And every time the hour came to say farewell, he bent down for her, and she kissed him on the forehead.
Captain Grizeo never commented on any of this, and Brenyn never told his grandmother, but deep in his heart hope took root, sprouted, and began to grow, despite his every attempt to prune it back. It flourished with every kiss she placed upon his brow.
Summer waned; Emi’s birthday came around again.
Brenyn was now sixteen and she fifteen.
The future seemed to hurry toward them.
Autumn came, bringing its cooler temperatures, but Emi yet persisted in coming to meet Brenyn. She donned a warm coat, and her father did not forbid her to come. Brenyn often wondered if her father’s attitude about her sojourns in the countryside might not be altered in dramatic fashion if he ever learned of the soldier’s son with whom she spent her time.
At last, though, the days grew cooler, and storms came more frequently. Many put down sleet, instead of rain. Emi looked at Brenyn one day as she prepared to return to her home. Her eyes filled up with regret.
“Father has grown reluctant to let me out of the castle in such weather as we have had lately,” she said, and her voice caught. “I cannot see you again until spring.”
“I will be here in the spring, Emi,” Brenyn said gently.
She nodded, but her eyes grew moist. “I will miss you.”
“I will miss you, too,” he agreed, and he bent his head.
She put her hands upon either side of his face and kissed his forehead, leaving her soft lips there for several moments while Captain Grizeo turned his gaze away and examined the woodlands upon the far side of the river with particular interest.
Then she stepped away. “See you in the spring, Brenyn.”
“I will be here,” he replied.
Winter came, the days grew cold, and the snow deepened.
Brenyn’s grandmother sickened again, and the fever lasted longer this time, causing him great worry and distress. But at last, she recovered, though the herbs in the pot dwindled alarmingly ere she found her way back to health.
Spring came and Emi returned to him.
That spring and summer of his seventeenth year were much like the last, with he and Emi hunting for mushrooms, wading, and swimming, and picnicking by the blackberry bramble.
Near the end of that summer, Emi was gone for an extended period once again when the time came to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. And this time, it was apparently a more significant event, for there were grand carriages that arrived from the south, out of Partha, where the cousin of Prince Cole, a man named Emand Uell, sat the throne.
Brenyn watched these magnificent conveyances roll by with a twinge of alarm twisting his gut, for more than one of those fancy carriages bore youngish men of similar age to Emi, and they were dressed in finery.
Watching them, Brenyn reminded himself that these young men were of the class from which Emi’s husband would eventually come, and that his secret dream of a future with her as his wife, which he had foolishly allowed to take root in his heart, was worse than hopeless; it was, in a sense, scandalous.
That day, watching those carriages make the turn, cross the bridge, and roll toward town and Emi’s party, he ruthlessly purged the hope that had taken root in the deep places of his heart, casting it from him, and vowed to never entertain the thought again.
Nevertheless, in the week following that grand event at the castle, he kept his ear turned to the road, listening for the sound of horses’ hooves.
Five days after her birthday party, he was rewarded, and he hurried to the bridge.
Emi greeted him with her usual bright smile and ran to him gladly, putting her hand through his arm and turning him toward the field. Despite his resolve to view her as nothing more than a temporary friend, deep in Brenyn’s heart, the vain hope that he had rooted out found a place to grow yet again. They walked for some time, talking of nothing much, and then he asked;
“How was your party?”
She shrugged. “Larger than usual,” she replied. “There were plenty of silly girls there.”
“And handsome young men?” He suggested.
She stopped and looked up at him with a frown wrinkling her brow and examined his face for several moments. Then, she glanced toward the bridge where Grizeo was faithfully watching and smoking his pipe. She guided Brenyn around to the far side of the blackberry bramble where there was a depression in the field that hid them for a moment from the sharp eyes of the captain.
She turned to face him. “There is but one handsome man of my acquaintance,” she said, and her tone was sharp, severe. “You.”
She lifted her chin. “And that man has never kissed me.”
He stared at her while his insides roiled.
“But, Emi – I would never presume –”
“Do you not want to kiss me, Brenyn Vagus?”
Brenyn stared at her for a long moment, gazing in wondrous astonishment at both her words and her striking beauty, rendered almost unearthly by the late summer sun.
Then he found his voice again. “May I kiss you, Emi?”
“Yes.”
She lifted her face to him, and he bent his head.
Once more, as it had upon the day that she had fallen into the flood, time seemed to slow to a stop for Brenyn as his lips met hers. An eternity, it seemed to him, passed by, while he tasted of the delicious sweetness of her breath and the softness of her lips.
Then, at last, and with great reluctance, he lifted his head.
Her eyes opened, soft and luminous, darkly blue, and looked into his. “There is but one man who will ever kiss my mouth,” she said. “You, Brenyn.”
He should have protested that she was yet too young; he should have pointed out, yet again, the vast difference in their two stations in life, but he was beguiled, utterly mesmerized, dazed by that which had just happened between them.
He said nothing.
“Now,” she stated brightly, steering him around the bramble and toward the road, “let us go and have tea with your Gran.”
