My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  She regretted it the second the words flew from her mouth. Myra slapped a hand over her lips, wishing she had the power to yank back everything she said. But there was no magic in thedas that could do it. Bryn's eyes opened in shock as if Myra literally stabbed her best friend in the heart. "Go," she whispered, before snarling under her breath, "get away from me. Don't talk to me ever again!"

  Turning on her heel, Myra ran away from the train, tears streaming off her cheeks. Behind her she heard her best friend collapse to her knees crying her heart out. It wasn't because of Cailan, it was all Myra's fault.

  * * *

  She must have paced back and forth in the damn heat of the road for an hour. At first, all Myra wanted to do was punch something or hit it really hard with a stick. But as the anger abated, the shame grew so strong she was sick upon a shrubbery lining the dirt path. It'd be just her luck someone from the caravan would stumble upon it.

  Was she that selfish? She wasn't trying to take Bryn away from her work, she just wanted to do fun things with her. She was her friend.

  Was she? After what you said? What you did? How could anyone want to be her friend?

  Myra was a monster.

  Slapping her hand into her head, Myra got a few more raps in, the feel of her brains rattling back and forth trying to cover over the massive pain in her heart. What the hell was wrong with her? Why'd she snap that badly?

  Okay, so her brother...fuck, it wasn't fair. Why did Cailan have to mess everything up?! No one cared when he stayed with his dowagers and silly girls who waved fans prettily. But Bryn was smart, she was quick witted, she was kind, she was...special. Important. Far too important to be used up and tossed away like that. Like he always did with other women.

  Or...

  Shut up. Myra jabbed at her stomach, trying to beat herself up more and get the last of her lunch out. She felt hollow, as if her shame ate up the marrow in her bones, dissolved away her organs, and left her with nothing but a shell. A sad shell called Myra.

  Digging a hand across her forehead, Myra knew what she had to do, but she really didn't want to. Her first stop required her asking around. People were real polite and stiff with her, the news traveling fast. She wasn't just the bastard daughter, she was the tattletale too. Careful or Myra will find all your secrets and then drag them in front of the princess.

  She deserved it.

  By the time she found her brother, he was dressed properly and sitting perched upon a writing table. Three ink pots surrounded him, which he'd dip into at seemingly random while writing into tiny margins. Myra stepped forward, her head hung down, but he didn't look up. He seemed to be so engrossed in whatever he was doing, Cailan was off in his own world.

  Coughing, Myra rubbed into the back of her neck while staring at the ground. She couldn't look up into her brother's eyes, but the sound of quill scratchings ceased. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry that I freaked out, and I overreacted, and I ran to Rosie's skirt and got you in trouble. I shouldn't have done that. And I'm sorry."

  Her brother sighed and he laid his quill down. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, you always were the most dramatic of us." Myra's head snapped up at the jab, but she found a hint of a smile twisting with his thin lips. "In retrospect, your panicking is slightly understandable. The follow up less so, but if I caught one of my friends with my sisters...it would be awkward."

  "And raise a lot of questions if it's with Rossie."

  Cailan snickered a bit, "I do have a few female friends, thank you."

  "It's just..." Myra waffled back and forth on her toes, wanting to run but knowing she had to stay, "Bryn's like..."

  "A sister, I heard."

  "I've known her since we were kids, younger than kids. I think we met by exchanging rocks we thought were gemstones. And I don't...I think she's special."

  "Are you jealous?"

  "Not that kind of special," Myra glared at her brother's insinuation. "I just wanted whoever was with her to think she's special too is all."

  She waited for another jab or jape, but Cailan's head hung down. A shuddering breath whistled out of his nose and Myra stepped forward in concern. All her life her brother was air, nothing touched him, nothing bothered him. He couldn't be stained. But now he looked as if he wanted to cry.

  "Do you really think that little of me?" he asked, lifting his head to reveal red eyes.

  Myra gasped at the change, "No...I, I don't know."

  "Rosie's insinuations--"

  "Those were all hers, I swear. I don't think, you're not the type."

