Tears of Leyden

by Baysinger-Ott, Naomi

  I understand.

  I feel him turn his head closer to mine, waiting patiently for something to happen.

  “Ms. Thimlet, let me not demonstrate love, it being of great diversity,” he pauses. “Permit me instead to express my sentiments and inclinations for you.”

  My heart gallops off without my leave of it. I remain burrowed against him, in no mentality to meet him in any way with a response or answers to his hidden questions. I brace myself as his words register and I squeeze my eyes closed.

  I feel him nuzzle me lightly. My neck flushes at the presence of his lips against my skin. I lose whatever sturdiness I had left and tremble as my body weakens. I rely on him to stable me, and support me if I lose all consciousness. Then, he ventures further. I feel his lips begin to gently move over the surface of my neck. I almost lose it completely, but I manage to keep from squeaking out in surprise. He starts to move up my neck. I lose it here. I whimper a little into his shoulder and grow warm all over. It grows cold where his lips leave behind, and at least twice I feel shivery from it. He slowly tips his head and wanders up to the place just below my ear and gives a gentle pressure. I let myself shift a little at this, curling closer and letting out a small breath.

  He soothingly begins to make his way back down, brushing his lips across some places and remaining, transfixing me, in others. I hesitantly move my hands up to the base of his neck and feel my occasional movement dawn on him. I bury my face further into his warmth and feel the heat of his skin through my fingers.

  He kisses me deeply, without movement, then he slowly peels his lips away from my skin. He is silent, but soon nuzzles close and rests his head against mine. I feel his breaths softly blow over my skin and force back a want to snuggle closer and avoid the queasiness which comes from this feeling. I don’t let go, but I also don’t cling to him. I can’t, in fear of becoming too attached. I remain comforted by his hold. After a while like this, he lifts it off and turns his face to the side of my neck. I feel him skim his nose against my ear as he turns.

  “Have I strayed too far?” He voice is humming right up against my ear.

  I cannot ignore it. I cannot though, find words to answer his question.

  “Lyra?” He tries. He waits. “Have I hurt you?”

  I hesitantly shake my head.

  He sounds softer. “You are avoiding me.”

  I am silent, but press closer.

  I feel the warmth of his face linger along my neck and ear. “You are frightened,” he guesses. “I have been too fast…” He apologizes. “Please…I know I am too soft…” He lays his head against mine.

  I want to tell him no…or yes…but I have been stolen of speech by his expressions.

  “My softness is how I lost my sister…” He speaks this close to my ear. “I am too ignorant of reality…”

  I peek up and find the arch of his neck. “You’re protective,” I protest gently.

  He nuzzles me. “Leifde,” it is a soft sigh, lightly spoken to me.

  I freeze against him for a moment at the word of my moeder tongue. The translation…love…it is fluid from his lips, and I can’t help but wonder if he had practiced saying it so many times.

  He swallows. “I am preventive,” there is a pause. “I mean to resolve and defend, not fight.”

  I close my eyes and snuggle back in, feeling further attached to him then before he’d spoken those words. I feel his hands loosen a little and slip my hands to his neck. It is warm and soft.

  He stills. “You are too cold.” He is quieter, gathering me close.

  I snuggle into his throat a little, and he relaxes further. There is a thoughtful silence, which ends abruptly when he decidedly scoops me up and against him. He does this without strain, making me feel light. After the sounds of someone stepping past outside the window fade, he gently releases me. I feel my knees wobble and don’t move. He remains close a few moments longer, but then slowly he lifts his head away and parts our figures. He draws back, and I feel colder than ever.

  The absence of his body’s warmth alters my consciousness and I seem to grow aware of the draft between us, unintendedly ignoring the weight of his hand on my waist. I am lost. I want to request him to stay, but he might think me heartless, or to have lack of self-control or to be untaught in common sense if I request him to be with me. I search his shadowy face for anything harmful, but nothing strikes me to be tentative about.

  “Do you wish me to leave?” He inquires softly.

  I want to speak truth. I cannot choose words. I feel my heart falter lightly. I shake my head. “I hoped…that…I don’t…no.”

  The presence of his hand grows existent as I feel his tension release through it. It warms me through my clothes. He watches me a few more seconds, softly observing or capturing whatever he sees in my face.

  “Are you frightened?”

  I forget all and at first do not understand to what he is implying, but then I remember the letter and how they could come for me. That I am insecure on my own. Realizing this I feel my heart beat skitter. I more than before want him to not leave. “You…help…prevent...”

  The thought of them outside unearths me and I find it hard to think of words for explanation.

  His eyes search my features, as though trying to make certain, and he slowly draws closer. He unhurriedly lowers his head. “May I…?”

  I nod faintly and he continues down and rests his face in the crook of my neck. He tenderly pulls me against him and the warmth curls around me, his solid form sturdy and reliable so that I undoubtedly lean in for refuge. He smells of the clean fresh air outside which lingers on his clothes and of sweetness, of Nadeje.

  He is safety.

