Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

“And now?” I heard Jarik ask.

  “It’s the worst thing in the world to know with a clear, sober head what I’ve done. I loathe myself for doing this to her.”

  Hearing that, I loathed myself in kind. I should not have let him convince me to return with him from Mikilrun. Kasha had been right after all—I was destroying this man, though I had not intended to do so.

  “Close the door,” I said to Leiset. “Close it now. I can’t bear to hear any more.”

  Leiset closed and locked the door as I put my face in my hands and wept. She came to me and put her kind arms around me. “Aenna, don’t cry. It sounds as though he’s going to make things better now. Kurit’s finally woken from his drunkenness, Aenna.”

  A few minutes later there came a knock at the door. “It’s Jarik. Kurit has left, so you can open the door,” came Jarik’s voice from the hall.

  Leiset rose and opened the door to admit him. He glared at her sternly as he entered and said, “You haven’t fooled me, Leiset. You were told to lock that door when I left. I could see you peeking through it the whole time.”

  “Don’t be cross with her, Jarik,” I muttered sadly. “I asked her to keep it open. I wanted to hear what was said in case things became violent.”

  He turned his frustrated glance upon me, but seeing me in tears, his face quickly softened to a look of concern. He asked Leiset to leave us alone as he took my hand. “Come, Aenna. Sit with me.” I rose and let him gently guide me to the couch. He held me there for a long time, but I felt no comfort in his touch. Instead, I felt guilt for having so loved his touch before. I felt that I had betrayed my husband in such thoughts, and knowing now that Kurit had suffered over me, my crime seemed enormous.

  I reached out in my mind for that numbness but could no longer find it. I felt empty and alone. Even Jarik’s obvious adoration could not fill the void in my soul. He spoke to me with words of kind reassurance, but I did not hear him. I pretended to respond though I knew full well I must have made little sense.

  When finally I had the presence of mind to look at Jarik, to really behold him, I saw before me a strong man weakened by love. There sat a warrior with tears on his shoulder, when he should have been off on some noble quest or other. There sat a good man with love in his heart for me, when he should have been loving a woman who could be with him as he so deserved.

  The notion that I was ruining his life as well took hold of my mind, and I could not think it away. The night that I had arrived at the outpost seemed now a curse on two good men. I should have gone off on my own after warning them. At the very least, the arrow I took at the gates of Endren should have struck my heart and saved us all this ridiculous performance of love and pain, I thought.

  Emotional and physical exhaustion consumed me, though my pleasant numbness still could not be reached. I asked Jarik to leave me alone, and when he honoured my request, I locked the doors to the bedchamber. I fell into the bed and drifted into a troubled sleep.

  When I awoke in the middle of the night, it was to a clear, single-minded purpose. I rose from the bed and, discovering I was still wearing the simple gown I had put on before Kurit’s arrival, I changed instead into the finest dress that I had brought with me. It was one of my favourites, a deep blue cloth with edges embroidered in gold. The sleeves puffed gently at the shoulders and were cropped just above the elbow. It was an elegant summer dress, and I felt very regal when I wore it.

  I sat at the dresser and slowly undid the messed hairstyle. I brushed my hair for a long time, feeling at ease for the first time in as long as I could remember. I was not numb, and I was not happy. But I felt a strange sense of peace in my decision to remove myself from the lives of Kurit and Jarik as I should have been removed before I had done so much damage.

  For that was what I believed in those moments as I brushed and braided my hair: that whether caused by love or jealousy or worry or loss, my presence had brought pain to the people I loved. As I write now, I think back to that night and wonder how I possibly could have been so foolish as to take on such responsibility when I had scolded both Kurit and Jarik for the very same mistake in terms of my abduction. But the fact remains that I believed that I was the cause of everyone’s sorrow. I imagined myself quite rational at the time, unaware of just how close to madness I was.