  "You'd know all about that type, wouldn't you?" he blinked slowly, digging an elbow into the writing desk. Myra was trained to spot the bad guys hiding in amongst the good. She wasn't as talented as her mother, but finding a rotten apple wasn't that hard. The trick was to look for all the worms, and Cailan -- for all his lecherous ways -- never had any left in his wake.

  He rubbed a hand across his clean shaven face, gently worrying back and forth his top lip in thought, "But you think me unfit for your friend. For a girl who's practically your sister. That much is obvious."

  "I..." Yes, she did. It was blisteringly clear how much she didn't think him right for her. "I don't think you're bad, just..."

  "What, Myra? Just what?"

  "How you treat your conquests."

  Cailan snorted at that, "Conquests? Is that how you think I view them? Oh right, the infamous notches on the bedpost. That must be it."

  "There are a lot of them."

  "Not as many as you suppose," he sighed. "Yes, there are more than one, but it's not a constant carnal carnival in my bed either. I... I quite appreciate the women I am with."

  "Really?" Myra folded her arms tight, not buying it for a second.

  "Bryn was delightfully interested in elven folklore. I hadn't heard much of it prior, but there were some fascinating stories that played out to a mathematical rhythm."

  Her jaw dropped, Myra staring in shock as Cailan ran a hand up and down his arm in thought. "And she seemed more than happy to listen to my thoughts on tax codes. I assume it was part suffering for the sake of appearances, but she'd be willing to tack on her own thoughts instead of just nodding along."

  "You remember them," Myra muttered under her breath. She knew her brother had an almost scary brain when it came to facts he cared about, but she'd never thought for a second he'd retain an ounce of the women he slept with. Most assumed Cailan didn't even catch a name before bedding them. "You remember all of them?"

  "Of course. Should I not?" he shrugged as if this was simple news. With a heavy sigh, he plucked up his quill and returned to what calmed his mind. How many were there really? Myra always went along with the rest, assuming it had to be a new girl each week. Maybe even more often if there was a landsmeet in town.

  You were wearing your blinders, Myra. You went along without questioning what was fact and what sounded better in the gossip mill.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  Her brother rolled his head, "You already apologized, there is little point dwelling in it."

  "No, for...if you want to be with Bryn, I won't. I won't stand in the way, make a fuss..."

  "Challenge me to a duel?" He lifted up an eyebrow and stared her down. "Surprised I'd know my little sister that well? I was half expecting you to yank out a glove and slap my face with it."

  Myra's cheeks burned at the thought and she tried to shrink down further.

  "Thank you for your offer but, Rosie is correct. Do not tell her I said that, or she'll be smugger than usual. For as much as I enjoy passing time with Lady Bryn, it is in both of our best interests if we drop it here."

  "So no one gets hurt?"

  Cailan paused with his quill brimming in ink. His hand hung suspended so long, a drop beaded off the end and splashed onto his work. He barely looked down before sighing, "Precisely. Now, you best go and make it up with her. She is like a sister to you after all."

  "Cailan..."

  "I don't hate you, My, if tha
t's your concern."

  "I don't hate you either. But I'm just...I shouldn't have misjudged you like that. You're, you're not so bad for being a smelly brother."

  He snickered, "You're not so bad either, for being a nosy little sister."

  * * *

  By the time she tracked down Bryn, the girl was squatting alone near a stream. A basket of laundry sat beside her, but nothing was being slapped into rocks or run down a stream. Instead, Bryn had her knees tucked up to her chin, her eyes staring out at the horizon. Myra wondered if she should wait, give her time, but...

  No, this had to be done now.

  Making as much noise as she could, Myra stepped next to the lonely stream, but Bryn didn't look up. "I'm sorry," Myra gasped out, both hands clasped together in pleas. Unlike with Cailan, the tears were already beginning. For the Maker's sake, she'd grown up with Bryn, lived in the same room as her for years. Eaten so much spun sugar together they were barfing up pink and blue for hours. How could she do that to her?

