by Luna Lais
"A minute ago you were dragging me with you, now you are pushing me away," she lowered her head to hide her tears from him. "Which is it you want," she questioned softly.
Makren shook his head, "What I want does not matter, Kiala," he answered. "My feet are on a path I can not seem to leave no matter how hard I try."
"Sometimes we are given burdens to bear, that almost destroys us," she said raising her tear stained face to his. "I almost let that happen to me, but now because of you I am learning to take whatever joy I can out of this life," she wiped her tears with her sleeve. "Let me help you," she pleaded.
Makren walk to her and hugged her to him. "Kiala, you do not understand," he said burying his face in her hair. "It is prophesied that I will hand the world over to Descartes, by betraying my own brother."
Kiala pulled back and looked into his gray eyes. "You would never willingly betray him," she said sternly. "Do not believe in the prophecy or let it scare you. Prophecies fail all the time." She laid her head on his shoulder where she could hear his heart beat.
"I should leave before I damn us all," he said gently running his fingers through her hair.
"You can not leave," she whispered. "You are all I have."
"No Kiala," Makren said still stroking her hair, "You have a long life ahead of you. Love, marriage, and children, all the things you should have. All the things you deserve," he sighed. "I am jealous of the man who will be there with you."
Kiala began crying harder, "Do not be, Makren. No one would ever have me."
"Are you insane," he asked. "A man would fight for the right to call you his."
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "No, no man would have me" she pulled herself from his embrace and turned her back to him. "There are things you do not know about me Makren, awful things," she whispered between sobs.
"Then tell me," Makren pleaded in frustration. "Tell me of your scar and I will tell you of mine."
She turned to look at him again, "What scars do you have?" she asked.
Makren pulled his shirt over his head and turned so she could see his back. A giant sun covering the entire span of his back had been branded into his skin. In the middle of the sun was the shape of a triangle. The scar looked deep as if the hot brand had been laid against his skin several times. There were other scars running through the brand and on his upper arms. He had been whipped over and over. Kiala choked back her gag. She would not be sick. That would only cause him more pain. "Will you tell me of it?" she asked.
Makren turned and looked into her eyes. "Will you tell me of yours," he asked.
Kiala nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed. Makren moved to join her, but she stopped him. "Sit over there," she said pointing to one of the chairs by the fireplace. Makren move to the chair and started to turn it around to face her, but again she stopped his movements. "Do not turn it around," she pleaded. She could not tell him everything if he was watching her. Even now her courage was wavering. Makren nodded and sat down with his back facing her.
"Did you ever wonder why I was allowed to be an attendant during Maureen's labor," she asked. Makren did not answer, he was not sure if he should. "How an unmarried woman, even if she was one of the Queen's personal maids, would be allowed to witness a birth?"
"I have," he confessed, "but it is not something to ask a lady."
"No," she said. "It is not something someone with your character would ask, lady or not." Kiala closed her eyes and let the memories of so long ago flood her. She had never spoken to anyone about what had happened to. People knew some of it, but no one knew the whole of her story.
I told you before I was beautiful once, or at least I thought I was. I was very vain and very young. I refused to learn to sew or cook. I did not need such humble skills. I was going to marry a nobleman or rich merchant and have servants to do my bidding. She paused her story, remembering the foolish dreams of the girl she had been.
My mother was at her wits end trying to curb my waywardness. My father use to tell her not to worry. Some man would offer for me because of my beauty and beat me until I acted like a proper woman. I hated him for saying that.
When I turned thirteen I would dress in my finest clothes every evening after dinner and sneak out to walk the streets around the castle. I wanted all the rich men in town to see my beauty. My finest dress had four patches and grass stains, but I was confident I would look like a jewel to one of them and they would want me for their own. I was ignored completely.
My father caught me many times and beat me trying to curtail my behavior. All his beatings did was strengthen my resolve. They would be jealous when I was rich. They would beg my forgiveness.
I kept this routine for a couple of years. I had reached marrying age and not a single man of worth had approached my father. At least not with any decent proposals. I was growing more desperate. I stole material from the rubbish cans behind the dress shops to make nicer dresses, but I could not sew. I stole money from my father and paid a young girl who lived down the street from us to make the dresses for me.
One night shortly after my fifteenth birthday I was wandering the streets just as I had done every night. It was getting late, but I was avoiding home. That morning a goat herder had visited my father. He was looking for a wife for his oldest son. He had seen me in the market place with my brother the day before. My treacherous brother had actually given the man directions to our home and encouraged the man to make an offer to our father for me. I vowed never to forgive him.
I knew it was late, but I could not face going home to hear the news that I was to be a goat herder's wife.
Kiala had to stop for a moment. She picked Makren's shirt up off the floor where he had dropped it. She used it to wipe the tears from her face. She had not intended to cry, not when she told him. She wanted him to see her strength.
