Sorrows of Adoration

By Kimberly Chapman

Unwilling to remain just another poor, country barmaid, Aenna leaves her life behind to save the life of a Prince she's never seen. But she finds more adventure than she bargained for as forbidden love pits her against powerful adversaries and exposes her to intrigues and dangers. Will love be enough to conquer the demons of jealousy, addiction, temptation, prejudice, and violence? Or will Aenna succumb to the increasing spiral of depression that threatens to steal her sanity?

This is one woman's honest portrayal of the sweetest and the darkest times of her life. Aenna reveals her deepest emotions, most private thoughts, and bold confessions as she tells the story of how she learns that romance isn't a fairy tale, but a heart-rending lesson of the sorrows of adoration.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimberly Chapman
• Release date: May 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781938702051

Kimberly Chapman

Kimberly Chapman has been making things up and writing them down for as long as she can remember. She holds a double major degree in Journalism and Anthropology and worked for a few years as a technology reporter, but she soon found that it was more fun to interact with the fake people who live in her head than interview real-life people about network hardware. She left her native Canada in 2000 to marry an Australian and live in the United States with him, because love does that sort of thing to a person. They have a young daughter who keeps asking to read her books and has been told not until she’s twenty-five. When Kimberly’s not obsessively transcribing the lives of the fake people in her head or busy with Mum duties, she can usually be found engaged in experimental cake decorating (which she blogs at http://eat-the-evidence.com), nerdy knitting, volunteering for creative community organizations like Capital Confectioners and The Biscuit Brothers, discussing topics both profound and trivial on Google+, or playing computer games. http://kimberlychapman.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

IT IS ASTOUNDING how a single evening can change the direction of one’s life.

My life had been relatively simple up until my twenty-first year. I had no family that I was aware of, having been orphaned as an infant. I have heard tell that my father was a successful, even brilliant, young merchant who made a respectable living by having a knack for knowing what town would pay the highest price for what goods at a given time. My mother was just his wife, I suppose. Nobody remembered her. She may have been a wonderful woman, or perhaps a nasty one. It always troubled me that she was forgettable because she was just somebody’s wife. I decided as a young child that I was not going to end up as just somebody’s wife.

Mind you, being raised an orphan in the company of other orphans under the care of priests- and priestesses-in-training at the Aleshan Temple Academy is not a good first step to making a mark on the world. Most of the orphans go on to be servants of the Gods themselves, but I was never that enchanted by the notion. I was and remain a properly religious person, endeavouring in both word and deed to follow the rules set out by the Temple. But I left their care in my fourteenth year to seek a way to be something other than just another priestess, just another girl.

I was fortunate to acquire employment as a barmaid at a fairly respectable inn along a major trade road. I say fairly respectable because it was clean, the owner was not particularly unkind, and although there were women of the sexual profession employed there, I was never asked nor forced to participate in such things—which I hear is not always the case for a young girl out on her own. And it was at that inn, the Traveller’s Torch as it was called, where an event occurred in my twenty-first year that dramatically changed the direction of my life, and certainly was a crucial element in my foolish quest to be remembered.

It was a biting winter night and had been quite cold for weeks, though no snow had yet fallen. The inn was more crowded than usual, especially given that it was a slow season for trade. Every room was booked, and down in the pub area where I worked were no less than fifty customers, all packed into their tables so tightly there was little room to move. Only about twenty of them were regular customers. The other thirty or so had arrived together the day before and set up camp in the field behind the inn. I knew none of them, and I rarely forget a face, even when most of the faces I saw in my work were haggard, dirty, and drunk.

These men were not like that. Actually, they were dirty, and some were quite drunk, but they didn’t have that tired look a typical travelling merchant does when he finally finds a place to rest in relative comfort for the night. They looked alert, dedicated, as if they were gearing themselves up for some great event. Some even looked inspired. Also unusual was the way the ones who were not drunk chastised those who were. I heard one of the lot, clearly some sort of leader, tell one man quite forcibly to sober up, or you’ll drag us down. That was certainly a strange thing to hear on a cold night in a pub that was far from any town.

Their odd behaviour and demeanour intrigued me, and I made a conscious effort to listen to them above the noise of the rest of the guests. I made sure to be available whenever any of them made an order so I could be closer without being obvious about it.

