Sorrows of Adoration Read online

  “Beast,” I said and then laughed. He pretended to glare at me, saying nothing, though I could tell he wanted to.

  “You’ll injure yourself,” I teased, “biting your tongue so hard.”

  He gave me that wry look again and retorted, “You don’t play fairly.”

  “Oh?”

  “You tease me, but if I tease you, you threaten to summon Lord Righteousness up there to come and beat me.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said, trying to be sympathetic. “I’m sorry.” I kissed his cheek again. “I’ll behave as well, then.”

  He nuzzled against me and growled into my ear so close that it tickled, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  I looked at him, wide-eyed at his blunt words of lust, and promptly gave him my elbow in the ribs.

  He recoiled and moaned, pretending I had injured him far worse than I knew I had. “Fine then,” he said, a silly pout on his lips. “I’ll just sit here and let you both beat on me.”

  He was so endearing, pretending to be wounded when I knew all too well that he had meant to illicit an outraged response. I knew by then that he took great enjoyment in making me blush. His cute little pout was just too much to let go, though, so I kissed him apologetically.

  I had meant it to be a quick and sweet kiss, but he held my head to his own and made it a fiery and passionate one. The tip of his tongue brushed my lips, and I returned the gesture, making him moan softly in delight. We kissed for some time, and I could feel his arousal as the horse’s movement rocked him against my hip. My desire was horribly unladylike, and I didn’t care.

  When finally he ended the barrage of kissing, he moved the hand that had held my head to caress my cheek tenderly. I could not tell if the love in his eyes was from arousal or innocent adoration. Breathlessly he whispered, so quietly that I almost could not hear him, “Do what you will to me. I’m yours.”

  Then he pulled me to him, and I rested my head on his chest once more. I wrapped my arms tightly around him, wondering how I possibly could have thought I could live without this man. We managed to behave ourselves for the rest of the ride to Endren, choosing instead to remain locked in an embrace that would undoubtedly be the last time we could be so close until we were wed.

  Chapter 7

  NIGHT FELL, AND we were still an hour from the city by the men’s estimates. Kurit cradled me to him protectively, which made me wonder if they knew something about this area that I did not. Perhaps it was known for bandits or thieves.

  “Why are you so worried?” I asked him as the horses galloped at high speed.

  He smiled at me reassuringly and said, “Everything is fine, Aenna.”

  “Don’t patronize me,” I chastised. “I’m not afraid of the dark, nor am I afraid to be out in it. But your obvious concern since the sun went down is making me afraid.”

  He gave me a tender glance, keeping his eyes mostly on the road where they belonged. “It’s just more dangerous to be out at night. It’s easier to miss a hole in the road that can injure one’s horse; it’s easier for thieves to hide in ambush. But we’ll be home soon. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Aenna. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  He spoke the truth, for we did reach the south gates to Endren safely. As they admitted us—the gates being locked already for the night—he bent to kiss my cheek and said, “See? I told you I’d keep you safe.” Then he turned to the guard as we passed and said, “You saw only Jarik and I arrive. There was no one with me.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. Welcome home,” the guard replied in salute.

  “Why did you say that?” I asked as we rode through the gate area.

  “He doesn’t want the Queen to suspect you’re here,” Jarik replied. He stopped his horse and dismounted. “Kurit, I’ll take Aenna to the temple, if you’ll guide both horses back.”

  “I suppose that would be best. The pubs will empty soon, and I shouldn’t be seen just yet with you or rumours will fly,” Kurit said as he helped me dismount into Jarik’s kindly waiting hands.

  I felt awfully stiff, and the leg that had been pushed up against the horn of the saddle was numb. Jarik held my arm as I walked to stretch it.

  Kurit dismounted as well and came to me. Jarik stepped back to give us a moment in relative privacy.

  “I won’t be able to see you for a few days,” he said to me tenderly as we embraced.

  “I shall be fine.”

  “I know. Jarik will be there for you. Don’t hesitate to call on him for whatever you need.”

  “He’s a good friend.”

