Sorrows of Adoration (4 page)

Jarik seemed to catch
on quickly when my mood turned to worry and often assured me that
the Prince would certainly be safe. In the evening as we sat to
eat, he tried to convince me that they would already be safe at
Endren.

Endren—it seemed a
strange thing to be headed there. It was the capital city of my
kingdom, yet I had never imagined going there. What reason would I
have had? I was neither a trading merchant nor nobility, no one who
would ever have reason to travel to Endren. And yet there I was on
my way, and with the cousin of the Prince no less. I must reiterate
that fact, for every few minutes it reoccurred to me and my insides
would feel shaky, my heart would flutter, and the spirit of
adventure and living what was suddenly a remarkable life would make
me smile broadly. Then I would blush, feeling so silly, and if
Jarik spotted my red face, he would favour me with a gentle little
smile that made me blush even more.

At dusk we found a
great, wide fir tree under which to sleep. The lowest branches
swept the ground at their ends, but were a good deal off the ground
near the trunk. A perfect little shelter, so long as it didn’t snow
and weigh the branches down further. The ground smelled of cold and
pine needles. I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself and
tucked a corner under my cheek so the needles wouldn’t stick my
face as I slept.

* * *

We woke early again and
were off, after picking the needles from our hair and blankets.
This new day was a cloudy one, and it was harder to be so cheery
with the threat of possible snow. A cold wind had arrived, and blew
through my clothing unpleasantly.

We spoke of less jovial
concerns that day, with Jarik occasionally referring to some matter
of politics of which I was usually unaware. I would always ask him
for an explanation, which seemed at first to surprise him, as if he
had expected me not to take an interest in such things. He would
patiently explain the issue to me, never once with a hint of
condescension, and once he realized I was happy to talk about
weighty matters, he began to ask me my thoughts on them. Had he
been smug, I would have been reluctant to offer my opinion, as I
would have feared it would sound silly. But his continued kind and
polite demeanour served as inspiration to discourse, and the talk
was enjoyable even if the subjects were not always cheerful.

At one point, I asked
him if he knew why someone would want to kill the Prince.

“There are always those
who wish to do such things,” he said gravely. “It is a fact of
royal life. Are you aware of what Raen of Daufrae attempted several
years ago?”

I nodded. Everyone in
Alesha knew the story of how the Lord of the small Aleshan city of
Daufrae had been exiled for threats made against King Tarken. Lord
Raen had claimed to be a direct descendant of King Korreg, Tarken’s
great-grandfather. Raen claimed that Korreg had had two sons:
Tarken’s grandfather, King Tursk, and some man named Reshtaen, whom
Raen claimed was his own grandfather. Despite the fact that no
record of such a man existed, Raen asserted that Reshtaen was the
true heir to the throne as the eldest son but was tricked out of
his birthright because he had been born to a poor Aleshan woman
that King Korreg had bedded before his marriage to Queen
Shantakh.

Raen thus claimed the
throne was rightfully his, and threatened to take it by force if
King Tarken did not acquiesce. Of course, King Tarken dismissed the
man as a fool, but when a cousin of Lord Raen’s was caught trying
to sneak into the palace kitchens with a packet of poison, Raen was
exiled from Keshaerlan. It was said that he escaped execution only
because there was no direct evidence to indicate he had been part
of an assassination plot, and he claimed his right under the law as
a nobleman to be spared execution in the absence of evidence.

These things were
common knowledge, spoken of in taverns and pubs and inns, and I
knew the story well. “But that was many years ago,” I said.

“Yes, and it is
certainly unusual for murderous desire to infect a sufficiently
large group to actually present a threat. I do not know what the
cause of this particular group is, but I am sure that the truth
will be revealed once we’re back in Endren.”

“Why is that?” I
asked.

“Because any group that
large and that dedicated to murder will have left clues to their
crime along the way. Even if not one of the bandits is captured to
be questioned, the King’s Guard will determine their path and
deduce the rest.”