I heard much that either made no sense without a context or was obviously unrelated to whatever cause they seemed to be gathered for. There was mention of making sure to eat and rest well before the next night, clearly indicating that they were planning some important event for that time. Two men entered a debate as to whether it was preferable to stay up late tonight and sleep late into the afternoon tomorrow, to be rested for this mysterious event, or to rest now and prepare physically in the afternoon.

Then, as I leaned over the table to fetch empty wine bottles, I overheard a quiet opinion that chilled me: We’re better off rested for the attack, because no amount of exercise tomorrow afternoon will prepare us to slit a throat any more than we are prepared tonight.

Quickly I schooled my face and body to not show how the words had frightened me, for logic told me I would be in danger if they knew I had overheard their words. I gathered the bottles and carefully carried them away.

As soon as I was out of their sight, I shuddered and almost dropped a bottle. I chastised myself for nearly attracting attention. My heart raced, and my mind was filled with a thousand possible explanations for what I had heard. Did they intend to slit our throats? That made no sense—most of the money in the innkeeper’s safe this week was paid to us by their group. I considered the other guests—none of them were anyone I knew to be important or influential. Being a rather respectable inn, we occasionally did attract wealthy merchants and on a few occasions a nobleman and his entourage. But these current customers were typical stock, and it seemed implausible that they would be the target of an organized group. Perhaps a traveller would arrive tomorrow, but again, why such a large group organized here where there were witnesses?

I realized I was standing still and knew that if the innkeeper saw me doing so he would yell at me. Worse still, I knew that I had made myself a regular presence among those men, and a sudden prolonged absence might arouse suspicion. I scurried to fetch two pitchers of ale and carried them out to be served.

Afraid to hear more but also desperately curious, I found myself focusing on the conversation of the leaders even when my back was to them as I served another table. It was some time before I heard anything suspicious again, and I began to wonder if perhaps I had overheard a jest that I did not understand.

Then behind me, in a low voice, a man proposed a toast: To Prince Kurit of Keshaerlan on his last night amongst mortals.

I might have been only a barmaid, far removed from the world of kings, nobility, and political affairs, but I knew the name of the heir to the throne of my own kingdom, and to hear such a thing from these men filled me with a dread I had never known before. I almost spilled ale on a man at the table I was serving, but thankfully he was too drunk to notice.

Quickly, I finished delivering the latest round of ale and ran to my small area of the kitchen. In the summer, the other two barmaids and I lived in the loft over the stables, but during the winter we were allowed to sleep on cots in the warm kitchen. The other female employees had rooms of their own, but that was largely because they needed the beds for their work.

I told the innkeeper’s wife, who was cooking in the kitchen, that I was going to see if any of the group who had remained in their camp outside wished to order ale or food, and she approved. In truth what I did was wrap myself in my winter’s cloak and hurry outside to spy on the men in the camp in the hopes that they were being less circumspect in discussing their plans.

Indeed, I did not have to wait long in the darkness near their fire to hear them say that the outpost where Prince Kurit and his small group were staying was only about two or three hours away by horse. I knew of the outpost, having heard it frequently mentioned as a landmark along the road. I had thought it unused, since our kingdom was at peace. But these men had reason to believe that Prince Kurit and company were staying at that outpost, and they intended to kill him as part of some sort of rebellion. There was little talk of the rebellion itself—no details I could hear given as to why these men sought to rebel, why the Prince was chosen as the target, nor why I had not heard of such unrest previously.

I realized that it was my duty to inform someone of this fiendish plot against the only son of our King and Queen, but who was I to tell? The innkeeper would not have believed me, and even if he would have, there was no reason to believe he would have cared enough to risk himself. There were no noblemen nor guards nor anyone of authority anywhere nearby. I certainly couldn’t trust one of the other guests to be bold enough to risk his life to flee and warn the Prince. If I wished to warn him of the imminent danger, it seemed I would have to do so myself. The thought of leaving was unsettling, but I had at no time intended to make this employment a permanent way of life. Weighing my choices led me quickly to decide in favour of my duty as a Keshaerlan.

I crept to the stables, intent on stealing a horse, but stopped short of the gate when I realized the men would undoubtedly check their horses before retiring and notice one missing. Also, the fact that I had never ridden one and really had no idea how to do so made me decide to flee on foot instead. I thought the outpost could not have been very far away, since travellers used it as the landmark before our inn. If horses could get there in two hours, then it seemed reasonable to me that it shouldn’t take me very long.

