Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (62 page)

“It was almost five days after he left before we could get a coherent word out of her,” Phillip explained, as they sat in the Imperial Suite with Christiana some time later. “I really thought we were going to lose her totally; you know, mad princess in the tower kind of thing?”

“I’ll never forgive him,” Christiana said bitterly. “I’m sorry Clera. I know he’s your brother, but leaving the way he did … what it did to her …”

Clera reached across and squeezed Christiana’s hand gently, seeing tears form in the Empress’s eyes. “I understand, Your Majesty, really I do, but—”

“There’s no excuse you can give me, Clera,” Christiana interrupted.

“I wasn’t going to offer one, Your Majesty,” Clera smiled faintly. “I was going to ask you something. What if Jenevra forgives him? If she was so upset by Blaise leaving, it sort of hints that she had quite strong feelings for him. What if she decides she’s in love with him? What will you do then?” Leaving the Empress to ponder the question, Clera rose to her feet. “May I see her? Or does the ban include us too?”

Frowning at the unexpected question, Phillip sat in thought for a moment. “Of course you can see her,” he agreed, ignoring Christiana’s gasp of indignation. “We’ll all go to her, together. But I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on your not mentioning that Blaise is back here. Not yet, at least.”

The four of them emerged from the palace into the gardens. A guard pointed down the length of the gardens to where a familiar figure was sitting on the grass.

Baran grinned hugely. “Princess!” he called, striding down the lawn towards her rapidly. His grin faltered as he saw the pale face turn, the barest flicker of a smile crossing it. Reaching her, his disappointment crested as she remained seated. “What, no hug?” he teased gently.

“You’ll have to give me a hand up first, Your Highness,” Jenevra answered softly, holding her hands out to him, to be lifted up into a huge embrace. Jenevra greeted Clera with a tremulous smile, slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that she was Tessier’s sister, before remembering the last time she’d seen Clera in Lorthia. “Your baby, Princess Clera!” she blurted. “Forgive me, I forgot. How is the little one?”

Clera delightedly began extolling the cherubic qualities of her newest child, sitting on the blanket next to Jenevra, she quite forgot who she was talking to, and mentioned how like Blaise the new baby was. As the words passed her lips, she drew a sharp breath, wishing she could recall them as she saw Jenevra’s gaze turning inward again in the way Phillip and Christiana had come to dread.

“Blaise Tessier belongs in the deepest pit of everlasting hell, and if I never see him again it’ll be an eternity too soon!” The anger in Jenevra’s tone wasn’t a surprise to Baran or Clera, they’d not expected anything different; but Phillip and Christiana looked sharply at her, and then at each other. Phillip bit his lip, desperately trying to stop a grin from forming. Warning grew dangerously in Christiana’s eyes as she glared at him. “No! Absolutely not. I won’t allow it, Phil.”

Baran caught Phillip’s eye, widening his own in query.

Phillip gestured for the Lorthian Prince to wait for a moment. “Jenn,” he ventured cautiously. “I thought Captain Tessier might join us for dinner.”

Fists clenched tightly by her sides, Jenevra launched into another vituperative attack on Blaise, fury staining her cheeks with the first color they’d had in weeks.

Now grinning openly, Phillip held his arm out to his wife. “Come along, my love. I think your sister needs to be alone with her emotions for a while.” Taking firm hold of Christiana’s arm as she showed no signs of wanting to move, he pulled her along and up to the palace. Reaching the doors, Phillip turned to Baran. “That’s more animation than we’ve seen in a long time. Go tell him I want to talk to him before dinner. He’s got one chance. If he hurts her, he’s a dead man, but I’d rather see her back to her old, argumentative self even if it’s with him.”

By the time Baran had found Blaise and told him of his chance, Jenevra had disappeared from the lawn. On the advice of a passing gardener, Captain Tessier headed along a path towards a small lake, spotting the princess on a bench underneath a Baris Oak, its broad leaves turning from their bright blue to purple with autumn descending. The princess, however, had also noticed Captain Tessier as he came down the long slope of the lawns, and was moving away from him as best she could.