  “Indeed he is. He likes you very much, Aenna. I think he fancies himself your protector more than mine.”

  I nodded. “I know a secret,” I whispered. When Kurit looked at me inquisitively, I continued, “He stood watch outside my door last night. I saw him, through the keyhole.”

  Kurit glanced in Jarik’s direction and nodded. “You weren’t supposed to know that. Don’t tell him that you saw him. He’ll be embarrassed.” He caressed my cheek, and I could not resist the temptation to move my face against his hand. His touch was so sweet, and I had ached for it while I had been away from him. He kissed me tenderly, a kiss full of worry over the imminent separation.

  “I love you,” I whispered when our lips parted. He held me tightly, only letting go when Jarik’s polite cough prompted us to finish our temporary good-byes.

  “When you come to me next, when I announce you are to be my bride, we shall not be separated again. Not by anything,” he said. I could tell by the eloquence of his words and the manner in which they were delivered that he had rehearsed the farewell in his mind for some time, perhaps the whole ride that day. But rehearsed or not, it was very sweet, and I admit that I felt somewhat weak-kneed in his embrace.

  Jarik stood beside us and offered me his arm. I laughed softly. “You both make me feel like such a lady,” I said, putting my arm in Jarik’s while still holding Kurit’s hand.

  In perfect, absurd unison they both replied, “You are a lady.” I burst into very unladylike laughter as a result. They chuckled as well.

  Then Kurit’s face grew serious. “Take care of her,” he charged.

  “On my honour, she shall be well cared for until you meet again,” Jarik solemnly said. I suppressed a shiver. Their sudden formality was strange and somewhat eerie.

  Kurit nodded at Jarik, kissed my hand, and then left with the horses. Jarik and I stood, arm in arm, watching him disappear around the first corner.

  “The Temple is not far,” Jarik said softly, and I let him lead me away.

  “He’ll be safe going home alone?”

  “Along that road, yes. There are dangerous parts of town, naturally, but the main road is well guarded, and he doesn’t have far to go.”

  We walked quietly for a bit after that, but at that late hour our footsteps echoed about the high walls of the houses. The homes were joined in rows, narrow but tall. Light peeked out of the shutters from a few windows, but for the most part the city slept.

  “It looks so different,” I whispered.

  A perplexed look crossed his face. “How so?”

  “I’ve never seen Endren without snow.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  A loud noise erupted from a pub down the street, and two very drunk men came out, singing rowdy songs. Their sudden appearance startled me, and Jarik noticed my jolt.

  “Fear not, Aenna. They mean us no harm, and no one could harm you as long as I am with you.”

  “Oh, I know. It was the sudden interruption to the stillness that startled me.”

  “Of course.” He nodded seriously. “It’s hard to remember that you’re used to drunkenness. I confess I find the notion disturbing.”

  “Jarik,” I started to say reassuringly, “what we spoke of last night is truly a rare occurrence …”

  “No, not that. The image of you labouring, scrubbing tables, fetching ale for ungrateful drunkards. It bothers me.” He sighed. “I’ve only known you a short time, b
ut I’ve found you to be very bright and incredibly noble. No one of such high honour should have to waste their mind on trivial, manual tasks. It disturbs me to think that there may be others like you, people who, by their actions, are more deserving of the title of nobility than some of the wretches who have been born to it.”

  “There are such people,” I said. “Surely, this cannot be a new concept to you?”

  “I am ashamed to say that it is. When one is raised in the comfort of the highest class, it is hard to imagine that one’s servant might be one’s intellectual superior. That is not to say that it is appropriate to abuse or disdain those of lower class, and I swear to you, I have made a concerted effort to not do anything of the sort. But I admit that I never considered, as example, that the woman who sweeps the Great Hall might secretly be a genius.”

