Tears of Leyden (23 page)

“Hold on,” Zenith releases my hand and I hear a light thud as he lands at the bottom of the steps.

I take a moment, and then start down again. I feel a guilty thud in my heart as his hands once more close around my waist in order to assist me. On what feels like the last step, I let half go and realize this is a mistake as there are two more after it. I gasp and slip, but either by luck or the opposite, Zenith is ready for me, and I land safely in his arms. I blindly reach in the darkness for a wall, but instead I find space and close to me Zenith. I can’t see for anything, but I manage to make out his grin as I look up.

“Not the most ladylike travel route.”

I cannot enjoy his joke with the new barrier between us, for even as it was a friendly meant statement, I can hear his effort to court me.

His hands linger longer than they should have, so I begin to stir away. When I am resettled on my own two feet, he takes my elbow and draws me after him into a narrow hallway. It ends shortly at a wooden door. Between the slits and cracks in the wood, I can see the light of a candle. He stops and turns to face me. With the light, I can more clearly see the expression on his face. It hurts me with its affection.

“I have feelings that you are most frightened to encounter this moment.”

I watch him unsure of how to feel with his soft approach.

“I know how long you have wished to know your vader once more…” he explains. “And now is your chance.”

I remember the small secrets I used to share with him at our meetings, all of which were designed, watched, and counted on by our parents. Now we stand here, from two different sides of a gate untouched by either one of us for so long, alone, unprotected or surveyed, uncounted on, and not at all of any intention.

“We are together now…” his hand lightly brushes mine. “I am willing to stay like this forever.”

I stare at him, unsure of how to react.

He traces his knuckles down the side of my face and I almost flinch. “You are not alone in this,” he promises to me, a promise that on my end cannot be returned or kept. “He will be worth it.”

This breaks me, those last words.
How many times had I asked him to be near me when it happened? To tell me to believe in it, to make me believe myself that my vader was worth my thoughts?

I can’t tell him. His fingers close around mine. I look down at our feet and break the connection between us. I cannot hurt him more by pretending.
Or should I?
By some miracle, he lets go, and slowly, the door creaks open. I turn.

In the room is a desk with maps and books spread across its surface. A few candle lamps burn lighting up the room with the soft glow. At the desk, a man stands fronting its spread out copies facing us. When the door swings open, he looks up. There is a silence in which I do not breathe. The man has blue eyes and golden brown hair, his dress is fancy and like nothing I have ever observed or imagined upon anybody but a king. He looks tired and yet healthy, and there is a sense of firm gallantry about him. When his eyes find me, they skip to Zenith behind me and back. For a moment they are distant, and there is an absence of presence in his face, but soon, they are lighted with recognition. He watches me like I am a fragile portrait about to fall off a wall, even the air holds the tension of that moment when you know the frame might drop. Instead of me falling though, he rises from his slight lean against the table.

He steps forward and rounds the desk. When he is in full view, I feel the broad blow take place. He does not seem to be able to speak, but I cannot blame him because neither am I. He looks past me and I can feel Zenith nodding at him in assurance of my being here. He looks back to me, and slowly he observes his lost daughter.

“C-come closer,” it is gentle yet commanding.

I remember his voice.

I step forward into the light a little waveringly. I shy as his eyes run over me. I glance up. His eyes meet mine and linger, sharing something which for many months we lost. He tells me of the vast cities, the hard dirt, and the bustling forces and weaponry he has seen since separation. I tell him to feel the pain I had suffered, the change made, and beg him to hear out the love I had found, and to see the anguish I am stuck with until the love is found again. After at least 30 seconds of silence, he seems to recover.

“Lyra.”

It swipes me out of the dreamy place we had created and I am here.

He sounds as though relieved, but also defeated. “Daughter, Lyra.”

I breathe. “Yes,” I reply quietly.

He stands upright, growing in his masculinity. “You are safe now.”

Not Nadeje…

“Yes,” I reply again.

He watches me. It feels good, but also bad. I cannot choose between the two when I am playing both cards behind everyone’s backs. “You are so charmingly grown.”

I feel overheated. “I thank you.”

He seems pleased. “I missed you.”

This is unexpected. It hushes all thoughts apart from him. “I missed you too.”

It is silent. “I am sorry.”

“You did what you had to,” I respond automatically, without thinking of anything.

“I want to know you again, Lyra. You were once near to me…more so than anyone before,” it is earnest and loving.

“I…” I pause unsure. “Did not know you had favorites,” I realize how badly it came out only after the fact.

“You were my first and my last,” it is gentle.

It stings because I know it is true.

I swallow. “They missed you too.”

He looks down. “Do not trouble yourself to tell me of them, they are my fault, not yours.”

I feel tears sting my eyes. “Vader.”

He looks up but when I do not go on, he rights himself. “You are welcome to be open.”

I am surprised by this a little. I remember him being a patient loving vader, but somehow over the course of the past few months, I had dreamed up a new version, and during the course of the last few hours when I learned his true identity, I had lost hope of receiving the vader I had lost. I shake my head and stay quiet.

He sighs and shifts his stance. “My explanations are useless after what I put you and our family through,” he is quiet. “But I must offer them with the most sincere apology.”

I swallow down the tears. “It was not…your fault.”

He meets my gaze and holds it. “May I?”

I watch him a moment, not sure of what he means, then I nod. He steps forward and strides steadily to me. When he is a foot or two away, he stops and regains his trust. When I do not request otherwise, he carefully reaches out to me and lightly brushes my cheek with his thumb. I do not move as he touches me, for since he left us, I had dreamed of his hands once more braiding through my hair and his laugh guiding me past my fears. Now, even as it comes true, I realize the dream had been forgotten for another. I feel a sudden urge to bolt from here rush through me. I know I am surrounded by men and wouldn’t make it one step up that blasted ladder to the top deck, but if I could at least try to run…try for my new dream…the one forgotten just five minutes ago when I rediscovered my first one...

