They stopped, a distance from the broken stairs, looking silently up at her.
A murmur spread through the ragged crowd. Then as one, they fell to their
knees.
“Gods!” Riordan let her breath go in a rush. “They're Kanarekii!”
#
A fire burned in the hearth, taking the chill out of a room too long left
open to the elements. Torches burned in wall sconces casting wavering shadows
throughout the room. Most of the debris had been swept away. The filthy carpet
still covered the floor. Rough soldier’s blankets served as bedding.
Well past midnight and still voices drifted up from the lower floors. At
least the hammering had stopped and a makeshift door secured the entrance. That
didn't solve the problem of what to do with the multitude of Kanarekii she was
forced to house amid the ruin of the palace. Every livable room was taken and
still they overflowed back down into the lower floors.
Her father's bed looked desperately inviting, in spite of the ghosts that
hovered like cobwebs in every corner of the room and the rough blankets. But a
dozen worries crowded her mind.
“Where are we going to put them all? The palace can't possibly hold
them.”
Nhaille's hand settled on her shoulder. “Come to bed, Riordan. There's time
enough to worry about it tomorrow. We'll organize work detail, start on
rebuilding the huts.”
"How will we feed so many people? All the crops have been destroyed.
“They've survived this long,” he said, circling her with his arms and pulling
her away from the window. “And so have we.”
We. That other worry that unlocked to the door a score of others. As if there
weren't already enough. After all I've been through and still there is more.
More problems to solve, more things to worry about. It was like peeling an
onion, she thought. Each layer revealed another underneath. She should leave the
topic alone until the others had been dealt with. But the longer she waited, the
more complicated the situation became. The longer she waited, the more furious
Nhaille would be for her deception.
“We haven't spoken yet of us.” Riordan lunged into the conversation, not
trusting herself to wait and lose her nerve.
“What of us?”
What indeed? She couldn't just blurt it out. Deftly, she sidestepped the
issue, easing him into the conversation. “Have you thought of what you'll do
once everything is settled?”
She watched him debate with himself, as if choosing his words carefully.
Finally, he said, “I had hoped, when this was all over, to enjoy a quiet
retirement in the forest.”
He looked out the window, over the darkened fields, paying only half his
attention to her. He had that wistful look that sometimes overcame him when he
spoke of the old days in Kanarek. Entertaining his ghosts, she realized. This
was her father's room. Likely he'd stood there conferring with her father many
times before she was born. Perhaps this was the very room in which the King had
asked him that one great favor.
It was unfair, she thought with a guilty conscience, to keep him from his
life after he'd spent the last nineteen years in seclusion at her father's
orders. Unfair to keep her secret from him. But still she felt betrayed that
after those nineteen years, he would wish to be separated from her.
“I can certainly understand,” the words ran into each other, betraying the
hurt she tried to conceal, “that after nineteen years you might be looking
forward to your freedom. I can imagine you counting down the last few years,
thinking soon you would be relieved of the burden my father thrust upon you and
free to finally do as you please...”
He sensed her agitation and stilled. She had his full attention now. She
could tell, even though he still had his back to her. Did he suspect? Risking
all, she blurted out,
“But it's not that simple, Nhaille. I believe I am carrying our child.”
His back stiffened. She heard him draw in a quick breath. He turned toward
her, very slowly, so slowly, his shadow preceded him.
“You told me it wasn't your time.”
“It wasn't,” she said. “The first time.”
He looked quickly away.
“During the battle I lost count of the days. I had more than us on my mind,
Kayr. Truly, I didn't think it of any consequence. I was certain we'd both be
dead.”
“But we're not.”
“No, we're both very much alive.”
“Gods, Arais,” he said to the darkness, “what have I done?”
Not the reaction she'd expected. She had hoped to hear her name spoken, not
her father's.
“You needn't be so shocked, Nhaille. I am not a child. Kanarek does need an
heir. And I am entitled to choose whomever I please as its sire.”
She paused and there was silence between them. This new development left the
Captain speechless.