The men inside were already being tended to by one of the other girls, since I was purportedly taking orders from those outside. The men outside, of course, had not seen me in the darkness. Furthermore, the group apparently planned to remain near the inn until late afternoon, that they might arrive at the outpost in darkness. It seemed that the conditions for fleeing were as good as I could have realistically hoped for.

I said a quick prayer asking for speed, my need being noble, and crept away from the inn. As soon as I was out of direct sight, I ran as fast as I could, spurred on by fear for myself and for the Prince, who surely suspected nothing of this plot.

I ran fast and hard, which soon made me quite warm in my cloak despite the frigid night air. The moon was out and, when not covered briefly by cloud or shaded by trees, provided enough light that I could follow the road. I heard noises from off the path, and my heart thumped in fear for what I had done—run off in the middle of the night with no weapon or means of defending myself against animals, thieves, or any of a multitude of horrors that no doubt waited a lone, defenceless girl. The more I tried not to think of how frightened I was of these unseen dangers, the more frightened I became, and the faster I ran.

I continued that way until my lungs were raw from breath and the sweat from my brow dripped stinging into my eyes. I slowed to a walk, wheezing pitifully, and realized that horses must move awfully fast compared to people, because I had run for a good long time and didn’t seem to be very close to anything resembling an outpost. I walked until the fire in my chest subsided, and then jogged lightly thereafter, pushed on by fear for the Prince, fear for myself in the darkness, and a dread that the bandits may have noticed my disappearance and could be pursuing me at any moment.

I continued on as dawn broke and still onward as the sun passed overhead. My feet and legs had become numbed with the effort, and my head pounded with exhaustion. I had been awake since the morning of the day before and had not yet eaten dinner when I left the inn. Hunger had long since subsided into a cramp, and I tried to stretch my aching torso as I ran. Determination to do my duty as a loyal citizen of Keshaerlan as well as mortal fear kept me pressing on as the hours passed.

As the sun began its descent, I found myself desperate to rest but too frightened for even a short pause. I knew they must have left the inn by that time and would soon be on my heels. Just as I began to lose hope in my foolish quest, I crested a low hill and saw a squat stone tower joined to a cabin, with a small stable off to the side. I stopped in my tracks, stunned at the sudden realization that I had arrived. I looked behind me and saw no imminent sign of the would-be assassins, but I knew they must not be far off.

Inspired anew by the sight of the outpost, I sprinted hard to the door and banged on it furiously. There was no immediate answer, and I panicked.

What if the Prince knows of the plot and has left? I thought. What if there is no one here at all? No, there is smoke rising from the chimney—

And then the door opened. A short, elderly lady stood in an apron at the door and asked politely what I wanted.

I tried to answer, but found my parched and tired throat unable to make a sound. I forced a cough and hoarsely said, The Prince. Is he here? It’s urgent, there are men on horses coming to kill him.

She opened the door further to admit me, and I stepped inside the little cottage. At a table near the hearth were seated two men, both very handsome, one considerably larger and more muscular than the other. Both had ink-black hair, which I had heard was a common trait amongst Kydrenians, unlike the mix of reds and browns of my own Aleshan people. The larger one’s hair was shoulder-length and parted in the middle. He had a moustache and beard around his mouth. The other was clean-shaven, with slightly shorter hair that was parted just off-centre on his right.

They looked at me strangely, not with fear—for what would have been fearsome about a girl in rags at the door—but with an obvious concern as to why such a girl would be at the door of a remote outpost.

I looked at them both, and realized I had no idea as to which man was the Prince, nor who the other might be. As I was exhausted, panicked, and starved, my mind dispensed with any thought of pleasantries or proper discourse, and I bluntly asked, Which of you is Prince Kurit?

There was a moment’s pause during which I panicked anew, thinking perhaps neither was and in fact these men were part of the group of bandits. But then the larger of the two stood and said, I am. Who might you be?

The sound of his voice, sure and strong, reminded me of my station and I fell to my knees before him and bowed my head for a moment. Then I looked back at him and tried not to sound as nervous as I truly felt. I have overheard a plot to kill you, Your Highness, I said. I am a barmaid at an inn north of here, the Traveller’s Torch, and there last night were gathered no less than thirty, perhaps forty men, and I overheard them speaking of slitting throats tonight. They intended to leave this afternoon, and had horses. I’m sorry I took so long, but I came on foot—

You travelled on foot by yourself? asked the other man incredulously.