  My hair braided, I rose from the dresser and looked about the darkened room. I felt guilty for leaving a mess for poor Leiset to clean up, so I quickly made up the bed and straightened out my things in an orderly fashion. It seemed the proper thing to do.

  I wrote a quick note, unable to see my script well in the darkness. It was brief, saying only that I felt I had to go in order to set things right and that I loved them all. I asked them not to weep for me, though I knew even then that such a request had little hope of being granted.

  Very quietly, I unlocked and opened the door to the hall. I peered outside, suspecting that Jarik might be there. He was not. The lantern left lit in the hallway banished the shadows sufficiently that I could see his chamber door was closed.

  I walked slowly and quietly to the room where my dear child slept, his nurse on a cot beside him. As silently as possible, I went to say goodbye to my son. He slept soundly, a thankful state which I attributed to Jarik’s kind attentions. I kissed softly his sweet little head and almost wept at the thought of not seeing him grow. But I had convinced myself that my presence was a detriment to him as well, bearing in my mind the image of his distraught face that morning. It broke my heart to think that he would be upset and not understand why I had to go, but truly, in that moment I felt I was giving him the best life possible by sparing him further witness to my own agony.

  I left the room, sad but determined to do what I felt in that moment was right.

  I crept through the hall and down the stairs. I went very slowly, putting each footfall down lightly at first to prevent creaking that would alert Jarik. I was not in a rush.

  Slowly, carefully, I pulled back the bolts of the front door and lifted the latch. The soft, inevitable click sounded loud, and I held my breath to hear if a sound of movement would come from Jarik’s room above. I heard nothing, and so I continued on.

  When finally I was outside and closing the door behind me, I felt a sense of peaceful freedom. I hurried down the steps and away from the cottage, towards the bluffs some distance away.

  The night air was somewhat chilly, and the darkness of the cloudy night frightened me a little. Then I realized how ridiculous it was to be afraid of creatures in the night when I was on my way to die. Still, every time I heard a sound, I shuddered and moved my feet faster.

  After about twenty minutes, I caught sight of the mountain on the other side of the gorge. The light was very thin, but I could see its outline against the sky.

  When I was perhaps fifty paces from the edge of the bluffs, a voice behind me made me leap in fright.

  “Aenna, what are you doing?” came Jarik’s words.

  My heart raced. It seemed that he had heard me after all and had followed me. The noises I had heard and assumed to be the stirrings of night creatures must have been him. I stopped walking for a moment when he startled me, but with a sudden determination, I kept going.

  “Aenna!” he called, but I kept moving. “Aenna, no!” he cried, and I heard him coming up fast behind me.

  I ran with every bit of energy I had in me. I ran towards the precipice, already weeping that he would have to witness this. I had so wanted to go and not be found! With only five or six running paces left to go before the edge, I felt his enormous hands grip my right arm and wrench me backwards. The force of it flung me back to the ground so hard the wind was knocked out of me.

  I gasped in a desperate breath and tried again to reach my final goal. But Jarik was already upon me, his arms gripping me tightly and preventing me from moving forward. I tried desperately to wriggle out of his hold but to no avail. I clawed madly at the ground, digging out great handfuls of grass and dirt in a vain attempt to get to the e
dge of the bluff.

  I heard his voice, shouting at me, no doubt begging me to stop what I was doing, but it was all a mad cacophony punctuated by my own screams, which sounded as though they came from very far away.

  I beat my dirt-caked fists against his arms and chest and even his face. I began to claw at him, so he pinned me to the ground by putting his knee on my thigh and grabbing my wrists painfully.

  “Stop, Aenna!” he shouted. Then he bellowed at me, his words echoing throughout the gorge: “Aenna, don’t do this to me!”

  I fell limp at the accusation of hurting him. He let go of my wrists and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me to him and cradling me there. I think that I began sobbing, and I think also that Jarik spoke to me, but I can’t honestly recall, for my soul had left me and I felt as though I was dead in his arms. I do remember his warm tears falling on my forehead and imagining that they must have felt so warm because my skin was already cold from death.