He raised his hands to touch her, then let them drop. “Riordan, I--”
“I would not stand between you and your liberty,” she said quickly. “There is
no one more deserving of it than you. I'm sure that never in a million years did
you dream you might actually have to fight the prophesied war. I know helping me
rule Kanarek is not what you planned to do with your retirement.”
But he wasn't listening to her. He was staring out the window, muttering to
his ghosts.
“Forgive me, Arais.”
“Would he have thought it so wrong?”
“I'm certain he would have my head.”
“Arais! Always Arais!” Indignant anger rose in her voice. “Will you never
realize that I am more than an extension of my father? Can you not see beyond
our kinship and see only me?”
“He was your father. He trusted me.”
“Arais is not a part of what's between us,” she snapped. “My father is not
here to advise nor condemn. I must do what I think best.”
“And what of me, Riordan?”
The question dampened her fury. “I've already done all that you thought
best.”
He crossed the meager space of floor between them and took her hand in his.
Riordan looked up into tortured eyes.
“You misunderstand, Riordan. That's not it at all. It's just that...I would
have liked to have done this properly.”
“Properly? Kayr, we're in the middle of a war!”
“I,” Nhaille cleared his throat and looked resolutely down at her, “I cannot
be your consort, if that's what you're asking. I'm not royalty.”
“I fail to see what difference--”
“I was the Captain of your father's guards. He thought enough of my abilities
to trust me with his kingdom and his youngest child. But we were never of the
same class.”
“I doubt our child will object.”
“It wouldn't be right. I indulged you in something I never should have. Don't
you see, I've betrayed the oath I swore to your father. I've ruined your chances
at marriage. I've ruined your future.”
“If there's to be a future, we'll have to make it for ourselves.” She reached
up to grasp him by the shoulders, trying to force some sense into the situation.
“None of this talk of royalty means anything to me. I am the only representative
of royalty in Kanarek. If it means so much to you, I hereby make you royal.”
“No!” He shook himself from her grasp. “I was not asking for a piece of the
kingdom. Please, Riordan, do not think that I was. If we're to be parents, I
merely wished us wed, which we cannot do...under the circumstances.”
“Why not! I am Queen in Kanarek. I have the power to grant such permission.
If that's what you want, Nhaille, as ruler of Kanarek and all it's conquered
territories, and as High Priestess of the Pantheon, I hereby pronounce us
wed.”
Riordan watched emotions race across his face. For a terrible second, it
looked as if he might lose his iron composure and weep.
“If the prophecy had not come to pass, your father had intended you for
Golen-Arik of Golar.”
The knowledge that her father had further plans for her stunned her
speechless. “Golen-Arik would not suit me at all,” she snapped.
“How would you know? You've never laid eyes on him.”
“That is it, exactly. I would not have a stranger in my bed. Nor in my body.”
Nhaille's expression softened. “He would not be a stranger by the time you
married him. You are not thinking of the future, Riordan.”
“For once I am thinking about the future, about what I want. And what I want
is you.”
“It wouldn't be right.”
“Right or wrong, who would complain? There are precious few Kanarekii left.
Do you think those poor souls starving downstairs care if the Queen marries the
Captain of her Guards?”
“I would know it was wrong.”
Frustration welled up inside her, turning swiftly to tears. “What can
possibly be wrong about you helping me rebuild our kingdom, or raising our
children...”
“Children! Gods, Riordan!”
She glared up into his face. “If I'm not what you envisioned in a bride, you
should just say so.”
“In Nuurah's name, that's not it, Riordan. I swear to you.”
So what then? He wouldn't tell her, and she wouldn't beg. After all that had
happened, the many indignities she'd been forced to endure, she wouldn't
beg.
“I believe you need some time apart from me to think this over.”
“I know my mind well enough,” she said, biting back tears.
His arms tightened around her. “I'm sure that is how it seems to you. But the
truth is: you don't know anyone besides me. You need some time to get to know
other people. And I should give you time to reflect on all that has happened
before you start making decisions about the future of your kingdom.”
