Sorrows of Adoration (36 page)

“I suppose then I
should admit that I considered the thought but lacked the courage
to do so. I am so cowardly that I couldn’t even give my life for
you.”

“Stop. Don’t even dare
to speak that way.”

“It’s the truth,” he
confessed.

“Make it untrue. You
could not have prevented what happened.”

“Perhaps. I should have
been out looking for you, though, instead of pining for you behind
the palace walls.” He took my hand between his and squeezed it
almost painfully. “By the Temple, Aenna, I thought you were dead.
When Leiset found the note that said you were running off again,
she ran screaming into the Council room to show me. She knew
immediately it was not your handwriting, though it was an attempted
likeness. Everyone in that room rose immediately to help search the
palace. Soldiers stormed through Endren, going into every home and
building, for we knew that you would not leave of your own accord.
Not for a moment did I believe you would be so foolish. We knew
something terrible was happening to you, and it drove us all mad to
not find you.

“Forces flew out of the
city to search. We learned from the guards at the gate that two men
had left hurriedly with a cart carrying only straw, and the palace
gate records showed a similar cart had left the courtyard just
before that, after delivering kegs of wine. Jarik and I rode hard
up the King’s Road, but by then it had been over an hour, maybe
two, and we found nothing. Later we also learned that the guard at
the entrance saw both you and Sashken go out into the courtyard
that night, but when Sashken was questioned, she claimed to have
been stepping out for some fresh air after an evening spent talking
to Mother—which Mother confirmed, by the way—and not even I dared
to think that she had actually had a hand in your disappearance.
Had she displayed the countenance of a pleased victor or a guilty
wretch, I would have been suspicious. But she seemed unconcerned.
Forgive me, my love, for being so easily fooled.” He sighed and
looked at me with forlorn eyes.

“Aenna, we were so
afraid for you. You can’t know how horrible it was, not knowing if
you were still alive, where you were, or what wicked things were
being done to you. By the Gods themselves, I screamed your name
into the night so many times that my throat became raw and I could
no longer make a sound.

“I wanted to keep
searching when morning came, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. She
convinced Father it would be unsafe, and they had my riding gear
locked away. But I didn’t care. I ordered a guard off his horse and
took that one. They had to drag me in protest back here several
times, and each time I went out again.

“Jarik organized teams
that went to comb every direction in a circle around Endren, even
into the mountains. Mother locked my doors from the outside, so I
climbed down from my balcony and crept back through the palace to
go out again. But I twisted my leg whilst dropping myself down from
the balcony, so when they dragged me back to Endren yet again, I
gave up the fight. I became convinced it had been so long that you
must be dead. So I gave up and stayed in my room, grieving for you.
I’m sorry, Aenna,” he finished in a tearful whisper.

“You wouldn’t have
found me,” I said. “They had me in a smuggler’s box under the cart
and then sold me to slave traders.”

Shock and dismay
crossed his face, and he began again his litany of apologies.

“Kurit, stop. I can’t
bear to hear it. Just hold me, please. I dreamt of returning home
to be in your arms.” He stopped speaking and went around the bed to
lie with me. He slipped under the covers with me and tenderly
embraced me.

Hearing his heartbeat,
feeling his strong arms around me and small kisses on my forehead,
I remembered how I had longed for him and broke into tears. It was
such relief to be there, such sweet relief, that my body was soon
racked with sobs, all my anxiety and fear finally coming out.

He held me, spoke soft
words of comfort, kissed my cheeks and forehead, and begged me not
to cry. Soon exhaustion returned, and I slept enveloped in him,
warm and safe in his arms.

AFTER ANOTHER FULL
night and day of being stuffed with food and cared for with great
attention by Kurit, Leiset, and even King Tarken, I began to feel
much better. I was still very tired, and my feet hurt worse than
they did while I had been walking, but I had the strength to sit
with people long enough to tell the story of what had happened. I
had wanted to wait for Jarik’s return, but messengers were probably
just then finding his search party to inform them of the good news,
and the others were so eager to know what had happened that I did
not wish to make them wait. Also, the trial for Sashken would soon
be held, and my testimony needed to be recorded while it was still
fresh in my mind.

