by Rai Aren
“What is it?” he asked as he motioned her to sit next to him, in one of the two chairs across from his desk.
Anjia sat down, then took her father’s hands in hers. She looked at him. She could see the years starting to show on his face, much before their time. “I know how difficult my time away was for you, believing I died that day with mother.”
Traeus was not expecting this and found himself unprepared. He faltered as he tried to answer.
Anjia saw him struggling with this, so she continued, squeezing his hand. “There is still so much we need to talk about, but I have come to you today about something specific.”
He looked at her, the pain and sadness evident in his emerald eyes. “What is it, Anjia?”
She took a deep breath. “I wish to speak to you about Assan.”
The expression on her father’s face changed immediately. His eyes turned cold and his face blanched. “Assan?” he repeated, as his voice almost cracked. He pulled his hand away.
She let him go. She knew this would not be an easy conversation to have. “Yes, I know the two of you have not spoken since he told you about me and what he did.”
Traeus looked away, he felt at once both anger towards Assan and embarrassment at his own actions. He felt like the child. “We are dealing with matters the best we can under the circumstances.” It was all he could think to say. He grabbed a writing implement and started tapping it on the edge of the large wooden desk.
“With all due respect, Daddy, I do not think that is true.”
Traeus knew there was no hope of fooling his daughter. Somehow, even after years apart, she knew him, knew how to read him. He stopped his tapping. “Perhaps not.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “I have come here today to talk to you about his decision. To help you gain peace and closure with what happened.”
He stiffened at the suggestion. He was far, far from gaining any kind of peace and closure with Assan’s still shocking choice.
Anjia saw his reaction. “Will you at least listen?” she asked.
He ran his fingers through his thick, black hair, which now had some grey in it. He looked away. He did not want her to see how upset he still was. He also did not want to disappoint his only daughter. He set his shoulders, then turned and managed a small smile. “Here you are, trying to help me, your father, when I should be the one helping you.”
She was relieved to see his defenses come down a little. “I love you Daddy, I do not say it was not difficult for me as well to be taken from this family. But when Odai and Senarra came to me, to tell me what was to happen, that I was to be taken away for my own safety and for the safety of this family, that it was the only way to protect us, somehow I knew, Daddy, I knew they were right.”
“What do you mean, Anjia? You were only five years old, you could not possibly…”
“Daddy, please listen. I could have fought, cried, screamed, tried to run. I know I was very young, but my memory of that day, how I felt, what I sensed, remains crystal clear to me.”
He was taken aback at what his daughter was saying. Somehow he had always believed, or at least wanted to believe, selfishly, that she did not go willingly. “But they said things that were not true. I could have protected you, my daughter. It was my responsibility and no one else’s to protect you. They made you believe I would not be able to. That was not true and it was incredibly unfair to me.”
She took a moment, letting him calm down a little. “I understand your feelings on this, I do. But now I need you to understand mine.” She looked at him intently. She waited for his reply.
Traeus breathed deeply. He sensed how important this was to his daughter, and yet his own emotions were turbulent. His mind had struggled to cope with the double strike of the incredible joy at having his daughter returned to him and the anger that boiled within him regarding the truth of why and how she was taken from him in the first place.
“I will try, Anjia, I will try.” He could not mask how shaken he was though. It was all still so raw.
Anjia felt a great deal of compassion for him. She shifted in her chair, trying to frame her thoughts, how she wanted to say this. “I had just witnessed mother dying. I was fighting for my own life, very near to drowning. I thought I was going to die and I was so scared. Then, miraculously, Amsara came to my rescue. But I also survived because of what mother did in the sailboat that day, attaching me by ropes to a barrel so that I would float, ignoring her own safety. She sacrificed her life to save mine.”
Traeus was trying to hold his emotions in check, but hearing this, the details of what his daughter went through, how his wife died, what she did to save their daughter, was almost too much to bear. He slumped in his chair. “I am sorry for what you have had to endure, Anjia,” he said, choking back tears.
Anjia paused, letting him release some of his pain. She wiped away a tear of her own. She wished with all of her heart that day had never happened. But it had. Now they must find a way to move forward.
“It is all right, sweetheart,” her father said. “Share what you need to. I need to hear this.”