Makren turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye. She was crying and it was killing him not to go to her side and comfort her. She did not have to finish. He was not a fool, but he did not move. She need this, he thought. She needed to let go of her past.
After regaining her composure Kiala continued:
I can not tell you the details of all that happened that night. I can only remember bits and pieces myself. Those memories still haunt my dreams. I had wandered to a place where a young girl should never be, regardless of the time of day. It was the noise coming from the taverns that brought me out of my thoughts and back to my senses, but by then it was too late. There was a group of soldiers standing around me. I can not remember how many of them there were, maybe five or six. One held a knife to my throat and pulled me into a nearby alley, the others followed
.
Kiala paused and took a deep breath. She had not yet gotten to the worst part. She could end her story here, but that would not be fair to him. He deserved to hear it all, from her own lips.
I woke up several days latter in the sanctuary. The priest were tending my wounds and praying over me. My body ached, but my face burned. The knife wound was infected and no surgeon would visit me because I had no money to pay them.
Makren heard her voice relax. He unclenched his fist. He had not realized until that moment how hard he had been squeezing them. He flexed his fingers to regain feeling and wiped the blood his nails had caused digging into his palms on his pants. He was about to stand when she begin speaking again.
The Queen, Maureen had heard the story of what had happened to me. The whole city was talking of it. Maureen had a softer heart than her husband, King Jimreth, who had ordered only ten lashes for each of my attackers. My family, all but my brother, died because of me. The King had ordered our home burned as a warning to others to keep their daughters under control. Several of the cities young women had been attacked around the same time, mine the most brutal. I do not believe the King had intended for my parents to be in the house when it was burned, Lady Maureen often said so.
My brother had just joined the
army at the encouragement of the King, so he had not been there when it had happened. The Queen offered me a position in the castle and made arrangements for me to stay with in of the smaller cook's rooms behind the kitchen, she felt responsible for the loss of my family. At the time I was grateful to her. Without her intervention I might have ended up in one of the many houses of ill repute like so many other young girls without families to care for them.
When she stopped speaking again, Makren started to stand, but her words stopped him. "Not yet," she said. "There is more you need to hear." Makren hung his head at her words. She was just a child, younger than even Molly when this had happened to her.
I was too naïve to realize I was with child. The cook had to tell me. You can not imagine what it feels like to have life growing inside of you. It changed me, humbled me more than the scar on my face ever could. I spent hours with my hands on my belly talking to the baby. I never thought of it as a curse. I heard others talk. They believed it a great tragedy, but not me. I finally learned to sew and would stay up late at night making tiny clothes from the rag bin in the kitchen.
Kiala looked at Makren. She needed to see him, not just his back. She need to look into his eyes to say the rest. She rose and moved to the chair next to his. Makren said nothing, he did not have to. She could see the compassion in his eyes. She reached over and intertwined her hand with his. He gently squeezed it.
"I knew little of the world or laws back then. I did not even know what to expect. When the time came, I was alone. The cook found me curled in a ball on the kitchen floor late one night lying in a pool of blood. I had been so paralyzed by the pain I could not even scream. The cook summoned the Queen and the two of them attended me. Neither ever left my side. It took two days to bring my son into the world. I had lost so much blood I past out minutes after giving birth. I never even saw him," tears rolled down her face. "He was gone when I woke up," she sobbed. "He had been healthy and they took him." Makren covered their joined hands with his other hand. "They called it a mercy killing, better for both of us," Makren could not take anymore of this and neither could Kiala, but she was not finished. "I continued my service with the Queen. In time the pain lessened, but I never forgave her." She was talking so softly now that Makren had to strain to hear her words. "I served her faithfully. I even helped bring her own son into this world," she said looking at Makren. "They were both well when I left that room to tell King Jimreth the news. When I returned a few minutes later they were gone and all of us were ordered to be executed. The old cook was the first one they took." Kiala took his braids from his shoulder into her free hand and gently stroked them.
"It was not a natural death for them," she whispered. "And no one, not even the king seemed interested in the truth." Makren stared at her. What had happened to his brother and his wife? He had no doubt that if Kiala knew, she would have said so.
Makren rose and swept Kiala from her chair and into his arms. He carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. "Sleep," he said pulling the blanket around her. "It will be dawn soon." She nodded and curled into a ball to sleep. Makren went to the other side of the bed and lay down next to her.
Chapter 30
The sun was just lighting the sky over the city of Rorgrim. It had been three hours since Darien had told Lawwe to have his best man sent to Pearoandorn. Lawwe had not spent those hours trying to decide who the best man in the service of the king was. Instead he spent that time wondering if he had the courage to send him. He would be posted on the wall of the castle at this hour, which was why Lawwe had come here.
