Sorrows of Adoration (12 page)

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 course, 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.