Anjia nodded. “After the accident, I washed up near the shore, unconscious. Then Amsara came and pulled me out of the water. I remember him licking my face and nudging me awake. Somehow he knew where to find me, and that I was in trouble. It still amazes me to this day,” she said looking far off.
“The prophecy…” her father said, his voice low and filled with reverence.
She nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. “I was told Amsara raced back and led Odai right to me. Odai revived me. The two of them saved my life. Had it not been for what Amsara did, I would surely have drowned.”
Traeus cupped her face in his hands. “It was destiny, my daughter. Amsara followed his destiny so you could claim yours. You are the Child of the Prophecy. Of that there is no doubt.” He kissed her gently on her forehead.
Anjia closed her eyes. “Sometimes that day still feels like a dream. The experience was so overwhelming, so sudden…it still seems unreal sometimes. Mom and I were together, and then she was gone. Forever.”
Traeus held her, stroking her hair. “I miss her, too, so much.”
“Losing her was such a shock,” the young girl continued. She felt the warmth of the ankh pendant, its energy seemed to grow stronger with the memory.
“I know,” he said, “it was for all of us.”
She pulled away, but held his hand. “But the strange thing was, even after all of that, when they told me I needed to go away, I knew it had to happen. I cannot explain to you exactly how, but in spite of how upset I was, how scared, I knew with every fiber of my being that they would kill me if I stayed. If they tried that, I believed they would harm you and Tramen, too. I knew then that I had to leave. Alone.”
He visibly tensed. His face was drawn. He pursed his lips and said nothing.
Anjia could see he did not agree. She understood. On the surface, it made no sense. But she knew it deep within that it had been what needed to happen. She paused. She saw how painful this was for her father to hear. “When they bundled me up, all during the long journey north, I thought of you and Tramen, I missed you so much even then. I could not risk anything happening to you.”
“That is a lot for a five-year old to consider,” her father said, his tone unmistakably laced with doubt.
“I know,” she said, nodding her agreement. “I cannot explain it fully, but somehow I just knew it was what was meant to be. It is as clear to me today as it was back then.”
He considered her statement for a moment. He pulled his hand away. “But why did we have to be told you had died?” he asked hoarsely, looking down at the floorboards.
“To let go,” she answered.
He did not know what to say to that. He wanted to tell her how consumed with grief
he had been, how he did not know if he would ever find his way back from the depths of the despair he was in. But he did not want her to shoulder any more of a burden than she already had.
“Daddy, Assan acted out of love and protection. He never intended to hurt you or this family. Please believe me, it had to be.”
“I just do not know if I can ever forgive him, Anjia. I have heard you, but I am your father, I am King, that decision should have been mine.” He felt himself getting angry again. He hated Assan for this. He felt that he would always hate him. “You were only a small child. He was a grown man. He should have acted differently. Respected my place. I will never forgive him for this, I am sorry…” He gripped the writing implement again, tightening his fist around it.
She saw his reaction. She knew it was time. This would be one of the most difficult things she would ever do. “There is something else you do not know,” she said nervously.
His eyes went wide as he looked at her. He could not imagine what else had been kept from him.
“This was not entirely Assan’s fault,” she said.
“I know the other priests were involved…” he replied sharply.
She held up her hands. “That is not what I mean.” She regretted terribly how her next words would hurt him even more. She inhaled deeply. “Assan actually came to me three years ago. He told me he believed it was safe for me to return home.”
“What…?” Traeus asked, not sure he had heard her correctly. “I do not understand…” he said, frowning and shaking his head.
“Daddy, I could have returned three years ago, but I did not share Assan’s belief that the time had come. Something in me told me I had to stay where I was. I was not meant to come back here until now. Our people have gone through so much, but now I sense things are again at a crossroads. It was not because I did not want to return, because I did.”
Traeus stood up, thunderstruck. He could not fathom what he was hearing. She had freely chosen to remain lost to her family, to let them continue to hold onto the lie she had died. To be apart from them. It was incomprehensible. He felt his face grow red with anger, and his heart crack with pain and the depths of disappointment. He did not know his own daughter. “How could you…” he whispered, his emotions choking him.
Anjia stood as well.
Her father backed away from her. The look on his face was nearly too much for her to bear. He went to other side of the desk, as though it would protect him from any more emotional damage.
She felt tears well up again. “Daddy, please understand this was not done to hurt you, or to cause our family any more pain,” she pleaded with him.
