Sorrows of Adoration (46 page)

I tried to slip out of
his hold, but his large hands held me still. “Much as I’d like to
thrash him for treating you so, I know it’d only upset you, so I
shall go to my chambers. But, Aenna, if you decide you need a
shoulder on which to weep, know that I am always there for you.
Please, don’t suffer alone. I am your friend and will listen
whenever you feel you can speak about it.” He let go of my
shoulders, took my hand and kissed it, and let me enter my
room.

Leiset was there. I
tried not to be short with her in my frustrated state as I asked
for her keys to both doors to my bedchamber. As always, she
realized that Kurit had upset me and did not torture me with
questions. She simply gave me the keys as I requested. I went into
my bedchamber and locked both doors. I also locked the balcony
door, on the remote chance that Kurit would be so foolish as to try
to get in that way. I was determined to not see him, though I had
no rational reason why. I just couldn’t bear the thought of another
sad apology, another embrace, another promise to behave.

Sure enough, Kurit came
knocking. He banged on the door from my receiving room, rattling
the knob when I did not answer. He called apologies through the
door, but I said nothing. He then ordered Leiset to bring him her
keys, as I had suspected he would.

“I cannot do that, Your
Majesty,” I heard her say.

“Curse it, Leiset, I’m
not in the mood for your games. Give me your key!”

“I cannot! She took
them in with her.”

He banged again on the
door for a moment, and then it was silent. Leiset whispered through
the door, “He has gone, Aenna.”

Then there came a
rattle at the door between our chambers. I heard him shout through
it, “Aenna, I’m sorry. Open the door. I want to talk to you.
Please, don’t do this to me.”

To
you?
I thought
incredulously.
I’m doing this to you?

“Aenna, please. I know
you’re in there. I know you can hear me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have said those things.” He banged on the door, becoming
frustrated. The noise was sufficient that I worried it would draw
Jarik from his rooms, which would result in a fight between them.
Jarik had become increasingly furious with Kurit’s behaviour
towards me, and I worried more and more that he would lose his
temper.

But Jarik did not come,
and soon Kurit gave up. I cried, using my pillow to mask the sound,
until I fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

The next morning, I
told myself I was not going to allow him to destroy my spirit. I
had a great project to undertake, and though construction could not
begin until spring, there was much planning and purchasing to do
during the remainder of the winter, including securing final
approval of the plan. I focused on the excitement of that as I had
a quick breakfast, found Jarik, and went to go tell the people that
we could get started soon.

Unfortunately, just
before we left the Great Hall, Kurit caught up to us. He cast a
brief, sheepish look to Jarik, no doubt knowing that his cousin was
furious at him. I glanced at Jarik’s face; it was cold and hard,
his jaw set.

“Jarik, I’d like a
moment with Aenna please,” Kurit said.

Jarik glared at him,
and my heart raced in fear that he would respond in anger. Instead,
the big man looked to me, his eyes softening as he did so. I nodded
to him in an indication to step aside, and he did so.

“Aenna, why wouldn’t
you let me in last night?” Kurit began in haste. “I wanted to
apologize—”

“Hush!” I said, then
put on a smile for the others who were in the Great Hall. Being so
early, it was not crowded, but the few people nearby looked at our
little spectacle with undisguised curiosity. Still smiling my
false, happy smile, I muttered to Kurit, “We should not be speaking
of our problems so publicly, Kurit. The people must not know that
our marriage suffers so.”

He tried to match my
calm and happy look, but since I had so bluntly stated that our
marriage was, in fact, suffering, he was unable to do so. “Then
come into my workroom, please.”

“Kurit, I have grown
weary of this game of insult, apology, hug, and forgiveness,” I
whispered, still smiling. “It is a circle that has spun so many
times, I am dizzy from it. Now I have things to do. I must go.”

I started to walk away
from him, but he caught up with me and stood in my way. “I am
sorry, Aenna. I really am.”

