Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

  I looked to Jarik and saw immediately that he had witnessed the departure as well.

  “What’s to be done now?” I asked.

  “Come,” he said gently. “It looks as though they went into the map room. We shall wait for Kurit in the Council room. We won’t be intruding upon them, but we shall be close by if we’re needed.”

  The Council room was long and seemed very narrow with the enormous table that filled it. Numerous chairs were placed around the table with an ornately carved one at the head. I sat at Jarik’s insistence, and he took the seat beside me. We faced the door that joined the map room to the Council room.

  It was not long before the discussion next door had turned sufficiently ugly that we could hear the muffled shouts of anger from both parties. The sound chilled me for many reasons, greatest among them the knowledge that I was causing a terrible rift between a mother and her son.

  The door to the Hall opened behind us, and in walked King Tarken. With a polite nod to both of us, he took his seat in the ornate chair. He sat in silence, his hands folded neatly before him, his face unreadable.

  Over the next few minutes—which seemed as hours—the volume of their shouting grew enough that we could make out some of their words. I said a prayer in my mind to the Gods to please not have to hear their words, but the prayer went unanswered. We heard Queen Kasha roar that I had bewitched Kurit and that she had removed me from his sight for his own good. Kurit shouted back again and again that she had no right to send me away when she knew that he had chosen me to be his bride. The Queen argued that I had no honour, since I had promised her that I would deny him if he found me, and he spat back something about the insane efforts he had to go through to make me undo those promises.

  And so it went, back and forth, until I could bear it no longer. I rose to my feet and headed to the map room door.

  Jarik was instantly on his feet beside me. “Aenna, no. Do not go in there. Kurit can handle this.”

  “He shouldn’t have to!” I went to reach for the door, but Jarik held my arm firmly. “Jarik, I appreciate your desire to protect me, but I cannot sit here idly as they tear each other apart over me. I won’t sit by and be the cause of disaster without trying to do something to stop it!”

  I opened the door with the arm that he did not hold and entered as he finally let me go.

  There, on either side of the centre table, stood my beloved Kurit and his mother, both with eyes ablaze in fury, faces red from shouting. They turned to me as I entered.

  “Aenna, go. This is not your battle,” Kurit said with a hard edge to his voice that I knew was not directed at me.

  “It is my battle, Kurit. I will not let you suffer it alone on my behalf,” I said, their infectious anger filling me as well.

  “Listen to that,” Queen Kasha snarled. “She defies you already! Are you so blinded by her pretty face and tawdry offerings that you cannot see how she yearns to control you?”

  “Enough!” Kurit shouted, slamming the table with his fist, a horrific look on his face of anger and revulsion towards the Queen. The tendons of his neck stood out as he growled, “I will not stand here and let you abuse her!” And so the overlapping shouts of fury began again, ringing horribly in my ears.

  “Stop this, both of you!” I heard myself shout. The shock of my words stopped them both in mid-word, and they looked at me in sudden silence. Had I not been so furious at this display, I would have cowered under the Queen’s stare, but my anger drove my wild tongue to speak my mind.

  “Kurit, I dearly appreciate that you are defending me, but you must realize that your mother seeks to protect you. She doesn’t know me. She has every right and reason to suspect my motives, and it is up to me to prove myself worthy in her eyes. It is not right for you to be in a shouting match with your mother, let alone with the Queen! You cannot protect me from my duty to prove myself, and you cannot condemn her for wanting to protect her son and her kingdom!”

  I turned next to Queen Kasha, who I had hoped would hear what I had thought to be reasonable words and subsequently provide less resistance. But her eyes remained full of fury, and that enraged me anew. Fists clenched at my sides, I stood my ground and made my speech. “Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but Kurit has chosen me not because of bewitching or trickery on my part! I fought against his love though it almost killed me to do so. But he loves me—that you must accept and understand, and understand further that his love is such that without me he is less able to fulfill his duty. I am not some cheap trollop seeking the throne in an ill-conceived game of treachery and manipulation! I realize that I do not share his past of wealth and prestige, but he believes that I can rise above my roots to serve my kingdom well, and I swear to you now that I shall not rest as I endeavour to meet those expectations. Give me a chance and I shall prove myself to you, or banish me away and watch your son wallow in despair and fail his kingdom as a result!”