  And then came my blessed numbness. Everything else was gone. I felt neither pain nor joy, neither sorrow nor relief. I was empty of all life and no longer could hear Jarik’s litany of heartache and love. I was not sure if my eyes were open or closed, for it was so dark around me. Everything was as nothing.

  The next thing of which I was aware was the sound of a knock at a door. I opened my eyes to see the canopy of the bed at the cottage. I let my head fall to the side and could see Jarik at the door to the other bedchamber, where Leiset had been sleeping. I heard Jarik ask Leiset to get up and help him. I expected myself to feel guilty to realize that Leiset would be mortified when she learned what I had tried to do, but I could not make myself feel anything. I could not make myself lift my hands.

  I knew myself to be alive, for I could hear my own breath. It sounded strange, as if it were not a part of me.

  Leiset opened the door and entered. Jarik said something about me being very ill, and she rushed to my side. I saw her but could not truly behold her. It was as if I was imagining her there and knew better than to interact with a false vision. Yet I knew her to be real. The conundrum of it went in circles in my mind.

  “Why is she wearing this dress?” Leiset asked. She took my hand and asked, “Why are her hands full of dirt? Aenna, what is this?” I could not rationalize her existence enough to answer.

  “Don’t worry about that right now, Leiset. Help me clean her up and get her changed into a nightdress.”

  “Aenna, I can see that you’re awake. Do tell me what’s happened, please.”

  “She hasn’t spoken a word since I brought her home.”

  “Where was she?”

  “Never mind that now.” He rolled my dress up to my hips and lifted me to a sitting position. “Take the dress from her, Leiset.”

  “Aenna, why do you stare so? Aenna, please, say something!”

  “Leiset, just get her undressed!”

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong with her!” She touched my face. Her hands were warm. I think that I wanted to answer her, but it was as though someone had taken all of the words I knew and cut them into ribbons and then scattered them about my head in a great cloud of confusion. And still I felt nothing.

  “Leiset, she tried to kill herself. There’s no time to weep and fret about it now. Help me get her changed and into bed. Then we shall have to care for her and watch her every minute. She is not to be left alone. Do you hear me, Leiset?”

  Leiset was weeping. I could not feel for her.

  “Leiset, she needs you to be strong now. Come, help me!”

  As they changed my clothes and washed the dirt from my hands, I blinked and fell back into the numb void, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, and not caring if I ever did again.

  Chapter 21

  MY MIND WAS locked in nothingness for several days. I was unable to speak even during the rare moments of clarity I experienced between long periods of disassociation. Words slipped through my mind as water does through one’s fingers; I could not hold them long enough to put them together. I found it difficult at times even to move, as though my very flesh had become as wood.

  Much of the time passed without my notice. I am to this day unaware of what happened during those times. I do not know if I wept or spoke or moved. I had only brief encounters with reality. From time to time I would come back into my own mind and find myself dressed and seated on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket on the couch or perhaps tucked into my bed. I didn’t know how I got to wherever I was, and would be momentarily disoriented and frightened.

  Then I would always catch sight of Jarik. No matter where I found myself nor what time of day or night I awoke from my stupor, I would be aware of his presence. During the days he would most often be close beside me, holding my hand or perhaps with his hand gently on my arm or shoulder. At night I would be aware that he was in a chair right beside my bed, sometimes sleeping softly, other times watching me intently. His consistent presence came to symbolize to me a rope to reality, a tenuous but unbroken link to sanity.

  I wanted so very much to reach out to him, but every time my mind became coherent enough to form that thought, the curtain of numbness would sweep back over me protectively. For to reach for him meant to experience again my sorrows, and my mind simply would not allow it.

