Aerisian Refrain, page 20
part #1 of Beyond the Sunset Series
“What did he do…to the children?”
The High-Chief clearly hesitated. “Are you certain you wish to know?”
She stared up at him for a long moment, then finally looked away, collapsing into his shoulder.
“No. No, I really don’t.”
He looped an arm around her, drawing her close. “It is well he is dead.”
“Apparently so,” she murmured. Silence fell, then she said, “Sometimes I wonder if it was even worth it.”
“My lady?” Prince Kurban asked.
“Sometimes I wonder if it was even worth it,” Hannah repeated, pulling away from the shelter of her husband’s side and leaning forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped tightly before her. “All that I did—all that I’ve done as the Artan. When things like this can still happen, still go on, even with the Dark Powers defeated. How much good have I done, really?”
I was slightly aghast to hear her say such a thing. I guess I’d sort of figured she was oblivious to mere mortal doubts and second-guessing. I’d read her wrong.
Prince Kurban was the first to speak, leaning forward to take her small hands between his massive ones, like she’d done to Lady Etly a few minutes prior.
“My lady,” he said, “you know as well as I that had you not done what you did, incidents like these would not be scattered but full scale. The might of the Dark Powers would have grown and spread, capturing every heart with any darkness until all light was choked into recession. You have stopped that, Lady Hannah. You and you alone.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I hear stories like this and all I can think is, on some level, I failed.”
“You did not fail,” the prince remonstrated. “What says the prophecy? Wars may rage, kingdoms rise and fall, and monarchs topple, but the Artan will defend her people. Aerisia by her strength will be kept, and in her time peace will prosper,” he quoted. “Your work as Artan, as the defender of the peace you have wrought, will never end. Aerisia will never cease to need her Artan. That is why fate has also granted you the High-Chief and his men,” he nodded towards the Simathe lords, “as well as others, such as me, who have pledged ourselves generationally to your assistance. Thus supported, there is nothing you cannot do.”
“Let’s hope so.” She straightened, shaking off the gloom. “Let’s hope we can find some way to solve our current problems. You’re here. The Sanlyn are here. The last word I heard was that part of the Warkin delegation is arriving tomorrow. So is the Galandorf delegation. Silver Rose and Golden Eyes will be among them. This palace is going to be full. I just hope we can keep everyone from fighting while we try to maneuver these peace talks.”
“If they cause too much trouble,” Kurban said only half-jokingly, “you’ve plenty of Simathe and Tearkin strength to bind them and house them in the palace dungeons until they agree to cooperate.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Hannah smiled, her natural good humor restoring itself. “Let’s hope you and the Warkin can keep it together for the next few days and not get into any big brawls yourself.”
“You think I would sow discord? I am offended by that.”
Hannah riposted. As the two of them went back and forth, I tuned them out. If she was feeling better about the whole situation, I wasn’t.
I was wrong, I realized, glancing across the room at the hardened Simathe Chief Captain. Maybe they don’t carry out justice here the way I think they should, but he was carrying out justice. Maybe I owe him an apology for my accusations.
Finding the grace to humble myself and ask forgiveness from that man, especially when he’d technically started our argument, wouldn’t be easy. In fact, I didn’t know that it would ever happen. I didn’t know what it would take to make it happen, either.
Chapter 28
Secrets
“You could’ve told me, you know.”
They were in the stables, Cole and the young woman from Earth. A night had passed since the visit with Prince Kurban, interrupted by the advent of Lady Etly. A new day had dawned. As he’d not been otherwise occupied earlier this morning, he had brought her drink himself, knocking on her door and waiting without with a large, steaming mug in his hands. When she’d answered the door, her nightdress was wrinkled, her hair was mussed, and she squinted, frowning, as if trying to decide who he was or what he did there outside her chambers.
“What d’you want?” she had groaned.
“Here,” he said, hiding his amusement, extending the mug. “To ease your morning.”
She had stared sleepily at the mug for a beat before raising graceful hands with long, elegant fingers to receive it.
A slow smile chased away her frown. “You didn’t forget. This stuff really helps.”
“I thought the palace should escape the weight of your wrath this morning.”
Her violet eyes had flashed up like she wanted to be angry, but the smile did not leave.
“You’re a brave man.”
He ducked his head. “When called upon. I’ll leave you to it.”
With that, he’d departed, hearing her quiet “Thank you” as she closed the door after him. He’d not seen her for some time after that. In fact, following the breakfast hour she had gone unnoticed long enough that, remembering his Chief Captain’s admonitions, he had sought her out, locating her in the stables with the horses, where he was with her now.
Her familiar manner with animals spoke of someone who was comfortable around them. He liked that about her. He liked that she was unafraid of stable straw and dust and muck, even wearing the expensive Italian leather boots she’d shown him. She wore a sleeveless tunic over the heavy, dark pants she’d worn when he first found her. There was a streak of dirt on one of her bare arms. Dust motes danced in the light slanting in through the stable windows, coating her dark hair. She either did not know it or did not care.
