A Dark and Stormy Knight

by Bridget Essex

  Her parents were endlessly hard on her. Her father fought her daily, trying to make her stronger, always wondering whether she was too weak to survive in Furo, wondering whether she was too weak to be his daughter. She learned that she had to fight in order to survive. She learned that she had to be brutal to survive.

  And she’s tired of it. She’s so tired of it. Tired of the blood spilled, of the rampant hatred and negativity seething inside every person within Furo’s borders. Those from Furo pride themselves on being better than everyone else—tougher, braver, more bloodthirsty.

  That's nothing to be proud of, she thinks. And anger is not the same thing as bravery.

  Charaxus steps away from her brother. She wipes the blade of her sword on her leather-clad arm, and she leaps up onto her horse. She turns the horse’s head, the reins gripped a little too tightly in her hands. The horse pulls at the bit, and Charaxus leans forward in the saddle, urging her mount on.

  Charix stands, spitting blood down onto the forest path. They both know that this is a turning point, a moment that will forever alter their lives.

  “I’m leaving,” Charaxus tells her brother. And he doesn’t say a thing in response. He wipes the back of his arm over his mouth, and he spits again as Charaxus coaxes her horse down the path at a stiff gallop, the horse’s hooves pounding, each step drawing Charaxus farther away from a place that has never loved her, a family that has never loved her, a brother who has always loathed her.

  Away. She’s leaving. She’s finally leaving.

  And she does not look back.

  I watch this, releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, and then the picture warps again.

  I see flashing scenes: the moment that Charaxus rode into Arktos City. She had listened to her parents speak derisively of Arktos all of her life, so she couldn’t wait to journey there one day. But she had imagined it as a very different place: full of kind, compassionate women who would immediately accept her.

  And while it's apparent that the women here are kind to one another, they have no room in their hearts for a child of Furo, the country they openly despise, that they’ve warred with in the past. There hasn’t been a war with Furo in years, but hatred burns long, and it’s hard to extinguish the fires of prejudice.

  Charaxus moves through her life in a haze of pain. She joins the Knight Academy, and she is the best, but none of her fellow knights embrace her. They are a sisterhood, a passionate sisterhood, loyal to one another in every respect, but they shun Charaxus because she is from Furo.

  I take in all of this in the blink of an eye, and in the blink of an eye, I feel all of Charaxus’ heartache, this deep need to belong…while knowing she never will.

  And, each night, she dreams. She dreams of a woman with wavy red-gold hair, the hair of a lioness, with a sideways smile, with paint on her fingertips, on her nose. Charaxus is in the water with her, the stars shining on the surface, creating the illusion that they are floating not in water but in space. Together.

  She dreams of this woman, and though everything in her life urges her to give up hope...

  She doesn’t.

  Charaxus never gives up hope.

  Because of me.

  Chapter 14: Come What Come May

  I’m cold. The coldness is tingly, numbing, a little like peppermint, and encompassing my entire body.

  Suddenly, I gasp, opening my eyes, and I swallow a little water. It tastes like algae—that’s the first thing I notice—and I’m spitting it out, but that tiny motion makes a bright fire ignite in my shoulder, and then I’m blinking, gasping, moaning, because my shoulder is burning, burning, ablaze…

  Fire… Why do I think everything’s on fire—my skin, my bones, my muscles, inside and out?

  Wait, no. Not fire.

  Light.

  I blink, and I realize that everything I am is brightness: everything surrounding me is brightness, my body going supernova… I must be in the middle of a star, but I’m not burning anymore. The star isn’t hot, only light. And I’m not in any pain.

  Someone is gazing down at me, someone very close. I stare up at Charaxus, Charaxus who is holding me in her arms, who is staring down at me with tears in her eyes, tears that remain unshed until she catches my gaze, holds it. And then, one by one, silver tears stream from her ice blue eyes, trace themselves over her cheeks. And she holds me closely, carefully, cradling me with profound tenderness as I take deep, even breaths and try to figure out why I’m not dead.