  Then one afternoon I came out of my numb stupor to find myself seated in a chair with an odd-looking woman staring at me. I did not recognize the pale, thin creature before me until I noticed she had an ugly blue-green patch on her cheek and under her eye. Only then did I realize I was seated before the mirror of the dressing table and in fact looking at myself. I was hideous. Wretchedly, disgustingly hideous. I looked much older than I ought to have, and my face was bony and hard. Though the features were not a match, I reminded myself of Kasha. I looked like a tired old woman, not a young mother and wife.

  Yet I could feel nothing at the sight. I knew I ought to have been revolted, upset, or at least mildly concerned, for I looked quite starved with my hollow cheeks. But there was still nothing. No sorrow was allowed to be brought to the surface.

  I became aware of a tugging at my hair. I looked up in the mirror and saw that Jarik stood behind me, my hair in one hand and a brush in the other. He was slowly pulling the brush through my hair over and over as though he was in a stupor of his own. He would gather the hair in his hand gently, sometimes running his hand against the back of my neck, and then let the hair tumble from his fingers as the brush passed through it.

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as he brushed. I realized after a few minutes that I was actually experiencing something other than numbness. There was a sensation there, and it was a relaxed bliss. I had always loved the feeling of having my hair brushed and pinned by Leiset when she would insist on helping me with the more complicated styles. I would tell her that I felt silly and pampered to let her work with my hair, but in truth I had always delighted in it. It was one of the most soothing experiences I had ever known.

  As Jarik continued to stroke the brush through my hair gently, I was able to release myself into the splendour of it. I did not worry about anything, even trying to speak. I just sat in the chair and let his kind touch warm me. When his hand would brush my neck, my heart would beat a little faster, and I allowed myself to relish that as well.

  When he stopped, I opened my eyes. I watched in the mirror as he set the brush aside. He pulled aside a handful of my hair and began to braid it. I watched his hands work and became transfixed by them. A warrior’s hands, buried in a woman’s soft hair, moving not with the speed and deadly accuracy with which they were trained, but with calm, relaxed rhythm. I think that that was one of the most sensual acts I have ever witnessed.

  The braid complete, he began an attempt to wrap it into a semi-formal style. He picked up hairpins from the dresser one by one and placed them, but no matter how many he put in place, the wrap would not stay as he wished. Something would always sag or fall out of place, and he would glare at it as a child glares in frustration at a shoe
lace that simply will not form a bow.

  His face was absolutely adorable. Over and over again, he would look hopeful that he had found the secret pin placement that would hold everything properly. Then he would let go of the wrap, and when something would fall out again, he would become annoyed. Several times he unbundled the entire braid and started over again, trying various methods of control. Every one failed.

  It was such a strange sight—this large, muscular man struggling in vain with a woman’s hair—that I could not help but burst into laughter.

  The sudden sound made him look at my eyes through the mirror. He was stunned by my apparent return to life and let his hand fall away from the bundle of hair. Of course, it began again to fall apart, and he quickly tried to catch what he had let fall, but it was hopeless. The sight made me laugh all the more.

  Oh, how wonderful it felt to laugh! Life poured back into my soul with every snicker and giggle. The curtain of numbness vanished from my mind, and I could sense my pain there in the background, but in the background it remained. My heart was filled with only mirth and merriment, and I revelled in it!

  Jarik eventually left my hair alone and came to stand before me, bending at the waist to bring his face close to my own. As I clapped my hands together joyfully in continued laughter, he reached out to touch my cheek, a most concerned look on his face. Of course, the strange concern made me laugh even harder, and I rocked in the chair with it.

  The power of speech suddenly returned to me, though I did not notice it until I heard myself say, “Oh Jarik, you can best any foe in a fight, but you can’t make hair wrap around a simple pin!”

  I laughed again, merry tears starting to pop out from the corners of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. A smile spread over Jarik’s adorable face, and soon he too was laughing—tentatively at first but soon as raucously as I was myself. He took my hands in his own, and I rose to stand before him. He squeezed my hands and then moved his hands up my arms to my shoulders.