by Jean Winter
Beginning with a heartfelt thank you for letting her stay in such comfortable surroundings during her recovery, Lyra started the conversation.
“You are welcome, child,” Lady J'Kor returned, bringing a teacup to her lips for a delicate sip. “Kadent did no' want to aggravate your injuries further with a long trip home. Besides, he knew you would be nothing but a burden and a hindrance for a while. He has a good deal o' business o' much greater import to attend than an invalid khar.”
This was not said meanly, but the tone was clear. Lady J'Kor then politely inquired of her health to which Lyra responded that she was feeling much better already and hoped to be able to return to serving her son again shortly.
“Well, it would probably benefit both o' you to take plenty o' time to fully recover before you return to him. Much as I understand your usefulness to him in many facets, 'Na Lyra, I fear you have been a terrible distraction. He has no' been thinking clearly lately. That risky rescue to get you, for instance, is an obvious example. Wrong as the ruling may have been, and underhanded as Serpahn was, I do doubt that you were in any real, life-threatening danger. Especially with your background, one could logically assume that you are better prepared than most to handle such mistreatment—and only for a twenty-two hour period. Kadent need no' have acted so drastically just to retrieve you early.”
Lyra supposed that was meant to be a compliment, but her insides warned her that if she tried to say anything right then, she would be in very real danger of being sick all over Lady J'Kor's lap. The memory of her time with Malig'ahnt was still too fresh. Instead, she just gave a tiny, humble nod and let Lady J'Kor go on.
“Honestly, I was aghast at Kadent showing up with you on my doorstep at such a late hour. It took a long talk that night, I assure you, to remind him no' only o' the risk he had taken with himself in such a compulsive operation, but also the disgrace he was potentially heaping upon the good name o' this family.” The matron sighed and shook her head. “Such rash sentimentality did no' stem from my side of the family. But, here we are now, and as my Jos'lie seems to have come to love you so, and as it looks like enough evidence is mounting against Lord Malig'ahnt for someone to finally set him straight, I decided it was in the family's best interest for me to do everything I can to make sure this lawsuit goes through in our favor.”
This conversation was not helping Lyra feel any better. In the least. “Will my lord be returning soon?”
“Oh, he has been in and out a few times already,” said Lady J'Kor airily. She offered Lyra a small plate piled with shortbread. “His orientation sessions for his new commission bring him to the city a few days a week now. He pops in briefly to discuss legal matters with me then rushes home again to continue packing up and handing over the business and land to its new owner.”
Lyra took a cookie only out of politeness. “Does my lord ask about me?”
Now the lady's expression turned stern. “'Na Lyra, I strongly advise you to put away any thoughts o' favoritism coming from my son. I know what he told Malig'ahnt to rationalize his actions. Kadent may have even imagined it was true in the heat o' the moment, but he has since assured me that the Gentleman's Canon was the only loophole to getting you out o' there early. He has invested heavily in you and certainly feels a desire to protect that investment. I imagine Kadent's interminable sense o' justice was further motivation. He was no' about to let Serpahn get away with this latest outrage.” The lady set hard, green eyes on her. “But, do no' confuse a fondness for your company with something more. He is only a man, after all—subject to the same needs as other men—and, well, I would think his current aloof behavior towards you speaks for him. He is waiting patiently for you to heal until you can resume your duties. He has little use for you until then.”
“Yes, of course, my lady.” Lyra ducked her head so as to make sure her reddening eyes were not noticed. She decided to change the subject to something less emotionally depressing. “My lady, why did my lord suddenly decide to sell everything and go back to the military? It just seems so sudden, and he hadn't said anything about it.”
Lady J'Kor sniffed. “Well, why would he discuss his personal affairs with the help?” She dipped her cookie a couple times in her tea. “He hardly discusses them with me—and I am his mother.”
“Forgive me if I sounded like I was exceeding my station, my lady. I just meant he had not said anything to the children, as far as I know. And it is rather sudden.”