  My rapid tirade came to an abrupt end, and I stood facing her defiantly, fists still clenched at my sides, my chest heaving in breathlessness from the shouting.

  Queen Kasha’s eyes narrowed, and she snarled, “How dare you speak to me that way, you—”

  Before she could release another barrage of insults, King Tarken silenced her, having entered behind me. “That’s enough. All of you.” He moved closer to the centre of the room and looked quietly at each of us. I knew this was the moment of truth, that the King would make his decision. I could not guess his emotion by his face. With a quiet air of ultimate authority, he spoke.

  “This young woman has displayed dedication in warning Kurit about the approaching threat to his life. She has displayed bravery and strength in taking an arrow meant for our son. She has displayed a willingness to sacrifice her own desires in leaving Kurit but also demonstrated her love for him in coming back to face this scene, in which she has again demonstrated strength, wisdom, and confidence.

  “I am satisfied that she has proven herself worthy in Kurit’s eyes. I believe that he is not making decisions based on lust or infatuation. I have seen how he is unable to function well when she is not present, and that is his weakness to overcome, not hers. She may be less educated than I would prefer, but if my son truly wishes to wed her, she should be given the chance to learn that which she does not know. After all, I don’t plan to leave this world in the immediate future, so there is plenty of time for her to be tutored and gain some experience before she need apply it.”

  The King looked at me and asked, “Where have you been staying?”

  “She has been sequestered in the Temple, Majesty,” said Jarik.

  King Tarken turned to him and nodded. “Arrange for her belongings to be moved to the palace then, thank you, Jarik. Kurit, I leave it to you to arrange for the room that was to be hers some time ago to be prepared again for her and to ensure she has a maidservant immediately.”

  Kurit nodded and said, “We’ve already had Leiset working for her again as of this afternoon.”

  “Good,” the King said and turned again to me. “Leiset will introduce you to Kordos, the tutor. He will assess what you need to learn, and you can set up your own schedule with him.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, bowing my head in deferential gratitude.

  The Queen began again to protest, but King Tarken cut her off. “I appreciate your feelings, Kasha, but I think it would be best if you excused yourself until you have regained your composure. My decision is made, and it is final. Now, I am going to my workroom. I do not wish to be disturbed by any reports of spats or shouting, so everyone here had best learn to accept my decision and coexist well with each other.”

  Queen Kasha fixed me with a glare, and I regretted that the King had chastised her in front of me. I knew very well that she had no intention of accepting me in the immediate future. The King watched her leave, and for the first time I saw a flicker of emotion cross his face; it was a fatigued frustration. He took his leave shortly thereafter.

  I sighed, lettin
g the anger and worry roll away from my body. I felt relieved that the wedding would go ahead, but the fight left me too exhausted to properly enjoy the good news.

  “I believe Leiset brought your belongings when we left the Temple earlier,” Jarik said quietly. “I shall find her and confirm that, then have her help me prepare your room. That will give both of you some quiet time alone here together. I think you both need that.”

  I managed to smile at Jarik for his kind understanding as Kurit said, “Thank you.”

  Jarik left, closing the door behind him softly.

  Kurit looked as tired as I felt. He reached out to me and whispered, “Come, I haven’t held you in days.” I fell into his warm embrace; it was paradise after the storm that had passed.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that for me,” I whispered.

  He said nothing, just kissed my forehead and held me tight. After some time he stood back from me, holding my hands.

  “There is no battle I would not fight for you,” he said earnestly. “This was awful, I admit, but I really wish for you to understand and believe that it pales in comparison to the misery I felt when you were gone. I have not suffered loss often in my life—I have told you that before. Not knowing where you were, if you were safe …” He closed his eyes wearily and sighed. “That was true torture, even more so than not being able to hold and kiss you. What happened here was unpleasant but tolerable.”

