something in which he bore no responsibility whatsoever. Then she saw the image of him near death following his return from the battle in Rhamal, felt again the horror at seeing his broken body that couldn’t possibly survive. Pain twisted her throat.
He’d also trained with her, protected her, and sat quietly with her when there were no words to speak. She realized as she gazed at him that she felt great love for him. He was such a good man, and he’d been a faithful friend.
Elena turned and stood before him, looking up into his silver-flecked eyes. “I owe you an apology. I agonized all night over how I treated you yesterday. I was overwhelmed and believed I was acting in your best interest and out of love for you.”
Silvandir shifted his feet, finding it difficult to stand still and maintain eye contact with her. “I understand. I know my timing was poor, but I was afraid if I didn’t speak then, I might miss my opportunity and would never forgive myself. You don’t owe me an apology. It is I who am sorry for putting you in such an awkward position in front of everyone.”
“You did nothing wrong; in fact, you honored me. I couldn’t see it at the time, but I do now. I am grateful and humbled, but—”
“I don’t want you to finish that sentence.” Silvandir closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively.
“...but I’m afraid I’ve hurt you so badly that perhaps you’ve changed your mind.”
His eyes slid open, a rising hope in them.
“If your offer hasn’t changed, and my adai will give their blessing, then my answer is yes.” She beamed up at him.
Silvandir’s face flooded with life. He looked at Celdorn and Elbrion, who had their backs to the young couple. When they turned, both were smiling.
“You have our blessing,” Celdorn said on their behalf.
Silvandir grabbed Elena and hugged her, squeezing the breath out of her. He was so elated he lifted her off her feet and spun her in circles, laughing. He stopped suddenly, holding her mid-air, and gazed into her eyes with such intensity it frightened her. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I was so sure I’d lost you forever and would remain alone the rest of my days tormented by that loss.” He hugged her close again. “This is a much better picture, so much better.” His words smiled.
He pulled back and with surprising tenderness brushed the wayward strands of hair from her face then gazed at her as if memorizing every detail. A blush rose above his dark beard as he glanced at her adai. “M-may I kiss you?”
She nodded, holding his gaze. Anticipation danced its way from her toes to her chest.
He caressed her face with his thumbs, still focused on her eyes. Then slowly, tentatively, he moved toward her, having to bend low. His lips grazed hers, gentle as the kiss of a breeze, then they drifted away. She leaned toward him, wanting more. He pressed in more firmly then. She closed her eyes, surprised by the softness of his lips. His mouth parted as if to drink in her essence. Hers opened in response, and she shared breath with him.
Elena relished every second and didn’t want the kiss to end. Her heart pounded. A fire surged through her body, making it difficult to breathe.
Silvandir slowly pulled back and gazed at her through tear-filled eyes, both of them at a complete loss for words. Then he dropped to his knees, put his hands on either side of her belly, and said, “I hear you’re a girl.”
Elena jumped, startled when he touched her, then broke into a broad grin as she realized what he was doing.
“I love you, little girl,” he whispered, “and I can’t wait to be your ada.” He leaned forward and kissed the gentle swell. He stood again and cradled Elena’s face.
She closed her eyes and savored the moment. “I’ve never before been kissed like that by a man.”
Silvandir laughed. “Well then, who has kissed you like that?”
Elena tensed. “I-I meant no man ... has ever kissed me like that—with love and tenderness. It was always about lust and greed, their selfishness taking from me, never about me or about giving,”
Silvandir studied her quivering lips, watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “That’s not all ...” He eyed her suspiciously. “What else did you mean?”
“Don’t ask a question for which you don’t truly want the answer.” She pulled her face from his hands and fixed her eyes on the floor.
“I do want to know, Elena.” He grabbed hold of her hands. “What are you afraid to tell me?”
She glanced at Celdorn with distress. He nodded encouragingly. “It will be all right, little one.”
Elena turned her gaze back to Silvandir and took a deep breath. “At the camp, there was another child I was forced to be sexual partners with ... for the men to watch. W-we were together many years. We grew to love each other. She is the only one who ever kissed me like that ... with love.”
When Elena said “she,” Silvandir’s eyebrows arched. “Do you still love ... her?” He took a step back.
