Sorrows of Adoration Page 9

  I looked at his eyes; they were filled with a boyish sweetness as he unravelled the chain and held it before me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered as he stepped behind me to affix it about my neck.

  “I know it’s not very fancy nor expensive,” he said as he fumbled with the clasp, “but I looked at the more luxurious pieces and thought, ‘No, it’s too soon—she’ll be uncomfortable with that.’ But this looked simple and elegant, and I thought it a little romantic as well, perhaps.”

  I looked at it in the mirror and raised my hand to touch it against my chest. It sat beautifully against the deep blue material of the dress.

  “Do you like it?” he asked as I stared. “Because if you don’t—”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. I turned to him, determined not to well up with tears yet again—I had been doing far too much of that lately, and the mental image of my constant weeping was starting to make me ill. “It’s perfect, and very thoughtful.” I turned to show Leiset.

  She nodded politely to Kurit and said, “A splendid choice, Your Highness.”

  I faced Kurit again and emphatically said, “Thank you. It means a great deal to me.”

  He beamed again, very pleased with himself, and deservedly so. Taking my hands in his, he looked over my shoulder to Leiset and said, somewhat mockingly, “What say you, maid who guards sweet Aenna’s virtue, may I give my love a kiss?”

  I heard Leiset behind me reply in a similarly mocking tone, “I must turn my back for a moment—and just one moment—to put this hairbrush away.”

  I knew she had turned when Kurit swooped in for a hurried yet delightful kiss. And I knew when she had turned back a moment later when I saw him cast his eyes quickly away as if playing innocent. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and I loved him for it.

  For the next two hours, Kurit and Leiset gave me a tour of the palace. I saw the Great Hall, where court was held and the King and Queen sat on their thrones; a splendid ballroom of absolutely breathtaking architecture and decoration; a gallery of art and historical relics; an enormous library with shelves so high that ladders were left about everywhere; and a myriad of other rooms, all beautiful and elegant. I was introduced to so many people, from servants to nobility, that I could not possibly recall any of their names. Most were polite, though some of the noblewomen cast harsh glances in my direction and whispered behind me as we left.

  When Leiset and I returned to my room—still the guest room while other preparations were being made—there was a note card from Queen Kasha, requesting my presence in her workroom as soon as I was able to come. I showed it to Leiset, who said she would escort me there right away.

  Leiset announced me to the guard at the Queen’s door, who in turn said I was expected and admitted me quickly.

  In the room sat a tall, thin woman, writing at a desk. She glanced at me briefly and said, “Sit. I shall be with you in a moment.” I sat down in a high-backed wooden chair and tried to look refined and mask my anxiety. I tried not to look at her, but she was quite the commanding figure—deep black hair pulled into a tight wrap, a narrow face with solidly defined cheekbones, and dark, deep-set eyes. She continued her writing for a few minutes in silence, then set down the pen, and put the paper aside to let the ink dry.

  She moved to a chair facing me and sat stiffly, hands folded in her lap neatly.

  “So,” she said coldly, “you are the barmaid whom my son imagines to love.”

  I was stunned. What answer was there to such a statement?

  “I see you’ve been decorated well, if simply, from the palace stocks. It must be quite the adventure, I imagine, to dress up in lovely clothes and pretend to be a noblewoman?”

  “I don’t mean to pretend … I just—” I stammered.

  “You just thought that you’d won a great prize in my son, knowing that he would bring you wealth and power beyond your peasant’s dreams. Yes?”

  Her face betrayed no emotion; it was as stone cold as a statue. I tried to compose my thoughts, to respond with something that would communicate to her that I sought neither prize nor power, but that I had indeed fallen in love with a man who happened to be her son. But her accusations were stated in a way that they could not be answered without admitting guilt. Unable to conceive of something intelligent to say, I sat in shock, saying nothing.

  “You do, of course, realize that being Queen is more than wearing pretty dresses and dancing at balls.”