I thought perhaps he was angry that I had not taken a horse and felt ashamed. Yes. I’m sorry, I have no horse. I came as quickly as I could. I ran all night. There was no one there to trust to tell you. The inn is not in a town, so there are no King’s Guards stationed nearby.

And what did these men say that makes you think they intend to kill me? the Prince asked calmly.

First I heard them speak of cutting throats, and I was afraid that they meant to rob us, but I heard them later quietly drink a toast to Prince Kurit, on his last night amongst mortals. I went outside where the other men were camped and listened to their plans, and sure enough many times they spoke of coming to this very outpost to kill you, Your Highness, for some rebellion, though I swear I have never heard of such a rebellion before.

Were you seen? Would your presence have been missed? asked the second man.

I didn’t know how to answer, and my mind was too panicked and fatigued to coherently consider the possibility at that point. I felt tremendous guilt at my lack of knowledge, and bowed my head and said, I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was foolish, I know, to just run off, but I didn’t know how else to warn you. I tried to come quickly, but it was so much further than I imagined, and after a while my legs, they just wouldn’t move as fast as I wanted them to.

How far behind you do you imagine they would be? asked the Prince.

I’m sorry, I stammered, feeling the urge to weep from exhaustion and shame. I don’t know. They weren’t behind me when I knocked, and they seemed to plan to be here after dark, but I don’t know if they left early, or if my disappearance was notable to them.

Are they well armed?

I tried desperately to think to what I had seen, but felt my mind slipping away as the floor began to feel unstable under my knees. I reached my arm out to the wall to steady myself, wanting very much to stay alert to answer their questions. I looked at the Prince again and said, I saw a few swords, Your Highness, but most of them carried axes. Their horses didn’t have armour that I saw. The men, I don’t know if they had armour, but they weren’t wearing any in our pub.

The two men looked at each other, and I could not tell if they believed my tale or not. Please, I said, You have to leave. I don’t know if they’re trained or well armed or even if their plan is sound, but there are two of you and so many of them. Your Highness, please, you have to flee this outpost, and they could arrive at any moment. I’m sorry, really I am, to have burst in here with an incredible tale but you must believe me—I did not imagine what I heard, and it was repeated enough to not have been misunderstood. I know it is terribly rude of me to come here unannounced and tell you to leave, but… I could not think of what else to say, and stopped my own babbling before they thought me a complete fool.

They started talking to each other in low tones, and I prayed that they would hurry up and leave. I realized I too had to flee, knowing full well those bandits would not suffer me to live for having warned the Prince. I tried to turn and reach for the door in hopes of running out to the now dark woods, perhaps to find a place to hide and rest overnight.

The old woman saw me reaching for the door and said, Where are you going, girl?

I tried to look at her, but my eyes would no longer focus. I closed them and said, I must take my leave so the Prince can prepare to escape. Closing my eyes turned out to be a poor idea, and I found myself unable to open them again. I heard the old lady say ridiculous, but I didn’t know whether she meant me or my story. I tried to reach for the door again and felt myself slumping against the cold stone floor. I fought against the fatigue, desperately afraid I would be left behind to die, but I could no longer tell what direction I was facing, let alone where the door might be.

I felt myself being lifted from the floor and managed to open my eyes enough to see the Prince himself lifting me. My mind cried, No, there is no time, and I tried to tell him to hurry up and leave, to go to a safe town, that I was just a silly barmaid and not worth wasting the time over. I wasn’t sure if I spoke aloud or not and worried greatly that, because of my weakness, he might remain too long out of chivalry and be killed for it. But I could fight the fatigue no more, and a sea of greyness clouded over my eyes as he carried me.

* * *

When I awoke, I was cold despite being under two heavy blankets. I found myself on a thin pile of straw in a cart that was not moving. The other man who had been with the Prince was gently shaking my shoulder to rouse me. He softly said, Wake, good lady. Please wake up. When I looked at him, he said, Sorry, I don’t know your name.

Aenna, I said hoarsely, my throat still dry from the run and now numbed from sleep.

Aenna, the men you saw have reached the outpost. We can see it burning from here.

I sat up and looked where he pointed. We had travelled downhill to the south, and indeed I could see the outpost at the top of the path, glowing brightly against the night sky.

