Sorrows of Adoration (42 page)

I nodded, turned, and
left, closing the door softly behind me. I jumped when a moment
later I heard the sound of glass shattering in his room. It sounded
as though he had hurled his glass against the stone of the
fireplace. I considered going back to make sure he was all right,
but I knew Gilrin would already be there doing so, and my presence
might make him feel worse.

I sat at the foot of my
bed. I wanted to grieve for the King, but I feared the sound of my
crying would disturb Kurit further, and I so wanted to be strong
for him. I decided to go somewhere where I would not be heard, and
the only place I could think of was one of the towers.

I left my rooms, and in
doing so recalled that I had promised Jarik never to go off
somewhere without telling him in person first, lest I be discovered
missing. I went quietly down the hall to his door and rapped
softly. I knew he wouldn’t hear me if he were sleeping, and for
once I wished he wasn’t so stubborn about not having a manservant.
He felt strongly that a warrior should be able to live alone and
care for himself, and any manservant who had been assigned to him
in the past had found himself locked out every night.

Just as I began to walk
quietly away, the door opened, and there he stood in dark cotton
pants and an unlaced shirt.

“I barely heard you,”
he whispered.

“I didn’t want to wake
you.”

“You didn’t. Come
in.”

I let him take my hand
and lead me into his receiving room. “I just came to tell you I’m
going up to the tower. Leiset is asleep, and if she finds me not in
my bed she’ll assume I’m with Kurit. But I promised you I would
never disappear somewhere without telling you.”

He nodded in thanks and
asked, “Why are you going to the tower?”

“I just need to have
time to grieve, and I don’t want Kurit to have to hear me. He’s
very upset, and I won’t burden him further.”

Jarik closed the door.
“He won’t hear you in here. There’s no need to go up to the tower.
It’s cold and dark up there at night. You’ll find little comfort
there.”

“Jarik, you are good to
me, but I cannot bear to burden you, either. I did not come seeking
an invitation to stay.”

“I know that. You would
rather suffer alone than let me comfort you. You’re like a man,
Aenna, the way you try to keep your emotions hidden. But it is no
burden to me to comfort a friend who has lost a loved one. And to
be quite honest, and likely less the man for admitting it, I could
use company myself. I loved him as a father, too.”

He embraced me as my
tears began to spill. After Kurit’s spiteful words, this man’s arms
were a welcome comfort. I laid my head on his chest and cried into
him as he cradled my head in his hand as Kurit once had. He moved
to the couch, and I followed in his arms. There we sat in each
other’s arms well into the night as we quietly grieved the loss of
the good King.

KURIT’S DRINKING EASED
somewhat after we were crowned as King and Queen of Keshaerlan. He
still seemed to require it in order to sleep, but new tasks to
occupy his mind kept him sober more so than any words from Jarik or
myself. Kurit attacked every responsibility head on, determined to
focus on anything other than his own emotions.

Unfortunately, his more
frequent sobriety did not return him to being the husband I had
known before the abduction. Nowhere to be found was the jovial,
adorable man who had teased me and easily expressed his love. He
became irritable when interrupted, especially when I was the
interruption. I suspected the sight of me reminded him of the
emotions he was endeavouring to push aside.

I was determined not to
be childish and weep over him. I had a son to care for who adored
me and never failed to grant me a chubby little smile and happy
giggle when I took the time to play with him. I clung to Raelik’s
love as a pillar of strength against all that threatened to depress
me.

Kurit’s quest to become
buried in work led him soon to take on responsibilities that were
not his own. He began taking records I was to maintain from what
was now my workroom. When I would question him on it, he would
mutter that he was able to handle it and not to worry myself.

It was tempting to view
his actions as a slight against my abilities or intelligence, but I
knew better. We both knew that I was more than capable and
intelligent enough to do what I had to and more. His mad quest for
administrative duty was not sufficient to make me doubt myself as
perhaps I would have before we were married.

