Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

  I could hear Leiset sobbing in the next room, as I had not closed the door. Then came the announcements around the palace, people of every station calling out, “The King is dead! The King is dead!” The sound of them threatened to drive me mad, so I put a pillow over my head to silence them.

  After some time—perhaps ten minutes, perhaps two hours—I felt someone sit on my bed beside me. I felt a strong hand on my back, caressing my sob-sore muscles. I thought it was Kurit and was quite shocked when I lifted the pillow from my face to see Jarik there.

  “I must look an awful sight,” I said.

  He did not speak. He simply reached his hand to my cheek and with his thumb brushed away the tracks of my tears.

  “Where are the others?”

  “I don’t know. They’re not my concern.”

  I moved to sit up beside him. I rubbed at my wet cheeks and eyes, trying to compose myself. My throat and head hurt.

  Jarik rose for a moment to take a clean handkerchief from my dressing table and hand it to me. He sat beside me again. I could not look at him.

  “You should be concerned for Kurit. He’s your cousin and best friend.”

  Jarik sighed. “Kurit’s best friend is in a bottle. I have spoken with him several times, but as you warned me, he denies it and hides it, as though he were hiding a lover.”

  I put my face in my hands and sighed.

  “Oh, Aenna, that was stupid phrasing. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, I know you didn’t. But that’s precisely what it’s like.”

  “I’m doing a fine job of comforting you, aren’t I?”

  I leaned over and let my head rest on his shoulder. “You are simply speaking of a truth that neither of us can control. I’d rather hear that from you than patronizing lies. So, what’s to be done now then?”

  “There will be a memorial service, and then the King will be entombed at the royal crypt just outside the city. Then you and Kurit shall be crowned.”

  “And what’s to be done with Kurit? His father asked me to stop his drinking. How in the name of the Temple do I do that?” Fresh, fat tears dribbled down my cheeks as I felt an acute sense of failure.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps his new role and responsibilities will force him to evaluate his behaviour and stop himself. I don’t know what else to—”

  Jarik’s words were cut off by a sudden, loud tolling of bells from every direction. I clamped my hands over my ears in shock.

  “It is the bells in the towers,” he shouted over the din. “They are rung when the ruling King or Queen has died to spread the official word.”

  I immediately thought of my poor infant son and how the sound must terrify the child. I ran out of my chambers with Jarik close on my heels. I was in the nursery in a matter of seconds, assuming Kurit would have brought his son back there. Sure enough, Lyenta was trying to soothe the poor child as he screamed from the noise. I took him from her and sat in a rocking chair with him, holding him to me and covering his small head with my hands. He howled all during the chorus of ominous bells and for some time after.

  Jarik stood in the doorway the whole time, watching us, a look of dismay on his face.

  * * *

  There was no formal dinner in the Great Hall that night, nor would there be until a new King sat on the throne. I was told dinner would be brought to my room, but I made sure to inform the maid not to bother to bring me any food, as I felt too awful to eat. I suspected I would not be the only one in the palace who lacked appetite that night.

  When I had dressed for bed, I knocked softly on the door between my bedchamber and Kurit’s. I heard him mutter something that may have been an invitation to come in, so I opened it. He sat at his dressing table with his back to me, a glass in one hand and a decanter in the other. The decanter was almost empty.

  He caught my eye in his mirror. “Don’t complain about this, Aenna. Tonight I need it.”

  “I understand, Kurit. I didn’t come to nag. I came offering and seeking comfort. I thought perhaps I would stay with you here tonight.”

  He lowered his head and muttered, “I’d rather be alone.”

  I was certainly in no mood to press the issue, though the thought did enter my mind to remind him of his many promises to never again leave my side when I had returned from the abduction. Instead, I turned and went back to the door.

  “Besides,” he grumbled after me, “I don’t see what you’re all upset about. He was my father, not yours.”

  I stopped, stunned at his awful words. I turned back to him. His head was still lowered, almost planted in his glass. “I still cared for him!” I said, aghast. “He was the closest thing to a father that I ever had. I can’t believe you could even say something so cruel to me, Kurit.”

  I turned again and was halfway through the door when I heard him call to me. “Aenna, wait.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was standing and facing me now. I turned around in the doorframe to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking very weak, like a wilted plant. “It was cruel. I’m just so …” He shook his head, his eyes closed in tired anguish. “You were there, a convenient target. I’m not upset with you, and that was really wrong of me to say. I’m liable to be this way all night. That’s why you should leave me alone. It’s not that I don’t want you with me, it’s just that I can barely handle this all myself. If I feel weak enough to lean on you or worse, feel as though I’m too weak to have you lean on me, Aenna, I just can’t take that right now. You should go, before I say something else that I don’t mean.”

  I nodded, turned, and left, closing the door softly behind me. I jumped when a moment later I heard the sound of glass shattering in his room. It sounded as though he had hurled his glass against the stone of the fireplace. I considered going back to make sure he was all right, but I knew Gilrin would already be there doing so, and my presence might make him feel worse.

  I sat at the foot of my bed. I wanted to grieve for the King, but I feared the sound of my crying would disturb Kurit further, and I so wanted to be strong for him. I decided to go somewhere where I would not be heard, and the only place I could think of was one of the towers.