Stumbling along beside her, Brenyn frowned down at her. “Truly?”
“I have never thanked her for her care of me that day when you rescued me from the flooded river,” she explained. “I want to do so now.”
Mirae was surprised, indeed, astonished, to see the princess standing at her door.
“Dear me,” she wondered, “to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
Emi curtsied, making Mirae blush. “I wanted to thank you, madam, for your kindness of two years gone. Indeed, I should have come before now.” She smiled. “Might I beg a cup of tea, or do I trouble you too much?”
“Heavens – no,” Mirae answered. “Come in, come in, Your – come right in, my girl.”
Brenyn started to follow Emi inside, but Grizeo grasped his arm and prevented him.
Holding tight to Brenyn’s arm, the captain inclined his head to Mirae and Emi. “Forgive us, ladies,” he stated, “but Brenyn and I will stay outside and enjoy the day.”
Brenyn looked at him sharply, but Grizeo simply pushed the door to and then guided Brenyn down toward the gate, where he released his hold on Brenyn’s arm and reached for his pipe.
Brenyn frowned at him. “Why did you keep me out?”
Before answering, Grizeo lit his pipe and puffed it into life. Then he gazed at Brenyn through narrowed eyes. “I know how you feel about the princess, Brenyn,” he stated, “and she has told me that she feels the same for you.” He nodded. “And I believe her, for Princess Emilene is a serious-minded young woman who knows her own mind.”
He blew out a cloud of smoke as he studied Brenyn. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I care about both of you and have no doubt you would make a fine match. Prince Cole, however, will not agree with that sentiment. In truth, he would be aghast that his daughter wishes to marry a poor soldier’s son and he will not allow it to happen.”
Brenyn felt despair blacken his heart as he lis
tened to the captain speak that which he knew, despite all his desires, to be true. He drew in a deep breath and nodded.
“Emi will likely mature to where she sees the foolishness in loving someone like me,” he admitted, “but I will never get beyond it. She may, but I will not.”
Grizeo shook his head at this. “I doubt that she will ever view her regard for you as foolish. She’s no mere girl, now; she is a young lady in the seventeenth year of life. I think that she knows her heart.” He drew again upon his pipe. “I do not know what she will do, but I think Emilene truly loves you, Brenyn. If she decides to defy her father, however, it will not end well for anyone.”
Brenyn gazed at him with bitterness etched upon his face. “And if she truly loves me? – and yet is forced to marry another? How does that end well for anyone?”
“I understand your feelings, lad – but Cole will not consider her heart or yours, only what he thinks is best for Vicundium.”
Brenyn’s gaze hardened. “So – Emi is naught but chattel, to be traded for what the prince can gain?”
“It’s been that way forever, Brenyn.”
“Then it has been wrong forever,” Brenyn stated.
Grizeo nodded. “Much of what humanity does is wrong,” he agreed. “But the prince has a problem.” He drew his pipe from his mouth and indicated the hills to the south. “The whole of the world out there beyond those hills is in flames, plagued by unending war, prince against prince – most of it instigated by the darkings.”
He swept his pipe the other way. “Vicundium is rather apart from all that simply because we are a backwater – we are at the end of the road, so to speak. That darking that came here two years ago was the first to visit this part of the world, though they are common enough among the more populated regions of earth.” He sighed. “Now, it would seem, they have taken an interest in us at last, and Prince Cole no doubt believes that he must form a strong bond with his cousin in Partha to the south, in order to avoid war.”
He shook his head in sadness. “It won’t help him, for where darkings go, trouble soon follows – but Cole will do all he can to defray that trouble, nonetheless. Therefore, he will try to force Emi to accept Prince Emand’s son, Corun, for a husband.”
Despite his reticence – indeed, his profound dread – to hear the answer, Brenyn nonetheless asked the question. “Has Emi met this Corun fellow?”
Grizeo nodded. “She has. He came to her last birthday. She is sixteen now, you know, and approaching marriageable age.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s a handsome enough lad,” Grizeo replied. “Got more gold in his hair than Emi.”
“Emi’s hair is darker now than it was,” Brenyn stated.
“Yes, it is,” Grizeo agreed, and he grinned. “Good lad, Brenyn – women like it when you notice their hair; never forget it.”
“There is only one woman whose hair will ever matter to me,” Brenyn replied, and then he scowled. “So, you think that this Corun would make Emi a good husband?”
“I didn’t say that,” Grizeo replied mildly. “He seems bright enough and looks well enough, but I rather suspect he has been doted on for the whole of his life, convincing him of his own value, for he seems quite taken with himself as well.”
“Emi won’t care for him, then,” Brenyn argued.
“I doubt if that will matter a whit to either Cole or Emand,” Grizeo replied.
Finding this conversation intolerable, Brenyn asked; “What of these darkings? Whence do they come? Whom do they serve?”
“They come from somewhere in the far east, apparently, for they were seen in the eastern regions of the world first,” Captain Grizeo answered. “As to whom they serve? No one knows.”
