Exile

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  She walked up to the tree where the flowering vine was growing and reached up. It was several inches out of her reach, and she groaned in dismay. She jumped a few times, each time just missing the thin branches of the vine. If she could just get a hold of it, she could pull some of it down and harvest the flowers off of the vine. She jumped again, and she heard Daarik’s “what in the hell are you doing?” just as her feet left the ground.

  Shannen landed, stumbled, and turned to face her husband. He stood there, in full armor, glaring at her.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be with your warriors?” she asked in what she knew was a bitchy tone.

  “I am.”

  “Then why aren’t you there instead of bothering me?” she asked, jumping at the vine again and missing.

  “Because my men came running to tell me that my wife had wandered off into the woods by herself. They’ve been instructed to let you do as you wish.”

  “But, clearly, to also report on every move I make,” she said angrily.

  “Not every move. But when you left the village they felt that it was something I should know.”

  Shannen jumped at the vine again, determined to ignore him.

  “And after our discussion last night, I wondered if maybe you were making a break for it.”

  She turned to glare at him. “Obviously not,” she told him. “I’m collecting herbs. I am sick to death of the palace and the library, of spending every single day of my life in silence because literally three people in this entire village will even talk to me, which is fine, but if I sit in that gods damned room any longer today, I am going to lose my mind.”

  “You’re mad that nobody will talk to you?” Daarik asked incredulously. “Every time I try to talk to you, you walk away or go back to your books as if I’m not there. Or you decide to fight with me.”

  “Aw, did I hurt your poor little ego?” she taunted. “Go play with your soldiers,” she muttered as she jumped at the vine again.

  “Are you serious?” he asked, and she heard the slightest edge of anger in his voice now. She glared up at the vine.

  “Oh, I am. All those warriors obeying your every command, refusing to argue with you. Every prince’s dream,” she said.

  “You’re mad at me for being gone all the time, but when I’m there you clearly want me anywhere else but with you.”

  “I’m mad at you for immediately discounting my concerns, Daarik. I don’t know how much clearer I can make that. I don’t care whether you’re there or not,” Shannen shot back, and, oh, there it was. An expression other than stoic calm.

  “Thanks for that. That’s just what every male wants his wife to say to him.”

  “Well, I’m new at the wife thing. What should I be doing instead? Fawning over you? Telling you how big and strong you are? Complimenting the size of your—”

  “Just stop,” he growled.

  “Well, tell me, Daarik. What do you want from me? We promised to be loyal to one another. We promised to go through with this nonsense to form a peace between our people, and meanwhile all I hear from most of the Maarlai is how disgusting humans are. And I don’t hear you, or your father, or any of the other geniuses behind this marriage idea saying anything different.”

  “What? Are we supposed to suddenly pretend that humanity didn’t destroy everything? That they didn’t kill most of us—”

  “You killed even more of them!” Shannen shouted.

  “We offered them peace. We offered it, and King George laughed in my father’s face.”

  “You appeared from out of nowhere and told them they should bend knee to you. How were they supposed to take that?”

  He started to answer and then shook his head. “This is not worth doing.”

  Shannen tried not to show how it bothered her. She was not worth arguing with. It was like living in her uncle’s home all over again. Some of it must have shown on her face. His expression gentled, not completely, but a little.

  “I know you’re unhappy here. I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “It’s fine.”

  They stood in silence for several long, awkward moments, and then he walked past her. She heard the rustle of leaves, and then he came back to her with a long section of the flowering vine. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked her.

  Shannen nodded and took the vine from him, then looked up and met his eyes. “Thank you.”

  He did not answer. He stood there, looking down at her with a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher. She realized that her scarf had fallen off of her face and now rested around her neck, likely due to all of the jumping and jostling. Daarik stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, her stomach twisting, her body betraying her, heating in need at the memory of their wedding night.

  Daarik froze. Then he backed away again and his expression became closed, aloof. “All right. I won’t touch you. But I will remind you that you also promised to try to make this work, and I don’t see you making any effort at all, other than to continually keep walls between us. Maybe it’s me. I’m looking at this as an actual marriage. It’s just a contract to you. I wish it was more,” he finished. He turned and walked away without another word, leaving her holding the vine he’d cut for her and stupidly wanting nothing more than to call him back and attempt to regain some of the closeness they’d managed in the first couple days of their marriage.

  “Thank you,” she called. He stopped and turned around. “For the vine, I mean. Thank you,” she repeated.

  “You’re welcome. Though I have to admit that I was tempted to let you keep jumping for it.”

  “Was it that amusing watching me fail over and over again?” she asked.

  He gave her a small grin. “No. But it was fun watching certain parts of your body jiggle every time you jumped like that.”

  She stared at him in open-mouthed shock for a moment, then clamped her mouth shut and turned back toward the forest. She heard his low chuckle behind her, then the sound of leaves crunching under his boots as he walked away.