“Yes, I suppose if
their behaviour in the pub was any indication, folks in other
places may have overheard their plot as well.”

Jarik smiled at me in a
way so marked with affection and appreciation that I felt myself
blush. Then he said, “Thankfully, there was at least one brave soul
who did something about what she heard.” I blushed deeper at these
words and was thankful when he soon turned the conversation back to
less pressing topics.

When we stopped for our
noon meal, Jarik set a small trap and caught a rabbit. I offered to
skin it for him—that having been one of my less than pleasant but
typical duties at the inn—but he insisted on doing it, saying that
it suited a man of the court to occasionally have to provide for
himself in this way. He cleaned the carcass and carefully wrapped
it to be cooked later.

The snow began to fall
lazily from the sky in the early evening, advancing the darkness by
at least an hour. We were lucky to find a cave—or rather, a wide
crevasse in the side of a rocky hill. Jarik said it was better than
a large cave, which would probably already have an occupant that
would not appreciate our presence. I agreed in mind, but as we
crammed ourselves through the split in the rock to the narrow
hollow behind, my heart longed to sleep comfortably and for the
luxury of a bath. Oh, how I have always detested feeling dirty, and
there I was with several days’ worth of dirt and sweat covering me.
My clothes had been worn but still in respectable shape when I left
the inn; now they were torn and looked truly ragged. My hair was a
disaster, and trying to keep the smaller wisps about my face or the
ends of the wrapped braids from flitting about my eyes and nose was
quickly becoming a tiresome task. But I did not complain to Jarik,
lest he should think me unable to continue and regret allowing me
to accompany him.

For the truth was, and
I knew it then, I greatly enjoyed his company. I was happier during
this struggle of a journey than I had ever been in my life, all
because of this good man. As much as I longed to be indoors where
it was warm and clean, I feared the end of the journey, since it
would inevitably mean we would part ways. I was, after all, a mere
peasant girl, enjoying the temporary company of a nobleman, but
temporary it certainly had to be.

We ate the rabbit after
grilling it to a succulent crispness over the small fire Jarik
built with flint and tinder along with twigs and wood I had
gathered for him. As we ate, the snowfall increased, gradually
building up to a veritable blizzard. It seemed unending, piling up
at the edge of our shelter, threatening to bury us alive. Jarik
would kick the pile down the slope of the hill, but it grew in
spite of him. He reassured me that it would not bury us, that the
pile would fall outward and not seal us in, and most of me believed
him.

We stayed awake longer
than we should have, watching it fall. Then, within the space of a
few minutes, the snowfall stopped. We were glad until we realized
that nature had traded the snow for a sudden drop in temperature,
and despite the fire, we became very cold. We both huddled and
shivered in our blankets, but as it got colder it became impossible
to sleep. I heard Jarik’s teeth chatter even over the sound of my
own.

Jarik sat up suddenly
and looked at me, his face lit by the red glow of the fire’s coals.
“Aenna, this is silly. We’re going to freeze to death like this. I
know this sounds awfully impudent, but would you consider sharing
the blankets and staying warmer beside one another? I give you my
solemn word as a gentleman that I shall not abuse your trust. I
would never accost you in any way, I swear it, and I also swear not
to tell a soul so that your good name would not be sullied by the
rumour and innuendo of idle tongues on our return to Endren.”

My heart thudded
in my chest. He was so forthright, so bold, and yet so
eloquent.
In truth,
I
wanted to consent
immediately because I was so very cold, but I made myself appear to
consider his request. I looked at him, and the thought of lying
beside him made me blush. I was glad of the red light of the coals,
knowing that it would mask the colour of my face. I schooled my
expression to one of practicality, and agreed, telling him I
believed his word as a gentleman and hoped that he did not think
less of me for accepting the offer.

“On the contrary, I
think you’re wise to put appearance of propriety aside for reasons
of survival. We’ll both sleep better for this,” he said softly as
he moved to me, put his blanket over me, and then crawled
underneath both of them.