She was in the stall with one of the Simathe Restless—his Restless, in point of fact. How she had managed to single out his horse from the others, he did not know. She had an eye for horseflesh. Like he had done previously, she was using a curry comb to brush the animal, who stood still, enjoying her attention.
“Told you what?” he asked, addressing her remark.
“Told me about that—that man your Chief Captain killed. Told me what was going on there.”
He kept silent. The tidings had not been his to share. She knew that.
“I guess that’s how it is with y’all isn’t it? Just keep everything to yourselves until it has to come out? I’m not saying that’s always a bad thing, but—well, it’s pretty obvious your Chief Captain doesn’t like me at all. Now I half feel like I should apologize for our argument. It’s been so long who knows if he’ll even accept an apology from me? On the other hand, if I’d known earlier…”
He could have denied her words, told her his Chief Captain did not dislike her because of the incident involving Lady Etly’s grandson. However, that would mean confessing why Lord Norband did dislike her—rather, not dislike, but mistrust. Again, which was not his place to say. He’d been bidden to observe her, not share secrets with her. Secrets even he, himself did not fully comprehend.
“I am sorry,” he said at last, when the silence had stretched between them.
Her hand stroking his horse’s neck stilled, and she looked at him. “But you’re not really, are you?”
A teasing glint was in her eye, letting him know she was not angry.
He shook his head although, truth be told, he was sorry. Sorry there was something about this woman that both of his highest lords distrusted. Sorry he did not know what it was. Sorry he had been put in the position of mistrusting someone he, personally, saw no reason to mistrust.
“If I tell you something—something I haven’t told anyone else—would you keep a secret for me?”
All traces of humor vanished from her eyes, her features. Her mask had slipped, and beneath it, he saw she was troubled. Truly troubled.
“What sort of secret?” Cole inquired carefully, almost fearing to know. Had it aught to do with her discussion with The Hunter, would he not be honor bound to inform his lords? He had no wish to be caught between Treygon and this woman—this unusual, captivating woman from Earth. Not any more than he already was.
She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Looked away. Pursed her lips as if in thought. Finally, “Just some—some weird things that’ve been happening to me since I arrived. I don’t know who to turn to. With all of the emissaries arriving, everyone is so busy I can’t get ahold of Hannah or anyone else. And I don’t want to intrude. But I feel like I have to talk to somebody or I’m going to go insane. I just—I need some help.”
“Perhaps I am not the best person to confide in.”
That was what he said. That was not what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her she could trust him and that he would do anything in his power to alleviate her concerns. However, accepting her confidences, knowing he might be obligated to betray them—that, he could not do.
She gazed up at him for a long moment. Her face was not easy to read, but the warrior thought he glimpsed a hint of pain, or possibly disappointment, in her captivating violet eyes.
“Oh.”
She looked down, back to the horse, which she continued to groom. “It’s okay. No big deal. I just thought—” She shrugged. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
She had assumed she could trust him. That simple fact weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“I am certain Lady Hannah—” he offered.
“Yes, I’ll catch up with her eventually when she’s not so busy.” She flashed him a quicksilver smile. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
She went back to grooming the horse, and he stood there in silence, watching, longing to alter her situation. To help her. He did not know what to do, but he could not stand there staring at her, either. Retrieving a brush for the horse’s mane and tail, he entered the stall and moved to the opposite side of the animal, across from her, joining her in the grooming. She gave him a smile, then looked back down at her work. In silence, they worked together, the horse standing perfectly still except for the occasional twitch or grunt of pleasure.
“He is unused to this much attention,” Cole said at last.
Annie looked up. “I’ve always found grooming horses sort of relaxing, I suppose.”
“You’ve spent much time with them,” he observed.
“Used to, back on the ranch.”
“What is that like?”
Inquiring about her home—most Simathe were not so communicative. Most would not have cared. Nevertheless, something about this woman intrigued him. Perhaps it was that he still felt the weight of being placed between Treygon and her. Perhaps it was simply how she had treated him from the first: with trust and kindness. Perhaps it was because of how different she was from Aerisian women and even Lady Hannah. Although both women had crossed from Earth, in many ways they were as contrasting as light and darkness. Cole had long been friends with the Artan. He had been the first warrior in Treygon to truly befriend her. He liked her frankness, her honesty, and her bold humor. However, there was something to be said for a low voice, a slow smile, and the peace of fewer words, as well.
“Oh, it was a great place to grow up,” she said. “If you like growing up in the middle of nowhere. It was mostly prairie, grasslands—good for raising cattle and horses. Hundreds of acres, as far as the eye can see. Just Daddy, me, Daddy’s foreman, and a few ranch hands. The dogs and the barn cats. Not much else. Mama—she wasn’t around after I turned eight.”
“What happened to her?” he inquired, deducing despite the unfamiliar titles that she was speaking of her parents.
“Drugs,” she said bluntly. “Narcotics. I don’t know what you call them here. Substances people use that mess with their minds. Mess up their minds. Like alcohol, although usually stronger. Anyway, she had a drug problem. It took her away from us. Killed her, eventually. Honestly, I barely remember her.”