  Bryn didn't respond, her fingers prodding at a rock on the shoreline.

  "I'm sorry for what I said, it's not true. None of it. We all love you back home. Most of the time I think my Mom would rather have you as a daughter and you're way better at keeping the room clean."

  A single snort broke from that, Bryn nodding her head sadly at the bare facts.

  "It was stupid, and it was cruel, and I only said it because I was..." Why did you say it? Because Bryn said mean things to her. True mean things. Which you countered as best you could. She tried to shake it off, but her old friends taunts dug into Myra's spine -- the hot tick burrowing deeper and deeper as it infected her. But that was a matter to worry about later, if she ever bothered.

  Tapping her foot on the stone, Myra blubbered out, "And I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have done that either, as I realize now how quickly I overreacted."

  Bryn turned her head, her eyes narrowed at the obvious statement. Normal people didn't run to the highest authority when they caught their friend in flagrante with someone -- even if he was her brother.

  "It was wrong, and bad, and I'm stupid. Really stupid. So stupid you should hit me over the head. Here, I brought a..." Myra bent down to pick up a rock, but the damn thing was wedged in tight with all the rest. "Uh, maybe I could go steal a stick quick."

  Bryn sighed, her eyes closed as she tipped her head back to the sun. It easily lightened her mahogany hair, turning it to more of an oaky brown with a few coppery highlights. And you're staring at her hair because it's better than facing up to how badly you fucked this up.

  "I won't talk to you anymore. I promise," Myra spat out, the tears trembling her words and garbling her lips, "I just...I had to say that. Because you were owed an apology. So, I'm sorry. There." Jamming her palms to her leaking eyes, Myra turned and moved to walk away.

  She got a few steps when Bryn asked, "Why'd you do it?"

  Dropping her hands, Myra froze while she struggled to do all that soul searching she was terrible at. Running from her problems, sometimes climbing, or ducking them, was easier. "Cause..." she drug her toe in the clumpy mud, "I was worried Cailan was using you."

  "He wasn't..."

  "I know," she spun to face Bryn who got up to her feet. Both girls stared across what felt a vast chasm but was really a few feet of watery dirt. "I talked to Cailan, and he's...it's just, he gives off that aura of being all..."

  "Licentious?"

  "I was gonna say horn ball, but that's fancier. There were all those girls, women hanging off his arm. I...I hated the idea that you'd be one of them. Thrown away like nothing. A few leaves ripped off the trees."

  Bryn took in a shuddering breath, her normally sparkling eyes matte with sorrow. They lingered upon Myra's shoes, unable to face staring at her betrayer. "Myra..."

  "But he doesn't think like that. He knows you. Pretty well, really. The folklore thing? That's what you used to seduce him?"

  For a brief second her friend laughed and blushed, shrugging a shoulder at the simplest choice. "It, it worked, so..."

  "Why him?" Myra asked as if she hadn't just blown up their friendship and tossed the remains into the ocean. Blanching, she tacked on, "If you don't mind my asking. Just...I don't get it. He's your first and, and nothing can come of it. You know nothing can come of it?"

  "No Myra, I'm ten years old and think Princes regularly sweep elven servant girls off their feet and make them their wives. Of blighted course I know it was to be nothing more than a quick tryst in the woods. It's, it's what I wanted."

  Whipping her head in confusion, Myra began, "But he's..."

  "Kind, gentle, rather funny at times, and yes, easy on the eyes."

  She couldn't help but stick her tongue out at that one, Myra unable to see anything but her gross brother in that face. People would go on about his blue eyes like they were some rare sapphire they hoped to pluck out, but to her they always seemed kinda like a dingy grey. Maybe a bit blue if the sun was out, but that was it.

  "Fine, fine, you think Cailan is ho..." she paused and shook her head, "you find him attract..." Myra's bile threatened to rise and she started again, "you're not against his face."

  Bryn giggled at her struggles, a brief bridge forming across their chasm.

  "But why for your first ever...um, ya know. Why him? He wasn't exactly unexperienced either."