  Chapter Ten

  Shannen and Janara were walking to the palace after leaving the village library when a scraggly group of Maarlai trudged through the gate. Janara put her hand on Shannen’s arm, stopping her where they were. She was about to ask Janara what the problem was when she looked more closely at the newly-arrived Maarlai. They were clearly exhausted. Their clothes, almost to a one, were bloody, and many of the Maarlai sported varying degrees of injury, from bandaged arms to painful-looking bruises. One’s arm hung limply, dangling from his shoulder.

  “Stay back,” Janara said, and Shannen did not have to ask her why. There was only one way these Maarlai had been injured in that way: a fight against her own people.

  “Damn it,” she muttered to herself as she watched the scene play out in front of her. Elrek, Jarvik, and Faerlah hastened from the palace, and she could see Daarik and several of his men, including Baerne, running from where they’d been training some of the younger Maarlai who were now joining the ranks of the official guard. Daarik glanced over toward Shannen, meeting her eyes for just a moment before going to the new arrivals.

  Shannen listened as the leader of the group, a tall, solidly-built female, began telling Elrek and Daarik of their ordeal. Unfortunately, it was all in Maarlai, so all she could do was gauge the reactions of those listening. From the grim look on her husband’s face, it was not good.

  After the group finished filling Elrek in on what had happened, Faerlah and a few other healers ushered the group into one of the huts. As they walked past, several members of the group looked at her with expressions of absolute rage, and Shannen’s fears were confirmed. Janara stood silently beside her, her hand still on her arm, and Shannen got the sense that it was as much to keep her where she was as to be close to protect her if it became necessary.

  Daarik walked over to them and gave Janara a nod. “Thank you,” he said to her in Common, and she shrugged.


  “It was humans?” Shannen asked quietly, and Daarik nodded.

  “That’s what is left of a small village on the coast,” he said quietly, obvious pain and anger in his voice. A village of over three hundred of us…” he trailed off, shaking his head. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself. “It was evening. They were settling in for the night. A force that was easily twice their number attacked, all at once, slaughtering any Maarlai they saw. Many of them died in their own beds.”

  Shannen put her hand on Daarik’s arm, and Janara gave her arm a gentle squeeze and made her way toward the hut where the healers had taken the injured Maarlai. “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I will write—”

  “Do you really think there’s any point? Edwell doesn’t care. I almost wonder why he sent you at all,” he muttered. He was fairly trembling with rage. Shannen only considered it for a moment before making up her mind. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the folded piece of parchment she’d kept on her person since her uncle’s visit. She should have burned it, but she’d been debating about whether she should tell Daarik or not.

  The time for debate had passed.

  “Because of this,” she said softly, handing Daarik the paper.

  “Is this going to make my day worse?”

  “If you don’t trust me, then yes, it will,” she said, meeting his eyes.

  He unfolded it and Shannen was aware that she was holding her breath. She watched his dark eyes scan her father’s handwriting a few times.

  “I have not taken him up on that, and I do not plan to,” she said softly.

  He didn’t say anything. He read it again, seeming to avoid having to look at her.

  “Any reason you didn’t tell me before now?” he finally asked.

  “It was an escape hatch, if I decided I needed one,” she said. “And then I feared exactly this, that when I finally did show it to you, you’d question the timing. I considered just burning it and not saying anything, but that felt even more wrong.”

  “He gave you this when he came to visit?”

  Shannen nodded.

  “That was weeks ago.”

  “I know.”

  He remained silent for a long while, then shook his head and handed it back to her. “I don’t know what you expect me to do with that.”

  “You asked why he sent me at all. I am fairly certain this is why.”

  Daarik looked away from her. “You should go inside now. Stay in the palace. I don’t think our visitors are in the right frame of mind right now to warmly welcome their future human queen.”

  “Daarik—”

  “We will talk later. Go.” He caught Baerne’s eye and then nodded toward her, then the palace. Baerne walked over to them and gestured for her to come with him. Once he saw that she had an escort, Daarik turned and stalked away without another word, or even a backward glance.

  “You seem to have angered my brother,” Baerne said as they started walking toward the palace.

  “What else is new?” Shannen sighed.

  “He’ll come around. This is…” he shook his head as they walked up the stairs toward her suite. “This is the kind of bloodshed I think we all believed was behind us.” He paused. “Daarik is a strong warrior, a steadfast, confident leader. But for all his talent in the art of war, I know he would set aside his sword forever if it meant he didn’t have to see any more of us torn and bloody.”

  “I only wish my uncle was a fraction as honorable as my husband,” Shannen said, and her heart gave a strange little lurch as she realized how much she meant the words. “I wish I could be some help to him at times like this.”

  “The best way you can help today is by staying here. It would be unfair for them to blame you, but they all know who you are. You are a symbol of—”

  “Death and destruction. Yes, I know,” she said. “If you see Daarik, just tell him that I will remain in our suite today and that if he needs me for anything, all he has to do is ask.”