Kurit brought our son
to me to be fed, though Tash was still supplementing my feedings
with his nutrient-rich mixture. Kurit left my boy with me, went to
tell the others to gather in my receiving room in the afternoon,
and then arranged for a scribe to attend to record my words.

When he returned, I
reminded him our child still had no name.

He smiled—a rare thing,
as he remained plagued by guilt regardless of my assurances
otherwise—and said, “I thought about that last night. I went over
many honourable ancestral names in my mind, but there was always
something wrong with them. Either the name had a nice sound but had
been attached to someone I didn’t approve of, or the name sounded
wretched even though it came from an honourable man.

“So I pondered the
notion of creating a new name for him, and I thought perhaps we
could combine other names. When King Rudik was an infant, he had an
adventure much like our boy did. A maid carried him out of Endren
in a basket of bread because the palace was under attack by a
rebellious faction of the King’s Guard. When he was a grown man,
Rudik took back his rightful throne and restructured the King’s
Guard. He wrote the oath they still recite today. But Rudik …
what a harsh name. I thought perhaps, since the naming traditions
of your homeland still very much follow old Maellan patterns, we
could add that in. I put them together and thought of Raelik.”

I looked at the
sleeping baby in my arms. “Raelik,” I repeated. It was a good name.
I smiled at Kurit and nodded. “He shall be called Raelik, then. I
like that.” I passed the boy to his father and sighed happily to
watch how Kurit’s face lit up in delight with his son’s wiggling
and soft, sleepy noises.

After we had taken our
lunch together, Kurit carried Raelik and me to the receiving room.
He set me gently on the couch and bundled me with pillows and
blankets. The baby was awake, so I rocked him in my arms to keep
him happy.

Kurit sat by my side as
the small audience gathered. The King sat near me, trying to keep
his face schooled for the upcoming unpleasant tale, but every time
little Raelik made a sound or got his tiny fist into my hair—which
had been cut to waist-length—the King’s reserved countenance would
break into an endearing smile. I worried that he would request my
child be taken away so as not to be a distraction, but I could not
bear to have him gone from my sight when I was awake. No one made
the request, and I was glad of it.

Kasha sat facing us
head-on, as though sitting to make a judgment. It would make it
hard to avoid looking at her, but with Kurit by my side, I felt
that I could safely speak without being nervous.

Leiset, Gilrin, King
Tarken’s manservant, and a scribe stood at the back of the
room.

I began the story from
the point where Melly delivered the note until meeting with Graek
at the gate. I told every detail I could recall: the descriptions
of the men along the way; the threat of the Wusul to kill my child,
to which Tarken said I was correct that war would have been a
likely result; the townsfolk who cast stones at me and how I
considered seeking help from Lady Aelwin or Lord Cael but had
become too afraid that I would be turned away at the gates; and the
birth of my son.

I expressed terrible
regret and guilt for the crime of murder, to which everyone but
Kasha responded quickly with words of comfort, agreeing that it was
not murder to kill in self-defence or the defence of one’s child. I
confessed also the crime of having stolen the handfuls of grain and
the blanket, but the King assured me he would try to help me later
determine the location of the farmhouse and have money sent to them
in repayment for what I had taken.

They all listened
intently to the entire story. Whenever I spoke of being afraid or
in pain, Kurit would close his eyes and squeeze my hand, which he
held throughout. He became furious with the Wusul and the townsfolk
who had driven me away. Tarken calmed Kurit’s anger on the latter
by saying official messengers would be sent throughout the northern
provinces to ensure every town knew my name and that of my son. He
said further that it would be determined which town I had been to,
and those people would be notified of their misguided crime. He
said he would not have them punished for their ignorance but hoped
being told by the King’s Guard that they had been so wrong would
shame them to act in greater charity in the future.

The King told me that I
should indeed have gone west to Staelorn, for there Cael’s soldiers
knew of my disappearance, and I would not have been turned away.
Still, he said he understood my fear and did not speak in
condemnation of my decision.

