Heart Song (6 page)

“You can breathe,” he said.

“I think I forgot how to,” I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” He stood and held out his hand for me and then led me down the stairs to the doors with the two armored figures on either side. He pushed them open, letting the sight of the garden fill my eyes. The jagged stone pathway circled around a giant statue of a woman bending over, gripping the ends of her dress, like she was about to step into a stream or prevent them from being frayed by the rough ground. Pure serenity filled her face. There was no worry that wrinkled her brow, and there was no pain in her eyes. Her lips were relaxed and sealed in the faintest hint of a smile. The flower bushes that grew around her pedestal had small pink buds poking out against the dark green leaves and branches.

We followed the path that wound its way through the garden. On either side, bushes upon bushes of different flowers were starting to bud and release their sweet scents into the world. I walked alongside Marren at a casual stroll. The sounds of birds singing songs of joy filled the woods that surrounded the garden. The sun lightly sprinkled its warmth. A soft sigh escaped me.

“Do you believe me?” Marren asked.

“Believe what?”

He chuckled. “What I said in your room.”

“Yes...at least, I think so. Then again, I don't really know.” I let out a deep breath then added, “Mostly.”

“What don't you believe?”

“That you don't believe women swoon over you. You would have to be blind. They practically throw themselves at your feet.”

“Or, perhaps my gaze is otherwise preoccupied...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing really, and not
every
woman throws herself at my feet. You don't.”

“Now that isn't going to work with me.” I stopped walking then grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and look at me also. “You can't be cryptic with
'nothing really'
after saying something about being preoccupied. And I have reasons for not buying into your charm.”

“How would it feel if your looks were what condemned you?” he asked.

I let my hand fall to my side. I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I fought hard to forget. “I already know how that feels...for different reasons,” I whispered, blinking away tears, and continued on the path.

“Is that why you try to keep yourself so guarded? What happened to you, Relena?” His words were soft and filled with concern.

“A lot of things that someone in your position would never understand.”

“Please tell me?” He held out his hand towards a bench off to the side of the path, nestled in between bushes of bright yellow buds.

I took a seat. “You don't answer half of my questions, why should I answer yours?” I tried to put as much effort into those words as I could, but fell short of any conviction.

“I will answer your questions, in time. For right now, I'm very curious about what keeps you guarded.”

I thought about asking him another question but nipped that idea. We just discussed him not answering any of mine and it was starting to get hard to remember all of my questions. So I started talking while staring at a blue rock on the ground.

“The first time I took interest in a boy I was shocked with how moving it was. But I kept my thoughts to myself because I heard the whispers of the townsfolk. I knew the horrible and pa
inful things they said about me, because my mother had run away with another man and disappeared—which Tarn blamed me for.
Somehow, our inn had become known as a whorehouse. People assumed my father was selling me. So it surprised me when that boy approached me and started talking to me like we'd been friends for our entire lives. No hint of hate or judgment. He was unbelievably nice to me.

“That went on for several weeks. Then, he asked me to meet him somewhere just after dark. Tarn wouldn’t miss me. He would be relieved of my absence.” I wrapped my arms around my chest and clenched my fists to keep the ache that was growing inside me at bay.

“The night I went to meet him, he was deep in the forest. I was scared because I knew what happens there. The sacrifices rumored to have been made, the souls that are said to haunt them. I knew something wasn’t right. Still, I continued, finding him purely by the glow of the camp fire. But he wasn't alone. Fear nearly claimed me when I turned back. Then someone stepped out from behind a tree and cupped his hand around my mouth to keep me from screaming. I tried to struggle, but he overpowered me, dragging me along.

“When we made it to the fire, the boy I had taken an interest in reprimanded the other for treating me so rudely. I started to relax until he pulled on a red ceremonial cloak. Others wearing the same emerged from the woods, standing around us in a circle. Their faces shielded by their hoods.”

I wiped a tear from my face. Marren shifted next to me. His posture had stiffened and when I glanced over, his hands were clenched. I thought that he didn't believe my story or for some reason he was extremely agitated over it. But, I’d already said too much to stop.

“The rest of the night was pretty much a blur…”
A painful, perfectly clear blur.
“
Danst was hunting nearby when he heard my screams over their chanting. Somehow he was able to break them up and save me. From that moment on, I was shunned. And the whispers only worsened.”

Marren said, “Danst taught you how to fight after that.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I said.

“I'm so very sorry for what you went through.” He shifted, tucking his foot under his knee, and faced me. “I feel so horrible about that. If it were me, I would've
killed
those boys.” He practically growled the words.

I couldn't help but smile in response to his reaction. “But then you wouldn't be here and able to rescue me from the Cyrs. Would you?”

“Possibly,” he mused. “What I think may not be important to you, but you are far from ugly.”

I laughed nervously. “You need to work on giving compliments.”

“And you need to work on accepting them,” he retorted.

I shifted in my seat to face him, caught in his eyes for a moment. I saw more each time I looked into them. This time there was sincerity. Nothing held back.  “Thank you for your compliment, and everything you've done for me.
Even though I still don't understand why.”
I breathed the words effortlessly. They flowed out of me like a whisper on the wind.

“You're welcome.” His stare grew in intensity, making the air around us heavier. Or was it lighter?

