Sorrows of Adoration (13 page)

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.

I HAD EXPECTED THE
first days in Mikilrun to be the most difficult, but there was
sufficient daily change and adaptation that the hours flew by.
Kurit remained in the back shadows of my mind as I began my new
life.

As I settled into a
routine, however, my mind state changed. Kurit invaded my thoughts
more and more every day, and I grew increasingly despondent with
the fear that I might not ever be able to truly move on with my
life.

I worked harder, very
much impressing Deggle with my diligence, all in an effort to crowd
my mind with anything other than Kurit’s face, his eyes, his words,
his kisses. Oh, his kisses! When my poor head did bring back those
particular memories, my belly fluttered and my knees grew weak.
Then the agony of missing him would hit with its fullest force such
that my chest and head would ache. There were times when I was
alone—in bed or somewhere on a solitary chore—when I would quietly
weep. On three separate occasions I whispered his name and
sobbed.

Yet even as four months
crawled by and spring threatened to banish the snow from the
landscapes of Mikilrun, the pain did not fade. I remained as polite
and friendly to the customers and other staff as was necessary, but
every day it became more of an act as I withdrew further into
depression.

I tried to convince
myself that he must have forgotten about his affections for me, and
perhaps had even mocked me and deemed himself quite silly to have
ever desired me. I thought believing such things might make me
stronger and better able to move on without him, but instead the
thoughts haunted me and made my despair that much worse. I battled
thoughts of returning by believing such terrible things, but again
the notion that my beloved Kurit could be so callous only increased
my pain.

So I worked on in a
vague trance of despair, dragging time listlessly behind me. Then,
early one afternoon I was washing the tables clean after lunch—a
busy time, as local merchants frequented the pub of the inn almost
daily for their midday meal—when I heard a voice behind me say,
“You didn’t even see me before you left.”

I turned, my rag and
bucket of water in my hands. There he stood. For a moment, I
thought myself to be dreaming, as I often had. But Kurit truly was
before me, and in shock I dropped the rag and bucket. They splashed
to the ground, covering both of our feet in dirty water.

Deggle witnessed the
scene and came rushing out from behind the bar. Recognizing Kurit,
no doubt by the fact that the Prince wore a royal blue tunic and
cloak, both embroidered with his crest, the innkeeper scolded me
and apologized to Kurit for his sloppy barmaid.

Kurit waved him off
without looking away from my eyes. “It is my fault. I startled her.
And she is more than your barmaid. She is the lady I love.”

“No,” I said, hating
myself for being able to say it so easily. “No, Kurit, go. Forget
you saw me. Go back to your palace.” I was aware that my casual
used of his name and my blunt directives were unbecoming to my
station. I hoped my emphatic unseemliness would give him further
cause to leave.

“I cannot do that,
Aenna,” he said, dismissing my words in an instant. “Not without
you by my side.”

I stood my ground. I
was not about to let my emotions rule as they had before. “No. I
don’t belong there. You deserve better. There are many eligible
noblewomen in Endren. Forget me and seek one of them instead.”

“Those selfish,
arrogant, scrawny little gadflies?” He sneered at the thought.
“They could never catch my eye after I have known someone as brave
and generous as yourself.”

“
I cannot be what
you need. You must adhere to your duty and marry a noblewoman, not
squander your love on an uneducated, unqualified peasant.”
That’s
it
, I told
myself.
Concentrate on the duty part of it
. At all costs I had to keep the issue of
affection out of play, for there I could not fight him for long,
and I knew it.

“You can have whatever
education you require. I remember how we spoke during those first
days, how I explained complicated concepts of politics and
economics and the like to you and asked your opinion. Without fail
you impressed me with how eager you were to learn, how quickly you
took hold of the new information and were able to form competent
opinions, right on the spot. You’re clearly intelligent enough to
learn whatever you need to.”

“Even so, I would never
be respected as your wife ought to be. I would not be accepted, no
matter if I became the foremost expert on any topic.”

He stepped forward to
touch my arm, but I stepped back to prevent it. If he touched me,
my resolve would crumble. “Anyone who takes issue with you will
have to deal with me, Aenna. I won’t stand to hear you
belittled.”

“That’s no way to run a
kingdom,” I said, breaking his gaze by bending to the floor to
gather the rag and bucket. “You can’t annoy everybody who matters
and then demand that they accept it.” I rose with the rag and
bucket and turned to set them aside. In doing so, I noticed Jarik
was with Kurit, standing in the background, watching. I also
noticed that the entire staff of the inn was gathered at the bar
and door to the kitchen, spectators to the event, with the few
customers left from lunch also in the audience. They must have
thought me mad. I knew better.

And then he played his
gambit, hitting the one weak spot I could not dodge with remarks of
duty or questions of my worth. “Do you love me?” he asked, and I
was glad my back was to him, that he could not see my pained
reaction. “Because if you are sending me on my way on account of a
lack of love for me, well then, as much as that would sadden me, I
shall accept it. I don’t wish to pressure you into being with me if
it’s not what you truly want. So, lovely Aenna of Alesha, if you
can honestly tell me that you do not love me, I shall take my
leave.”