“Perhaps it is you who needs some time to think this over.” Riordan managed
to get the words out without choking on the lump in her throat. “Have your
retirement in the forest, then. There is time still for me to marry Golen-Arik.
Assuming he'd be interested in a bride who is carrying another man's child.”
She hoped to skewer him upon the barb of her words. But to her amazement, he
said simply, “That would be best. Once the huts are rebuilt and the gates have
been fortified, I might take that time.”
After nineteen years, how could she refuse his request? Damn you, Nhaille,
she thought bitterly. Damn you to the Al-Gomar and beyond.
#
Word spread like fire. Throughout the night Kanarekii arrived in an endless
stream at the gates. By morning even the ruined main hall was brimming with
stragglers from the hillside and refugees from halfway to Kholer. She scarcely
saw Nhaille over the next few days. Fortifying the main gates and organizing the
watch schedule absorbed most of his time. When they did speak it was of matters
of state and security.
The abundance of people crammed within the palace walls kept her nerves
constantly on edge. People shied away from her as she passed, not used to being
in close quarters with a Shraal legend come to life. Curious gazes lingered upon
her.
Now that the battle was over and Kanarek secured, exhaustion tugged on her
every move. Her eyes closed as soon as she lay down each night, only to sleep
like the dead and awake more tired. Each day she greeted a multitude of
problems. Suffering permeated the air. And there was nothing she could do to
relieve it save press on with scant resources and hope for time to heal the
city's wounds.
People flocked to the city, looking for work and shelter. The palace filled
with would-be courtiers and servants. Already the lower floors of the castle had
been scrubbed as cleanly as they would come and the debris cleared from the main
hall. A small city of tents grew in the main square. Behind it the skeletons of
huts were being constructed.
The ranks of Nhaille's defense team grew as men and women armed with
everything from kitchen knives to pitch forks willingly submitted themselves to
the Captain's relentless training. Palace staff multiplied as refugees who'd
spent months sleeping among the hills traded their skills for a roof over their
heads and a communal meal.
Riordan stood before the window in her father's chamber. It was the first
night in a score of days that she'd made it back to the privacy of her chambers
before the sun set. Newly planted fields stretched out below her in neat lines.
Once again the city was starting to take shape. Signs of life were everywhere
where once there had only been death and destruction. Kanarek progressed better
than she had dared hope for.
Except for the one thing she'd hoped for herself. The only thing she'd ever
asked of anyone.
“Why this evening?” she asked as Nhaille shifted uneasily behind her. Nhaille
abhorred undue commotion. She could tell he was expecting her to carry on.
Damned if she'd give him the satisfaction. “What is it about today that you
suddenly must leave under cover of darkness?”
“I am not riding out in the darkness like a traitor.” Indignation rose in his
voice. He'd misunderstood even her attempt at trying to make it easy for
him.
Will we ever understand each other?
“It's a simple question, Nhaille. I merely wondered why you were so eager to
leave you could not wait for dawn.” She wouldn't turn and look into that
tortured expression on his face. “You're afraid if you wait until tomorrow you
won't leave, isn't that so?” Riordan did turn and look at him then. His
expression was as tortured as she'd guessed. “Did I not already grant you
leave?” she pressed into the silence.
“Yes, Your Majesty, you did.”
“Your Majesty now, is it? What happened to Riordan, to those endearments you
called me the night before the battle of Kholer?” Riordan bit her tongue to stop
the rest of the barbs from escaping.
Misery crossed Nhaille's face before he brought his emotions back under his
iron control. “The situation in Kanarek is stable,” he said, neatly
side-stepping the verbal spear aimed at his heart. “Rebuilding is well underway,
the training of the warriors is progressing well. I am not the only veteran
capable of instructing. Kanarek can spare me for a few days after nineteen years
without so much as a day off.” His eyes pleaded silently with her, begging her
to understand. “Forgive me, Riordan. I really do believe we need some time away
from each other right now.”