Kasha spoke not a word
throughout but glared at me coldly. When these other discussions
had ended, she finally did speak in an accusatory tone. “How
fascinating that you were allegedly able to strangle a Wusul
soldier with hair that would hardly wrap fully around your own
throat,” she said.

“Mother!” Kurit snapped
back. “We had to cut a great deal of her hair away on her return.
It was long enough at the time!”

The Queen looked
unconvinced. “And are we really to believe you gave birth to a
child without any medical assistance?”

“Your Majesty,” I
replied, “many women give birth with little assistance. Peasant
farmers’ wives cannot afford to pay physicians or midwives to help
them, and if no other family lives close, it is only the husband
who can help. Many children enter life this way.”

“Oh, of course,” she
said mockingly. “Peasant women. How fortunate that you
yourself—”

“Kasha, don’t,” said
the King, cutting her off before the obvious insult could be
finished.

She cast him a
reproachful look for it but did not continue the sentence. Instead
she said, “Now that you’re here, there’s no reason for you to cling
to the child as though he’s your doll. And there will certainly not
be any more tolerance for your feeding him. That’s what wet nurses
are for.”

“Wet nurses?” I
asked.

She rolled her eyes in
exasperation as though I were a stupid child.

“Aenna,” Kurit said
quietly, “a wet nurse is one who not only cares for the baby but
also feeds it from her own breast.”

I looked at him in
revolted alarm. “How disgusting! I’m his mother, and I can feed him
myself!”

“You shall do no such
thing,” Kasha said. “It is unseemly and not proper for the
child.”

“Not proper for the
child?” I snapped. “What do you imagine kept him alive out there?
Fervent prayers and desperate hopes? I’ve fed him this long. It is
my breast he is used to, and it is my breast that will continue to
feed him. It is not unseemly or inappropriate for a mother to nurse
her own child! What hideous beast of a soul ever created the notion
otherwise?”

“Someone with a great
deal more intelligence and sense of propriety than you!” Kasha
retorted in hot anger.

“Mother, that’s
enough!” Kurit shouted. “If Aenna wishes to nurse our child, then
she shall do so. For all we know it could harm Raelik to have him
switched now to a wet nurse.”

“I warned you that she
would twist your mind,” Kasha continued, rising to her feet. “You
agree to her filthy peasant ways now, and the next thing she’ll
have this kingdom upside down in turmoil!”

“Out!” shouted Tarken,
who was also on his feet. His face was red with fury, and he
pointed to the door. “Leave, Kasha! The girl has just gone through
a harrowing ordeal but still has brought us home an heir. Who are
you, that you can be so cruel and filled with such hate? I don’t
know who you have become! Leave us! I won’t abide you to send this
family into chaos because of your inexplicable hatred. Go now!”

The Queen treated me to
an angry stare, and I knew she wished that I had died somehow along
my way. Whether she had a hand in the abduction, I never learned.
But at that moment, I had no doubt that she wished dearly Sashken
had succeeded. She left in a fury, closing the door so hard behind
her that the noise echoed down the hall outside.

Kurit went quickly to
his father’s side, for the older man was still red-faced and
puffing in a manner that worried me. His breath wheezed as he sat
down. The King waved Kurit away and grumbled that he would be
fine—his heart was just racing faster than he should have allowed
it to. His manservant offered to fetch Tash, but King Tarken
refused. “I don’t want to hear another time how I’m supposed to
remain calm. I’ve heard it from him before.” He finally did accept
a glass of water from Gilrin, and in time the wheezing stopped.

“I didn’t mean to
provoke her,” I said quietly when the awkward silence became too
much to bear.

“You didn’t,” Kurit
said, returning to sit with me. “If you hadn’t argued about the wet
nurse, it would have been something else. She was looking for a
reason.”

“I shouldn’t have
allowed her to join us,” the King said. “I thought now, with all
that had happened, she’d finally be able to put her prejudices to
rest. I can’t imagine what it will take to do so. I’m beginning to
doubt she’ll ever accept you, Aenna, and for that I am truly sorry.
But enough of this. There should be no sad faces here. You are back
safe with us, my brave young woman, and your gift of a grandson
delights me. Let me hold the child, please. It calms me.”