Sorrows of Adoration (6 page)

* * *

The fifth day was windy
but not as cold, yet the blowing snow slowed our progress. Our food
supplies were almost gone, and we had been rationing small meals
since the day before. We decided not to wait for a trap to snare
something else, as we simply wanted to return to civilization as
quickly as possible. Jarik promised me a great feast on our return,
and when I started my now traditional refusal of reward, he cut me
off yet again and said, “You will be a guest and treated as such.
And my family will be happy to see me safe, so they’ll no doubt
have a wonderful meal prepared on our return.”

“Do your parents live
in the palace as well, then?” I asked.

He gave me that same
confused look that he did whenever I asked about anything personal,
and then, as always, collected himself and answered. “No, my
parents are deceased. I meant my cousin’s family, who are also my
family, you see.”

I shuddered to think
that this good man was without a proper family, as myself. I
considered offering sympathies but did not wish to sound trite.
Instead, I avoided the subject and asked, “So you live with your
cousin’s family all of the time, then?”

“Yes,” he replied.
“Since Kurit has no siblings, I suppose I am next in line to the
throne after him, so I have been raised alongside him.” Jarik spoke
awkwardly, and I assumed it was merely an uncomfortable topic. I
set about speaking of other things as we continued our trek.

We crested what seemed
to be the last of the rocky hills on our route just as a
magnificent sunset coloured the sky. I stood facing the west,
admiring the spectacle of fiery lights reflecting off the bottom of
the few clouds that drifted lazily overhead. Jarik stood behind me.
After a moment he put his hand gently on my shoulder and bade me
look south.

There I saw in the
distance the walls and towers of Endren, reflecting the deep reds
and oranges of the sunset. The city was surrounded by green hills
and glowed there like an iridescent jewel. The size of it astounded
me, even from that distance. It was all I could do to whisper,
“It’s beautiful.”

I stared at it for some
time and then looked to Jarik to see if he was gazing fondly at his
home. Instead, I found that he was staring at me.

“Jarik, you’re not even
seeing how lovely it is,” I said.

He turned briefly to
glance at the city and said, “Home always looks beautiful when one
is hungry and cold.”

“It’s more than that,”
I said, looking at it again. “I’ve never seen a city. Not a large
one with walls and towers. I always pictured them as imposing and
dreary. Endren is lovely, at least in this light.”

I felt him touch a
stray lock of hair that had been blowing in my face all day. I
looked at him again, and my heart leapt in my chest at the
expression of tenderness in his eyes.

“My attention seems to
have been stolen by a lovelier sight,” he said, and I felt as
though my knees had become water. He held my hair gently, letting
the wind roll it from his fingers. “Your hair, it’s like spun
copper in this light. I’ve never seen its equal. The women I know,
their hair is dark as night. I’ve admired the colour of yours by
daylight, Aenna, but it is now more enchanting than anything I’ve
ever beheld.”

I stood very still,
fearing that if I even breathed, I would fall. These were words fit
for a bard’s love song, and this man whom I had tried not to adore
was speaking them to me. As my heart soared, he moved his hand from
my hair to my cheek. He touched me with such tenderness, caressing
my cheek so softly, that I lost the ability to withhold my
emotions. I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into his hand.

When I opened my eyes
again, he was gazing at me, and my heart fluttered anew.
“Everything about you is like nothing I’ve ever known,” he
murmured. “Never have I met a lady so strong, so brave, and so very
beautiful.”

I know not why my mind
chose that moment to blurt out, “I’m not a lady,” but that’s what I
said, feeling a fast guilt for ruining his perfect words with my
bluntness.

He put a gentle finger
to my lips as though to silence any further self-depreciation. “You
may have been born a peasant, but you are nobler than any lady I’ve
met, Aenna.” His hand moved under my chin and raised it slightly as
he moved to stand quite close to me. Before I knew what was
happening, my eyes had closed, this man was kissing me tenderly,
and the world spun about in my mind.

An eternity passed—or a
second, I could not honestly say how long it was. But when his lips
left mine, I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me with great
affection. My heart raced such that I thought it might burst from
my chest. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks. Speechless, I could not
resist as he pulled me close to him and kissed me again, sweetly
but harder than before, with a passion that made me dizzy in his
arms.