We have only two horses, so we started off with you and Gilaela in the cart, but by now the assassins know we have fled and will surely follow the tracks of the cart. It is too slow to pull it behind us, so you, Gilaela, and the Prince must share the two horses between you and flee faster. I shall go on foot—I know the way, and I can go through the woods without a horse. They won’t think to do the same, so I shall be safe and you three can move faster, he said.

I saw that the Prince was seated on a horse already, wearing a great flowing cape embroidered with his crest. The old woman sat uneasily on the other horse.

I’ll slow them down, I said. I didn’t know where I would go otherwise, but I was determined not to allow my weakness to cause the Prince’s death. I can go off another direction on my own. You shouldn’t be pausing to worry about me.

No, I won’t hear of it, said the man who had woken me. You saved our lives, and I don’t think any of us wish to see you crawl off alone to die in these woods. You’re in no condition to flee alone.

Come, ride with Gilaela, said the Prince. The horse is used to carrying Jarik here, and can manage your weight with hers. We will be able to ride fast enough.

No, I said, shamed at my defiance but intent on allowing the Prince to escape without my encumbrance. They are on our heels, and I won’t be responsible for slowing you down. You’ll barely make it as it is. I can go off another direction, and perhaps slowly enough to lure them away. I realized what I was offering as the words came from my mouth, and my heart thumped in my chest. I was offering to be killed, and the idea was unsettling, to say the least.

I was, I admit, relieved when the man the Prince called Jarik wouldn’t hear of it.

Certainly not! Men of honour do not use defenceless girls as decoys! he said.

Indeed, said the Prince. But your bravery is appreciated.

Go with Jarik, dear, said the old woman. You’ll be safer with him than on your own.

Only if you’re sure you won’t come with us, Prince Kurit said.

No, I’ll be fine. Forgive my boldness but go, Highness. They could come down the path any moment, and I could not bear to be the reason you slowed your flight. I worked my way out of the cart and stood with the blankets clutched around me, watching my breath turn to fog in the cold night air.

Yes, go, said Jarik. We’ll find shelter for the night off in the woods and start a journey back to Endren in the morning. We’ll see you back there in a few days’ time.

The Prince nodded, and the two horses were made to hurry off down the path.

I noticed Jarik had been laden with several packs, no doubt of supplies and gear for a trek by foot through the woods. I offered to carry something, since he was clearly being quite kind by allowing me to join him, but he refused, saying I must still be exhausted.

In the morning, perhaps if you’re up to it you can carry a portion of the gear. For now, we must hurry to get far off the path and find a safe place to camp for the night, he said.

The trees were thick on either side of this part of the path, but Jarik said the western side would be easier to follow eventually, since the road lay at the western foot of the mountains after this valley. We hurriedly entered the woods, Jarik in the lead.

The darkness was thick and blinding in amongst the trees, and I felt very afraid. I was able to follow Jarik only by the sound of him walking in front of me, occasionally whispering to be careful of a low branch or warning me of a root I might have otherwise tripped over. Though I was still tired from my earlier journey, fear and adventure filled me with new energy, so I was able to keep up with his pace rather well.

I lost track of how long we walked or what direction we travelled, but we eventually came across a rocky ledge with a hollow beneath it. Jarik suggested that we hide out in the hollow until the light of day, and I had no reason to argue. He apologized that he didn’t wish to make a fire, but I assured him that I understood it was only logical to not attract such attention. He placed some rocks over the pack that held food, and we each took one of the blankets I had carried and wrapped ourselves in it. He bade me to crawl into the hollow first, so I nestled myself against the rock tightly to allow him as much room as possible. He positioned himself at the mouth of the hollow, sitting upright, drawn sword in hand.

It may sound silly, but seeing a man like that, ready to defend both me and himself, gave me great peace. I no longer felt afraid. The bandits would no doubt chase the Prince, and for him I worried, but for us I no longer feared. I was able to fall asleep quickly and deeply, and my poor exhausted body was glad of it.

Chapter 2

THE CRY OF a bird in a tree overhead woke me, and I found myself stiff, sore, cold and completely disoriented. I sat up, thinking I was in my cot, and in doing so bumped my head soundly on the rock above me.

Jarik was already awake, searching amongst the food pack for something edible for breakfast, and saw me bang my head. He leaned over to me and asked if I was hurt. I remembered where I was and all that had happened, blushed as I rubbed the small bump growing under my hair, and said, I’m fine. I forgot where I was.

