Sorrows of Adoration (22 page)

“Melly? Isn’t she a
bit …”

“Slow-headed? Yes. But
she follows instructions very well, and I trust her more than most
of the other undermaids to fetch it promptly. The others would
dally about, glad to be away from their palace chores, which no
doubt have been doubled in preparations. Now, I’ll go order the hot
water brought up. You relax and keep your head on straight. It’s
going to be a busy day.”

Indeed it was, but
Leiset was a marvel, caring for every detail before I could raise a
hand in effort. She insisted that I be relaxed, lest any
insecurities creep into my mind and threaten to ruin the day.

Then, in the space of a
moment, all of her efforts to keep me calm and happy were cast
aside, for as I sat with rods in my hair in only my dressing gown,
staring dreamily into the mirror, Queen Kasha entered my bed
chamber with a look of cold cruelty on her face.

“You’re so smug there,
that hideously red mop of yours gathered ridiculously in rods, as
if that would help you to hide how lowly you are,” she snarled.
Leiset turned pale in stunned anger but knew her place well enough
not to dare speak. I wish that I had been as wise.

“Your Majesty, it is
too late to send me away. I regret that you hate me so. Truly, I
wish that you could find it in your heart to accept me enough for
the sake of Kurit’s happiness,” I said calmly, confidently. “It
saddens me that you insist upon this battle, when I hold no malice
for you. I understand that you wish to protect your son. So do I. I
love him. I am not a threat!”

Her cold gaze remained
on me for a moment and then moved to the gown on the bed. The
hateful woman went to it, and before Leiset or I could stop her,
she picked up a corner of one of the underskirts and tore it about
a finger’s length. I stood in alarm, but she dropped the material
back to the bed without causing further damage.

Turning her frigid
stare back to me she said in a hard voice, “You may wear this fine
gown today. Everyone will see how perfectly lovely it is. But you
will know there is a tear, and let that remind you of your true
status: a peasant in torn rags! You are and always will be unworthy
of my Kurit.” Then she stormed from the room as I stood stunned,
unable to speak or move.

“Contemptible,
malevolent old bat!” muttered Leiset under her breath, and I was
certainly not going to chastise her for the treasonous insult. I
was furious and mortified that Kasha—ceasing in my mind at that
moment to be worthy of my respect in calling her Queen—could be so
vehemently cruel.

Leiset went to the gown
and ruffled the skirts over the tear. “Aenna, don’t worry—no one
will see it,” she insisted. “Shall I run and have the tailor come
to stitch it anyway?”

I shook my head sadly.
The point was made. Kasha was right. Whether it was sewn or not,
visible or not, I would know that the dress had been ruined. I
would be aware of that small tear, hidden under the rest of the
skirts, and I would not be able to forget her words and enjoy my
wedding day free of their influence.

“Leave it,” I sighed.
“Even if it is fixed, I’ll know that it was there. Her aim was on
the mark with that.” I sat back at the dressing table and stared
unhappily into the mirror.

“No,” Leiset said. “You
must not let her cruelty ruin your day. Oh, Aenna, don’t let her
win.” She stood behind me and put her arms around my shoulders in
comfort. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw to prevent myself
from weeping. I refused to be seen with a puffy, red face of tears.
I was not going to give that awful woman the satisfaction.

“What should I do?”
Leiset asked in concern.

I sighed and gathered
my spirit back together as best I could. “We shall go on. There is
no time to play these silly games. Help me into the dress, please,
and then we’ll finish with my hair and be ready to go.” Leiset gave
me a friendly squeeze and kissed my cheek, and we continued the
preparations.

Just as we were about
to go down to the courtyard to the coach that waited to take me out
to the meadows east of the city where the wedding and tournament
were to take place, there came a knock at my outer door. Leiset and
I looked at each other in alarm, both fearful that Kasha had
returned to cause further mischief.

Leiset tentatively
opened the door to the corridor, and there stood King Tarken. I
sighed with relief and smiled at him as he entered. He came to me
smiling as well and took my hands gently in his own.

“Look at you, my dear,
just look at you,” he said with delight. “You are a vision of
loveliness. Your beauty this day shall banish any last ounce of a
steady mind left in my poor son’s head.”