Shame squeezed her in its grip, but she couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
Elena stared at the floor. “Dead.”
Silvandir urged Elena to look at him, but she avoided his gaze. “What happened to her?”
There was a long pause. Elena glanced at Celdorn again. He smiled tenderly, encouraging her to continue. She shivered and a tremor began in her knees and rose through her body as she struggled to push the words out. “I-I killed her,” she whispered, closing her eyes as her tears fell.
“You killed her?” Elena heard stunned disbelief in Silvandir’s voice.
“I wanted ... I didn’t ...” She sucked in a breath. “I was forced to.” Elena was so afraid Silvandir was going to turn and walk away. She’d already lost Mikaelin; she didn’t want to lose him as well.
Silvandir was quiet as he took in what she had said. “I don’t know what to say ...how to respond.”
Elena nodded, and her shoulders sagged.
Silvandir squeezed her hands. “This is beyond words. Anything I might say seems so inadequate, so hollow.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for you. I’m so sorry for her.” His voice was wrought with emotion as he pulled her into his arms and held tightly. “I can’t even imagine how painful that must have been for you.”
“You had the right to know who it is you asked to marry you,” she whispered into his chest. “I’ll understand if you choose to take back your offer.”
Silvandir made a harrumph sound, deep in his chest. “And you have the right to know who it is that is asking you.” He pulled back and lifted her chin until their eyes met.
Celdorn and Elbrion rose. “We’ll leave the two of you to finish this alone,” Celdorn said before they slipped out of the room.
Silvandir took a deep breath as he stepped back and grasped her hands. Elena felt a twist of dread squeeze her stomach. “When I was a young man, I was rebellious and unruly. I often got involved in wild parties with much drinking and fighting and ... and sexual encounters with girls from nearby villages.
“One night when I was eighteen, I got drunk with some of my friends. We were walking around the edge of our village being loud and obnoxious. I saw a young girl pass by whom I had seen a few times. She was beautiful, but very young. With my friends coaxing me on, I pulled her into a field and started kissing her. She begged me to let her go, but I was so drunk I somehow convinced myself it was a game. She fought me; she cried; she pleaded with me repeatedly, but I wouldn’t release her. As I ... forced myself on her, she screamed for help, sc
reamed in pain, and I covered her mouth to silence her.” Silvandir paused, rubbing his eyes. “The girl was only thirteen and a maiden. I was nearly as large then as I am now. I know I did damage to her body, as well as to her heart and soul.” The hunch in Silvandir’s shoulders, the shadows covering his face, spoke of the deep shame that still haunted him.
Elena stared at him wide-eyed, unable to respond. She couldn’t reconcile this story with the man she knew. The one who was always so controlled and self-disciplined, who was so right and proper in his choices, the kind, protective, gentle man she knew Silvandir to be.
“The next day when I awoke from my stupor, the girl was gone. The only evidence of what happened was the blood on the ground and on me. I was sickened. I knew I had to go to her home to apologize and to somehow find a way to make things right. I thought I could offer to marry her when she was of age, but her parents told me that she had run away during the night. They were heartbroken; they didn’t know why she’d left, and I was too great a coward to tell them.
“I ran away as well and lived in the mountains for a time. One day, when I could live with myself no longer, I decided to go to Marach and confess what I had done. My crime could have been punishable by death in the Rogaran community, but Celdorn had mercy on me. He suspended my punishment, telling no one of my crime, under the conditions that I never drink from that day forward and that I train as a Guardian, serving to right wrongs. In addition, I made a vow to myself that I would never again touch a woman, and I would live my life without a mate, wedded only to the pursuit of light and justice.
“And I have kept that vow, without a distraction, until I met you.” He raised his eyes to look at her intently, but kept his face lowered. “What you did with and to that girl, you did because you were forced to. What I did came from my own corrupt soul. I can blame no one but myself.” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “Now that you know, does your answer change?”
Silvandir held his breath as Elena studied him. Her gaze pierced past the surface distress, the fear of her judgment, to the man at his core. “The young man you were, you are no more. That was nearly fifteen years ago, Silvandir. You are a new man, a good man. I know it with every fiber of my being.” She smiled at the hope that lit his eyes. “My answer stands...though I must confess to a great deal of fear.”