He shook his head. He could not answer her.
“I had a premonition one night, and when I woke up, I knew then it was time to come home.” She had decided not to tell her father exactly what it was she had dreamt, though she had confided in Assan. Her father had enough to deal with at the moment, and she did not sense the danger was yet imminent. She had asked Assan to keep her confidence as well, which he had very reluctantly agreed to. He had not wanted to keep any more secrets from his King, but she had insisted.
“I do not know what to think,” he said, the hurt and anger evident in his voice. “How could you choose to remain separated from us for three more years? And Assan wanted to bring you home?” he asked incredulously. He turned away, walking to the window, then walking back. He was a jumble of emotions. Traeus did not know what to feel towards Assan now. The Head Priest had taken full responsibility for all of this when he did not have to. He could have laid some of the blame square at his daughter’s feet, but he chose not to.
“I am sorry, Daddy,” she replied.
He shook his head. “How many more secrets are there?” he asked, raising his voice. “Do you have any idea how painful this was for Tramen, for all of us? You just let us keep believing you were dead…”
“I am sorry, but you must trust that I did what I thought was right. I still do.”
He wanted to scream. “I cannot accept this, Anjia,” he stated heatedly. “Was I not a good enough father to you? Does your family mean so little to you?”
She shook her head, her heart broke seeing him like this. “No, of course not,” she said, now crying. “Please do not say such things. You must know none of that is true.”
“Right now, I do not think I know anything for certain.” His thoughts were erratic, he was confused, hurt.
She felt terrible. “Daddy, please put your doubt, your anger aside. Assan and I made these choices to protect this family. Every day we have had to live with the consequences of those decisions. Why would we choose to cause ourselves, our loved ones, such pain, such difficulty? We had to follow our inner voices, do what was necessary, regardless of the cost to ourselves and to others. We did it because we knew we must.”
He turned away from her.
“I love you Daddy. I wish you to be at peace with this. I am here now. I was well cared for, I was loved and now I am safe within your home again. Please remember that. Please find it in your heart, somehow, to forgive us.”
Chapter 15
Reacquaintance & Readjustment
TAKING some time to reacquaint herself with Palace life and things she had missed in her long absence in virtual exile, Anjia had asked to see the lion Amsara. She had thought of the majestic creature often, and missed him.
Odai, who was also the lion keeper, met the Princess at the Palace to escort her to the lion’s den, a short distance from the Palace, on the other side of the extensive Royal Gardens. Two Royal guards followed a respectful distance behind.
The Princess’ face lit up when she saw Odai. “Good day Odai!” she said, giving him a warm hug. “Thank-you for doing this, I have missed my old friend.”
“I am sure he has missed you as well,” he smiled. Odai had a kind face, and a gentle demeanor, and Anjia had always liked and always trusted him. Odai had found Amsara as an orphaned cub. He would surely have died if not for Odai’s insistence on taking him in and his commitment to caring for him.
“How is he doing?” the Princess asked.
“He is fine, doing as well as can be expected, but he is getting old. He is almost twenty years old now.” Odai looked sad as they walked towards the lions’ den. Anjia knew lions generally did not live much longer than that. She also knew of Odai’s deep bond with him.
They walked the rest of the way quietly chatting about the small events of their days. They reached the edge of the lion habitat. Odai had persuaded King Traeus to rebuild the lion’s home when the new Palace was constructed. The King had set aside three acres of land to provide some room for them to roam. A large pond was constructed, and the land contained a fish-filled stream that wound its way through as well. It was a lush area, frequented by many different species of birds, and filled with trees and soft grass and nice shady spots for lion naps.
As they neared the entrance of the enclosure, which had a series of interlocking doors for safety, Anjia felt Amsara’s presence – the life force of the creature that had saved her life, the one other being that shared the prophecy with her.
“Can you hear that?” Odai asked, smiling. “I think he knows you are here.”
Anjia grinned a wide grin. She could hear the big cat calling out, his voice deep and loud and guttural. “I cannot believe I am going to see him again, I have thought of him so many times over the years, picturing him in my mind.”
They entered the gates to a fenced-in area that surrounded the perimeter of the enclosure. The area was several feet deep. It allowed the various workers that Odai oversaw, to view and maintain the habitat.