I laughed softly at his
kind words. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It means a great deal to me
that you would come to say such pleasant things.”

“I thought you might
need to hear kind words. Jarik came to me in great concern a short
time ago, saying he saw my wife leaving your room in a hurry.”

I looked away from him.
I might have been angry at Kasha, but I did not wish to belittle
the Queen before the King.

“Ah. She did say
something to upset you, didn’t she?” He shook his head sadly and
sighed. “I pleaded with her to leave you alone, but her wrath knows
no restraint. Tell me, good Aenna, was she cruel to you? She was
once a kind woman, but over the years I have seen her grow spiteful
and angry, though I know not why. Tell me what she said, that I
might reassure you that she spoke a lie.”

“It was not what she
said, Majesty, half as much as what she did.” I sat on the couch
and lifted the part of the skirt I knew to hold the tear and showed
it to him. “It is a small tear. No one will see it. She did so
intentionally, and said that she wanted me to remember by it that I
am but an unworthy peasant in rags.”

He knelt by me to
examine the tear, shaking his head sadly again. “Why didn’t you
have it fixed?”

“It wouldn’t have
mattered,” I replied.

He nodded in
understanding and let the material fall from his hand. He rose and
bade me to rise as well, taking my hand and patting it
comfortingly. “Aenna, don’t let it bother you. This otherwise
perfect dress has a small flaw. We all try to be perfect ourselves,
but each of us has a flaw as well. Nothing is ever perfect. That
does not mean it cannot be wonderful or beautiful. Don’t think of
that tear as a symbol of your past poverty. Think of it as a symbol
of how you have been given a chance to approach perfection in your
life. Do not let it sadden you—make it strengthen you.” He leaned
forward and kissed my cheek tenderly. “I believe in you, Aenna of
Alesha. You have more than amply proven yourself worthy in my eyes.
Now come, do me the honour, please, of letting me escort you to
your coach. My son awaits you.”

I cast aside all
thoughts of decorum and threw my arms around the dear man. He
seemed taken aback for a moment and then embraced me in return.
“There now, don’t you dare weep, either in sadness or joy. I don’t
wish to be responsible for tears!”

I laughed softly and
kissed his cheek. Then I let him take my arm, and we went down to
the waiting coach with Leiset, who carried my carefully folded veil
and its clip in her arms.

* * *

The meadows outside the
city reached far into the distance, seeming to bump right up
against the mountains that could be seen on the north-eastern
horizon. I was taken to the area where the wedding itself would
occur shortly. All the guests and servants had been kept away for
well over an hour to allow me to take my place.

A spot had been chosen
where a low hill formed a natural stage, and a great many wooden
benches and chairs had been set up facing it. Leiset helped me
unfold the veil, which was more or less an enormous black cloth.
When a priestess signalled us that the time was appropriate, we
placed the cloth over my head so it covered my entire form from the
front and most from the back. The sides of the veil were clipped
together at the back of my neck. I could see through the cloth to
some extent, but no one would be able to see me at all. I would be
just a dark, unfathomable figure. The purpose of this of course was
not to hide me in shame, but to prevent Kurit from being able to
see me when he performed the part of the ceremony in which he would
ask for my acceptance.

This and other parts of
the ceremony were traditional remembrances of the marriage of
Prince Kol of Kyran to Princess Raeneh of Mael. I had learned in my
history lessons that Kyran was an ancient kingdom that now was the
provinces of Estebek, Odlok, Kresh, Kydren, and a small portion of
what is now Penklin. The Kingdom of Mael had been what was now the
provinces of Felean, Alesha, and Taeten. The two nations had warred
through the generations, until the time of Kol and Raeneh. Raeneh
lost all her beloved brothers to the war, and being very wise, she
decided to take it upon herself to end it. She wrote a secret
letter to Prince Kol, whom she had never met, to ask him to
convince his father, King Dirik, to end the bloodshed. She filled
the letter with heartfelt stories of her good brothers and appealed
to Kol’s decency to have the war ended before her own future sons
suffered the same tragic fate.