  “When…?” His gentle question breaks through my dreamy state as I try to recall his meaning. I do not wish to be moved. I feel peaceful. I think of nothing but my desire to remain in this blissful warmth. I need his strength and the lulling quality of his embrace.

  The hesitation is scarce. “All night,” I reply, unsure of his acceptance.

  He is quiet. “Are you certain?”

  I feel his breath and heart beat through his chest. I want to feel it every night, every remaining moment. I nod, snuggling further into him, never wanting to bow down to the consequences. No one ever should.

  He grows careful, as though unsure of his allowance, and as though weighing out the possibilities. He wraps his arms around my waist, keeping his head bent over mine and letting me rest against his chest. He breathes along my head and his exhale is soft against my hair. I grow charged from his embrace, his energy radiating from his very surface. I sink into it, letting it leak and seep into me.

  Then, I feel myself being lifted. His arms tighten and I slack against him, my head tilting dependently onto his shoulder. My heart is beating calmly in my chest as I am forgetful of all I have lost and could lose. I think of nothing but the desire inside of me, letting me rely only upon the comforting frame before me.

  I shiver as a draft tingles against my skin and with the last of my tired efforts I bury my face into his collarbone. He smells of sweet soap, and this only adds more efficiency to his manner. I feel the soft thudding of steps over the wooden ground and I know my feet are not touching the floor, bringing my drowsy attention to my limp feet drifting about his legs.

  He gently sets me down. I resent it and open my eyes as I am shifted. They open into his. I feel the trust flow back in and watch his shine beautifully in the moonlight. He follows, his arms slipping around me faithfully. I twist my position closer, tangling my limbs with his and burrowing close, not wanting anything to get in the middle of our embrace. He treats me carefully and thoughtfully, already knowing I want no more and no less.

  I relax as his soothing breath blows beneath my neck and across the pillow, shivering inside and curling closer to him for warmth. He gives me just this, and I feel beyond hope for a cure from the satisfaction and happiness. He buries his face in my neck and I press mine to his in response, not sure if th
is was out of wanting him to feel my affection or my undoubted need. I am only comforted further as his chest moves with his breath, and slowly I grow to follow the rhythm of his breath with my own until they are synchronized. I feel the connection as soon as I feel the breaths match. His heartbeat thumps lightly and I feel suddenly the soft thudding of my pulse. I feel his warmth along my skin and the unmistaken dearness in my heart, his face in my neck shows the adoration of me in his own.

  For the first time I feel his hands heat the places they remain in and wonder if mine do the same. The beauty of it is too deep to reach for, and tired as I am I cannot, but still I am able to hold the thought that we are harmonized.

  Every breath, every beat of our hearts, every movement now would be mirrored by each other. We are together, and I never want to be apart.

  I relax as the process maintains of our connection, and despite the relief I feel here, I feel the chills up my back rage. I inhale once up and feel his chest as he does the same, then with a light press I manage to let go of my grip on his shirt and through a staggered exhalation, I gain breathing space. I feel his fingers uncurl from their grasp and flatten against my back and beneath my neck. Feeling him ready to comply, I open my eyes and glance forward, not wanting to look up and find those ardent eyes watching me. I keep my gaze to the curves and angles of his throat and begin to stir away a little.

  I untangle my legs from their twine with his. He easily follows and I shyly twist a little away onto my side, letting him settle in behind me, his figure lying along the back of mine. I feel his arms slowly rest around me and though I no longer have warmth along my front, I feel protected by something from my more vulnerable side, him being the eyes in my back and my shield. His face sinks into the back of my neck and I close my eyes, feeling a little peaceful as his figure has secured mine.

  I hear him breathe out something and I wonder quietly to myself if he is as relaxed as I.

  “Are you going to sleep?”

  His arm shifts a little along my side. “I am protecting you,” he sounds back loyally.

  I observe his steady breath against the back of my neck a moment. “You’re guarding me,” I correct gently. “You prevent…not protect.”

  I feel his lashes move against my skin and my breath trembles out. “Lyra,” he breathes gently. “You remember well.”

  I close my eyes again and wait a moment. “Nadeje?”

  He is quiet, waiting for me to continue.

  “Don’t let me go until the morning…” I can’t finish with strength because of the shake in my voice and I hope he hadn’t heard me, but his arms tighten and I know he has. I know I am safe.

  “I can’t promise you eternity,” he says softly. “But I can promise you my full bodied devotion for this life.”

  I feel that I wish to speak, but my words seem unfair to him after such a statement, so I keep my tongue still. I know only one thing I could say, and it is that he has already done enough, too much for me.

  There are a few moments of affectionate silence, then I feel him still behind me. I remain lost in my thoughts a while, but slowly the thoughts grow drowsed and dreamy and I drift. His breaths lengthen and I sink further into the bed. I slowly dream off. Images of when we met slowly travel through my mind, how his arms had once felt so foreign to me, his eyes and how they had held mine with such strong sincerity that I regretted looking up. Then, with a flutter of my stomach all goes dark.

  There is the sound of knocking on wood and my sleep wavers as I hear it in the back round of the deep silence. I stir a little and feel light headed, unsure of my whereabouts. Then, I hear it louder, Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

  “Open in the name of Orange!”