I breathed deeply to
prevent myself from displaying emotion. I gathered in my mind every
reason I had for leaving him in the first place and used them to
push aside my true feelings. I told myself that if I did love him,
I had to do right by him, and that meant convincing him to leave me
behind. And so I managed to say it, tripping over the words only
once: “I do not … I don’t love you.”

Then he was behind me,
hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. I closed my eyes
before I could see him.

“Say it again. Say it
while you look at me. Look at me, Aenna.”

“Stop,” I said, a hint
of a quaver to my voice. I kept my eyes closed tightly. Crying
could not be tolerated. If I cried, there would be no hope of
making him leave.

“No,” he said harshly;
I couldn’t tell whether from anger or frustration. “Tell me again.
If you can look me in my eyes and tell me that you don’t love me, I
shall leave and never disturb you again. But if you cannot, if
there is enough love in your heart to prevent you from saying it,
then I shall not rest until I’ve convinced you to come home with
me.”

Angry
, I told
myself,
be
angry at him. Be furious at him. I won’t cry if I’m furious. I
won’t break if I’m furious. Be enraged that he does not listen,
that he has come all this way for a foolish infatuation that must
not be allowed to continue.

The anger rose in me,
and I took strength from it. But then I made the mistake of opening
my eyes to see his earnest and pained expression, and that strength
dissipated in an instant.

Quickly I turned my
head away. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“Do you love me?”

“Kurit, let go of
me.”

“Do you love me?”

“Go, Kurit.
Please.”

“Do you love me?” he
repeated again, always in the same blunt manner, driving me
insane.

“Stop this madness and
go, please, just go.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” I finally said,
broken by his insistence and his touch. I looked at him and sighed.
“But what of it? It doesn’t matter in the end.”

“It is all that
matters,” he said softly. His hands slid down my arms to my hands,
which he lifted and kissed. “Be with me, Aenna. You said you’d
marry me before. Say again that you’ll still be my bride.”

I pulled my hands
hurriedly from his grasp. “I cannot. It would be wrong. If I marry
you, I am doomed to fail your lofty expectations, and then you
shall resent me for it. You’ll regret your choice, and as our
marriage fails so too will your governance, and I will not be
responsible for that sort of detriment to Keshaerlan!”

“Who filled your head
with such nonsense?” he asked, and then his expression was one of
sarcastic illumination. “Oh, how could I even ask? My wretched
mother got to you, didn’t she? She drove you away, filling your
mind with her insanity and prejudice!”

“You speak treason
against the Queen!” I exclaimed, aghast that he would denounce his
mother so in public.

“No, I speak the truth,
don’t I?” he asked, clearly incensed. “I know she spoke to you
right before you ran off. What did she tell you? That you’re not
worthy? Pah! She thinks that about everyone but her pet Sashken!
Did she say our marriage would tear apart the nation? Again, pah!
She uses that ridiculous threat every time I do something she
doesn’t like. Did she insult you, scoff at you, berate you? Well
then, she spoke treason against the future Queen!”

“I’m not fit to be a
Queen!” I exclaimed in return and then threw my hands in the air in
frustration. I clenched my fists and brought them down hard onto a
table, making a terrible racket. “Curse it all, Kurit, if you
weren’t the Prince and the sole heir to the throne, then there’d be
no issue, but you are and there is!”

He came behind me
again, seeking to embrace me. “If that’s what it takes to win your
heart, Aenna, I’ll renounce the throne. I’ll do it.”

I wrestled away from
him, no longer having to feign fury to inspire myself to send him
away. “Absolutely not!” I shouted. “You have a duty, Kurit. You
have benefited from a life of wealth and status, and your payment
in return for that good life is to accept your duty and birthright.
I will not—hear me, Kurit!—I will not be the one known to history
as starting a war for the throne amongst the noble families by
seducing the only child of the King into abdication!” My face felt
hot as my blood boiled at his appalling offer.

We stood, staring at
each other in exasperation and heartache, silently waiting for the
other to say something. Instead, Jarik came to my side and
quietly—at least it seemed quiet compared to the shouting—said,
“You have just proven yourself worthy, Aenna. In front of everyone
here you have espoused duty over your own happiness. I can’t
imagine a more fitting quality for a Queen.”

Kurit latched onto
Jarik’s idea. “Yes, Aenna, you speak of duty. You have an
opportunity to bring your unique wisdom, untainted by the
frivolities of court or prejudices of class, to the throne. There
is much that you can teach me of how most Keshaerlans live. You
will be a remarkable Queen, loved by the people because you are one
of them. You have admitted your love for me. Without you, my life
would be empty and without inspiration. I will be a better King if
you are by my side. If you are so concerned with duty, then ask
yourself if you do not have a duty to your own feelings, to the one
who loves you above all else, and to the lives that you could touch
with your wisdom.

“I would not ask this
if you didn’t love me. I would never ask you to do anything out of
duty alone.”