  I thought I was dead.

  What…just happened?

  I don't know, can’t possibly know, so I whisper to her, “Charaxus...did I die?”

  She gazes at me in surprise, and she laughs a little, a low, throaty laugh. She sounds so deeply relieved that tears spring to the corners of my eyes. I breathe out, and breathing is easy, even though I know it shouldn’t be. The sword sliced through my shoulder, invaded my lungs. There was so much power behind that strike.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper to Charaxus, who is glowing with light. She looks like an angel, light streaming from her face, her pale skin almost translucent.

  “I don’t know. I brought you to the water to wash your wound,” says Charaxus, and her words come out choked. I watch her face, watch the anguish that crosses over it before she gazes into my eyes and her face reverts to tranquility once more. “I brought you into the water,” she whispers, “and light came up when I healed you. Like it did when I healed myself last night.”

  Last night.

  Was it really only last night that we met?

  No.

  Because we’ve known each other our whole lives, bringing one another hope, faith, courage when we, alone, had none.

  I stare up at Charaxus, my arms loose around her neck, and I feel it, feel it beginning in my toes and filling me like water fills a vessel, warm and right and everlasting.

  Love.

  I love her. My whole life I’ve been searching for her, and I found her. I finally found her.

  The light pulses around us, as bright as the heart of a star, and I rise up, lift my chin, my mouth finding hers easily. I close my eyes, the sensation of the kiss moving through me, the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips—God, how soft they are... The heat of them suffuses me with a profound sense of surety. Yes. I am alive. Yes. She is alive. Yes. We are together.

  I’m cold, I realize suddenly, because I’m in the water. A fish brushes past my foot, and I open my eyes, glancing around me. Charaxus is holding me in her arms, one arm nestled beneath my knees, the other around my back and shoulder, and I’m buoyant, floating in the middle of a pool of light.

  It’s so surreal: I gaze at Charaxus, at that calm, beautiful smile, and I feel, in that moment, as if every puzzle piece of my life has finally fallen into place. Every loose end that’s ever troubled me, every moment of pain and pleasure, has finally come around full circle.

  Because, as Charaxus supports me in the water, as I stare up at the light surrounding her, I realize this is it.

  This is the moment.

  This is the dream I’ve been having my whole life. We’re living it. Right now.

  It’s actually happening.

  I…can’t begin to tell you how weird that thought is.

  I think the realization is dawning upon Charaxus, too, as she watches me. Once she senses that I can hold myself up, she lets my legs float down into the water. We both tread quietly, our arms hovering on the surface, our legs moving in the darkness below. Light still radiates around us, washing over our skin.

  “Is this real?” I whisper, and she nods once, twice, her mouth set into a soft line, her blue eyes sparkling with stars.

  “This is it,” she says, her head tilted to one side as she examines my expression. Her gaze softens, and her lips turn up at the corners. She moves closer, her breasts pressing against mine, one arm wrapping tightly, securely, around my waist.

  I breathe out slowly, glancing back toward the land. We’re not that far
out, and there’s no one else around. There are usually joggers who come by, and from here, I can see the Scajaquada Expressway, its cars flashing past. The lull of the night traffic is soft, almost like a lullaby.

  We’re together. Alone.

  Alive.

  Relief floods through me, along with the acceptance that this is the moment we’ve both dreamed of. It feels as if a ritual is about to be performed, like a wedding or a ceremony, something that will change our lives forever, and the weight of that is strange, but there's a lightness, too: knowing that we have no idea what’s going to happen after this.

  That’s true of every moment in life, and I’ve been fine with that fact up until now.

  I push away from Charaxus a little, swimming backward with a little kick, glancing down at my shoulder “You healed my wound?” I ask her, and she nods, her eyes darkening as she watches me.

  “Well,” I say, searching for the right words. This is such an important time. The gravity of the situation is compounded by the fact that—after losing one another in the rush of the world—we found each other again. My mistake wasn’t permanent.