  For some time, I did not know how to respond. I had thought this failing of class would be obvious. It certainly was to those of us at the bottom. Eventually I replied, “I suppose then, that’s why the Queen dislikes me. If a peasant can be worthy of her son—”

  “Then her butler may be worthy of holding land, or her maid worthy of gracious respect.” Jarik nodded. “You won’t change that, Aenna. Please, don’t go on a quest to eliminate class. That’s been attempted before, through revolts, through other marriages between classes, and though some may rise and prove themselves worthy, they are considered rare gems in the rough, not indications of lower class ability. Don’t run yourself into the ground trying to change people who firmly do not wish to be changed.”

  “There is no hope, then,” I said, for I had been thinking of precisely that.

  “I wouldn’t say that. You’ve enlightened me. You’ve got Kurit’s head spinning so fast he can’t remember what class he’s in, let alone care what yours is. When you prove to the naysayers that you are worthy—and you will, Aenna, truly you will—then that shall be more powerful a message than any grandiose speeches of equality.”

  Having reached the steps of the Temple, he stopped and took my hands in his own. “I just don’t want to see you battle against stupidity and drive yourself mad in the process. I could not bear to see you hurt. Know that you are worthy, Aenna. If you doubt Kurit because he loves you and you suspect it has made him blind to reality, I understand that. But my head is clear, and I tell you without the slightest doubt that you will be a better wife and a better Queen to him than any of the so-called noblewomen living in that palace. Believe me, Aenna—I know of what I speak.”

  Before I could respond, either in doubt or thanks, he was guiding me up the steps and through the temple door.

  * * *

  Abbott Jhin was the only other who learned of the plan, and he was delighted by it. He treated me with great respect, but I knew it was largely motivated from a dislike of Queen Kasha. Nonetheless, he saw to it that I was immediately housed comfortably and, of course, allowed to take a hot bath.

  I remained sequestered in the Temple residences until the day of the announcement arrived, seeing only the Abbott, Jarik, and the acolyte who brought me food in the meantime. Jarik had come to me frequently, always concerned that I was well and heaping much praise upon me, lest I should run away again. On the afternoon of the day of the announcement, he came with a surprise. He had arranged secretly for Leiset to be relieved of the assignment she had undertaken as a mere assistant to another maidservant after I left. He brought her to me that afternoon that she might help me dress and adorn myself for the event to come.

  The moment he left, Leiset began to apologize, but I cut her off. “None of what has occurred is your fault, Leiset. Honestly, I have heard how upset you were, and it is I who should apologize to you.”

  Thankfully, we agreed then and there to put an end to silly, girlish battles of apology and decided that it was best to start fresh. I told her briefly the story of how Kurit had convinced me to return. She kept sighing, telling me it was incredibly romantic—so much so in fact that I wondered if our love was truly that nauseating.

  She had brought with her the only dress the tailor had finished before I left, but at least it was my size. It was a formal black gown with long sleeves that featured a gold thread weave pattern. The neckline was appropriately modest, which I was glad of, since I did not wish my scar to show. When I told Leiset that it looked to me like an odd, crinkled little mouth on my shoulder, she burst into laughter. She almost fainted with merriment when I became silly enough to move my shoulder and pretend it could talk.

  Once I was ready, I began to feel nervous and could no longer mask it with jest. The days spent in the Temple had relaxed me, for it was nostalgic, reminding me of my childhood but without the chores or being constantly told to mind my tongue. Now that the time was approaching when what I thought was a rather foolish plan would cast me back into the palace, I grew apprehensive and fidgety.

  Jarik came to fetch me in good time and saw my nervousness immediately. He kissed my hand decorously and said, “Will you please relax? We will make this work, I promise you, Aenna.”

  Outside the Temple there waited a carriage drawn by two horses. I had never ridden in a carriage before, and, I admit, I was enchanted by the idea. It was the sort of thing that happened in legends and bards’ songs: a handsome man taking a lady to a palace in a carriage.

  The carriage stopped outside the palace doors. Jarik bade me take his arm and led me swiftly into the corner of the corridor leading to the Great Hall. I stood quietly behind a huge pillar while Jarik approached the Hall to signal Kurit that we had arrived. Jarik returned to me as I heard Kurit ask for the attention of all in the room.