Instead, he found
enough other ways to jab at me with small slights and insults, all
in a clear effort to keep me away. His ensuing apologies for these
comments became less and less common.

I could have put
myself into my rooms and wept, but I was not about to do so. I
thought,
Fine, let him behave so. I shall go out to the city, and
when he misses my presence long enough, he shall come to me. I
shall not indulge his little games of
Poor-Tortured-King.

So I took to walking
about the city with Jarik and, at my Champion’s insistence, a few
guards. I had not spent much time in Endren before. It was a lovely
city with great houses that had elegantly carved columns and
carefully arranged little front gardens. Being out of the palace
allowed me to clear my mind and forget that Kurit brooded within
its walls.

Those walks seemed good
for Jarik as well. I caught him many times smiling at me when he
thought that I could not see him. I’d catch a glimpse of his
reflection in a window, or I’d turn about quickly and there he
would be, looking at me with a happy fondness. He became my dearest
friend, and I knew that I could count on him for anything. Looking
back, I realize I knew then that he was in love with me, but I
chose to ignore it for the obvious complications of such a
thing.

Within a few weeks, I
began to realize Jarik and the guards were always finding ways to
steer me clear of the eastern end of the city. Whenever I asked
why, one of them would provide a vague, often illogical excuse and
then try to redirect my attention elsewhere. Not wanting to cause a
public scene, I played along for a few days.

Then one afternoon as
we set out, I began to walk due east. Jarik tried several times to
direct me north or south, but I politely refused, as though I had
not noticed this strange little dance of diversion.

Finally, he said,
“Aenna, we’re not going that way.”

“Why not? What’s there
that you don’t want me to see?”

“That’s not a
particularly pleasant part of the city, nor is it safe for a
lady.”

I laughed. “You’ll
recall that I have only been worthy of that description since I
married Kurit. I have not become fragile behind these nice dresses,
Jarik. I’m quite sure I can deal well with whatever lurks in that
direction.” I tried to walk east again, but he held my arm to stop
me.

“It’s not safe for you
there, Aenna.”

I looked at his sincere
face but refused to let him dissuade me. “Well, if it’s so very
dangerous then you had better accompany me.” I snapped my arm out
of his grasp—which I knew I was only able to do because he allowed
it—and continued on my way. I was determined more than ever to
discover what I was being shielded from.

It is
broad daylight after all,
I thought to myself.
There are no political upheavals brewing of which
anyone is aware. People in the city seem generally happy, so what
reason would anyone have to harm me, knowing full well that it
would be their own death to do so?

Jarik ran to catch up
with me and walked closely beside me. I glanced at his face—oh, he
was angry! But he focused his anger to be watchful of all that was
around us instead of wasting his time arguing with me. The guards
also became more alert and ran to surround me.

As the streets wound
around the buildings, I saw them quickly go from proud homes and
businesses to run-down hovels and seedy-looking establishments. I
slowed my pace, aghast when we reached the far east end. There, the
shacks were actually piled on top of each other. They were built
right up against the city wall, making use of every available
space. Old men sat in the shadows, some begging. Harried-looking
women chased after ragged children. Merchants called to sell their
small stocks of wares, which seemed of passable quality, but few
people were buying. Infants cried in the arms of old women who
stared into space.

The entire area had the
wretched smell of decay and waste, and it was only the typical
eastward-bound winds that removed the smell away from the rest of
the city. Wherever I looked there were people, crowded together,
either busily working at apparently fruitless endeavours or, having
given up, sitting and staring at me with sad eyes.

I had seen poor people
before—I had been one myself—but never in such a miserable state.
Poor farmers tending their fields, poor travellers come to beg to
sleep in the inn’s barn, and even poor merchant families with
ragged children had been common to me in the past. But this sight
of filth, decay, and degradation was more wretched than anything I
had beheld before. I felt very spoiled and naïve standing there,
watching them.