  Charaxus watches me, her chest rising and falling in the water. She’s still wearing the clothes I gave her this morning, Toby’s shirt, the sweatpants underneath.

  And here’s the thing about our dream: we weren’t wearing anything in the water.

  I think she realizes that at the exact same moment that I do, because she’s laughing as I reach the shallows, as I shimmy out of the sopping-wet black dress, tossing it onto the shore.

  Outside of this moment, there is so much waiting for us. Outside of this moment, there is the weight of the armored man’s death. My dog, Sammie, waits for us on the shore, wagging his tail and panting at me as I peel my bra off, too, and my panties, tossing the water-logged garments on top of my dripping dress. I ruffle his ears, getting Sammie’s head all wet, and then I wade back into the water, the chill sluicing over my legs until I’m deep enough to swim back out to Charaxus.

  The light that had been glowing around us has subsided, and all that’s left is the moon and countless stars.

  I take a deep breath, and I gaze at Charaxus. My hands are on top of the water, and I move them back and forth as Charaxus comes closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist again. I shiver at her heat, as her body bumps gently against mine.

  “You’re still dressed,” I tell her with a small smile, and she’s chuckling, lifting the shirt over her head, bobbing low as she wrestles with it. I’m laughing, too—maybe some of it is shock. A lot of it is relief. But we’re both weak with laughter as I help Charaxus out of her clothes, and then we toss them into the shallows.

  We fall into solemn silence now as we watch one another—waiting, watching…breathing.

  “I love you.” I'm breathless, swallowing, so nervous suddenly. I’ve told my friends that I loved them before. I’ve told Cecile. But I’ve never told anyone else, because it was never true. I’ve never loved anyone, not like this.

  And Charaxus lifts her chin. She fixes me in her beautiful blue sights. And she draws closer to me, letting herself drop into the water, letting her chin submerge, her eyes flashing, her lips level with the surface.

  “I know,” she murmurs, and she drifts closer, her long black mane streaking out into the water behind her like night descending onto the earth. “And I love you,” she murmurs; her arms come around me. I’m holding her up in the water, then, as her legs wrap around me, too.

  She kisses my neck, her mouth so hot against my cold skin. The stars twinkle overhead, and her hair is submerged in the water. I see that the stars are caught up in her dark strands…

  I gasp as her teeth find my skin, as her long fingers trail down the front of my body, as they move over me. We’re both so aware of the fact that this moment has been foretold, and that—within it—we are limitless. It feels like we're dancing in the water, a dance we’ve practiced for our entire lives.

  A dance that has the power to change us both.

  “Wait,” I whisper to her, and I’m not laughing now; neither of us are.

  Charaxus waits. She rises higher, her hair dripping down on either side of her face, the stars reflected in the glossy black depths of it. I cock my head, reach up with my wet hand and trace my palm over her cheek. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and she moves her face into my hand.

  “When I was little,” I tell her, and emotions rise in me, potent and painful, and I finally let them. I swallow, and I hold her gaze, and she holds mine, her brow furrowing gently with sympathy. “When I was little,” I repeat, lifting my chin, “this was my only safe space. This dream.”

  “Me, too,” Charaxus whispers.

  We’re silent for a long moment. The stars overhead move quietly, and the world spins, and the moment stretches out, sustaining us both.

  “My parents kicked me out of the house for being gay,” I say then, and the words are soft, but that doesn’t make the truth of them any less hard. “For loving women,” I say then, searching her face. “I was eighteen. It was my eighteenth birthday. They told me to leave. I was homeless.”

  Pain floods Charaxus’ features. Anger follows soon afterward, but the pain remains, and when she gathers me into her arms, I press my cheek against her shoulder and try my best not to weep.

