Sorrows of Adoration (41 page)

The old man tried to
lift Raelik towards me, but his arms were too weak. I quickly
lifted my child from him.

“He will bring you such
joy, Aenna. I am very grateful to the Gods that I was allowed to
live long enough to know and love my son’s family.”

Raelik called out a
happy gurgle at the attention, making Tarken chuckle.

“Precious, he is. Now,
I have things to say to each of you in turn. Kurit, Aenna, please
wait outside while I speak with my dear wife.”

On my way out, I looked
at Kasha. She stood tall, stately as ever, but in her eyes was a
great sadness. Despite all that she had said and done to me, I felt
an ache for her.

Kurit and I sat in the
receiving room after closing the door behind us. “Your poor
mother,” I said quietly. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must be
to lose her husband.”

Kurit sighed and rose
from his chair. I was not surprised, knowing well by now his
penchant to pace when upset. He stopped to stare at a painting of a
Penklin sunset, the colours of the sky bouncing over the ocean’s
waves. He looked at it as though he were actually staring into the
distance and said, “It’s worse than you can imagine. Everything in
you dies when you lose the one that you love. There’s the pain of
it, but worse is the hole that’s left in your life. Their empty
chair. Their wardrobe full of clothes that won’t be worn
again.”

He broke his eyes away
from the painting and looked at the floor. I thought for a moment
he would weep, but he took several deep breaths to avoid doing so.
“And then you catch sight of some small thing. The carefully kept
clip of a wedding veil. Worse, the little blue glass figurine you
bought her one day just because you knew it would make her
smile.”

He was reliving his
grief at thinking I was dead, and a few quiet tears managed to
escape his eyes. He brushed them away in frustration and struggled
to compose himself. Then he looked at me and tried to force a
smile. “Sorry. I know you’re here and safe and well, and I know
further how it makes your heart ache so to see me sad and weak like
this. But the memories of those weeks are still awfully vivid,
still hideously real. I keep waiting for them to fade, and they had
only just begun to do so. Now my father’s impending death has
brought them all back in every detail.”

Kurit went to the small
stone table in the corner that held glasses and several decanters
and poured himself a drink. I sat in awkward silence with a
gurgling baby in my lap. I looked at Raelik, and indeed his little
chubby face was still happy as ever. I envied my son his innocent
obliviousness.

Kurit stared at the
wall, sipping his drink. I chose to maintain my silence, for what
does one say when one’s husband is experiencing the angry sadness
of losing his father? Words of sympathy become trite and
meaningless in their overuse during such times. Words of comfort
inevitably fail. Everything else is merely an awkward attempt
around those choices, and obviously so. Also, I had not realized he
was still so acutely suffering my absence. It made everything worse
to know that.

In time, Kasha came out
of the King’s bedchamber and indicated that Kurit was to go in
next. He did, leaving me alone with his mother, who sat opposite
me. She sat in silence, glaring at me with unabashed
malevolence.

I ignored her for some
time, though it was difficult to feel that angry gaze upon me. I
decided to try to be kind in the hope that she would finally let
her hatred go.

“I know there is an
animosity between us,” I said softly, trying not to let my voice
waver. It irritated me that she could still make me nervous. “But
truly, I feel nothing but sadness for your coming loss. I humbly
extend to you my deepest sympathies.”

It was as though I had
spoken to a white stone statue. Her pale face did not so much as
move at my words. Her thin lips were pressed together tightly, and
her eyes held their same cold fury as she continued to stare
directly at me.

Kurit soon came out
looking more composed than he had when he went in. I was unsure
whether his father had spoken inspirational words, or if the
alcohol had just finally taken effect. He sat down, and I put his
son in his lap to go and see the King myself.

As I closed the door
quietly behind me, King Tarken bade me to come sit by his side. I
sat on the edge of his bed as he indicated.

“I did not call you
last because you are the least important, Aenna. Quite the
opposite. You are the most important person I have to speak to
before I go.

