Cursed by Ice (34 page)

Oh, how he wished he had said all of that after they had made love that morning. Maybe if he had she wouldn’t have gone and they could have had a few more stolen days together before he would be forced to leave her side forever.

Garreth headed into the dark city streets, the lanterns on the street corners barely enough to make the way visible. But he didn’t care. He needed to be where he could feel closest to her. Where he could pray and hope his emotions were delivered somehow to her. She deserved to know how special she was.

He found the temple of Mordu after an hour of searching. The doors were closed to the public for the night, but he pounded on them so hard that a sleepy-eyed mem finally opened the doors and admitted him. Like all mems of Mordu, she was a beautiful woman, one with a lush figure beneath her religious gown. A perfect “bride” for the god of love and passion.

He stumbled to the altar, which sat beneath a statue of the god. Mordu was a truly godly figure of a man, and this statue was uncannily accurate in its depiction, for Garreth had seen the god himself that day at the fountain. The statue’s strong warrior’s body was clothed in a jerkin and a tunic that reached the tops of his thighs with his bare, powerful legs braced hard apart. His arms were folded across his chest, and his visage was intense as it stared down at his supplicants.

It was said that love was like war, that it required a stout heart and a warrior’s soul. That passion required a strong, healthy body, and therefore the god himself reflected these things.

As Garreth fell to his knees, he tilted his head back, so he could stare into that stern countenance, and spread his arms wide, his palms turned upward in supplication.

“Mordu, tell me what to do,” he begged of the god. “Tell me how to bear this. How do I love and yet let that love go at the same time? I suffered the torment of the gods, suffer it still, but will it never be enough? Will I never be allowed even the smallest reprieve? Is this my punishment for daring to know happiness in the face of the penance set down for me? Please … I beg of you … tell me your will. And … if she is hurting because of her love for me … take that pain from her. I never meant to cause her injury. Give it to me instead. Let my back bear the weight of this. It is not fair that she be set
free only to be chained again by emotions too painful to bear.”

And so it went. The same prayers over and over again, Garreth begging for guidance … begging that Sarielle be released from whatever burdens he may have placed upon her. On and on … until dawn lightened the sky and the morning sun began to spill across the altar.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Dethan should have been heading home. He should have left over a week ago if he intended to be home before the winter set in. But he could not bring himself to leave while his brother spent every day in a torment far more serious than the one the gods had set down for him. At least when Garreth had been chained to that mountain it had been only his body that had suffered. Now it was his soul that suffered, and Dethan knew the weight of his responsibility in the matter. He had questioned his actions more than once … with more and more frequency as the days wore on and his brother grieved.

Every night after Garreth was released from his frozen penance he went to the temple of Mordu and begged for more penance until dawn came. The mems had taken to leaving the door unlocked for him. They had tried to give him guidance and comfort, but he had gently turned them away, taking no succor, thinking he did not deserve it.

And as if this weren’t bad enough, Davine had taken to weeping quietly in odd corners of the keep. Dethan had stumbled upon her twice already. She had been making regular pilgrimages to Framun’s temple, hoping
for the peace and tranquility the god could offer an aggrieved soul. It bothered Dethan because he could have sworn Davine was a selfish soul, that this would not have touched her emotionally. But clearly Sarielle had touched more than just his brother’s heart, and Davine, like he, was feeling the burden of what they had done.

Dethan had written to his wife, telling her he needed more time, explaining that his brother needed him without giving details as to why. He realized that was because part of him was a little too ashamed to admit to his loving wife his role in the deception. And it was feelings like these that made him doubt his actions even more. If he truly believed he had done the right thing, wouldn’t he want to own his responsibility? Own his part in the whole thing?

No, he told himself. He had done the right thing for all involved. Sarielle was safer elsewhere, and Garreth was safer without her to distract him from his course. Or he would be once he stopped his unceasing prayers to Mordu. Dethan dreaded every day that Weysa would come down on them with thunderous dissatisfaction and take Garreth away, putting him back into his frozen torment once and for all. It was Dethan’s fear of this that allowed him to keep his countenance, keep his role in things silent.

All Garreth needed was time, Dethan told himself. After the winter had passed, Garreth would be healed from his pain and move on. His focus would be restored. But … if this continued on into the spring, there would be serious trouble. Hells, if Garreth did not keep his head on straight over the winter, he might find himself losing the tenuous grip he had on his newly acquired cities. That would not do at all. That would definitely earn Weysa’s attention … and outrage.

So Dethan would stay as long as he possibly could to make certain that did not happen.

He sometimes thought things were improving. Garreth was beginning to invest time and attention in the workings of the cities again, but it was clear this was by rote, not because of any passion for it. His passion had left him when Sarielle had left him.

To say his brother was losing sleep was an understatement. Garreth spent his nights in prayer, so it followed he did not spend them sleeping. Then he worked throughout the day in a half-present manner. The mems of Mordu’s temple had told Dethan that Garreth sometimes fell asleep on his knees, no doubt out of pure exhaustion, but other than that …

Dethan shuffled through papers in front of him but did not really see what he was reading. He suspected his brother was doing the same. Garreth sat across from him, staring at the same page he had been looking at for the better part of half an hour.

“The moat is coming along nicely,” Dethan said, for some reason compelled to make small talk, if only to feel that his brother was engaging in life in some way.

“Yes. I saw it when I went to Zandaria yesterday,” Garreth said. He went back to looking at his paper.