  I wish I could write what Kurit said, for I am certain his words were elegant and in great praise of me, though of course not by name. But while he spoke, I was too busy avoiding unconsciousness to actually pay attention to what he said.

  When Jarik came to take my arm, I went pale and found it hard to breathe. Full panic had set in. I am ashamed to this day of it, but I lost complete control and could not prevent it. Jarik actually had to use a corner of a tapestry on the wall to fan me as he spoke to me in rushed whispers.

  “Aenna, the only thing you have to worry about now is your own self-doubt! If you go in there looking meek and frightened, they’ll run roughshod over you. But if you walk in there proudly, head held high as their future Queen, then they will accept you!”

  He was right. Panic would only allow them all to confirm that I was unworthy. I commanded myself to take control, convincing myself that even if I was not worthy, I had to at least pretend I was. That was the key, I decided—to ensure the appearance of competency, even if I felt that I lacked it.

  I heard Kurit stop speaking. Jarik said, “This is it, Aenna. Either you go in there and show them Kurit’s choice is sound, or you set yourself up to fail. Make the decision. He’s waiting for us.”

  I took a deep breath and held it. I straightened my back and schooled my face to betray no fear. Then I took Jarik’s arm and let him lead me into the Great Hall.

  As we approached, I saw the dinner tables full of people, all of whom were turned towards me. Fright threatened to strike again, so I turned my eyes to Kurit, who stood smiling, holding a beckoning arm to me. I focused solely on him as Jarik led me in that direction. I knew if I dared to look at Queen Kasha, my resolve to show only pride and strength would crumble.

  We arrived where Kurit stood in front of the head table. Jarik graciously let go of my arm and bowed. Kurit took my hands in his and loudly proclaimed, “Lady Aenna of Alesha, you do me a great honour in agreeing to be my bride.” He brought my hands to his lips and kissed them sweetly for all to see.

  I heard a sound and looked up at the head table to see the Queen rising to her feet. I froze, for this is where I had thought their plan would fail. Now she shall decry me publicly, and Kurit shall explode back at her in fury, I thought. I braced myself for the coming trouble.

  Then, just as she seemed about to speak, Jarik exclaimed joyously, “Pour the wine
and fetch the musicians, for there shall be a royal wedding in three months’ time!”

  The lords and ladies of court at their tables, who had been seated with mouths agape in shock, accepted Jarik’s cue and stood to applaud. In the midst of their approval, hesitant though it was, Jarik again shouted, “And on their wedding day, there shall be a great tournament, for the new Princess shall require a Champion. Any man aspiring to this noble title is invited to arrive that day in his armour, ready to prove his worth!” The crowd applauded again, that time punctuating the noise with several enthusiastic cheers.

  They left their seats and crowded around Kurit and me, some to stare, others to offer congratulations. I saw in the corner of my eye that Queen Kasha was on her way to me as well, and my heart beat rapidly in anxiety. But just before she was at my side, Kurit took my arm and whisked me away to another part of the room, ostensibly to introduce me to an elderly gentleman who had not left his seat.

  And so this mad dance of avoidance continued for some time. Queen Kasha would manage to nod and smile to whomever was speaking to her, then set off in my direction. Jarik and Kurit worked as a veritable comedic team, taking turns blocking me from view and then dragging me around the room, always with exaggerated comments such as, “Oh, Aenna, you simply must meet Lord Such-and-Such over here!” or “Come this way, Aenna, to hear Lady Whomever’s delightful tale of her trip to the shores of Penklin!” No such tale or introduction was ever properly completed, however, because again I would be swept away to avoid the Queen.

  I suppose she must have tired of the chase, for after some time I stood with Jarik and some wretched elderly Lord who insisted on staring at my bosom, only to see the Queen approach Kurit. He was standing near the Great Hall’s northern exit. She stood beside him for a moment, spoke to him, and then stormed out of the Hall. He caught my eye and smiled wryly. Then he shrugged, straightened his tunic, turned on one heel like a solider, and followed his mother.