“Aenna, this is not a
place for you,” Jarik said, trying to turn me around that we might
return to the nicer parts of Endren.

“How can this exist?” I
asked. “How can this fine city have such squalor? I have been poor
but never like this. Who are these people that they are allowed to
live like this?”

“They are the servants,
the drudges, and their families. They are the merchants who never
make it to wealthy success. They are the city poor, Aenna. And it
is not safe for you to be here.”

I flashed him a look of
fury. “Oh, Jarik, really! Look at them. Do you see a hand raised in
anger at my presence? They would no sooner harm me than slit their
own throats.” I turned back to those who were looking at me
curiously and saw them return to their work or idleness.

“This is utter
nonsense,” I said, storming back towards the palace. Jarik and the
guards scrambled to catch up to me as I wound my way back through
the twisting streets. I walked briskly in my anger, soon to stomp
up the palace stairs into the Great Hall and directly through it to
Kurit’s workroom.

My husband sat at his
great wooden desk, deep in thought over a records book. My abrupt
entrance startled him, and I began speaking before he could
distract me with a condescending comment.

“What in the Temple’s
name is that disaster in the east end of this city? How long have
people lived there like that? Why can’t I see that from the palace?
Is it shut out of view intentionally so that the
so-very-beleaguered nobility will not have to trouble themselves
with the awful sight? How can you allow your people to live like
that?” I shouted.

The door closed behind
me as Jarik entered. I ignored him. Kurit was too stunned to reply,
so I continued my barrage. “I won’t hear any excuses in this. It is
abominable that we have such filth and poverty in the capital city
of all places! There is no reason for it. How can you all sit
comfortably by and pretend it does not exist?” I turned to Jarik.
“And you! All of this time you have escorted me around this
oh-so-fair city, deliberately keeping me from learning about that
area. You knew that I’d be horrified, didn’t you? How could you
keep something like that from me?”

My voice shook
with bitter outrage, and I looked back and forth between them. “You
both grew up and live now in your precious palace, adorned with
elegant clothes and so handsome in your expensive armour. But what
kind of man fills his belly every night while he
allows people to suffer not a ten-minute
walk away?”

“Aenna, that’s enough!”
Kurit shouted as though I were a belligerent child. He had risen
from his seat, his white-knuckled hands leaning on the desk. “What
would you have us do, move all of the poor into the palace? You’re
being ridiculously oversensitive.”

“Oversensitive?” I
repeated in fury. “Pardon me, Your Majesty, for having a heart for
someone besides myself! Of course they can’t all live in the
palace. I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, but thank you
kindly for insinuating that I’m a stupid woman lacking any
sense.”

“Well, that’s how you
sound, marching in here and making these wild declarations!” Kurit
shouted back.

“And what would you
have me do? Forget them? Ignore them? Go and play in the gardens
and pretend all is well outside these walls?”

“The poor make their
own lives,” Kurit snapped. He sat back down and grumbled, “If they
want to better their situation, let them go ahead and do so. Nobody
is stopping them.”

My fiery anger halted
as my heart was frozen by his words. “Is that so?” I said coldly.
“Splendid, Kurit, just splendid. Did you ever even listen to me,
back when we used to actually speak to one another? Did I somehow
fail to demonstrate that being poor is not equivalent to laziness?
Is this what you’re saying now, that I was a barmaid because I
lacked the tenacity to improve my situation, until the great Prince
came along to sweep me into his lofty palace?”

“Aenna, no one is
accusing you of anything of the sort,” Jarik said.

“Perhaps not myself
personally, but others like me. I could have been one of those
people there, you know. Had you not taken pity on me when I first
arrived, I would have gone to work in this city, and no doubt,
having been penniless, I would have been one of their numbers
today. When you dismiss them, you dismiss me.”

Kurit leaned his head
on his hands in frustration, eyes closed. “I never pitied you,
Aenna. I loved you.”