“Aye, you are right about that, 'Na Lyra. When he told me about the accepted commission the next morning after he brought you here, he only said that his 'priorities had changed.'” She took a nibble and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “But my suspicion is that that last job he was called in for made him realize how much he missed it. And I think he knows it will help him regain focus and return to his proper place in society. Why, he already seems more centered and sure o' himself just in the last few times I have seen him.”
Lyra did not want to talk anymore. She choked down her cookie as quickly and politely as possible and the lady was content to dismiss her soon after. The rest of the day and evening unfolded in a depression.
The next day was no better. Lyra was told she was could roam certain parts of the back of the house, including the library and the back gardens, but was admonished to not wander farther. Lady J'Kor frequently entertained important visitors and did not want Lyra seen.
The next several days passed one by one. Lyra filled her time with frequent visits from Martee and getting fresh air in the yard, and once she felt able, helping the gardener, Mr. Martul. It was a good distraction from the merciless, gnawing reminder of J'Kor's continued disregard of her as the days and nights passed. Bedtimes were the worst. Lyra would lie down and realize that another day had come and gone with still no visit—no word.
She finally knew for herself the deliberateness of it when she happened to be in the library one day and suddenly heard his voice. Lyra leaped from her chair and rushed breathless to the door where she carefully opened it and peeked out. There he was at the end of the hall, his glorious form in uniform, carrying himself tall and correct as he opened the door for his mother to enter her study. Not only was J'Kor clean shaven, but his hair was cut shorter to something more smartly formal. He looked every bit a respected officer of the Great Army of the Republic now and, with a sinking heart, Lyra wondered if his mother's assessment of his changed attitude was more correct than she had hoped.
Her heart beat longingly in her chest as she watched him follow his mother in, closing the door behind him. Lyra soon went back to her book, but arranged herself with it on the floor next to the door so she would be sure to hear when they emerged again. It happened about an hour later.
With bated breath, Lyra peeked once more to watch and listen.
“… and 'Na Lyra continues to heal?” J'Kor finally asked before he and his mother parted ways. His tone was disappointingly casual and only now did Lyra recognize some weariness in it, too.
“Aye,” Lady J'Kor answered. “Martee tells me she is feeling well enough to spend some time outside now. It seems she is even helping with some of the yard work, too, though Martee says she moves about stiffly, and some of her lash injuries are still trying to weep.”
J'Kor nodded and kissed his mother's hand goodbye. Then, he was gone.
A quiet tear escaped, making a wet trail down Lyra's cheek. If he had wanted, he could have made an excuse to wander elsewhere in the house and come to find her without his mother knowing. Blessed Saints! Were all his words of devotion just lines to get her in bed, after all?
Lyra withdrew into the library again. Thank goodness she had not let him kiss her that last morning they had together. She knew she wouldn't have had the resolve to make sure it stopped there, and this was exactly why waiting all the way until marriage was such a valuable rule to heed. At least she didn't have to hang her head now, knowing she had given in despite her better judgment. Another tear rolled down. Why didn't knowing thi
s help her feel any better?
The book got put back on the shelf. Reading had lost its appeal.
Going into the second week, Lyra had to start putting her frustrations into something more physically demanding or she feared she would explode. Still no word from J'Kor. No new dreams starring Jon. No relief. No release. Lyra decided she was well enough to exercise again.
An isolated back corner of the yard was a good place to start working her muscles back up to speed with some stretches and defensive forms. By the third day, Lyra was enjoying exerting herself with some real, decisive force. The good, hard workout helped clear her mind like always, and besides, the sooner she could demonstrate full recovery, the sooner J'Kor would have to take her back. Then, at least, some nagging questions would finally get answered.
With nothing but time on her hands, by the end of the second week Lyra was spending several hours a day out there behind a concealing row of shrubs, her skirt hitched up as high as it could go. She finished another exercise session on her knees in humble prayer then received a funny look from Martee a short while later passing in the hall. Evidently, the sight of a sweat drenched woman was a rarity. Lyra just tipped her head with a friendly smile and continued on her way.