  The words are lost, but my eyes begin to open.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  “In the orders of Sir Orange!”

  The shout this time cuts clear in my mind, I am wide awake. Blood rushes to my head as last night’s events flood back into place. My heart flutters as I awake fully to the next set of banging. Nadeje is upright beside me, alert and still.

  I feel my stomach churn. “Nadeje…?”

  “Let me listen,” he says softly.

  I let him concentrate, my heart hammering. The banging startles me as it starts up again and my breath becomes somewhat difficult.

  “Lyra.”

  It takes me a moment to realize he is addressing me. I sit up as quickly as possible.

  “Come,” he instructs gently.

  I watch and listen through the moonlight as he carefully rises. I follow shakily, my whole body trembling from the jolt of fear inside. He steps to the window and cautiously slides it open. I wait for someone to shout outside, but nothing happens. Then he unexpectedly scoops me up, burying his face against my neck and holding me against him. Security lets me take comfort here despite the knowledge that I cannot expect his body to shield mine from the future danger which might come. I close my eyes for the brief second and take one deep breath. I treasure the moment, but it is only another moment when he ends it, feeding me out through the empty space in the window frame. He slips me through. He does not let go until my feet are firmly planted on the ground. He draws back. I expect him to follow, but he only stands. A chill runs through me as I understand. My heart falters.

  “Go,” he orders.

  I can’t find which emotion I feel, for all that I have ever felt and beyond come pouring in, strangling my words to the side. Sweat trickles down the side of my neck and chills run through me from what I think is the cold, though I feel that unfortunately it is more than the weather. It is instinct. I am cold headed and nothing feels balanced. All I can do is listen to the absence of sounds in the night.

  “You said you would…”

  His face grows firm. “Go.”

  I feel anger and grief boil up and inside me. I shake my head. “They’ll question you…Nadeje I…”

  Suddenly I hear the front door exploding open and men showering in.

  His face becomes urgent. “Run.”

  I don’t move.

  “Lyra, run,” he hurries.

  “I won’t leave you!” My voice accidentally rises.

  Nadeje stifles my sound with his hand, grabbing my head and pulling me forward. His face is white in the moonlight, and his eyes wide. “Run or they’ll take you, Lyra.”

  It is harsh, a venomous threat right into my face. Never has he spoken to me so rashly before. I do not let it show that he has cracked me inside, that secretly all I want is to run away from this place where I feel fear, for I cannot and will not run from my Nadeje. Alarm tingles inside me as I know there is only so much time for me to spend without calling in my death sentence, but I ignore it, knowing it is only instinctive to feel if close to danger.

  I had thought I had hidden it well, but he must see something for his face lessons its intensity and he slowly releases my mouth. His eyes slip down to my lips and I realize his pain. He leans closer and our faces hover, I know it is not the right moment to indulge in such impropriety, but all I feel right now is sick, and the only cure for the sickness is to run away…far, far, far away…but all I want is Nadeje, to intoxicate myself with the sickness he and only he can ever give me…so I let him be soft with me, willingly. Suddenly he pushes me back, the abrupt action seeming to come from anger with his own self. This time I catch the pain he is fighting, and this time I feel it far worse than the last.

  “Run Lyra…Now.” He does not look at me as he says it.

  There is no cure, not even running. I step back knowing I am hurting us both. Once more, I stop.

  He hears the absence of my steps and grows rigid. “Lyra, it will be more questionable if no one is here at night. It is my duty to stay…to protect you. To be the soldier that I am.”

  He sounds true and calm, but pained. Strained is more like it. He has never spoken of his being a soldier so directly before. I try to make myself move. I also know I won’t leave him.

  “Nadeje,” I im
plore, my voice is croaky, shaky and small. “I can’t…”

  He looks up, but I see that he is occupied by the sounds around us. There is the thumping of feet over the cobblestones and his eyes lock past me. I feel my stomach contract, tightening up as panic runs through me. I pray silently that whatever is behind me will alter its actions and that the footsteps were of someone who would help us and not the opposite. Prickles run up my neck and I can’t help but turn a little. I only glimpse the faint figures of a few men far off. That’s when I notice the red and dark blood like colors of the Spanish flag. I feel my heart pounding. Would they see me? I feel my throat tighten. Would they help us? Or would they go against Nadeje’s decisions and me?

  It takes me a while to realize that the stomping of feet upon the ground isn’t the only sound being made. There are distant dropping sounds like rain, and though I hardly feel the light drizzle, I know it is there. Suddenly, there is the sound of furniture as it shatters against a hard surface and I am no longer alone. It takes only the presence of Nadeje’s hand brushing mine to bring my attention to him. I look up to him, relieved as I watch shadows dance across his eyes as he attentively studies our perimeter.

  “Follow me,” he instructs, not taking his eyes away from the area behind me.

  He tugs my hand meaningfully and starts off, releasing it. I do as I am told, but as his hand slips away, I do not release his fingers and instead catch them laced with mine, not wanting anything to separate us. His strides are hurried, but I can sense his active caution to any alarming sounds or movements other than our own.