My heart ached. I
realized I had a fast choice to make between tears and anger, so I
chose the latter and coldly stated, “You always are, Kurit.” Then I
stepped around him and left the palace with Jarik.

AS I HAD HOPED, the
Council approved the plan at the next meeting, so as soon as the
snow had cleared sufficiently, I hired men to haul stone from the
distant quarries. They travelled in great trains of carts, and when
I saw them in the distance from the palace towers, they reminded me
of busy ants.

Raelik turned one year
old as the project officially began. Kurit managed to stay fairly
sober for the small celebration we had for our son. It was the last
time he and I shared a pleasant conversation for a long time. Once
I became busy and was frequently out of the palace—always wearing
the breastplate armour that had been made for me—Kurit grew sullen
and distant. I thus took Raelik along with me most of the time,
concerned that his brooding father would ruin the little boy’s
happy spirit.

Construction of the new
outer wall began as soon as the ground thawed enough to allow for
foundations to be set. The old wall remained in place until the new
one was complete and guard towers had been established.

I planned for the
various phases of construction to overlap each other as much as
possible in order to complete the project quickly. The ground
stones for the sidewalks and building foundations were laid as the
wall was built. Upon completion of these phases, there was an
enormous, white, empty area. I stood at its edge with Raelik in my
arms on the first morning it was complete, before the old walls had
been taken down. Beside me were Jarik, Oana, Nikal, and Druin.

“It’s amazing,” Oana
whispered. “It looks so perfect, I almost don’t want to build
anything into it.”

Druin laughed, as
usual. “But picture it, Oana.” He pointed to various parts of the
large, white space, as the designs had been established. “Right
there shall be the new market. There shall be the rows of new shops
and boutiques. And all along there shall be our new homes.”

I smiled, happy and
inspired by the sight of the new part of Endren as well as the
excitement of these people. Jarik put a kind arm around my
shoulders as I stared out, imagining as Druin did what the final
result would look like. “You do know, of course, your name will be
remembered in history for this,” he whispered.

“
I don’t care
about that,” I said quietly to him. “I won’t be there to hear it.
But right now I feel happier than I have
since
 
…”

“Since you were taken
away,” he said.

I nodded. He knew me
too well. “I finally feel like I have control over things again.
This coming together of good people for a good cause: Jarik, it
gives me such a heart-swelling delight.” Raelik made a happy squeal
in my arms, and I laughed. I kissed his sweet little head and
marched out to the centre of the giant empty room of stone. I spun
around, holding him before me with outstretched arms. He giggled,
and I laughed with him. “My precious baby boy!” I said, clutching
him back to me. I kissed his fat happy cheeks and spun slowly
again, holding one arm out to show him the wonder of it all. “This
is where you shall be King, my Raelik. This is where you shall
stroll to be amongst your people, and they will know you and love
you because you won’t be locked away behind palace walls.”

I caught sight of the
other four staring at me oddly. I laughed at them. I held my free
arm outstretched and shouted, “This is the beginning of a whole new
way of life for all of us! You will have proper homes and the means
to earn a decent living. The wealthy will feel safe walking here,
knowing the space has been designed to allow guards to see all and
prevent crime. And I shall bring my son here. I shall raise this
precious child to know that he is not going to be the King of the
upper class, but the King of all Keshaerlans, and he has a duty to
every single one of them.” I spun him around again to make him
giggle, and then I returned to the others. “You may think me mad,
but I promise you all that I see these things in true clarity.” I
looked at Jarik, who smiled in return. “I know you told me once not
to embark on a foolish battle against class. I don’t have to,
Jarik. If every city in Keshaerlan follows this path and provides
opportunity for even the poorest child to work to become someone of
importance, then the battle will fight itself.”

I let him lead me out
of the new eastern gate, and we walked back around the city walls
to the old east end to begin the next phases. On the way, he
quietly said to me, “Aenna, I know you’re delighted with the
progress, and I’m delighted for you, but please, don’t set all of
your hopes and dreams on this. If your projections should turn out
to be wrong—”

“They won’t, Jarik.” I
laughed.