Mrs. Qanum, head housekeeper, as Lyra had lately learned, knocked on her door as Lyra was collecting a change of clothes before her shower. She said the Lady J'Kor wished to see her immediately in her drawing room. Oh dear, what now? Probably some new, stressful, life-threatening problem that would drive her to near insanity again. That's all she seemed to get these days.
With a hurried wipe down of her face and neck, Lyra followed the housekeeper through the length of the house. When she was let in, she found Lady J'Kor seated for afternoon tea, waiting for her in the same place and attitude as their last and only conversation in her home. Lyra went to her and knelt to be received.
“How are you feeling today, 'Na Lyra?” Lady J'Kor inquired, offering a hand to kiss.
Lyra showed her obeisance. “Quite well, thank you, my lady. Martee thinks only a few of my cuts will result in permanent scarring. The rest are already beginning to fade. Will my lord be coming for me s—?”
“I am here already, 'Na Lyra.”
That warm, resonant baritone made her heart leap like no other and Lyra rose, spinning toward J'Kor who was standing in uniform by the drawing room wall. She suppressed the urge to run to him. They were not alone.
He stepped forward with a gentle smile, however, and raised a beckoning hand. Lyra approached, nearly trembling. She searched his expression for … anything, but all she could make out was a hint of weariness lingering about the eyes. With reserve, Lyra took his hand and curtsied.
“My lord, it is good to see you again.”
Her hand was given a light kiss. “It is good to see you, too, again, pet. You are looking much better.”
She self-consciously trailed fingers through some of her cropped locks still damp with sweat. “I am sorry I have not come looking more presentable, my lord. I was told to come to my lady immediately and my hair—”
“I am certain it will grow back quickly.” Her fingers were given a quick squeeze before they were dropped and J'Kor went back to clasping his hands behind his back as before. “As I said, Mother, I will be just a few minutes with 'Na Lyra, then I will be ready to help you receive Oles'way and Caeven.”
Lady J'Kor's glance at the clock above the hearth was impatient. “Fine, Kadent, but hurry. They should be here very soon.”
With a short nod, J'Kor motioned for Lyra to walk with him to the door. He went through it and Lyra dutifully followed, bewildered, dying to finally talk to him in private. “Where in the world have you—?”
“Patience, my pet,” J'Kor said, giving a nod to the butler as they passed. “There will be time later to speak o' such things. Right now, I have something to show you.”
Lyra suddenly found herself facing the front door leading into the courtyard. J'Kor opened it for her.
“Lyra?”
With a gasp, Lyra ran to her brother-in-law standing in the shade of the covered patio. Lady J'Kor's elegant fountain made happy splashing sounds in the courtyard beyond, the water sparkling and gleaming as it fell.
“Sursha!” She threw herself into his arms in a great hug.
“Lyra! Thank God you are all right,” Sursha cried, hugging her back. “Officer J'Kor told us that you were taken from him for a short while.”
“No, I'm all right, really.” Lyra said with tears streaming down her face. “And you?” She quickly acknowledged the grinning Peerz and Lowet also with him. “All of you? Have you been released?”
“Officer J'Kor's recommendation finally went through and he promised to let us see you.”
J'Kor had hung politely back to watch the reunion from the door and at her tearful smile offered a simple nod, a pensive expression hinting at unfathomable thoughts. Lowet and Peerz were greeted next. Thankfully, they all looked quite well—well fed, cleanly dressed.
“Lowet, thank you for helping to find me. No doubt, your tracking skills came in handy,” Lyra told the gruff man during their hug.
“Well, I was promised that my new home would be erected for my family during my absence,” Lowet admitted somewhat abashed. “Always preferred tracking to domestic chores.”
The hug for her father's longtime friend was more heartfelt. “Peerz,” Lyra laughed, still crying, “I can't believe they let you leave the colony what with your responsibilities.”