“I told Kasha that it
was my deathbed wish that she cease her torment of you. I do not
want to peer upon mortals from the Everafter to see you bound in
anxiety over her anger and insults. I gave Kurit what fatherly
advice I could and told him to be strong for his mother, wife, and
son. But I do not have to tell you to be strong, Aenna, for you
have always been that. And it is because of your strength that I
say this to you now: my kingdom is left in your hands.

“I have no doubt that
Kurit will manage well in the day-to-day undertakings and duties.
And he has a good head for the lords, knowing which one responds
well to what sort of persuasion. But he has not yet recovered from
your abduction, and I fear my death will make him worse. He turns
too quickly to the drink. You must help him to stop that before he
loses control completely.

“It will be you that
will best handle the crises when they arise, for though you are
quick to anger, you usually have the sense to calm yourself and try
to be rational. You shall of course support Kurit, but do not be
afraid to act of your own accord when need be. My kingdom needs
your strength, Aenna. Come, take my hand and lean closer. I am
tiring, and this is important.”

His face was ashen, and
the hand I enclosed between mine was cold. His breathing was
shallow, and he fought to keep his eyes open as he continued.
“Aenna,” he whispered, “I foresee great things for you. Your
outspoken passion can serve you well if you use it when necessary
and keep it hushed when not. Don’t battle over trivial matters.
Save it for the monumental ones. You will be a great Queen; of that
I have not the slightest doubt.

“But for your own peace
of mind, good Aenna, please don’t allow the pathetic prejudices and
insensitivities of others to hold meaning for you.”

He sighed and shuddered
awfully. There was such a great lump in my throat that I could not
speak. I tried to leave his side to fetch Tash, but the King held
fast to my hand with what little strength remained in him and said,
“No, stay. I have only moments to tell you this. Aenna, I see your
legacy written in the hands of the Gods. You will be a woman of
legend. Believe in your own ideas and see them through with every
ounce of strength that you have. Show my son the way to
greatness.”

I wept for him already,
trembling as I clutched his cold hand. His eyes fluttered, and with
his last breath he struggled to say, “And know, Aenna, that in my
heart …” He did not finish. A final cough racked his body, and
then he was gone.

I knew it was too late,
but I could not help but pitifully whisper, “What? What is in your
heart?” I brought his dead hand to my cheek and made as though he
were caressing me. My tears fell into his palm as I lowered it back
to the bed. I kissed his sweet cheek, wondering if his half-opened
eyes still saw me there. I realized that I had not had a chance to
tell him at the end how I adored him. He had faded too fast, before
I could utter the words. My tears fell on his face, and I gently
brushed them away before finally summoning the others.

They came in and saw
him there, dead. I could not bear to stay. Raelik would be fine in
his father’s arms, and I could not bear to cry before them. I ran
out of the King’s chambers, down the hall. and right into my own. I
did not even speak to Leiset as I ran past her and went straight
through to my bed, where I threw myself like a distraught child and
wept. The more I wept, the worse I felt, for he had charged me to
be strong and there I was crumbling pathetically.

I could hear Leiset
sobbing in the next room, as I had not closed the door. Then came
the announcements around the palace, people of every station
calling out, “The King is dead! The King is dead!” The sound of
them threatened to drive me mad, so I put a pillow over my head to
silence them.

After some time—perhaps
ten minutes, perhaps two hours—I felt someone sit on my bed beside
me. I felt a strong hand on my back, caressing my sob-sore muscles.
I thought it was Kurit and was quite shocked when I lifted the
pillow from my face to see Jarik there.

“I must look an awful
sight,” I said.

He did not speak. He
simply reached his hand to my cheek and with his thumb brushed away
the tracks of my tears.

“Where are the
others?”

“I don’t know. They’re
not my concern.”

I moved to sit up
beside him. I rubbed at my wet cheeks and eyes, trying to compose
myself. My throat and head hurt.

Jarik rose for a moment
to take a clean handkerchief from my dressing table and hand it to
me. He sat beside me again. I could not look at him.