He softens and I feel his pleasure blossoming inside him. I feel a sense of esteem that I could help someone to feel this way just by being with them again. “You have grown up to be lovely,” he whispers, complementing me.

I swallow as I think of Nadeje, where he would be, what he would be feeling at this moment. I drop my gaze down to the ground as my vader continues to see me as though for the first time.

“Lyra?”

I look up.

His kind eyes read mine like a book. “You are not well…”

I want to burst into sobs and let him see what I feel, but I know it will only hurt him and Zenith to know of my new dreams; to know that I had left this one long behind.

He looks past me, and that is when he seems to remember Zenith. He steps back an inch, as though he has found the cause. “Is it of any relation to your betrothal?”

I cannot answer.

He seems to understand. “You are contracted to each other by agreement between his family and yours…by the Pope. Thus if any impropriety before the ceremony takes place occurs, it will not be ill received.”

I feel my heart hammer.
It had taken place, but with a different man.

“You are allowed to show affections, but the public is required to report any extreme engagements between you two to me. Zenith is willing to take my place as your master and protector and must be given the respect he justifies. I feel that the fondness lies between you two already however, so I am not to direct you in that way.”

I am lost. I do not wish this.

“Zenith and I have conversed. You will be wedded as is settled when the cargo is unloaded and when I find us place to stay off the ship. Answers to further questions you may not receive…the dowry is settled and I am happy with your moeder’s choice.”

There is a dreadful silence and I feel myself trembling. I wish to speak, but I feel my weakness is too strong to defeat any word he has said or might argue against me with. I cannot meet his gaze. I feel Zenith behind me, and the thought that I may be forced to be with him behind me always is what helps me to open my mouth.

“You…don’t understand,” it comes out soft and weak.

He must think me irrelevant to the last discussion. “No,” he says gently. “I don’t.”

I look up. “Vader…you…I…” I look him deep in the eyes. “My want to be married…I…have changed…”

He looks confused. “I need your clear definition of
change
.”

I feel my head’s thudding begin to grow and force down the sickness. “I do not wish to be wed with Zenith.”

There is a long gap of silence and I feel suddenly alone.

“To what degree?” his voice has changed tone and is firmer.

“To the point of desperation,” it is a whisper.

“Lyra, it has been settled.”

I feel my stomach churn and I could vomit again. I cannot speak without him starting it. This makes me hate my moeder for her teachings of etiquette.

“Zenith is of good family and nature…” he pauses. “Your reason is invisible to me,” there is a pause. “You could explain it to me, perhaps.”

I feel my heart flutter with hope. I look up. “There…is…reason that is dear to me…” I think of Nadeje and the safety of his embrace, how he could give me power and strength when he touched me, and as if he is touching me now, I grow in strength. “When moeder and Meyleia were taken…the only reason I was not further hurt was...because of…prevention. I was taken somewhere where I was treated equally and kindly…and I…was kept safe and cared for…I was protected and never denied…anything…and…I…I grew to…care…for the one who cared for me.”

There was a long pause and I feel as if the air in the room has dropped several degrees.

“That was imprisonment, Lyra,” his eyes are stone cold, as though he had been driven by this for long. “I received a letter threatening that my child was under the bars of the Spanish…and that if I was to continue on my voyage after my illness…she would be tortured. You were held there as bait.”

I shake my head, half forcing away the truth of it and half standing for my reasoning. “It wasn’t him…it was his position to take care of me…he didn’t know anything of me or the purpose of his holding me until…now.”

“Who?” his tone is low and not as gentle.

I swallow. “He…is not who he is…as in…what he is…is not how he looks at the world…or acts…he is gentle and not wanting and warm…” I can feel his patience fleeing. “He is of Spanish descent.”

I can feel he has stopped breathing for a few seconds. When he begins to again, I grow in need.

“He was not like them…he supported us…and he took care of me…he loved…” I stop.

He steps back, turns, and stalks to his desk. When he is there, he stops and stares down at the spread out maps.

“Lyra,” it is soft and loving, but I feel my hope draining away. He takes the corner of a map and folds it in such a manner that I feel I can hear it crease. “I cannot allow you to feel these sentiments for a Spanish man.”

I feel my heart drop. Once more I cannot speak unless I am encouraged to.

He turns slowly. “Your betrothal to Zenith is settled and reasonable, it has been years of discussing and planning to make it happen…it would not be respectable to act on our behalf without the other’s consent. Your safety too, Lyra, is not to be meddled with…if you were given poor life or if you are mistaken of his intentions…I cannot and will not risk your safety for a fondness for one so out of rank. There is also our bloodline.”

He fingers the edge of the map and looks down and far off. “Our blood is such that…the family line is so pure. It would not be reputable or decent at all to mix your blood with one so diverse…it would certainly ruin the family name. I will not have all this weighing on you with a marriage. It would be irrational and be seen as a foul move on my part. It is highly proved that you are our last blood relative left…and so it is my misfortune to have to strongly encourage your wedlock to Zenith.”

He raises his eyes to look at me and I stare back in desolation. My head is thudding, and the sound is the only thing keeping me from crumpling to the ground with a faint. I breathe shallowly and the air seems to be thinner than remembered. I swallow hard and can’t even manage tears as I process all he has said. I feel my breath rattling in my chest and force away the mixed emotions which cause this. I can tell he is not pleased with the ways of society, but I also see that he is pleased with his way of dealing with me about it. I keep my eyes locked on his until I know it is useless. I turn my head away as my eyes blur with tears and a sob nearly escapes with my breath. I try to regain my composure, but the more I try the more the pain urges me to let go.