“I think it will be a particularly bitter winter,” Dethan tried again. “Especially here, with the Asdar Mountains so close at hand.”

Garreth looked up at him and frowned. “Do you really wish to discuss the weather with me?” he asked almost irritably.

“I wish to discuss anything with you!” Dethan snapped suddenly. “Anything to make me feel you are still alive! It has been well over a moon’s turn since she left. How long will you let this go on?”

Garreth’s gaze turned glacial. “For as long as it takes,” he said.

“I am at a loss,” Dethan said, throwing up his hands
in his frustration. “Tell me what to do to make this better for you!”

“Can you bring her back to me?” Garreth asked, his stare hard. They both already knew the answer to that.

“You cannot go to her. She cannot come to you. It is a hopeless business. It is better you set your mind to moving on from this.”

Garreth’s fists crashed down on the table, making Dethan jump.

“Why are you here?” Garreth demanded of him.

“There is work to be done,” he said, indicating the stack of papers in front of him.

“No. I mean, why are you
here
. Why are you not on your way to your wife and son? Your agreement with Weysa says you are to fight for her only during the summer wanings. Fall is near over and winter is coming. If you do not leave, you will be trapped here with me this winter. I cannot imagine that will make your wife happy, so … why are you here?”

“Because my brother needs me!”

“I need nothing from you,” Garreth said bitterly. “I need nothing from anyone. I will suffer my penance and hold to my agreement with Weysa no matter what it has cost me. What else can I do?”

Dethan clenched his teeth tightly together. It pained him beyond reason to see his brother hurting so. “Garreth …”

“Go. Leave tomorrow. I will be fine without you.”

“No. You have two cities to run and you cannot do that in your present frame of mind.”

“I told you to go! I have good men here to help me run these cities. I will not lose them! Not after what it has cost me!”

Dethan had no reply to that. It made sense, what his brother was saying, but he was still not convinced. He opened his mouth to argue, but what could he possibly say to make this better? What could he possibly do to
help Garreth snap out of his overwhelming melancholy? There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. All that Dethan could say had already been said.

“Leave tomorrow,” Garreth said.

“No. Another week. There is plenty of time.”

“What difference will a week make?” his brother asked.

Dethan did not know. He could only hope that with more time would come more acceptance.

“The moat will be further along. Our positions in both cities further solidified. A week and I will have more than enough time to make it home before the snow falls.”

“Very well. A week. But no longer.” Garreth moved around the table, heading for the doorway into the hall. He paused at his brother’s elbow. “A week, Dethan. After that you will no longer be welcome here.”

The words were cold and hard, and Dethan knew he meant every one of them. Garreth would force him out of the city if given the impetus to do so. And while the army they shared was equally loyal to the brothers, he knew Garreth would find a way. His brother was one of the most determined people he had ever known. Garreth had succeeded on his quests and crusades sometimes with only his will to see him through.

Garreth left, no doubt heading for his horse and subsequently the orchard, since dusk was fast approaching. It came earlier now, with the winter season falling on them, the nights growing longer and the days shorter. That meant the hours of his suffering, the hours between dusk and juquil’s hour, were longer now.

If indeed Dethan could say his brother’s suffering ever came to an end.

Sarielle sat by the window, looking out and watching the twins as they played on the ground outside. It was colder now, so they were wearing wraps, but Sarielle
suspected they hardly felt the cold at all. They were more focused on their dolls.

They had arrived in the small city of Moda a few weeks earlier and Sarielle had purchased this little farm shortly after. The house was a strong one, with thick walls and two rooms, a sturdy fireplace positioned between them. One room she slept in with the twins; the other room they used for eating and daily activities.

Sarielle had bought them all new clothes in the Moda fashion so the girls could attend the school on the edges of the farmlands, which taught the farming children in the cold wanings, when the fields had been reaped and there were fewer chores for the children to help with.

Sarielle had also bought a cow for milk and a butchered bosc pig, the pork and bacon salted or smoked for storing in their tiny cellar. They had winter vegetables stored as well and canned fruits, milled sugar, and other staples to get them through the winter. Plus, she had purchased heavy fabrics and was stitching them to make warm quilts for their beds. It was a simple life. A good life. They would hire hands to work the farm come spring, and the money they had gotten from Koro’s gems would take them quite far. Moda was many days’ journey from the Asdar Mountains and Koro, but the wyvern could fly the distance in no time at all, should she need him for any reason.

But she would not need him. They were safe … far from any neighbors, really. Hidden away from prying and curious eyes. To her neighbors, she was a widow taking care of her sisters. She’d had to say she was recently widowed. It was better that way. It explained why she was with child but had no man to be a father to it.

She had discovered she was pregnant within days of leaving Kith. She had been sick with increasing frequency and recognized it had much less to do with her
grief and much more to do with being pregnant when a woman saw her throwing up one morning and made a joke of it.

“So when’s the child due?” the woman asked with a cackle.

Sarielle paled, all the blood rushing to the bottom of her body, as she realized that was exactly what was wrong with her. It explained why her breasts had grown tender all of a sudden. Why even the smell of food made her sick now. Why she was so incredibly tired all the time. She was going to have Garreth’s baby. His son or his daughter.

She had struggled for a full day with the dilemma of whether or not she should tell him of it. Part of her thought he had a right to know; another part of her thought he had lost all rights to know anything about her and what had become of her when he had bedded another woman and betrayed her.