“You should be
concerned for Kurit. He’s your cousin and best friend.”

Jarik sighed. “Kurit’s
best friend is in a bottle. I have spoken with him several times,
but as you warned me, he denies it and hides it, as though he were
hiding a lover.”

I put my face in my
hands and sighed.

“Oh, Aenna, that was
stupid phrasing. I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know you didn’t.
But that’s precisely what it’s like.”

“I’m doing a fine job
of comforting you, aren’t I?”

I leaned over and let
my head rest on his shoulder. “You are simply speaking of a truth
that neither of us can control. I’d rather hear that from you than
patronizing lies. So, what’s to be done now then?”

“There will be a
memorial service, and then the King will be entombed at the royal
crypt just outside the city. Then you and Kurit shall be
crowned.”

“And what’s to be done
with Kurit? His father asked me to stop his drinking. How in the
name of the Temple do I do that?” Fresh, fat tears dribbled down my
cheeks as I felt an acute sense of failure.

“I don’t know. Perhaps
his new role and responsibilities will force him to evaluate his
behaviour and stop himself. I don’t know what else to—”

Jarik’s words were cut
off by a sudden, loud tolling of bells from every direction. I
clamped my hands over my ears in shock.

“It is the bells in the
towers,” he shouted over the din. “They are rung when the ruling
King or Queen has died to spread the official word.”

I immediately thought
of my poor infant son and how the sound must terrify the child. I
ran out of my chambers with Jarik close on my heels. I was in the
nursery in a matter of seconds, assuming Kurit would have brought
his son back there. Sure enough, Lyenta was trying to soothe the
poor child as he screamed from the noise. I took him from her and
sat in a rocking chair with him, holding him to me and covering his
small head with my hands. He howled all during the chorus of
ominous bells and for some time after.

Jarik stood in the
doorway the whole time, watching us, a look of dismay on his
face.

* * *

There was no formal
dinner in the Great Hall that night, nor would there be until a new
King sat on the throne. I was told dinner would be brought to my
room, but I made sure to inform the maid not to bother to bring me
any food, as I felt too awful to eat. I suspected I would not be
the only one in the palace who lacked appetite that night.

When I had dressed for
bed, I knocked softly on the door between my bedchamber and
Kurit’s. I heard him mutter something that may have been an
invitation to come in, so I opened it. He sat at his dressing table
with his back to me, a glass in one hand and a decanter in the
other. The decanter was almost empty.

He caught my eye in his
mirror. “Don’t complain about this, Aenna. Tonight I need it.”

“I understand, Kurit. I
didn’t come to nag. I came offering and seeking comfort. I thought
perhaps I would stay with you here tonight.”

He lowered his head and
muttered, “I’d rather be alone.”

I was certainly in no
mood to press the issue, though the thought did enter my mind to
remind him of his many promises to never again leave my side when I
had returned from the abduction. Instead, I turned and went back to
the door.

“Besides,” he grumbled
after me, “I don’t see what you’re all upset about. He was my
father, not yours.”

I stopped, stunned at
his awful words. I turned back to him. His head was still lowered,
almost planted in his glass. “I still cared for him!” I said,
aghast. “He was the closest thing to a father that I ever had. I
can’t believe you could even say something so cruel to me,
Kurit.”

I turned again
and was halfway through the door when I heard him call to me.
“Aenna, wait.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was standing
and facing me now. I turned around in the doorframe to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking very weak, like a wilted plant. “It
was cruel. I’m just so
 
…” He shook his head, his eyes closed in tired anguish.
“You were there, a convenient target. I’m not upset with you, and
that was really wrong of me to say. I’m liable to be this way all
night. That’s why you should leave me alone. It’s not that I don’t
want you with me, it’s just that I can barely handle this all
myself. If I feel weak enough to lean on you or worse, feel as
though I’m too weak to have you lean on me, Aenna, I just can’t
take that right now. You should go, before I say something else
that I don’t mean.”