Chasing after her wasn’t difficult. Although she was walking it was a slow and painful process. “Princess? Stop … will you just listen to me?” Blaise ran ahead and stood in front of her, catching her shoulders. “Please … just talk to me. I love you, Jenn, but we absolutely have to talk. Come on … you know you want to.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, severely disappointed to see her turn away again, not even a glimmer of a smile in return.

“Go away.” She continued limping along.

“Look,” he walked alongside her as she trudged slowly along the pathway. “I’m sorry, really, I am. There were things I didn’t understand: I had to get them straight in my own head. I thought it would be for the best if I gave you some time too.” He took hold of her arm. “Will you please stop and listen?”

“I asked you to stop,” she said tautly, closing her eyes briefly against the pain as she turned onto another path leading towards the small, bronze roofed temple. “But you walked out anyway.”

“I was wrong, Princess. Please, just hear me out,” he said.

“No. Leave me alone, Captain.” She headed towards the temple, its open columns warm with the late afternoon sun, dappling the glossy marble floor with golden light. Navigating the small flight of steps with difficulty, Jenevra was limping heavily as she entered the Temple itself. Picking up a small bronze dish containing aromatic oils and lighting it from a constantly burning flame, she approached the small altar, dropping onto a small marble bench, and bowing her head in prayer.

Blaise realized with another lurch how little he really knew about her. He knew there had been a Temple on the Island, and he’d seen her come to this one often enough; but he’d never understood how deep her faith truly ran. Another of the things they’d never talked about. Sitting on the bench behind her, he allowed the peace of the place to surround him, gazing for the first time at the carvings of the legends of the seven Gods in daylight. He knew the stories, everyone did; but these carvings had something about them, something almost lifelike. His eyes ran over the details, appreciating the craftsmanship, the faith of the hand that had created them. When he finally pulled his gaze back to the present, it was to find Jenevra watching him, a strange look on her face. He shrugged, waving his hand at the walls and altar. “I’ve never really looked at these before: they’re incredible.”

“I’ve always loved coming here because of them. They feel like the hand of Tore actually carved them himself. And my stars are here too.” A small smile warmed her face as she saw his puzzled look. “There,” she pointed out the circle of stars in the panel of Tore throwing the stars into the sky. In a quiet voice she told him the story, explaining the significance of the circle of stars to him. “And that’s Coural, the tiniest one … the heart of the Empire.” Her smile deepened fractionally as she closed her eyes again, lowering her head. “There’s just so much peace here, I always feel like I’m in the presence of the Gods.” She looked up again, startled to find Blaise sitting next to her on the bench, dark eyes fixed on her.

“I didn’t know,” he said simply. “But I can see what you mean about this place. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside a Temple that feels quite like this one.”

Again, that slightly puzzled, questioning look passed across her face, and she tipped her head to one side as she looked at him properly for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Princess, you’re here!” The young Priest who cared for the Temple, greeted her with a smile. “You’re later today; I was concerned that maybe your leg was bad again. Did the healer bring you down?” He looked around, seeing only Captain Tessier. “You carried her down here?”

“No, I walked today,” Jenevra supplied before Tessier could answer.

“But that’s wonderful!” the priest exclaimed happily. “I thought Healer Wynn was going to keep you off that leg for longer than this, but Tore be praised if the healing is going better than they thought.”

Catching Blaise’s accusing glance out of the corner of her eye, Jenevra bit on her lip and began to rise. Over-exertion had taken its toll though, and she gasped as her leg shot pain along its length.

Sweeping her up into his arms, Tessier looked blandly at the priest. “I will be carrying Her Highness back up to the palace though. Obviously she has overdone it.”

“Put me down, Captain,” she ordered. “Everything you do ends up hurting me. Just leave me alone.”

“That’s hardly fair,” he sounded hurt, but didn’t loosen his hold.

“I will keep praying, Princess,” the young Priest called after them.

The princess waved at him and then folded her arms, a mutinous set to her mouth.