  That I was aware of, and could answer. “Indeed, Majesty, I am well aware that it is a position of tremendous responsibility. I do not take the notion lightly at all, in fact—”

  “So surely you understand,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning upwards slightly in an icy smile, “that in my position of tremendous responsibility, as you say, I cannot allow the future King to wed the first pretty little strumpet who catches his eye.”

  Now, I had been self-conscious about my low social standing, my minimal education, my poverty, and my lack of a family, but I knew without question that I was no “strumpet”. It took great effort to remind myself that I was speaking with the Queen of Keshaerlan, and the mother of the man I hoped to marry, and that blowing up in anger at her obvious jab would accomplish nothing. But her insult galvanized my will against her attack, and I was able to speak back to her.

  “Your Majesty, I know not what you have heard that you would think me a strumpet, but I assure you, I am nothing of the sort. My feelings for Prince Kurit developed before I knew his true name, and since he revealed it I have many times told him myself that I recognize I am not of the nobility, and thus have a great challenge to rise above my history to be worthy of him. He continues to tell me that he believes in me, and while I do, admittedly, find myself somewhat awestruck by the fashion of living here in the palace, I am confident in his acceptance of me, for he is an intelligent, good man.”

  Her icy little smile faded, and she glared at me intensely. I don’t think she had expected anything other than tears and apologies. She pressed her thin lips tightly together for a moment and then said, “My son is a good man. He is very kind and generous.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied. “That he is.”

  “He deserves a wife of good upbringing who can fulfill the duties of a noble wife and mother, as well as serving as Queen. He may believe in your abilities at the moment, but when you both realize how greatly you underestimate the level of performance that will be required, you will suffer under the pressure and he will resent you for your lack of ability. Surely you must know that you are doomed to fail his expectations, and how do you imagine that will affect both of you then? Your marriage will fall apart, and you will have weakened the nation with your folly. This cannot be allowed to happen.”

  I had not considered that. She was correct that if I failed to live up to his ideals of what I could achieve, I would be failing not only him but the entire kingdom. I was not sure which was the more horrifying prospect. My spirit sank as I pondered her projection of tragedy.

  “Now, do not mistake me. I am not angry with you, nor do I seek to insult you personally. I am indeed quite grateful to you for having warned Kurit and Jarik of the danger posed by the Daufraemen, and grateful again that you had a hand in preventing him from being struck down at the gates to this fine city. I even understand why you would wish his company. He is, as we agreed, a good and kind young man. Of your own sense of duty, however, you must acknowledge that he cannot marry you.”

  I told myself that she was right. Undoubtedly Kurit’s affections arose from gratitude—I had considered that before, but he had always argued against it.

  “But as a good man,” she continued, “and thinking that he loves you, he will no doubt try to convince you to stay. That is why you must leave immediately and must not see him before you go. Tash tells me you are well enough healed to leave the palace on your own.”

  I clenched my jaw in an effort to not shed tears as my fantasy crashed before me.

  “Of cours
e, my son’s well-meant sense of dedication will no doubt inspire him to seek you out, once you have left. For that reason, it is imperative that you leave Endren entirely.”

  “And if he finds me?” I asked.

  “Then I charge you to remind him of his duty and deny him your affection.”

  My throat tightened, and tears lay in wait at the corners of my eyes. I avoided blinking so that they would not fall. Queen Kasha rose from her chair and went to the desk. As her back was turned I quickly wiped the tears away. She returned with a small purse, which she handed to me.

  “There is more than enough here for you to acquire passage far from Endren and start a new life for yourself.”

  I looked at the purse and found myself wondering if there could possibly be enough to sell my heart and soul, for that was what it felt like I would be doing if I accepted it. “I need no payment to do my duty, Majesty,” I said.

  “Girl, don’t be foolish. You have nothing. I want you out of this city by nightfall. That requires money. Take this and be gone.”