“I owed it to your father many times over to come after you, Lyra. He was a good friend. Besides,” Peerz added with a twinkle, “does not a bishop lead best by example?”
Lyra's heart almost stopped. Oh Father …
Oh, Heavenly Father!
“Lyra, are you okay?” Peerz noticed the color draining from her face.
“Uh, give me a moment, please.” Lyra turned and walked the length of the patio back to J'Kor, abuzz with a terrible and foreboding anticipation.
“What is wrong?” J'Kor murmured as she neared. She was almost trembling as she gazed nervously up into his face.
“Why have you been ignoring me since you brought me here?”
His eyes turned puzzled. “Lyra, can we no' talk about that later? Your friends can only visit you for a short while before they need to leave.”
“No,” Lyra shook her head. “You don't understand. That is precisely why I need to know now. Please,” she said softly, “if you care for me at all, just humor me and answer the question.”
J'Kor grimaced. “Well, you probably canno' appreciate how busy I have been. I have hardly had time to eat and sleep.”
“But you have been here multiple times without coming to me once. Not one note or even a glance.”
“I have had to put on a show o' disinterest to calm my mother's anxiety. You should have seen the look on her face when I had to tell her what I did to get you out.”
He was not telling the whole truth. Lyra knew it, but with a shake of her head, she let it go. His excuses were sound enough on the surface. “And why did you decide to uproot your whole life to go back to your post?”
J'Kor shifted uncomfortably. “It was for you, Sugarpip. All o' it.”
“What?”
He sighed and said, “I decided that if I was going to help you go find your people like you wanted, I had to unshoulder the responsibilities o' the ranch completely. That was what I was doing on the wire in my office that morning. I was selling it all—the business, the land, the house. I have had interested buyers for a long time.”
“Y—Y—You did that for me?” Lyra spluttered. “Your ancestral inheritance? Your home?”
“Aye.” J'Kor's smile was tinged with sadness. “Accepting a new commission was after the fact. I had to do it to bribe my commanding officer into letting me go after you. He was going to make me spend the night in a cell until Serpahn's time was up, otherwise. I was supposed to be under house arrest—”
“Peerz can marry
us!” Lyra blurted, flushed and overcome and not at all sure about the leap of faith she had just decided to take. “He's a bishop—an ecclesiastical leader among the Believers. He has authority.” Lyra's heart jumped into her throat as she waited for his response.
J'Kor stood dumbfounded. She couldn't blame him, really. Finally, “Do you … really want that?”
“Uh, don't you?” Great gutlins, why was this turning out so awkward?
Lyra suddenly felt quite foolish. He was probably so tired of the mess she had made of his life that he was rethinking how he felt about her. That was why he had really stayed away this whole time. He couldn't stand to be with her and be reminded that everything had been just fine befo—Why was J'Kor pulling her toward her friends and brother-in-law?
J'Kor stopped before Peerz, eyeing him uneasily. “Lyra says that you have—that you can marry people.”
Peerz's wide eyes went to Lyra then back to J'Kor. “Why, yes, I have authority to marry people. For life.”
“Then,” J'Kor gave Lyra a quick glance, “would you be so kind as to marry—?”
“Wait, no!” Concerned brother-in-law fingers gripped vice-like over Lyra's arm and Sursha's strained whisper implored into her ear, “Lyra, what are you doing? You can't be serious.”
“Sursha, you don't understand.” After all these days of waiting and wondering, things were suddenly happening so fast, Lyra's head swam.
“Lyra!” Then Sursha looked apologetically to Peerz (he was avoiding eye contact with the Caldreen'n officer at the moment). “May I please have a private moment with my sister?” And Lyra was hauled away from the small group to be sat down on a shaded bench, Sursha glowering over her like an angry parent about to scold a child.
“You're not really my brother,” Lyra quickly muttered somewhat testily.
“Well, Luk isn't hear to talk some sense into you, so I guess that responsibility falls to me. Lyra, what is going on? Is he compelling you to do this?”
“No.”
“Are you pregnant with his child?”