Kol was deeply moved by
the letter but was unable to convince his father to end the war. He
wrote a secret letter in return to Raeneh, explaining that his
father was too entrenched in the generations of hatred between to
the two nations, but that he had no such hatred and also wished to
see the war end. This led to a continuing, hidden correspondence
that eventually found the two deeply in love, though they had never
met face to face.

When King Dirik was
slain in a battle, Kol proclaimed that the war had gone on long
enough. He mounted his horse, summoned his guards, and rode to the
palace of King Daen, Raeneh’s father. There, he asked for the hand
of Raeneh in marriage to unite their kingdoms into one. King Daen
would not hear of it, thinking it was a ploy to assassinate his
only remaining child. He had Raeneh locked away in one of the
castle’s towers and told Kol to leave.

But Kol did not leave.
He stood at the base of the tower and called up to Raeneh,
professing his love and his desire to unite their kingdoms in
peace. She heard his call and answered that she would wed him, both
for her own love and for the good of all.

Still, King Daen
would not hear of it, and he threatened to kill Kol. When Kol
refused to leave Maellen soil, Daen drew his sword against him, and
a battle ensued. Kol defeated Daen, knocking the older man’s sword
from his hand. But Kol spared Daen and said he wished no more
bloodshed, least of all the beloved father of his sweet Raeneh.
Thus, Daen came to believe that Kol’s proposal of unity was
sincere, and at the behest of Raeneh from the tower above, Daen
agreed to the marriage. Kol raced up the tower steps to
behold
for the first
time
the woman he loved,
not knowing if she was beautiful or hideous and not caring, for his
love was independent of appearance. When he saw her, plain but
pretty with her auburn hair and deep blue eyes, he fell even deeper
in love and carried her down the steps and off into
history.

And so was born the
united kingdom of Keshaerlan, and the capital established at the
old border and site of the last battle.

The great tale of Kol
and Raeneh was celebrated in every royal marriage thereafter. In
earlier times, the bride would remain in the tower until fetched by
the groom after a mock battle with the girl’s father, but through
the generations the ceremony had become more metaphorical in
nature, beginning now with the bride hidden from view atop a stage
or hill.

Thus, there I stood,
draped in cloth, thankful for the shade of a great tree, as guests
were seated. I saw many recognizable faces, including Jarik, who
sat in the front row near King Tarken and Kasha. Jarik’s expression
was far from merry, and I wondered if he was worried for me, for
perhaps he knew that Kasha had been in my room. I hoped that the
King would tell him that I was in better spirits now, but I did not
see them speak.

In the background there
had gathered a great crowd of the general public, come to see the
ceremony. I could not see them clearly, but I was glad to know no
one was excluded from what really was a public event. After all,
Kurit would be their King, and I supposed they had a right to see
him wed the woman who would one day be their Queen.

The priests and
priestesses managing the ceremony indicated it was to begin, and an
eerie hush fell. I became nervous, hoping I would not forget what I
was supposed to do or say, short though the actual ceremony
was.

Then I saw Kurit,
standing at the back of those seated. He boldly strode down the
centre aisle and stopped at the base of the low hill, where there
were two posts in the ground with a wide ribbon tied between them.
He looked magnificent in his polished armour and green cloak—the
same green as my dress. I smiled behind my veil as he knelt with
great flourish. Always the performer, my dear Kurit.

“Lady Aenna of Alesha,”
he began, “you have won my heart with your bravery. You have
captured my soul with your wisdom. I come to you this day before
all who gather here as witness to proclaim my love for you and
pledge to you my devotion to love you eternally. For the good of my
heart and soul, and the good of the nation of Keshaerlan, which I
shall one day serve as King, I offer to you my hand in marriage.
Will you accept me?”

A low murmur of
approval for his speech passed through the crowd.

From behind my veil,
heart racing in nervous delight, I said, “Prince Kurit of
Keshaerlan, I did not know what love was until I knew it for you.
You have brought great happiness and opportunity to my life. Before
all who can hear me, I pledge to love you as a devoted wife and
shall strive to serve as a good and noble Queen. I do accept you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that my tongue did not twist itself
during my vow.