“Aenna, I couldn’t bear
to see you crushed if they are.”

I smiled at him and
sighed happily. “You’re always so concerned for me, my dearest
friend. Don’t be concerned for this. It will be marvellous. And if
it isn’t, then I shall make it so. I feel like I can do anything
today.”

He chuckled softly. “I
have no doubt that you probably could. Just don’t let yourself be
hurt by setbacks. Promise me that.”

I promised him. I
wanted to kiss his cheek for being so sweet and concerned but knew
he didn’t like it when I did so in public, so I waited until that
evening. It surprised him then, and I laughed merrily as I entered
my room for the night.

* * *

The only time during
the construction when I felt at all unhappy was during the
following winter, when we had to stop until spring. The heavy
snowstorms made it necessary to stay indoors most days, and I was
thus unable to avoid Kurit. We went through several cycles of
bitterness, anger, and regret. There would follow a few days during
which he would remain fairly sober and would be pleasant to Raelik
and me. I learned not to grow hopeful because of them, for
inevitably he would have a fight with his mother—who had made
insulting me her full-time occupation—and the frustration of it
would send him back to his bottles. He spent his days in a state of
light drunkenness, always able to appear in control and coherent to
most people, and he spent his nights passed out on his bed, chair,
or sometimes the floor.

The nonsense that was
our marriage began to wear me down. I was no longer angry nearly as
often as I was depressed. When I would accidentally recall happier
times, they did not make me smile. They stabbed at my heart as I
mourned the loss of my husband. Kurit was not dead, but he was not
the man I had known. My abduction, his father’s death, and the
constant, unwinnable battles with his mother had changed him. When
he was not irritable, he was despondent. I ached to help him, but
whenever I was foolish enough to attempt to do so, he would push me
away, either by polite request to be alone or by cruel little
remarks.

I knew Jarik would have
been there for me in comfort if I had asked. He offered it
constantly, as did Leiset. I spoke with Leiset often, and she would
put a kind arm around me. I loved her for her kindness, but it
didn’t make anything better. I knew in my heart that what I really
needed was the same from Jarik, but I knew of his love for me and
could not bear to take advantage of it.

Just as I was beginning
to reach my wits’ end, spring returned and I was able again to
escape the mad palace and restart construction. Kurit slept through
Raelik’s second year celebration, having stayed up the night before
drinking, after what I was told was a particularly nasty argument
with Kasha. Quite frankly, I was glad he was not there to add his
surly self to the party. The only exception was when Raelik asked
for his father. My heart breaking for my son, I explained that Papa
was very tired and managed to direct the boy’s attention
elsewhere.

But the return to the
project made most of winter’s anger and depression go away. By the
end of the summer, all the buildings were up. Neat little rows of
white stone houses lined three sides of the marketplace, their
number greater than was currently needed. The market itself was
large and open, making it easy for guards to stroll about and keep
an eye on things. There was ample room for dozens of regular
merchants, and room for significant expansion during peak times of
caravan travel as well.

As the finishing
touches were completed on the new houses, the people packed their
few belongings from their old, crowded homes and began carrying
them to their new ones. The new houses, most of which were of a
uniform size and design, were assigned by lottery. I stood to the
side, helping the architects design the rows of shops that would
replace the old homes once they were vacated. It delighted me to
watch the happy people moving their things.

One afternoon, however,
I witnessed something that was far from happy. A pale, emaciated,
and bruised woman was struggling to carry a wooden crate of poorly
packed items. She stumbled and fell, dropping the crate before her.
I could not tell what was in the crate, but the sound of breaking
glass was clearly audible.

I was about to ask one
of my guards to go and assist the poor woman when I saw something
so absolutely horrific that I froze in my place. A man raced up
behind her and shouted several obscenities at her. She tried to
apologize, but her tears enraged him. He beat her about the head
with his fists, and when she cowered on the ground, covering her
head with her arms, he kicked her in the ribs.