Anouk had accepted the thought that she would not be danced with at the party and she was not exactly in the kindest of moods to accept that kind of activity. After killing one of her men and practically signing over her healer to suicide… Anouk felt bitter and ashamed of her position within the kingdom. Even if she had performed executions properly before now they had always been of serious criminals, not traitors… she’d never even considered it possible for there to be traitors! Knowing too that her dear friend Loteg was not permitted to join the delight made her all the unhappier, especially when kingdom evacuation did not include prisoners or the mentally handicapped.
Her mind was also locked on thoughts about the Karayan and just what he’d done to save her life. She could not fathom the kind of magic needed and it scared her.
“Anouk… are you occupied?” Anouk jumped in surprise at the voice, but in recognising Yeruell she gave a soft snort. She shook her head in response and patted the wooden table beside her to encourage him to sit. At first he was cautious, but in seeing the half-hearted interest in the dance, he sat himself down with a soft smile and spoke again. “Damara has grown very beautiful and very sweet; my uncle seems to believe there could be a match there... what do you think of it Anouk?”
There was a nervous edge to his words, harking back to his obedient puppy manners whenever in her presence and she could not stand it! Her lips curled at the thick scent of the flower juice on his breath and she recalled what she had seen. Ilos had been so happy dancing and yet the moment he feared he might be falling under Damara’s charm he had bolted. Anouk knew well enough that Yeruell wanted her to tell him to leave her sister alone and in an intoxicated state she certainly did not want him near Damara. But Anouk also understood that if she did anything to avoid the suggestion or react unfavourably to it, he would assume too much from her.
“You would protect her and look after her well. If any other high-ranking noble could be trusted as my sister's husband then it would be you, my old friend. You're a kind and knowledgeable figure with an advantageous position and the Benaga have not mixed with Yeruell blood before... so I would approve it.” Anouk kept a relaxed and practically blasé manner to her words as she feared speaking too much and upsetting him. Mentally she swallowed her contempt for his placid nature and his over dependence on her confidence. He had not changed since he was a child in her eyes, one she still had to lift off the floor and lead back to the lectures.
“You would approve?” Yeruell's face seemed to squirm and shudder like a child about to cry. His eyes were wide in sorrow, amazement and visible heartache as if she had hurt him. He then bit his teeth down hard into the same familiar grimace that had been the brunt of his tears at his uncle's threats. However, his eyes snapped open with an extraordinarily harsh glare as he focused on Anouk intently. “No, there is no one I could care about but you.”
“Love is not the question in this matter Ilos – duty demands you take an unspoilt wife and Damara is as untouched as the king's throne.” Anouk snorted, hoping such words would slap him into sense but they did not. Anouk could not have comprehended the great resentment Ilos held for his position – he had never been expected to be the speaker and had grown up in bliss believing he would marry the one woman that had always pulled him out of his shell. Anouk's words only fanned the fire because they reminded him of what Damara had asked.
“I would rather be celibate than take anyone else!”
“Don’t be foolish Ilos... if the king chooses for you there is no argument and at your age he may very well pick someone. Damara would suit you... I would only hate you for assuming you could ‘assist’ me in marrying me. I cannot dishonour another family with my tainted flesh.” Anouk stated, sitting straight with her arms folded over her chest to prove the point. There was no reason in attempting to argue with her at that moment but the look on his face became desperate and wracked with guilt as if it were all his fault. This only frustrated Anouk more and she started to feel a little on edge at Yeruell’s determination.
“Do you really have such low thoughts of yourself?” Yeruell began in irritation but something caught Anouk's attention. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Lutas winding around a throng of young students and making gestures as if he were telling stories. When he had been dancing with Damara, Anouk had almost been angry enough to leap down and attack him. Now though she seemed just cautious as if waiting for a wrong move. Yeruell noticed and immediately scoffed. “He’s practically your cousin Anouk, why do you hate him so? He’s the most noble of men and a heroic figure for the young to be taught by. He has a position of power, he doesn’t crave yours.”
Anouk chose not to respond.
“He’s not a traitor Anouk – you’ve believed it for years all because of what happened with your parents. Lutas is our friend; he's not diseased just because rumour says his father was your insane uncle.” Yeruell sneered but received a shock when the emerald eyes flashed at him with utter hate.
“There is more to it than that, but you’d never understand Ilos… you have always seen the good in people and that is why Virenheim loves you.” Perhaps Anouk’s thoughts on Lutas were erratic at the best of times but she knew something was wrong. Yeruell had no real ambitions but to make the kingdom better for its younger members and indeed he’d hoped to change tradition… Lutas just wanted clarity. The figure had always been under suspicion since birth and had endured more beatings than most. His father had avoided him as much as possible and yet everyone else had adored him… Lutas had always desired to prove he was something great and that was an exploitative thought for demons to use.