I know the feeling. I almost rolled over onto my own sword last night. Wouldn’t that have been heroic, to escape a pack of bandits only to impale myself in my sleep? he asked, chuckling. I smiled at his good humour and gladly accepted the food he handed me. It was preserved meat on slightly stale bread, but I had not eaten in so long that it was a feast to me.

Your name is Jarik? I asked as we gathered the packs to head off.

He looked at me strangely for a moment—I assumed because he had forgotten that both Gilaela and the Prince had spoken his name the night before—and then nodded. I’m the Prince’s cousin, he said as I emerged from the hollow.

Realizing such a relationship meant he too was royalty, I started to kneel. He stopped me and said, None of that now. I don’t need it, and we don’t have time for such things. He handed me a very light pack to carry and started down the slope of the valley.

I told him I could carry more, and he said that he wasn’t about to ask a lady to travel across rugged terrain as a packhorse.

I’m hardly a lady, Lord Jarik, I said, trying not to sound flippant. Abbottess Mercia was forever rapping my knuckles for being flippant. Until yesterday, I did work for my living.

He looked back at me with a jovial smile. I know you’re not a lady of the court, but you did, after all, travel a great distance to save our lives. That, in and of itself, deserves some measure of respect. And what I carry isn’t heavy. Not yet, in any regard. And don’t call me ‘Lord’.

Forgive me, I said in earnest. By what title are you known?

Jarik will do for now, and I shall call you simply Aenna, since you say you are no lady, he said, winking like a rascal. I laughed at his teasing, for it was clearly that, and followed him down the side of the valley.

* * *

For many hours we walked amongst trees and rocks through the valley. Though the air was crisp with winter’s impending chill, the sun shone brightly overhead and I was not too cold. We kept up a steady pace, and Jarik was kind enough to ask frequently if I needed to rest. I rarely did, and when we did stop, I did not feel guilty of it because he seemed to appreciate the repose as well.

We spent much of the time talking of many things, and I grew to like this man very much. He was pleasant, polite, good-humoured, and a little silly, which I admit I found quite endearing. He was so unlike the men I knew from working at the inn. Not that they were all ruffians, and some indeed were very sweet, but this man was like those of the bards’ songs—handsome, elegant, and well-educated, and yet he seemed to enjoy my company. Me, the little peasant girl, in the company of royalty. What a notion!

I learned that he was not quite a year older than myself, and his cousin only two years older than he. It seemed strange to realize people of such high status were close to my own age.

He frequently referred in his conversations to great writers, poets, and other thinkers who seemed always to have something to say about, well, everything. I was suitably impressed at first, and then I wondered if perhaps he was trying to impress me, which in turn made me wonder as to why a man of nobility would seek to impress a poor girl such as myself. I told myself I was being silly, that this must be how the nobility speak at all times—poised, informed, and proud to show it.

Yet he was not poised at all times. He would often make a wry comment and then wink at me mischievously. The wink would inevitably be followed by a roguish smile that always made me laugh. This was how we remained throughout the day—laughing, chatting, and forgetting that we were supposed to be fleeing for our very lives.

But the truth of the matter was that there seemed to be no sign of the would-be assassins. The few times I thought of them, I was filled with worry for the good Prince and the Lady Gilaela, a title which made Jarik laugh—he said calling her lady was like calling one’s nurse a Princess. Having not had a nurse, I didn’t know what he meant, but his infectious laughter made me giggle nonetheless.

Jarik seemed to catch on quickly when my mood turned to worry and often assured me that the Prince would certainly be safe. In the evening as we sat to eat, he tried to convince me that they would already be safe at Endren.

Endren—it seemed a strange thing to be headed there. It was the capital city of my kingdom, yet I had never imagined going there. What reason would I have had? I was neither a trading merchant nor nobility, no one who would ever have reason to travel to Endren. And yet there I was on my way, and with the cousin of the Prince no less. I must reiterate that fact, for every few minutes it reoccurred to me and my insides would feel shaky, my heart would flutter, and the spirit of adventure and living what was suddenly a remarkable life would make me smile broadly. Then I would blush, feeling so silly, and if Jarik spotted my red face, he would favour me with a gentle little smile that made me blush even more.

At dusk we found a great, wide fir tree under which to sleep. The lowest branches swept the ground at their ends, but were a good deal off the ground near the trunk. A perfect little shelter, so long as it didn’t snow and weigh the branches down further. The ground smelled of cold and pine needles. I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself and tucked a corner under my cheek so the needles wouldn’t stick my face as I slept.