He moved the kiss to my
cheek, to my forehead, and then held me tight, and I found my arms
clinging to him as all the feelings of attraction I had suppressed
during our trip overwhelmed me. The whole of the King’s Guard could
not have pulled me from his arms in that moment. My head rested on
his shoulder, his arms around me and one hand stroking my hair. I
imagined that he must be able to feel how my heart pounded against
his chest, but I didn’t care! I didn’t care in that moment whether
any of it was proper or unseemly or right or wrong. The love I had
felt over this short journey, which might as well have been a
lifetime, all poured forth into that embrace, and it frightened me
and exhilarated me and made me believe I could fly right off that
cliff if he asked me to.

Then I heard him
whisper, “I should build you a fire. I can feel you shivering.”

“I’m not cold,” I
replied, barely able to speak. “I’m warmer now than I have been
since leaving the inn.” My words sounded so absurd, and I was
embarrassed to have said them.

“Then why do you
tremble? Please tell me I haven’t frightened you,” he said in a
voice rich with affection.

“I’m not frightened.
I … I don’t know why I’m trembling. I didn’t even know I was.
I’m sorry. I’ve never felt …” I stopped speaking before I said
something silly again. I knew I must have sounded like a child
desperately trying to recite romantic poetry.

“Surely someone as
enchanting as yourself has not gone unkissed?” he asked softly,
pulling away enough that he could look at me again.

“I was a barmaid,” I
said, looking up at him. “The women who work in the inns do not
allow themselves to be kissed unless they have more than kisses to
sell.” I could have hit myself for sounding so uncouth. I wondered
where in Keshaerlan my mind had gone.

But he was not put off
by my words. “Noble, brave, and virtuous, too,” he said, smiling.
“You are a rare find, good Aenna.”

He kissed me on the
forehead again, and then apologized if he had been too bold. “If
you wish me to leave you alone with the blankets tonight, I
understand, for I did promise to be a gentleman, and now here I
stand with you in my arms, kissing you like a scoundrel. And yet
look,” he said as his hand touched my cheek softly again. “I am
unable to stop.” He stepped backwards, letting his hand drop from
my cheek to grasp my hand. He lifted my hand delicately and kissed
it.

I didn’t know what to
say. I didn’t wish to be silly and let either of us freeze in the
night. I also didn’t wish to appear indecorous and agree to lie
beside him. Additionally, I didn’t like appearing indecisive about
the matter, lest he think I was leaning one way or the other when
both decisions held such potential repugnance.

“You look upset. I’ve
upset you, haven’t I, with my boldness? Aenna, I’m truly sorry, I
was swept up in the moment with your beauty—”

“Please,” I said,
unsure from where the words came. “Please don’t be sorry.” My heart
was on the verge of breaking if he should regret the kiss, but I
couldn’t tell him that. I could not be so bold. How ironic, that he
thought me so brave and bright, yet my mind was shaken to pieces by
a simple kiss.

Then I noticed he was
at an equal loss for words. “I’m not sorry, but I am, well, sorry
for being so bold.” I found his stammering endearing, for it must
mean he was as delighted and alarmed and as confused as I. “Not for
the kiss, unless if offends you, because if it offended you than I
would be sorry for that—”

And that’s when I
seemed to have lost my mind entirely, for I did something so
brazen, so unexpectedly forward that to this day I don’t know what
demon or deity inspired me. As he rambled apologetically, I threw
my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to him, smashing my
lips hard against his and kissing him with every dream of passion
fuelling the rush. I believe I startled him as much as myself, for
at first he threw his arms into the air in surprise. Then he
wrapped them around me and returned the kiss, igniting my entire
being with desire and longing and love.

As the kiss ended and I
fell into his embrace, he held my head against his shoulder again
and said, “I’m not sorry. Not in the least.”

I realized what I had
done and stepped back, ashamed of myself. I could not speak; it was
all I could do to breathe. We stood like that, facing each other
two paces apart, silent, for some time. He must have heard my
thoughts of shame, for eventually he said, “Don’t be sorry, either.
It wasn’t wrong. It can’t have been.”