That was what Anouk feared the most with Lutas – five years ago he’d gone on a mission with his father and met a demon in the forest. The whole company of thirteen was slaughtered save him! Without shame Lutas had told them all he’d been so afraid he’d dropped his weapon and run. He’d called the guard to the scene, but the demon had left. Lutas had refused to ever hold his sword again and instead taken his father’s position in the academy more seriously. Anouk’s own knowledge and experience with demons was that Lutas should have been the first to die, and Loteg had once said that the figure was far too cunning to have simply run away. Rumours had run in their small circle of ‘godless’ elves that Lutas had led his father into a trap to kill him and prove a point!
“I understand everything about you Anouk – I know how much you blame yourself and how afraid you are of the truth in your heart. You’re not alone, everyone fears their true feelings… you just have to learn to accept them.” Yeruell sighed gently, but when her face contorted into a sneer he slapped his hand down on hers. The table jolted, spilling her drink slightly as he grasped her tightly and attempted to pull her towards him. He kept trying to get her into his arms and though she resisted her green eyes remained locked on his. “I love you Anouk… why can’t you love me?”
“Why do you care so much? I am not worth this effort because I cannot love anyone until I know my own past fully and what I have really lost.” Anouk snarled angrily, she managed to stand up and tried to pull herself free of his hand, but he tightened his hold around her wrist in a threatening manner. Anouk froze as he stood up with her and turned slowly to face him as if she were about to give him a beating, but Yeruell was wild with his emotions and practically leapt to her side. Before Anouk could attack she was grasped firmly at the waist and pulled into an unwelcome embrace. His lips crashed firmly against hers in a warm smothering motion that was slammed by her frozen reaction… she gave no warmth back and remained motionless and little more then a dead weight in his arms. Yeruell was too intoxicated to recognise her upset until she managed to push her body slowly away from him and untangle herself. “Anouk…”
“NO! Don’t ever do that again; you have no right to touch me… to even look at me!” Anouk snarled, with tears in the corners of her eyes, nervous and upset over it but also firm in her belief he was wrong. She had not enjoyed the contact, she had not wanted the contac
t and she did not want him anywhere near her. Her body trembled as if preparing for tears and Yeruell realised her upset and reached out his arms to try and embrace her again, but salvation came in a familiar dark shroud.
The cloud of darkness seemed to fall about them both and Anouk wheezed a sigh of relief to know that she was safe. He did not even need to say a word for her to know he’d come to help her again, the Karayan just needed to emerge from the shadows of the cave to glower at Yeruell. The citron eyes locked on the speaker’s contorted face and with only the gentlest of shifts within their sockets, they pulled Yeruell away from Anouk. The moment she was completely free from Yeruell’s reach she stepped swiftly to the Karayan’s side and patted his shoulder gently.
“I was afraid you’d miss the opportunity to dance… where did you skulk off to after the meeting?” The distraction allowed the Karayan to shift in his shadows, but his eyes did not change. Yeruell looked as if ready to battle but Anouk kept her hand to the stranger and talking about foolish, trivial things. The boldness to touch the stranger caused Yeruell great embarrassment and disgust as he hunched his body and dropped his head in shame. Without saying anything Yeruell bowed to Anouk and then stormed off; the Karayan watched him go completely before Anouk tried to soothe the encounter over. “He’s been drinking… something he doesn’t usually do, and Damara said something that upset him earlier. He only came to me because he felt safe around me… but I reacted incorrectly, gave off the wrong signals and forced him to be foolish.”
“Assault is assault… kisses are not harmless, they’re invasive… he should know better than to take anything without consent.” The Karayan growled, a rumble vibrating from his form that rattled Anouk’s chest. He was right of course; if Anouk or the Karayan chose to report it then Ilos would be tied to a post for a day to knock his arrogance down. But, even if it was a crime in Virenheim, mainly for her position, she couldn’t subject her friend to that after he was just being… honest. “I know that look from Damara; I won’t say anything, but you should be careful. Yeruell has been using Higatso’s old servants to spy on me for days and I think he was told about the stone before Lutas knew anything.”
“They would have needed a pass from him after-all.” Anouk sighed gently, the dots finally starting to connect. Yeruell and Lutas must have been involved in it, though Lutas would have chosen Ynivirus for the task. Anouk scowled to herself but then a playful smile appeared on her face as she continued to hold the Karayan’s shoulder and he noticed it, curiously. Then his eyes bulged with terror as Anouk suddenly swayed in front of him and then gently slid her fingers up under the black fabric mask and tenderly stroked around the edges of his mouth. He shuddered at the exciting and tingling sensations of her delicate fingers, but gasped in a mix of horror and delight as he snatched her arms, but he couldn’t stop her and she smiled at him. “I started to remember something I saw you do… when I was bleeding… I’d seen it before… the blue-black tattoos like brush strokes along the edges of your mouth… like the rays of the sun but dark…”
“Anouk… please…” The Karayan gave a harsh gasp as he felt her hands feeling about his mouth, trying to trace the lines in her memory. She wanted to rip the mask clean off and prove she was looking at the right thing, but Karayan could not stand it. He feared her reacting badly to it but at the same time she seemed to be in a trance. He watched her hands slip away and slide down his thick neck then over his shoulders. He was feeling completely hypnotised by her tender gestures himself and as she seemed to pull in closer to him to read the marks of his body through the tangles of the shrouds, his arms locked around her. She could barely tell that his clawed hands were resting upon her hips as she lowered her head to his chest and stroked over it with a few whispers of confusion.