He drew on his pipe while his brows furrowed in thought. “There are two sorts of those creatures,” he went on, “the darkings, who dress all in black, and the darking lords – they wear crimson hats and crimson cloaks.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe the lords are the only masters the darkings have, although it’s said that there are many. I’ve ever only seen one darking lord, myself, years ago, but the black-clad darkings travel everywhere, in all lands, causing all sorts of mischief, inciting war, mostly.”
Brenyn frowned. “What gives them so much power? – that they can cause men to fight one another?”
Grizeo shrugged. “They are quite persuasive, apparently, but they do possess real power as well – magic power. A darking can slay any man easily, and from a distance.” Gripping his pipe between his teeth, Grizeo held his hands out in front of him, about a foot apart. “Darkings wield these scepter-like things that spew a sort of black smoke or vapor, like dark fire.” He shook his head. “Saw it happen once – was a terrible thing, cooked the man like a roasted pig, reduced him to ash, and then to nothing. The poor man howled in pain, seemed to shrink, and then was just… gone.”
Brenyn frowned. “And you think the darking that came here meant to incite a war?”
Grizeo shrugged. “I don’t know, but like I told you, lad – where darkings go, war and death usually follow.”
Brenyn considered the possibility of war and was ashamed that he saw a glimmer of hope in it. For, if war came, mayhap it would be him that saved the principality in some great way and that would change Cole’s opinion of him.
Was that the destiny that Emi saw in him, he wondered?
But then he put the thought away, ashamed that he had even entertained it.
War, if it came, would bring horror to many.
Compared to such a terrible possibility, the breaking of a single heart would be a small matter indeed.
10.
With bleak thoughts of a grim future – a future that not only did not keep Emi in his life but forced him to watch her be the wife of another – swirling in his brain, Brenyn tried hard to keep those black thoughts from darkening the remaining days of that autumn.
Winter, when it came, and kept her from him again, seemed cold and desolate. It was not a necessarily harsh winter, nor did heavy snow accumulate in the hollows, but to Brenyn, the days of that season – likely one of the last before Emi became betrothed to Prince Corun – crept by, one after another, as if they intended to delay the coming of spring forever.
At last, though, the days warmed, the apple trees burst forth in blossom, and Emi appeared once more.
She was a woman now.
Though she was yet slim as a willow, the features of her face were no longer those of a very pretty girl, but rather of a strikingly beautiful woman, and there were curves to her figure that added to the depth and the mystery of that beauty.
Brenyn found himself hopelessly in love with her.
She came to visit more often that spring and summer than she had before. They hunted mushrooms in the spring, waded and swam in summer, and enjoyed picnics by the blackberry bramble. And, very often, Emi would spend an hour visiting with Mirae over a cup of tea. The two women became very close, so much so that Emi called Mirae, Gran, just as did Brenyn, and it was as if she at last had a grandmother of her own.
Autumn approached and the time came for her to celebrate her birthday, her seventeenth. One week before this event, as they walked by the riverside, Emi bit her lip and looked over at Brenyn. “Would you come to my party?”
He stared at her. “At the castle?”
“Of course – where else?”
He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “That would not be wise, Emi.”
“Why?”
He watched her closely. “Have you told your father of me?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Where does he think you go on these mornings?”
“To spend time outdoors,” she replied; then she frowned. “If I told him of you, would you come?”
Brenyn decided to be blunt. “Would your father approve of your marrying me?”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Why should he care?”
Brenyn walked away for a few paces and then tu
rned and looked at her. “You never want to speak of the differences between us, Emi,” he told her, “But they are great indeed. I doubt that your father would willingly give your hand to a penniless farmer. You have not faced this fact – perhaps you should consider it now, ere we mingle our lives more than they are already.”
Her eyes darkened. “There is no difference between us,” she declared, and there was anger in her tone.
Brenyn shook his head. “That is unworthy of you, for there is a great difference between our stations, even in a small place like Vicundium. You are a prince’s daughter. I am the son of a soldier, a mercenary.”
Her eyes flashed. “Do you not want to marry me because of these… differences? Do you not love me?”
Despite the pain it caused him, Brenyn persisted. “My love for you does not come into it,” he insisted. “I have loved you since you were but a girl, Emi. You are a woman now, a woman of great beauty. And I love you. I would give my life to marry you.”
He stepped back further and shook his head. “But hear me now. Do you truly think that your father would not prefer that you marry Prince Corun? Truly?”
Her breast rose and fell with the extent of her emotion, but his words nonetheless seemed to deflate her anger and force her to confront the reality of his implication. After a few moments, she sighed, and her anger went from her with that exhalation. Bitter acknowledgment took its place.
“My father has taken care to place the two of us together, Corun and me,” she admitted. “But why? My father barely notices that I am alive most days. Why would he care about who I marry?”
“Do you remember the darking that came?” Brenyn asked.
Emi frowned at this. “What does that creature have to do with anything?”
“Captain Grizeo states that wherever the darkings go, war follows – and he would know the truth of it,” Brenyn told her. “Your father rules a small principality, and he would need allies in the event of war. Were you and Prince Corun to wed, it would bind the two thrones together in the face of any enemy, and this is why your father cares about who it is that you marry.”
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 9