I lay on my right side,
my arms folded across my chest as my teeth continued to chatter. He
faced me, close but not quite touching except where his own arm
crossed his chest. His left arm was folded under his head as a
pillow. He shifted briefly to pull the blankets up to my ears and
tuck them around us both, and then he lay back down. Our arms
before our chests were pressed together, and once he accidentally
knocked his foot into mine and apologized. I said it was no concern
and smiled at him as I began to finally feel some small warmth from
being so close. He smiled back and whispered, “Sleep. I swear you
shall be safe.”

“I know,” I whispered
back, because I did. I completely trusted this good man. I had no
reason not to. Had he wanted to accost me or take advantage of me,
he could well have done so many times over, knowing that I would
have no defence but to run away, likely to my death. There would
have been no punishment for such crimes when we reached his home,
for his word against mine would have suffered no contest. But I
didn’t trust him merely because he had not abused me thus far—I
trusted him because he seemed to genuinely care for me. He asked my
opinions, went to great lengths to ensure my comfort where he
could, and made a point of reassuring me even when it was
unnecessary. I had never experienced such kind concern before, and
it touched my heart.

He fell asleep first—I
could tell so by his light snoring. I found the sound to be
soothing—if he could sleep so soundly, things could not be entirely
bad, I reasoned. And the rhythm of his breath was constant and
relaxing. I found myself dreaming of loving such a man and quickly
banished the notion from my mind.

Silly
girl,
I told
myself,
he
is so far above you in station, you should be glad if he lets you
mop his floors when you get to Endren.

Indeed, he had spoken
several times of rewarding me for my warning at the outpost, and
every time I insisted I needed no reward. I didn’t. I could find
work in Endren and make a life for myself, and I intended to do
just that. I thought perhaps if he continued to insist on reward, I
might be persuaded to accept a new change of clothes, a bath—oh,
how I desperately wanted a bath!—and perhaps a meal to set me on my
way. But I wouldn’t consider that a reward if it were offered; it
would be an appreciated act of kindness on his part.

Yet that thought of
having feelings for this good man who slept beside me was hard to
banish entirely. I prayed that if the Gods saw fit to reward me for
doing my duty—which should not necessarily be rewarded—that they
might bring my way such a good man closer to my station. I tried to
imagine such a man and discovered he had Jarik’s kind face, his
smile lines, his bright eyes and layered dark hair. I erased the
image and tried to replace the face with another, but Jarik’s
visage kept breaking through the image, right down to that bit of
hair in front that was too long and hung over his eye.

I chastised myself. I
had to stop myself from thinking such things before I went and
spoiled what pleasant parts there were to this otherwise difficult
journey. I reminded myself of the cold, hard fact that this man was
the cousin to the future King, was no doubt betrothed to a refined
and elegant lady of court, and was probably simply being polite to
the dirty little peasant girl in order to have a more pleasant
journey himself.

I fell asleep telling
myself repeatedly that allowing my heart to get involved with
anything about this man was a foolish notion, one that would
undoubtedly result in great pain.

* * *

In the morning when we
woke, we looked out upon a world blanketed in white. It looked
beautiful for the first few moments, until I remembered that we
would have to walk through it; then it lost its charm. Jarik leaned
against the rocky wall, sighed, and suggested we wait to see if the
sun would come out and melt it away.

“Only if you care to
wait all winter, which I certainly do not,” I grumbled, seated at
the mouth of the crevasse. Our words had that softened, muffled
sound that always comes from speaking whilst surrounded by
snow.

“We can still make it
to Endren. I still know my way, and we have enough food that even
if we aren’t lucky enough to get another rabbit, we shall not
starve. But I am concerned for you,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. It’s
just snow,” I replied.

“I know, but your boots
look so thin. Do they remain dry inside?”

“No, of course not.
Why, do yours?”

“Well, yes,” he said.
“That’s the point of good boots, to keep your feet dry and
warm.”