“I also remembered…. Someone bleeding at the chest… a young man desperate for help who was afraid of me… but I wanted to help him. He needed something.” Anouk muttered to herself more than to the Karayan, but his eyes widened in excitement as he bent his head down to her. He let his hands slip up to hold her cheeks as her hands gently strolled over towards the left side of his chest. Then in her mind she saw the great pulsing form of a massive heart that had been throbbing beneath her fingers; she had touched someone’s heart literally! Then she’d recalled a sudden pain in her own chest and as the memory flashed painfully out of her head she leapt back, slapping at his hands.
“What happened? What do you remember happening?” The Karayan questioned, but now Anouk’s head was spinning with concern and she shook her head firmly. She ignored him, turning away from him and muttering about needing to see her grandfather. Despite the fact she’d rented the place to stay she ignored it now and headed back down the plaza in hopes of following the route home and being somewhere she felt safe. The Karayan called out to her but she did not seem to notice him or to speak to him and he lowered his head in shame. With his blood now in her body from the healing he should have been able to awaken her memories as easily as he had his own… but Anouk was under more curses then she could imagine.
As the Karayan breathed a heavy sigh and then turned about towards the scene of the dances, he noticed Alard and Ling passing Anouk with concern on their faces. Ling was completely drunk and Alard was carrying her up towards the rented cave that Anouk had abandoned where the pair of them could rest. The Karayan knew he would need to go but his eyes were no longer locked on Anouk’s storming form but two figures he could see kissing in a shadowed corner… Jarl and Damara!
Kirlia had seen the happiness in her husband’s eyes when his hands had fallen into Damara’s and a great bitterness had fallen upon her body. She had not been honest with Jarl from the beginning and been so desperate for an escape from the brothels that she’d lied to him. She’d told him that their time spent making love in his apartment as a hired temptation during his visit had resulted in a pregnancy; she had made a point of her love for him and wish to keep the child. The reaction had been what she expected, the rich boy of noble heritage had been determined to look after her and the child because he was shamed. She had done something so devious to make him promise to take her away from the life she hated… even though it meant abandoning her mother and little sister to live in that horrendous brothel.
Of course, Kirlia had ended up falling in love with him properly during their time together, she had learnt how wonderful a person he was and how much love he had within him. She had found out about his life as Damara’s engaged, how important she was to him and how much he had wanted Kirlia to be in love with her too… if only to help him cope with losing her. Kirlia had been thinking about her decision lately, knowing very well that she was not going to be able to survive in this world unless she was married to him, but she had taken the time to read their older laws regarding marriage. She could cope with the thought that a woman was of less value in this place than in the other cities, if only because she was of more value as a woman here than in the brothels, but she had learnt how dangerous a situation she had put herself and Damara in.
She could not prove her pregnancy and she could not simply state there must have been a miscarriage to get away with lying, because then Jarl would have grounds to divorce her. She did not believe he would do so, but she would make him feel even more regretful of his choice in life. But she had made it free game for any male to go after Damara and Anouk alone was the person that could assist her; Kirlia had put Damara in the same kind of position she had escaped from! So, when she spotted the image of her husband and Damara kissing in a place where she alone could see them from the steps at the library, Kirlia felt a sensation like a dagger through her heart. It was not because she felt betrayed by him, but more she felt the betrayal she had performed against them both. Kirlia would not be able to react to it, if only because she owed them this much.
Kirlia would have gone back home then and there, had she not heard something unusual. With a soft sound of confusion, she stood herself up onto her soft little slippers and stared towards
the iron gate that was swinging slightly. Her eyes widened in shock as she noticed a figure draped in black scampering amongst the great statues of the elders. With a slap of realisation reaching her, Kirlia knew she had to do something… but everyone was drinking or not visible, so she decided to go on her own. Kirlia stepped cautiously on tiptoes as if she were back sneaking out of the rooms in the brothel to avoid attention and slowly she followed the figure through the tunnel up to the bridges instead of the lift. When she reached the end, she froze in the shadows of the tunnel and watched the figure skitter onto the bridge that led up to the king’s palace.
Kirlia had never been that way before but she could guess what the figure was up to; stealing the stone! Kirlia emerged from the tunnel to follow the bridge when she felt that same stabbing sensation again in her chest. However, when she felt it this time, her hands clenched toward her chest and she stared downward to where a scythe blade was poking out of her clavicle. Realisation struck her the same time as death and her body folded up on the floor as the scythe blade was pulled out of the body by its chain.
Twelve: The Joy Ends
“They have taken much from me in my life time and as I reach the end I know I must choose the way I die. Whether in the bed as my wife or by the sword as my ancestors and brothers have, the choice will be mine as it was to stay in the Deep. But I fear that the lack of a male grandson will mean choices are stolen from my beloved granddaughter, so I will leave this final request to my son to never steal any right from Anouk and accept her only as the Heir of Benaga.”
Traitor to the King: A Tale of the Benaga Sisters Page 28