* * *

We woke early again and were off, after picking the needles from our hair and blankets. This new day was a cloudy one, and it was harder to be so cheery with the threat of possible snow. A cold wind had arrived, and blew through my clothing unpleasantly.

We spoke of less jovial concerns that day, with Jarik occasionally referring to some matter of politics of which I was usually unaware. I would always ask him for an explanation, which seemed at first to surprise him, as if he had expected me not to take an interest in such things. He would patiently explain the issue to me, never once with a hint of condescension, and once he realized I was happy to talk about weighty matters, he began to ask me my thoughts on them. Had he been smug, I would have been reluctant to offer my opinion, as I would have feared it would sound silly. But his continued kind and polite demeanour served as inspiration to discourse, and the talk was enjoyable even if the subjects were not always cheerful.

At one point, I asked him if he knew why someone would want to kill the Prince.

There are always those who wish to do such things, he said gravely. It is a fact of royal life. Are you aware of what Raen of Daufrae attempted several years ago?

I nodded. Everyone in Alesha knew the story of how the Lord of the small Aleshan city of Daufrae had been exiled for threats made against King Tarken. Lord Raen had claimed to be a direct descendant of King Korreg, Tarken’s great-grandfather. Raen claimed that Korreg had had two sons: Tarken’s grandfather, King Tursk, and some man named Reshtaen, whom Raen claimed was his own grandfather. Despite the fact that no record of such a man existed, Raen asserted that Reshtaen was the true heir to the throne as the eldest son but was tricked out of his birthright because he had been born to a poor Aleshan woman that King Korreg had bedded before his marriage to Queen Shantakh.

Raen thus claimed the throne was rightfully his, and threatened to take it by force if King Tarken did not acquiesce. Of course, King Tarken dismissed the man as a fool, but when a cousin of Lord Raen’s was caught trying to sneak into the palace kitchens with a packet of poison, Raen was exiled from Keshaerlan. It was said that he escaped execution only because there was no direct evidence to indicate he had been part of an assassination plot, and he claimed his right under the law as a nobleman to be spared execution in the absence of evidence.

These things were common knowledge, spoken of in taverns and pubs and inns, and I knew the story well. But that was many years ago, I said.

Yes, and it is certainly unusual for murderous desire to infect a sufficiently large group to actually present a threat. I do not know what the cause of this particular group is, but I am sure that the truth will be revealed once we’re back in Endren.

Why is that? I asked.

Because any group that large and that dedicated to murder will have left clues to their crime along the way. Even if not one of the bandits is captured to be questioned, the King’s Guard will determine their path and deduce the rest.

Yes, I suppose if their behaviour in the pub was any indication, folks in other places may have overheard their plot as well.

Jarik smiled at me in a way so marked with affection and appreciation that I felt myself blush. Then he said, Thankfully, there was at least one brave soul who did something about what she heard. I blushed deeper at these words and was thankful when he soon turned the conversation back to less pressing topics.

When we stopped for our noon meal, Jarik set a small trap and caught a rabbit. I offered to skin it for him—that having been one of my less than pleasant but typical duties at the inn—but he insisted on doing it, saying that it suited a man of the court to occasionally have to provide for himself in this way. He cleaned the carcass and carefully wrapped it to be cooked later.

The snow began to fall lazily from the sky in the early evening, advancing the darkness by at least an hour. We were lucky to find a cave—or rather, a wide crevasse in the side of a rocky hill. Jarik said it was better than a large cave, which would probably already have an occupant that would not appreciate our presence. I agreed in mind, but as we crammed ourselves through the split in the rock to the narrow hollow behind, my heart longed to sleep comfortably and for the luxury of a bath. Oh, how I have always detested feeling dirty, and there I was with several days’ worth of dirt and sweat covering me. My clothes had been worn but still in respectable shape when I left the inn; now they were torn and looked truly ragged. My hair was a disaster, and trying to keep the smaller wisps about my face or the ends of the wrapped braids from flitting about my eyes and nose was quickly becoming a tiresome task. But I did not complain to Jarik, lest he should think me unable to continue and regret allowing me to accompany him.