Lawwe spotted him immediately. It had not been hard, the man stood out from the others. Hair red as wine is a rare trait, not just in Calandoria, but everywhere. He tied it at the nape of his neck and let it fall down the length of his back. Most soldiers choose short hair, it was once less advantage an opponent would have, but not him. He did not care if his opponents had an advantage. It was more of a challenge if they did and he always welcomed the chance to prove his skills. The man was at least as tall as Lawwe and muscular, but not bulky like Cate. He had a broad chest and was well tone all over. He had the same blue eyes that his mother had.
"Moran," Lawwe called to the man and motioned for him to join him away from the others who also stood watch on the wall. The man smiled at Lawwe and quickly jogged over to where he was standing. "The king requires your services." Lawwe could see the pleasure enter the man's eyes.
Four years earlier he had been the youngest man ever appointed to the Elite Guard. It had nothing to do with his families connections and unlike many of the guard his position had not been bought. His skill with a blade knew no equal and he was an excellent horseman. Lawwe had not seen him miss his mark with a bow since he was ten. If it was not so important I would send someone else, Lawwe thought. The man who stood before him was more than the most skilled, Lawwe trusted him above all others.
Moran knew Lawwe had not said more because he had to look him over first. Lawwe had to make sure he was well. Moran did not mind, it gave him time to look Lawwe over as well. The lives they led did not give them many opportunities to see each other. The last time he had seen him he had not noticed the silver in his dark hair. Perhaps reflection from the fire of the pits at the top of the turrets made it appear more prominent. The lines around his eyes were deeper and Moran could not overlook the shadows under them. He thought the life of an adjutant would be easier than that of a general.
"What is it father?" he asked Lawwe, no longer smiling. His father looked much too serious.
"You are being sent to Pearoandorn, to look after King Maeorus." Lawwe had not made the decision to send Moran lightly. This was a dangerous assignment. It was more than the prophecies that concerned Lawwe. King Jimreth had died and King Harold would be dead soon. Two Kings dying so close together was not reason alone for alarm, but add that to the prophecies. It had taken Lawwe time to make his decision. Could he sacrifice his son for Calandoria? Or the world if what Makren said of Descartes was true?
In the end there really was no decision to make. This is why he had sent Moran to his mother's people when he was ten. Moran had been trained for things like this and more. Half of the blood that flowed through Moran' veins came from his mother. Even if Moran did not know what that meant Lawwe did. Moran may very well be the only man who could return from Pearoandorn.
"Why the grim look," Moran asked. "Does the king ask me to risk more than he would?"
"No," Lawwe said at last smiling at his son.
Lawwe took Moran back into the castle before giving him his orders. There were too many ears on the wall and every precaution had to be taken. They went to Lawwe' chambers and spoke at length of the kings expectations. Lawwe had been careful not to mention Descartes or the army gathering on the other side of the Northern Mountains. If Moran suspected anything was being hidden from him, he did not mention it. It would not have mattered anyway, Moran thrived on serving Calandoria. There was nothing that could be asked of him, that he would not willingly give. By the time the rest of the castle was just taking the morning meal, Moran was riding out of the gates to see the kings will done.
"Calandoria needs order," Darien said frowning behind the closed door of the council room. "And I need help sorting this mess out." Everyone in the room nodded in agreement to his words. They had been there, and they had seen first hand the problems Darien faced.
That morning Darien order the castle gates open. He went to the throne room wearing his crown and held court just like so many Ronans before him had. He heard the grievances of his people. Petitioners had brought before him everything from land disputes to squabbles over bar room bets. Four of the noble families had brought petitions for him to choose their daughters as his queen. It was absurd to think he could focus on his vengeance against the Order and a war against the Realm of the Sun and still deal with such things. It was a waste of his time and did not serve his or his kingdom's best interest.
Prior to calling them to the
council room he had the books of law brought in and placed on the table. One week was all he would allow them to devote to the task. They would each be given a portion to work on and together the structure of Calandoria would be changed and the laws would be rewritten. He place Alli and Kiala in charge of the laws regarding women, reminding them to start slow it would take time for Calandorian men to accept change and the purpose for this was not to create unrest among the people, but order. Makren would look at the nobles and tax system. Lawwe would look at the military. Molly and Karegh would work together looking at law regarding children and education. Cate was given the task of creating a new system for individuals to make grievances, one that would prevent them from traveling across Calandoria to Rorgrim and the king. Darien was going to look at anything regarding the Order. It was his goal was to eliminate all influence the religion held over Calandorian rule. He could tell none were looking forward to the task, but no one objected.
He had one last thing to tell them before they begin working. After court that morning he had received word from Lissandra. She was safe and was now traveling to Calandoria. The trip would take some time because they were traveling by wagon not on horseback, but she would be home by the end of the month. Daniels relief was apparent as he told them, but no one was more excited to hear the news than Makren. He had not seen her since he was a young boy. Darien had tried to warn him that their sister was no longer gentle. Instead she was bossy and stubborn. Her beauty was another concern he felt he needed to warn Makren of. They really only had two choices if they wanted to stay off more problems. Marry her off quickly or hide her from sight, neither of which appealed to either one of the brothers.