I forced myself to look away to the garden and a few butterflies that danced along the tops of the bushes. The sun started its descent of the day, making the shadows stretch out before us. 
Had that much time passed already?

“Now that you know why I'm so guarded, it's your turn,” I said.

“You're right, your reasons were different.  But, the feeling is the same nonetheless. It all comes down to trouble eventually finding me, and a reputation that seems to follow wherever I go.”

“Would it help if I try to explain?”

“It may...” The edge of his mouth curved up slightly.

“People either want to be you or be with you. When you don't give them what they want—they become enraged and retaliate against you. The rumors start and before you know it, you're labeled a dissident seducer.”

He nodded. “The logic makes sense, but I still don’t feel it applies.” The span of a few moments in silence passed before he asked, “Are you hungry?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

I followed Marren into the dining hall. The large table that sat in the center with chairs surrounding it seemed too formal for just a dinner for two. Yet it didn't stop Marren from pulling out a chair at the corner for me. Flattered by his gesture, I took it. He took the chair at the head. Immediately a servant, with the same dark skin, hair, and eyes, walked in and set a few plates of a roasted meat, string beans, and a slice of bread on the table along with a thick cloth and
silverware
. Another brought in two silver goblets and filled them with red wine. 

“So tell me,” he said, digging into his plate. “How old were you when your mother left?”

A bit of a heavy topic over dinner…
“It's been about ten years, so I was ten.” I stuck my fork into a bean and placed it in my mouth.

He nodded. “I understand why you keep yourself guarded. I suppose it would be the same with me if it were in the reverse.”

I looked at him, wondering why we were still talking about this topic and it came to my realization that he looked the same as he always did. For the entire time I'd known him, he hadn't aged. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said.

I licked my lips, which felt as dry as sand. “How old are you?” He stopped cutting into his meat then shifted his gaze up to me. His hair fell along his shoulders. He sat with the stillness of a statue that belonged in the
ball
room. My heart did a nervous lurch.
  “I've known you
for five years and in that time, you’ve never appeared any older.” 

He dropped his gaze, a grin stretching his lips, and resumed cutting. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” I replied in a rush. Almost too fast, letting on to the ball of fear that was forming in my stomach like an iron weight.

“You should eat.”

“That's it? Avoiding another question?”

“I fully intend to answer your question. Just not right now. I would really love to pick back up where we left off in the garden.”

“Okay.” It came out sounding like a question.

“You were explaining the reason for my self-inflicted luck.”

“Yes, I know.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of wine. It was tart and warm. “Did my explanation help?” I shoved a piece of meat into my mouth. It was sweet and tangy, not too spicy.

“It doesn't explain why the one I would love to give everything to won't take it.” His gaze grew heavier, forcing me to quickly look away. 

The fear in the pit of my stomach formed a knot and for a moment I thought I was going to vomit. I had given up on anything that resembled a romantic relationship a long time ago and I was
just
thrown right into the midst of someone who wanted it. I was damaged and incomplete. Most of all, I was so unsure of myself. Before, I knew what I wanted and how to get it; and then, it seemed like all that was taken away without my knowledge. Leaving me alone, cold, and afraid.

“Well?” Marren asked patiently.

I laughed nervously, trying to play it off, and moved my hands to my lap to keep them from visibly shaking. “Now you're not really referring to me are you?”

“I'm not listing names,” he retorted playfully.

“Names?
As in more than one?
Well, okay then.” I
paused
a few breaths. “Maybe they don't believe someone like you would be interested in them or maybe don't feel like they're worth your time. It could even be something as simple as being too afraid you'd end up like everyone else in their past.”

He sighed and looked away, becoming lost in his thoughts. At least it looked like it to me. I sipped on the wine, feeling its tart taste swim along my tongue and warm my throat and belly. I stood and walked towards the fireplace to look at the wonderful design along the mantel and
hearth
. The vines stretched and moved along the confines of the fire with the buds of the flowers opening. I watched in awe as the petals fell to the floor, disappearing, only to appear as buds on the vine again. 

I heard Marren approach from behind. I saw the outline of his silhouette out of the corner of my eye.  “This place...I thought all magic left the mortal realm long before I was born. Then I see this, and Raden, and the feel of the air in this place. It's something that I find hard to describe.” I touched the wood of the vines. They jumped at my intrusion, ceasing movement at my touch. I dropped my hand, feeling guilty.

“It's the same sort of enchantment you have,”

“Over what, exactly?”
I found this astoundingly preposterous.

“Me…” he said softly and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards him.

His eyes held mine and my heart quickened. I felt a pang of panic, the desire to run away overwhelmed me. “Marren, I—”

“I'm not like everyone else you've met. Believe me. I could never hurt you like they have.” He lifted his hand to my face, gently gliding his fingers along my cheek. My breaths and heart nearly stilled. I lowered my gaze.

“Don't look away, please,” he whispered, dropping his hand and stepping closer to me. I felt like my legs were about to buckle. “Can you ever love me?”

Tears fell down my cheeks, leaving cool wet streaks. “I don't know how to.”

“We can teach each other.” He wiped away the tears.

“And what if I can't? What then?”

“I will never stop trying,” he promised.

“Why?”