  They reached the door of her suite, and Baerne looked down at Shannen. “I will tell him, wife of Daarik,” he said with a little smirk.

  “Trying to annoy me, Baerne?”

  He shrugged. “I will take my humor where I can get it today. Stay here. Yes?”

  She nodded and walked into the suite, closing the door behind her. She stood there, looking around, wondering at the way her heart was pounding, the stupid desire to be at Daarik’s side as he dealt with this new horror.

  And she could not be there, because she was more of a hindrance than a help. She flopped down onto the settee and thought, trying to figure out if there was anything she could do that would genuinely help. In the end, there wasn’t much. She had her dried herbs, oils, and the equipment to make some healing salves, so she decided to get to work making those. Even if they could not be used for this new group of injured Maarlai, it was a sad reality that there would undoubtedly be others who would need their wounds tended to.

  She had a set of small metal bowls that the salve could be poured into once she’d finished, so she set those out and got started melting the last of the beeswax that had arrived with her other possessions from her uncle’s home. Once everything was melted, she started adding the oil she’d infused with the healing herbs she’d brought from home, as well as some that she’d found in the forests near Darathar. She worked methodically, easily, this task, at least, something she’d done so many times that she did not have to think about it. She eased into routine, into the scents of beeswax and herbs. Once she finished the salves and put them aside to set, she remembered that Faerlah had complained of persistent muscle aches in her shoulders. She had enough to put together a rub for her, so she went to work doing that. She was finishing up, pouring the salve for Faerlah into another container, when she heard the door to their suite open.

  She heard Daarik’s heavy footsteps over the floor, then the sound of the settee creaking as he settled himself into it.

  “Have you eaten yet?” she asked him, focused on pouring the salve and not making a mess. She shook her head a bit at the way her hands shook, just a little, now that he was near. Ridiculous.

  “I’m not hungry. What are you doing?”

  “I had the materials to make some salves for the healing center. And then I remembered that your grandmother has some muscle pain that has been bothering her. This one is for her.”

  “Why?”

  One word. And yet, it was a word that she knew the rest of their relationship hinged upon. She finished pouring, set the pan down, and turned to Daarik. He was leaning forward on his knees, watching her.

  “Because it is the only thing I can do. I cannot make Edwell get control of our people. I cannot make moronic, spineless, vile humans stop attacking peaceful Maarlai settlements. I could not even be there for you, or in the healing center today. This is the only thing I can do, and I know that it is not enough.”

  “And why does that matter?” he asked quietly.

  Shannen walked across the room and stood in front of him. She reached out to touch him, then drew her hands back. In the history of bad ideas she’d had, reaching out to him now was probably the worst one.

  She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He still wore his heavy black armor, and she knew he couldn’t feel it. He stayed silent, looking down at the floor. She moved her hand to the side of his face, tracing his jawline. He let out a deep sigh and leaned his face into her hand.

  “It matters,” she whispered. “I am sorry I kept that note from you. It was wrong.”

  He took a breath, then took her hand. He looked at their hands, hers folded tightly in his. “You were protecting yourself. I’m beginning to see that it’s second nature for you, and I don’t wonder that it is. I wish you could trust me, Shannen.”

  “I want to. And I want you to trust me as well. I know that I haven’t made it easy.”

  “To the contrary, I want to trust you more than anything,” he said, finally looking up at her, her hand still clasped in h
is. “I want to trust you. I want to believe you are what you seem to be when you’re at your best.” He took a breath, then let her hand go. “You told me. Eventually. Let’s just leave it at that and move forward.”

  She started unbuckling his armor, and he stood up and helped her.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked, tossing back her question to him.

  “I was not hungry either,” she said, setting the heavy chest armor on the floor. “How are the refugees faring?”

  “They’re comfortable enough physically. We found lodging for all of them. They’re in mourning.”

  Shannen nodded. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

  “You’re doing it. I know you want to be out there helping and I appreciate it. But—”

  “It’s not the time. I understand.”

  “Just for now, try to stay in the palace. All right?”

  She nodded. “It will be better for them, not to see a human now.”

  “And I want to keep you safe. We’re not usually violent, but they are distraught now,” he said. He made as if to touch her, then drew his hand back. Honoring her wishes.

  “Do you need anything? Food? Bath?”

  He watched her closely, then looked away. “Sleep. I could do with sleep.”

  She nodded and watched him as he walked into the bathroom. When he came back out a few minutes later, she’d changed and climbed into their bed. She tore her eyes away from his naked body, her face and body heating at the quick, glorious glance she’d gotten.

  Gods above.

  “Good night, Shannen,” he said as he climbed into bed beside her.

  “Good night.”

  After over a week of agreeing to stay in the palace, Shannen finally convinced both Daarik and Baerne that she would be fine going to the village library and back. She made her way out of the palace and toward the library, relishing her first taste of freedom since the refugees had arrived. Often, she browsed the stacks in the palace library, but Janara had told her that the selection of children’s books she was learning from was better at the library in the village, so that was where she would go.