  I rose slowly, took the purse from her hand, and then left before she could see me weep. I held the tears back as I hurried through the halls back to the guest room. Leiset was there when I arrived.

  “Aenna, what is it? What happened?” she asked, coming straight to my side.

  “I am to leave immediately,” I said, stifling sobs, feeling pathetic and ashamed.

  “Whatever for?” she asked. Then her eyes widened with understanding. “Oh … oh, dear. Aenna, Queen Kasha didn’t approve?”

  “She thinks I am some sort of harlot out to win her son’s favour for my own greedy desires.”

  “That’s absurd! I shall fetch His Highness, and this whole matter will be straightened out.” She headed for the door, but I caught her arm as she passed.

  “No,” I said. “I am not to see him. He will fight her decision, and that cannot happen.”

  “But don’t you want to stay?”

  “Of course!” I snapped, and Leiset took a step back from me. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude to you, not when you’re trying to be so kind. Of course I want to stay. I don’t care about the dresses and the riches, but I dearly love him, which I know is absolutely ridiculous under the timing and circumstances, but there it is: I love him!” I sat on the edge of the bed and covered my teary face with my hands. “I’ve never felt like this before. Nothing even approaching it. Had I known from the start that he was Prince Kurit, I never would have allowed myself to have such feelings. I would never put myself in such a position. Oh, how I wish he was a simple farmer or merchant or anything but what he is!”

  “He loves you, Aenna. One would have to be blind to not recognize that. Certainly, he has always been a bit of a winking scoundrel, but it is common knowledge that he has never before professed actual love for any woman. If you had ever seen him with the likes of Lady Sashken or Lady Keshella, you would know he has no patience for their lofty behaviour and vanity. When he speaks of you, his eyes are like a child’s, dreamy and full of affection. He won’t want you to go.”

  “I have no choice. Her Majesty is right—I shall inevitably disappoint him, and I couldn’t bear to do that. No matter how much he may love me, he has a duty to choose a bride who can serve the kingdom. I am simply not qualified. Now please, don’t try to convince me to stay—it only breaks my heart further. I need a simple dress—this one is impractical for returning to the life of a peasant. And I need a winter’s cloak and boots, if it is not too great a trouble.”

  Leiset nodded and left, returning not long after with the clothing I had requested. Though the dress was plain, it was still nicer than anything I had owned since leaving the Temple Academy. I supposed it wouldn’t do to have even the servants in the palace to look as drudges.

  While she was gone, I had removed the necklace Kurit had given me a few hours earlier. I handed it to her as I took the dress from her arm.

  “Aenna, don’t. Keep it. It was a gift.”

  “It was a gift for his bride-to-be. That is no longer me. I cannot bear to keep it. Please, when he asks where I have gone, would you give it to him, and tell him that I loved it but …” I could not go on. I turned from her anxious face and removed the beautiful blue dress.

  As I changed my clothes, Leiset suggested I at least write a note for Kurit, that he not think I had run away, not loving him.

  “I cannot write. Well, I learned the basics many years ago in my childhood, but I have not held a pen since. I wouldn’t know how to spell the words,” I said bluntly.

  “Then I shall write it for you,” Leiset insisted, taking pen, ink, and paper from a dresser drawer. “You say what you wish, and I shall write it down.”

  “I don’t know what to say. How do I break his heart?”

  “You could say that you are leaving under duress, and not of your own choice,” she suggested.

  I shook my head. “No, that won’t do. He’d only chase after me, and I don’t want to put him through that when I have been ordered to deny him, should he find me and ask me to return. But neither can I say that I don’t love him. It would be a lie, and it would hurt him greatly.”

  “Then say that you must go, even though you love him, that you cannot stay because …” Leiset trailed off, waiting for me to finish the sentence.