  "Exactly," Bryn snapped her fingers as if she solved a great mystery, "he knew what he was doing. Better than most of the alienage boys running around hooting and hollering at any skirt that passes."

  Myra blanked her brain to not think about Cailan knowing a damn thing about all that stuff and bits that go into other bits. Why was walking in on Rosie macking on the assassin less embarrassing than this?

  "And I get to say my first time was with a prince. How many other people, elven girls no less, can claim that?"

  "With Cailan around...?" Myra began, before wincing at her snide smarm.

  "Or do you disapprove?" Bryn turned on her suddenly, her tongue spitting venom. "Do you not think me worthy?"

  "Are you kidding me? He's the one who's not worthy of you. Did you know he used to stuff carved dolls up his nose? And big ones too, like nearly got half a golem up there before dad stopped him."

  The tension broke a moment, like the first rain drop would part an obtrusive humidity. It didn't shatter, and more pressed in around them, but there was a brief window they could try to yank open. "I just, I dunno," Myra pinched into her eyes, knowing how what she wanted to say would go but needing to get it out. "I kinda wished that your first time would be with someone you could tell me about. Not hide it or...with my brother, whom I never want to hear a single sex related thing about."

  "I wanted to tell you, for awhile," Bryn whispered, her hands cupping against her arms, "But I couldn't think of how to begin. I knew you'd be upset and...okay, I didn't expect that reaction. Should have though, your blow ups are legendary."

  Myra snorted at the truth. She was pretty easy going until she wasn't, then her mom called it the sixth blight for how she'd rail and rain fire from the sky. Not literally, not unless she was REALLY mad. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the muddy air. It stank of bog water and fish, lots of fish struggling to not boil alive in the summer heat.

  "Was it...did it hurt? Your first time? Lots of people say that it can hurt."

  "No," Bryn shook her head, "It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but Cailan--" Myra snarled at the name, doing her best to pretend it was some shadowy form she hadn't met yet and not her brother. "Fine, he was gentle. Careful. I...I think I was enjoying myself too much to notice any pain."

  Coughing to try and cover over the weird feelings of revulsion and curiosity, Myra danced back and forth on her feet. "Was there blood?"

  "A little, not much. It's the mess after that's a pain really."

  "Mess?"

  "All that stuff that goes in has to come back out."

  "Oh!" she reared back, flailing her arms as if Bryn slapp
ed her in the face with a beehive. "I do not need to hear that! Or think about it! Blech! I'm gonna be sick." She bent over, her hands on her thighs while pretending to puke. Even if she did feel that revulsed, there was nothing left in her stomach to come up.

  "I told you he's cute," Bryn whistled, her voice back up into its normal register.

  "To you, I guess," she rubbed against her mouth as if really wiping away sick, then stood up tall.

  "Why are you asking me about this stuff anyway?" Bryn said, her eyes knotted together with her brows the way they got when she was trying to understand this other weird creature that lived in her bedroom. "Don't you have a gorgeous boyfriend of your own?"

  "Ah..." Myra's jaw dropped and her eyes darted around the clearing. She could feel her freckles overheating, and tried to cover them over with her braid. It didn't really work, her nose stuffed with blonde hair. But she shut her eyes too.

  "My?"

  "We haven't -- I mean -- he's, uh..."

  Bryn's fingers glanced across Myra's arms, her friend dragging her out of her shame cocoon. "It's okay if you're not ready."

  "But I am!" Myra gasped, then blinked.

  She was? Ah shit...

  Sure, she knew the basics and some of the more advanceds as well. This bit went into here; it'd seemed kinda weird for awhile when she was younger. But, yeah, now she wanted to. Not just because of Gavin -- though, Maker's breath it was hard to not want to with him -- but because she did. Because it'd be nice. Fun? Whatever the point of it all was. She wanted to know.

  Bryn's eyes darted around as if she was afraid Myra was pulling a prank on her or something, but Myra was too busy gnawing on her braid in fearful contemplation. "Did you tell him?"