  He pulled me back to him and kissed me softly, both of us lacking the energy for passion and seeking only comfort instead.

  “The battle is over now, though. Mother will come around. She has little other choice.” He smiled, eyes drooping but still alight with affection. “We will be wed. We’ve won, Aenna. Our prize is a glorious future, shared together. There could be no greater joy.”

  Chapter 8

  THE FOLLOWING DAYS were so busy with changes, plans, and decisions to be made that I hardly had a moment to spare a thought for the Queen’s ire. I met with Kordos, a grim little man with the hard-edged accent of someone from the southeast. He evaluated my initial knowledge and grunted about the amount of work that would be necessary. He devised a rigorous schedule for my education, and we began immediately.

  When I was not in lessons, I was being fitted for clothes. The tailor was an odd fellow who made incomprehensible jokes that amused him and no one else. Still, his work was brilliant, and I was continually delighted with the fare Leiset brought me to try on.

  Delighted, that is, until the day she brought me the corset. I resisted, but she said it was what all the proper ladies wore. I told her that Kurit had told me he despised the things, and she replied that men had no sense of fashion.

  I acquiesced to allow her at least to put the wretched thing on me. “What sort of ridiculous fashion dictates such discomfort?” I asked as she pulled the laces excruciatingly tight.

  “It started a generation ago, at the end of the war with Wusul. Mei-Enkos, the Wusul Queen, or whatever they call them up there, she gave one to Lady Senseh of Asune. Lady Senseh was considered to be very beautiful, and when she wore it to events, other women decided they wanted them too. Now it’s considered rather barbaric to not wear one,” Leiset explained.

  “How foolish. Every child in Keshaerlan knows it is the Wusul who are barbarians. Wretched slavers, they are,” I grumbled, wincing as she continued to lace the thing upwards.

  “Well, the rest of the ladies don’t bother to think about it.”

  “I’m noticing that the rest of the ladies don’t bother to think at all,” I retorted. Indeed, in my brief experiences with those who were to be my peers, I had noticed a proclivity for lazy talk of fashion and art with no intention to even consider social, economic, or political matters. In fact, it seemed a rude thing amongst their numbers to discuss anything of intellectual merit.

  “Proper ladies let their husbands think for them,” muttered Leiset. “Which is why I am happy to never be wed.”

  “Hmph,” I muttered in kind. “Kurit better not except such mindlessness from me. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Aenna,” said Leiset as she finished encasing my poor body in the tomb-like device, “I suspect that the entire reason he pursued you so fervently was because he couldn’t bear the thought either. As long as I’ve lived in this palace—which is a good long time—it has been obvious to myself and many others that the Prince greatly disdains most of what makes a ‘proper’ lady. He is a scoundrel, and I know it borders on treason to say so, but I know also that you are aware of it. He’s a harmless scoundrel, but a scoundrel nonetheless. He likes his wine, he likes to dance and be joyous, and he jests about everything. I imagine he fell in love with you because you are a living, thinking, active woman, and all he’s ever known are bland, tea-sipping aristocrats. Now, how does the corset feel?”

  “Hideous,” I complained. “It pinches my back, and the bones are poking me. It’s hard to breathe. If I ate so much as a spoonful of anything, I would surely be sick, my stomach is so cramped. I feel encased in stone, and my breasts ache. They feel like they’re being squeezed so that they’ll pop out of my back.”

  Leiset started to laugh at the image, but I was in too much discomfort to be merry. “It’s not funny. It’s despicable.” I sighed, as much as one could breathe enough to sigh whilst wearing a corset. “Help me get one of the dresses on. I’ll go find Kurit and see if he even notices the difference. If he doesn’t, I’m not wearing it. How can I possibly concentrate on my lessons if I’m too busy being uncomfortable?”

  She helped me into a dress and laced it up in back snugly to fit my cramped waist. I grumbled again, and we went to find Kurit.