  “Because … because of the simple fact that I am not worthy.” Leiset started to write, and I paused to allow her to do so. “Tell him that I know he imagines me to be worthy, and I am very grateful for his many kind words, but the truth is I shall inevitably disappoint him, and I cannot bear to do so.”

  She finished writing and then asked, “Can you sign your name?”

  I shook my head. “I could probably attempt it, but again, it’s been years, and it would appear scrawled next to your handwriting.”

  “How shall I sign for you, then?”

  I sighed, feeling numb inside. “Just Aenna, I suppose. Anything else will imply too much.”

  She signed the note and set it aside. “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. I know nothing of this province.”

  “You mustn’t return to Alesha, Aenna. Not right now. The King’s Guard is still going through the area around Daufrae, seeking out any remaining sympathizers or members of Raen’s family. Everyone knows by now that the Prince’s life was saved by a barmaid who overheard the assassins plotting. If any remaining sympathizers remember you and know that it was you who warned His Highness …” She didn’t need to finish, as the danger was obvious. It wasn’t behind me after all.

  “I know. I have to start over again, where nobody knows who I am. Her Majesty said I am to be out of Endren by nightfall. I suppose I should hurry, or I won’t find safe passage away. She gave me enough money with which to travel.” I rose to go to the door.

  “Wait, Aenna. What do I say to Prince Kurit?”

  I paused by the door. “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him not to come looking for me.” I wiped fresh tears from my eyes. I knew I had to appear calm as I left, or someone would notice and Kurit might hear of my leaving too soon and be able to catch up with me. “Wait until tomorrow, unless he comes to see me. And please, give him no idea as to what direction I may have gone. The search must be hopeless, or else he might attempt it.”

  She nodded, looking worried for me. I could not bear to say good-bye to this good woman who had already become my friend, so I turned and went out the door.

  * * *

  I walked through the ankle-deep snow on Endren’s streets to the south city gate. There I watched many merchants and tradesmen in final preparations to leave the city, as it was late afternoon and to leave the city after dark would be foolish. I wandered through the parked caravans and waiting horses until I spied a respectable-looking man locking down his caravan’s doors. He looked very clean, as did his wagon, and did not curse as he worked like some of the other nearby men did.

  I approached him and asked about the possibility of purchasing travel away from
Endren, but when I could not tell him where I wanted to go, he grew suspicious.

  “I don’t aid criminals, girl,” he said.

  I quickly thought of a tale to tell. “I’m no criminal. My mother died, and I have no job here in Endren, and the city reminds me of her and breaks my heart.” It was not difficult to fake tears—all I had to do was think of Kurit and wonder if he had yet come to my room and found me gone. “Please, I have some money, what was left when she died. I just want to start a new life, perhaps as a barmaid, if I could find one that wouldn’t make me do, well, unseemly things.”

  My tears unnerved him, and I suspect my stated desire against working as a woman of the night made me appear more sweet and virtuous. “Oh now, girl, don’t go crying,” he said. “By the Temple itself, I can’t stand that.” He sighed and said, “I’m headed down the King’s Road, then on the west fork to Southpath, then up Westpath. Do you know if you want to go that way?”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t even heard of such places.

  He sighed again. “Just want to go away, do you then? Can’t blame you, poor thing with no family here. All right then. Last time I was by Deggle’s place over there in Mikilrun, he was shorthanded, and he’s a good fellow, runs a good place, none of them filthy girls working in the rooms. I can’t guarantee you now that he hasn’t hired on some others—it was nearly two months since I was there last. But if you say you can pay your way, I’ll let you ride with me. But you better not be a lying criminal, because I’ll rightly turn you over to the King’s Guard, I will.”

  We agreed on a price for the travel, and that I would pay for my own lodging and meals when we stopped.

  In three days we were at the inn of which he spoke, and it was my good fortune again that after travelling with this good and honourable man, the innkeeper Deggle did still require more help. I agreed to work for only a warm cot and two meals per day until he was satisfied that I could do the job, thereafter to be paid a decent wage.