  I left my rooms, and in doing so recalled that I had promised Jarik never to go off somewhere without telling him in person first, lest I be discovered missing. I went quietly down the hall to his door and rapped softly. I knew he wouldn’t hear me if he were sleeping, and for once I wished he wasn’t so stubborn about not having a manservant. He felt strongly that a warrior should be able to live alone and care for himself, and any manservant who had been assigned to him in the past had found himself locked out every night.

  Just as I began to walk quietly away, the door opened, and there he stood in dark cotton pants and an unlaced shirt.

  “I barely heard you,” he whispered.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. Come in.”

  I let him take my hand and lead me into his receiving room. “I just came to tell you I’m going up to the tower. Leiset is asleep, and if she finds me not in my bed she’ll assume I’m with Kurit. But I promised you I would never disappear somewhere without telling you.”

  He nodded in thanks and asked, “Why are you going to the tower?”

  “I just need to have time to grieve, and I don’t want Kurit to have to hear me. He’s very upset, and I won’t burden him further.”

  Jarik closed the door. “He won’t hear you in here. There’s no need to go up to the tower. It’s cold and dark up there at night. You’ll find little comfort there.”

  “Jarik, you are good to me, but I cannot bear to burden you, either. I did not come seeking an invitation to stay.”

  “I know that. You would rather suffer alone than let me comfort you. You’re like a man, Aenna, the way you try to keep your emotions hidden. But it is no burden to me to comfort a friend who has lost a loved one. And to be quite honest, and likely less the man for admitting it, I could use company myself. I loved him as a fa
ther, too.”

  He embraced me as my tears began to spill. After Kurit’s spiteful words, this man’s arms were a welcome comfort. I laid my head on his chest and cried into him as he cradled my head in his hand as Kurit once had. He moved to the couch, and I followed in his arms. There we sat in each other’s arms well into the night as we quietly grieved the loss of the good King.

  Chapter 15

  KURIT’S DRINKING EASED somewhat after we were crowned as King and Queen of Keshaerlan. He still seemed to require it in order to sleep, but new tasks to occupy his mind kept him sober more so than any words from Jarik or myself. Kurit attacked every responsibility head on, determined to focus on anything other than his own emotions.

  Unfortunately, his more frequent sobriety did not return him to being the husband I had known before the abduction. Nowhere to be found was the jovial, adorable man who had teased me and easily expressed his love. He became irritable when interrupted, especially when I was the interruption. I suspected the sight of me reminded him of the emotions he was endeavouring to push aside.

  I was determined not to be childish and weep over him. I had a son to care for who adored me and never failed to grant me a chubby little smile and happy giggle when I took the time to play with him. I clung to Raelik’s love as a pillar of strength against all that threatened to depress me.

  Kurit’s quest to become buried in work led him soon to take on responsibilities that were not his own. He began taking records I was to maintain from what was now my workroom. When I would question him on it, he would mutter that he was able to handle it and not to worry myself.

  It was tempting to view his actions as a slight against my abilities or intelligence, but I knew better. We both knew that I was more than capable and intelligent enough to do what I had to and more. His mad quest for administrative duty was not sufficient to make me doubt myself as perhaps I would have before we were married.

  Instead, he found enough other ways to jab at me with small slights and insults, all in a clear effort to keep me away. His ensuing apologies for these comments became less and less common.

  I could have put myself into my rooms and wept, but I was not about to do so. I thought, Fine, let him behave so. I shall go out to the city, and when he misses my presence long enough, he shall come to me. I shall not indulge his little games of Poor-Tortured-King.

  So I took to walking about the city with Jarik and, at my Champion’s insistence, a few guards. I had not spent much time in Endren before. It was a lovely city with great houses that had elegantly carved columns and carefully arranged little front gardens. Being out of the palace allowed me to clear my mind and forget that Kurit brooded within its walls.

  Those walks seemed good for Jarik as well. I caught him many times smiling at me when he thought that I could not see him. I’d catch a glimpse of his reflection in a window, or I’d turn about quickly and there he would be, looking at me with a happy fondness. He became my dearest friend, and I knew that I could count on him for anything. Looking back, I realize I knew then that he was in love with me, but I chose to ignore it for the obvious complications of such a thing.

  Within a few weeks, I began to realize Jarik and the guards were always finding ways to steer me clear of the eastern end of the city. Whenever I asked why, one of them would provide a vague, often illogical excuse and then try to redirect my attention elsewhere. Not wanting to cause a public scene, I played along for a few days.

  Then one afternoon as we set out, I began to walk due east. Jarik tried several times to direct me north or south, but I politely refused, as though I had not noticed this strange little dance of diversion.

  Finally, he said, “Aenna, we’re not going that way.”

  “Why not? What’s there that you don’t want me to see?”

  “That’s not a particularly pleasant part of the city, nor is it safe for a lady.”

  I laughed. “You’ll recall that I have only been worthy of that description since I married Kurit. I have not become fragile behind these nice dresses, Jarik. I’m quite sure I can deal well with whatever lurks in that direction.” I tried to walk east again, but he held my arm to stop me.