  We found him in one of the parlours, deep in conversation with his father, Jarik, and another man I thought I remembered to be Lord Mishkel of Felean. With pleasantries aside, I asked if I could speak privately with Kurit for a moment. He rose and bade Leiset and me to join him in the other adjoining parlour.

  Closing the door behind himself, he quickly asked, “What is it? What’s wrong? Aenna, are you ill?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then why do you look so unwell? Did you injure yourself?” He embraced me in concern and immediately discerned the problem. “Oh,” he sighed. “They’ve got you in one of those traps, have they?”

  “A corset is appropriate dress for a lady, Your Highness,” Leiset said.

  “It’s appropriate dress for someone with no sense,” he said snidely. He looked me over and said, “Nothing could diminish your beauty, my love, but wearing that thing …truly, you look as though there’s something wrong with you.”

  “Because there is. It feels awful,” I confessed.

  “Then don’t wear it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Kurit, I don’t want to. But I don’t want to stir trouble either.”

  “You mean you don’t want to add another apparent fault for my mother to pounce upon.”

  I didn’t answer but gave him a clear look of agreement.

  “Aenna, really, I don’t mean to insult you at all, but I hate it. You look like an unhappy, pinched sausage.”

  The absurd image made us all laugh, though I could barely do so since my chest could not expand properly. “I shall not wear it again,” I said. “I don’t care who disapproves, as long as you don’t think I look fat and slovenly.”

  “Of course not, Aenna,” he said, smiling handsomely. “I sincerely hope your beauty without the wretched thing begins a new trend to cast them aside.” He kissed my hand in a gentlemanly fashion under Leiset’s scrutinizing eye, and we left him.

  Upon returning to my chambers, I had Leiset remove the awful thing as fast as she could. Then I took a pleasantly full breath and asked her to discard it far from my sight. “I never want to see it again,” I said happily.

  * * *

  During one of my rare times of leisure, Jarik, Kurit, and I sat in the parlour and discussed what plans were being made for the wedding day. The ceremony would take place in the morning, and of
course in the afternoon there would be the tournament, which Jarik clearly intended to win. In fact, he promised me that he would, certain that no one would best him and determined not to allow any other man usurp the duty he had more or less already decided was his.

  “And after you’ve licked your wounds from the tournament—” Kurit began in jest, only to hop out of his chair and leap halfway across the room when Jarik reached to give him a whack for the remark. Kurit laughed behind me, and he must have made some sort of rude gesture because Jarik leapt out of his chair and locked his arm around Kurit’s neck. He dragged Kurit pathetically back to their chairs, dumping the Prince into his seat.

  Kurit rubbed his neck and said, “Mindless thug.”

  “Scrawny worm.”

  “Overgrown lout.”

  I laughed, and Kurit gave me a mock pout. “Both of you are such children!” I said with a smile.

  “One of us grew up enough to not resort to violence,” Kurit teased again, and Jarik’s arm flashed out to pinch Kurit. Kurit tried to avoid the attack and ended up falling out of his chair rather hard.

  Jarik’s demeanour changed in an instant. He had been causing Kurit embarrassing little pains, but when his cousin fell, Jarik was instantly at his side to help him up. It was rather sweet, in a twisted, brotherly fashion.

  “I’m fine,” Kurit muttered. He didn’t seem annoyed with Jarik half as much as he was embarrassed at being so clumsy. They both took their seats again.

  “Careful with him,” I said to Jarik. “I can’t marry him if he’s broken.”

  “I’m delighted that you have such faith in my strength and masculinity,” Kurit mocked.

  “Be glad she speaks for you, little upstart, for if she asks me to cease giving you the thrashings you so rightly earn, I shall cease indeed.” Jarik looked as though he was trying not to smile as he added, “How fortunate of you to have a woman who can defend you.”

  Kurit rolled his eyes as though he was enduring endless suffering. “None of you respect me in the slightest,” he whined, pretending to wipe a tear from his face.