“And your father?”
The emotion that was absent when she spoke of her mother crossed her face now. “He’s gone too. A couple of years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was no hiding the sadness on her face. “Yeah, me too.”
Silence drifted between them, silence which she broke this time, looking up at him. “Since we’re talking about our lives, what’s it like, there at Treygon? Hannah’s told me a little of the Simathe history. What about you? Did you ever know your parents?”
“Simathe do not meet their parents.”
“Why not?”
“That is the way of things. To bear a Simathe child—it is considered a curse. No Aerisian parents desire offspring like us. We are gladly given up.”
She stared at him, perplexed. “Always? No one ever wanted to keep their child?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her hands on the comb, the horse. “I’m sorry. That’s so sad. I mean, I guess I know a little what that feels like. My mom chose drugs over my dad and me. I always felt like she didn’t see us as worth fighting for. I still had Daddy, though. I don’t know what it would be like not to have anyone.”
“We are not alone. We are brothers.”
“Brothers,” she repeated thoughtfully. Switching topics, she asked, “So are you…happy there at Treygon? Are you happy with what you do?”
Happy?
The Simathe had to stop and consider. He had never been asked if he was happy. Happiness was not something to which his people attained, something they sought. It was duty first: to Treygon, to each other, to Aerisia. Personal comfort and happiness ranked far below these.
“Haven’t you ever been happy?” she pressed, tilting her head. “Don’t you do anything that brings you, I dunno, enjoyment?”
“I do,” he answered cautiously. “But enjoyment, happiness, those are fleeting. Duty and responsibility are eternal. We ascribe to duty first. Always duty first.”
“Do you find happiness in duty?”
“I find satisfaction in it.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Your ideas are so foreign to where I’m from. You’d be such an anomaly. You are an anomaly. But who am I to judge? Maybe you’re right. I went off seeking happiness once. Ultimately, it caused nothing but trouble between Daddy and me. In the end, I walked away from it after all. So, would I have been better off if I’d stayed where I was? On the ranch, with Daddy, like he wanted me to? I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe. I know I would’ve missed out on a lot. I can’t say if the tradeoff was worth it. Then again, if I’d stayed, I might not have wound up here. I might not have met you.”
At that, Cole looked up sharply. She noticed. Her cheeks flushed the slightest shade of pink, and she hurried on as if there had been no pause, no slip in her words. “…or Hannah, or Rittean, or anyone else here. This is an incredible place. I don’t regret coming to Aerisia.”
But she had said, I might not have met you. The words resounded in his brain, reverberated through his soul. He ought to say something. He ought to tell her he was not sorry she was here. That he was not sorry to have met her, either. Before he could speak, came a sound. A great sound, a strange, rushing sound. She heard it too, and her face lifted to the ceiling overhead.
“What is that? The wind picked up like crazy.”
“It is not the wind, I think.”
“It’s not? Then what is it?” Without waiting for a reply, she laid aside the grooming tools and stepped out of the stall. “Let’s go see.”
Chapter 29
Dragons
He already knew, for he had heard the sound before, but the Simathe put down his own grooming instruments and followed her out of the stables. Ranetron guards, palace folk, workers in the outdoor buildings, guests and notables—a small crowd was gathering of those who had also heard the sound. He and Annie joined them, the girl shading her eyes with her hand to watch the incomers.
The flapping of their great wings created a strong rush of wind as they flew in low over the palace walls. Great dragons, six of them, some circling Laytrii’s palace, some already swooping to land, carried on their backs at least three Warkin apiece on their great leather saddles. Cole felt a twinge as he watched the great beasts. He would not call it fear: a Simathe schooled himself to know no fear and certainly to show none. Discomfort, mayhap. As the first of the enormous beasts dropped lightly to its clawed feet in the middle of the courtyard, far too close to himself and the newcomer from Earth for his liking, the scars crisscrossing his body—scars received by being shaken in the jaws of just such a beast—began to ache.
However, if the sight of the enormous dragons provoked discomfort in him, they had no such effect on his companion. She was turning in place, trying to take in the sight of the dragons all at once. The courtyard would not suffice for all six of the beasts to land, not without risking damage to outbuildings. As two or three made for the ground, the others circled overhead, searching for a place nearby to drop outside the palace walls. Her eyes were still shaded by her hand, and her mouth was open with awe. When he looked at her face, instead of fear, there was excitement coupled with joy.
“Are you seeing this?” she breathed, talking to him or maybe to no one in particular. “Are you seeing this? Can you believe this?”
He saw it, and could believe it. Unlike her, the sight gave him no joy or excitement. Rather, his first instinct as a copper-colored serpent dropped close to them was to shift his body, putting himself between the dragon and the girl. She was having none of it. As soon as the dragon lowered its great, bearded head to the ground so its riders could dismount, she pushed around him to approach the beast. His hand shot out to restrain her, but she shook it off with no more thought than she would have shaken away a fly. Whereas the palace folk hung back, she walked right up toward the beast, like someone in a trance.