  “It’s not safe for you there, Aenna.”

  I looked at his sincere face but refused to let him dissuade me. “Well, if it’s so very dangerous then you had better accompany me.” I snapped my arm out of his grasp—which I knew I was only able to do because he allowed it—and continued on my way. I was determined more than ever to discover what I was being shielded from.

  It is broad daylight after all, I thought to myself. There are no political upheavals brewing of which anyone is aware. People in the city seem generally happy, so what reason would anyone have to harm me, knowing full well that it would be their own death to do so?

  Jarik ran to catch up with me and walked closely beside me. I glanced at his face—oh, he was angry! But he focused his anger to be watchful of all that was around us instead of wasting his time arguing with me. The guards also became more alert and ran to surround me.

  As the streets wound around the buildings, I saw them quickly go from proud homes and businesses to run-down hovels and seedy-looking establishments. I slowed my pace, aghast when we reached the far east end. There, the shacks were actually piled on top of each other. They were built right up against the city wall, making use of every available space. Old men sat in the shadows, some begging. Harried-looking women chased after ragged children. Merchants called to sell their small stocks of wares, which seemed of passable quality, but few people were buying. Infants cried in the arms of old women who stared into space.

  The entire area had the wretched smell of decay and waste, and it was only the typical eastward-bound winds that removed the smell away from the rest of the city. Wherever I looked there were people, crowded together, either busily working at apparently fruitless endeavours or, having given up, sitting and staring at me with sad eyes.

  I had seen poor people before—I had been one myself—but never in such a miserable state. Poor farmers tending their fields, poor travellers come to beg to sleep in the inn’s barn, and even poor merchant families with ragged children had been common to me in the past. But this sight of filth, decay, and degradation was more wretched than anything I had beheld before. I felt very spoiled and naïve standing there, watching them.

  “Aenna, this is not a place for you,” Jarik said, trying to turn me around that we might return to the nicer parts of Endren.

  “How can this exist?” I asked. “How can this fine city have such squalor? I have been poor but never like this. Who are these people that they are allowed to live like this?”

  “They are the servants, the drudges, and their families. They are the merchants who never make it to wealthy success. They are the city poor, Aenna. And it is not safe for you to be here.”

  I flashed him a look of fury. “Oh, Jarik, really! Look at them. Do you see a hand raised in anger at my presence? They would no sooner harm me than slit their own throats.” I turned back to those who were looking at me curiously and saw them return to their work or idleness.

  “This is utter nonsense,” I said, storming back towards the palace. Jarik and the guards scrambled to catch up to me as I wound my way back through the twisting streets. I walked briskly in my anger, soon to stomp up the palace stairs into the Great Hall and directly through it to Kurit’s workroom.

  My husband sat at his great wooden desk, deep in thought over a records book. My abrupt entrance startled him, and I began speaking before he could distract me with a condescending comment.

  “What in the Temple’s name is that disaster in the east end of this city? How long have people lived there like that? Why can’t I see that from the palace? Is it shut out of view intentionally so that the so-very-beleaguered nobility will not have to trouble themselves with the awful sight? How can you allow your people to live like that?” I shouted.

  The door closed behind me as Jarik entered. I ignored him. Kurit w
as too stunned to reply, so I continued my barrage. “I won’t hear any excuses in this. It is abominable that we have such filth and poverty in the capital city of all places! There is no reason for it. How can you all sit comfortably by and pretend it does not exist?” I turned to Jarik. “And you! All of this time you have escorted me around this oh-so-fair city, deliberately keeping me from learning about that area. You knew that I’d be horrified, didn’t you? How could you keep something like that from me?”

  My voice shook with bitter outrage, and I looked back and forth between them. “You both grew up and live now in your precious palace, adorned with elegant clothes and so handsome in your expensive armour. But what kind of man fills his belly every night while he allows people to suffer not a ten-minute walk away?”

  “Aenna, that’s enough!” Kurit shouted as though I were a belligerent child. He had risen from his seat, his white-knuckled hands leaning on the desk. “What would you have us do, move all of the poor into the palace? You’re being ridiculously oversensitive.”

  “Oversensitive?” I repeated in fury. “Pardon me, Your Majesty, for having a heart for someone besides myself! Of course they can’t all live in the palace. I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, but thank you kindly for insinuating that I’m a stupid woman lacking any sense.”

  “Well, that’s how you sound, marching in here and making these wild declarations!” Kurit shouted back.

  “And what would you have me do? Forget them? Ignore them? Go and play in the gardens and pretend all is well outside these walls?”

  “The poor make their own lives,” Kurit snapped. He sat back down and grumbled, “If they want to better their situation, let them go ahead and do so. Nobody is stopping them.”

  My fiery anger halted as my heart was frozen by his words. “Is that so?” I said coldly. “Splendid, Kurit, just splendid. Did you ever even listen to me, back when we used to actually speak to one another? Did I somehow fail to demonstrate that being poor is not equivalent to laziness? Is this what you’re saying now, that I was a barmaid because I lacked the tenacity to improve my situation, until the great Prince came along to sweep me into his lofty palace?”