I felt my face turn red
and could look at him no more. I turned my eyes to the ground and
worked my hands into a knot. He approached me and took my hands,
parted them gently and held them in his own. I looked at him, and
he seemed like he was going to say something but then didn’t.

“I trust you,” I
blurted out.

He seemed confused but
said, “That’s a good thing.”

“I mean, I trust you,
with the blankets.” I paused until he understood what I meant, that
we could still share the blankets and not have to freeze for
propriety’s sake. “Does that make me …” I trailed off, unsure
what word I wished to use to describe my concern that he would find
me indecorous.

“No, not at all,” he
said softly, squeezing my hands in emphasis. “I can still be a
gentleman. I … you … we’ll be …”

“Just sleeping and
staying warm,” I said.

He nodded. Again we
stood frozen for some time, locked in each other’s gaze. My heart
pounded so loudly now, I wondered that it did not echo in the
hills.

He let go of my hands
and bade me take his arm, just like a lady of the court. I could
not help but smile and blush at being treated so kindly, and
allowed him to gently guide me to our shelter for the night.

WHEN I WOKE THE next
morning, Jarik was already awake, sitting nearby watching me. I
looked at him, and he smiled back me.

“We should reach the
gates of Endren by mid afternoon, if the weather is kind to us,” he
said.

I stretched and sat up.
Smiling back at him, I said, “A bath. That’s all I want right now,
more than food or mended clothes, or even a soft bed. I really want
a bath.”

He laughed and said,
“At least it’s been cold. Can you imagine how we’d stink travelling
like this in summer’s heat?”

“Ugh,” I grunted,
wrinkling my nose at the thought.

“The guards would smell
us before we were even in sight.” He chuckled.

I wrinkled my nose even
more and replied, “Don’t even mention it. I couldn’t bear to be
that filthy. This is bad enough, and there’s been snow to wash my
face.”

We ate the last of the
preserved food, little that there was, packed the gear, and headed
off. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and snow had fallen during the
night, adding a powdery layer over the ice crusts we had battled
the day before. As the day warmed slightly, the powder became wet
enough to give us better traction as we walked, and our steps made
loud creaking noises.

Once we were down that
last large hill, we could no longer see Endren, but we were clearly
passing through farmland surrounding the city. We came to long
fences cutting across our path, and a few times were able to make
out farmhouses in the distance.

The approach made me
worry again for the Prince, and I said to Jarik, “I hope the others
returned safely.”

“Don’t worry,” he said
calmly. “Jarik’s one of the wisest and mightiest warriors in
Keshaerlan. He can care for himself.”

I stopped walking. I
thought I must have misheard, but still I said, “You called him
Jarik.”

Jarik stopped and
turned back to face me, wearing that confused look again. As usual,
he quickly composed himself and said, “Did I? I must be tired from
lack of comfortable sleep and decent food.”

There was something
wrong with his dismissal, and the fact that he’d kept looking out
of place in such a fashion ever since our journey began. “No,” I
said. “You said it casually, as if that was his name.”

A brief look of panic
crossed his face as he stammered, “I’m half out of my mind with
hunger and fatigue, Aenna, really—”

“No,” I said again.
“That’s not it. Look at you, you’re like a boy with his hand caught
in the pastry cupboard.” He looked as though he was struggling to
think of something to say, and I started to feel queasy as I put
the pieces together. “He’s not the Prince, is he? I knew the plan
seemed foolish. I knew it. It made more sense for the Prince to
flee on foot and hide himself on the way home while the other would
be a decoy, but I didn’t say it because who was I to question your
plan? But you knew that. You both knew what you were doing, and
he’s the decoy, which makes you …”

My heart felt as though
it had stopped dead in my chest. I could not catch my breath in the
moment that I realized I had not been travelling with Jarik, cousin
of the Prince, but instead with Prince Kurit himself. It all made
sense, how he spoke oddly of himself with a confused look when I
would question him—he had to think about it, for he was pretending
to be his cousin.