  But I cry. I cry for the little girl I was, hoping and praying that my parents would love me—knowing that they could not. I cry for the teenager who was pushed out into the streets because of who she was, something she couldn’t change, a part of her that went deeper than her bones. I cry for the teenager who lived on the streets, who was helped by kind people, yes, but who still went through horrors...

  I cry for the girl who was so, so alone.

  Alone…except for my dreams.

  “I’m here,” Charaxus tells me then, and I feel those words deeply. The heat of her skin pressed against mine, the pulse of her heartbeat, the warmth of her body, her caress, her kiss, her mouth soft against the top of my head—I feel everything, but most of all, I feel those words: I’m here.

  She’s here.

  “I’m sorry.” She holds me close, cradling me so tenderly, and I hold her, too, grip her tightly. We float in the water together. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, and she clears her voice, keeps talking. “They should have loved you for who you were,” she says. “They didn’t deserve you. But I’m sorry.”

  Tears pour down my cheeks. All of the pain, all of the sadness, seems to be pouring out of me, too, rolling away with each tear. The warmth of her, the tenderness and compassion of her…it’s healing.

  “I’m not like this,” says Charaxus then, and she moves away from me just a little so that she can gaze into my face. Her jaw is working—she’s searching for the right words—and she clears her throat, too, her voice coming out strained. “I’m not like…this,” she says, and she breathes out. “At least, not around others. I am… I am formal. Perhaps…unkind. Sharp,” she says, grimacing around the word. “I left my father’s kingdom when I was a young woman. I traveled to Arktos, where I joined the Knight Academy. But they did not care for a woman from Furo joining their ranks. They shunned me.”

  “I know,” I say. “I saw.”

  Her dark brows rise, perplexed.

  “I don’t know how I saw it, but when I was unconscious, I saw your past. I saw you fighting your father. And your brother.” I swallow, heart aching, as horror flits across her face.

  “You…saw?” she whispers.

  And then the horror is replaced by shame.

  I know shame. Shame can strangle you. Shame nestles inside of you so deeply, you begin to wonder whether your whole being is essentially worthless. Whether you are wholly unlovable.

  I cup Charaxus’ cheeks. “No,” I whisper then, and the word is firm. “Please…please understand that everything that happened to you—it was wrong. Just as my parents should have loved me,” I growl to her fiercely, “your parents should have loved you. You were just a little
girl, and you were put through hell.”

  “I see it in your eyes,” she whispers back. “You have suffered, too.”

  “Our suffering was different,” I tell her, voice shaking. “But we both suffered, yes. And we can’t go back in time, and we can’t erase our scars. They are embedded in us too deeply.”

  Charaxus watches me carefully, her blue gaze pained.

  “But you are beautiful,” I tell her. “You are beautiful, and your scars do not define you. Your courage does.”

  Charaxus breathes out. And when she speaks to me then, her voice is small. “I am not courageous.”

  “You’re here.” I draw her to me, I wrap my arms tightly around her, and I hold her close. “You survived it,” I whisper into her ear. “You survived all of it. And that makes you courageous.”

  When Charaxus meets my gaze now, there are tears in her eyes, but her jaw is tense. “Then you must know that you are courageous, too.”

  My heart flutters inside of me.

  I’ve never felt courageous. Not when I stood on the streets, wondering where I was going to sleep that night.

  But Charaxus wouldn't lie; I listen to her. And then I say, “We both are.” And she nods solemnly.

  We float together in the water, our limbs moving quietly. The stars spin overhead, and beneath them, we exist in a moment that’s stolen from time, a moment that is built inside of our hearts. Eventually, Charaxus backs away from me, and she lifts her right hand out of the water. She brushes the hair back from her face, and then she unloops the cord that’s tight around her wrist, dangling it from her fingers.

  She holds the shard’s necklace out to me, the moonlight reflecting brightly off of the sharp little mirror.

  “One last thing is missing,” says Charaxus softly, and her lips turn up at the corners, though her eyes are so sad. We both know that this dream is ending, that we’ll have to confront the real world soon.