“Don’t sulk,” Blaise told her. “You’re not supposed to be walking on that leg yet, are you?” Not really expecting an answer, he carried her into the palace. “At least we can talk now without you running off again.” He nodded at several courtiers who stopped talking among themselves to stare at the Captain carrying the princess.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Jenevra snapped. “But wasn’t it you ran off last time? And let’s not forget that night in Virat. You made your position quite clear.”

“And you misunderstood me … as usual.” Blaise grimaced as he saw Jenevra’s sister Christiana striding towards them as they approached Jenevra’s room.

“Blaise Tessier!” The Empress screeched. “Stop right there!”

“Ha! Now you’re in trouble,” Jenevra smirked. “She’s going to kill you.”

“As long as it makes you smile,” he muttered.

Christiana stopped in front of them. “Put my sister down!”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I can’t do that.” Blaise brushed past her, kicking Jenevra’s door open. “Your sister and I are way overdue for a very long talk. Would you excuse us?” He carried Jenevra into her room.

As Christiana followed them in, Phillip appeared behind her. “Come along, my love; let’s give them some time alone.” He took a firm grip on his wife’s arm, grinning widely at Tessier and his cousin. “Play nicely, you two.”

“But I don’t want to talk to him,” Jenevra was objecting as Phillip shut the door behind him.

Depositing Jenevra on her bed, fluffing pillows behind her, Tessier pulled his jacket off and unbuckled his sword. Handing it to Jenevra, he smiled. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Clutching the Spirit Sword of the Shadow Flight tightly, a relieved smile managed to make it all the way to her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” Tessier said wryly. “There’s no way your Flight will ever be anything other than yours. They made that perfectly clear. I’ve never met so many mutinous looks in one unit. They hated me.” He poured two goblets of water, and handed one to her. “Once I told them we were coming back to you they all cheered up immensely though.”

Laying the sword next to her on the bed, Jenevra sank back against the pillows. Her pallor, the deep shadows under her eyes, and the fact that she hadn’t even tried to move from the bed spoke volumes about her true condition to Tessier.

“I don’t think they really hate you, Captain. They’ve mostly been quite appreciative of you.” She sipped her drink, looking over the rim of the cup at him. “They’re back though?”

“Yes,” Blaise confirmed, gesturing to the bed. “Now can I sit there while we talk?”

Stretching out comfortably next to her without waiting for her answer, Blaise rested the back of his head on one hand. “I’ve had a lot of people telling me I should talk about everything with you. Wynn, Baran, Clera, your Flight. I didn’t want to talk about any of it Jenn, but once I started it was hard to stop … and it felt a bit better.” He glanced across at her, noting the sudden tension that had crept back into her. Sitting up, he held his hand out to her. “Talk to me, Jenn. You need to. I need you to. I’m not going anywhere until you do, so you may as well give in now.”

“Give in? That’s what it’s all about isn’t it?” Jenevra whispered harshly, her gaze focused inward. “All they want me to do is to give in—to quit. I won’t!”

Blaise’s hand shot out, clamping on her wrist, pulling her to him. Holding her tightly he talked to her, trying to bring her back to the present in that room. Feeling her struggle against him, he just held her more securely, aware that she had nothing like her old strength back yet. Softly, he spoke to her, telling her many of the things he’d talked about with Baran, Clera and the Flight. He told her Farid’s story, and how they had worked out what had frightened her the day before Blaise had left for Lorthia. “That’s why I had to go,” he whispered to her. “I was scared that you would always be terrified of me. But it wasn’t me you were frightened of. It was the memory. Once I understood that I wasn’t what you were afraid of, I could come back. I just couldn’t stand being here if I couldn’t see you, or if you were scared every time you saw me.”

“I didn’t know,” her voice was muffled against his chest. “One minute you were there, the next it was him again. I don’t really remember any of it clearly. But every so often a word or a gesture or something … I don’t know … but it’s like being back in there again—only this time it’s clear and I remember. I don’t know how to stop it.”