For the truth was, and I knew it then, I greatly enjoyed his company. I was happier during this struggle of a journey than I had ever been in my life, all because of this good man. As much as I longed to be indoors where it was warm and clean, I feared the end of the journey, since it would inevitably mean we would part ways. I was, after all, a mere peasant girl, enjoying the temporary company of a nobleman, but temporary it certainly had to be.

We ate the rabbit after grilling it to a succulent crispness over the small fire Jarik built with flint and tinder along with twigs and wood I had gathered for him. As we ate, the snowfall increased, gradually building up to a veritable blizzard. It seemed unending, piling up at the edge of our shelter, threatening to bury us alive. Jarik would kick the pile down the slope of the hill, but it grew in spite of him. He reassured me that it would not bury us, that the pile would fall outward and not seal us in, and most of me believed him.

We stayed awake longer than we should have, watching it fall. Then, within the space of a few minutes, the snowfall stopped. We were glad until we realized that nature had traded the snow for a sudden drop in temperature, and despite the fire, we became very cold. We both huddled and shivered in our blankets, but as it got colder it became impossible to sleep. I heard Jarik’s teeth chatter even over the sound of my own.

Jarik sat up suddenly and looked at me, his face lit by the red glow of the fire’s coals. Aenna, this is silly. We’re going to freeze to death like this. I know this sounds awfully impudent, but would you consider sharing the blankets and staying warmer beside one another? I give you my solemn word as a gentleman that I shall not abuse your trust. I would never accost you in any way, I swear it, and I also swear not to tell a soul so that your good name would not be sullied by the rumour and innuendo of idle tongues on our return to Endren.

My heart thudded in my chest. He was so forthright, so bold, and yet so eloquent. In truth, I wanted to consent immediately because I was so very cold, but I made myself appear to consider his request. I looked at him, and the thought of lying beside him made me blush. I was glad of the red light of the coals, knowing that it would mask the colour of my face. I schooled my expression to one of practicality, and agreed, telling him I believed his word as a gentleman and hoped that he did not think less of me for accepting the offer.

On the contrary, I think you’re wise to put appearance of propriety aside for reasons of survival. We’ll both sleep better for this, he said softly as he moved to me, put his blanket over me, and then crawled underneath both of them.

I lay on my right side, my arms folded across my chest as my teeth continued to chatter. He faced me, close but not quite touching except where his own arm crossed his chest. His left arm was folded under his head as a pillow. He shifted briefly to pull the blankets up to my ears and tuck them around us both, and then he lay back down. Our arms before our chests were pressed together, and once he accidentally knocked his foot into mine and apologized. I said it was no concern and smiled at him as I began to finally feel some small warmth from being so close. He smiled back and whispered, Sleep. I swear you shall be safe.

I know, I whispered back, because I did. I completely trusted this good man. I had no reason not to. Had he wanted to accost me or take advantage of me, he could well have done so many times over, knowing that I would have no defence but to run away, likely to my death. There would have been no punishment for such crimes when we reached his home, for his word against mine would have suffered no contest. But I didn’t trust him merely because he had not abused me thus far—I trusted him because he seemed to genuinely care for me. He asked my opinions, went to great lengths to ensure my comfort where he could, and made a point of reassuring me even when it was unnecessary. I had never experienced such kind concern before, and it touched my heart.

He fell asleep first—I could tell so by his light snoring. I found the sound to be soothing—if he could sleep so soundly, things could not be entirely bad, I reasoned. And the rhythm of his breath was constant and relaxing. I found myself dreaming of loving such a man and quickly banished the notion from my mind.

Silly girl, I told myself, he is so far above you in station, you should be glad if he lets you mop his floors when you get to Endren.

Indeed, he had spoken several times of rewarding me for my warning at the outpost, and every time I insisted I needed no reward. I didn’t. I could find work in Endren and make a life for myself, and I intended to do just that. I thought perhaps if he continued to insist on reward, I might be persuaded to accept a new change of clothes, a bath—oh, how I desperately wanted a bath!—and perhaps a meal to set me on my way. But I wouldn’t consider that a reward if it were offered; it would be an appreciated act of kindness on his part.

Yet that thought of having feelings for this good man who slept beside me was hard to banish entirely. I prayed that if the Gods saw fit to reward me for doing my duty—which should not necessarily be rewarded—that they might bring my way such a good man closer to my station. I tried to imagine such a man and discovered he had Jarik’s kind face, his smile lines, his bright eyes and layered dark hair. I erased the image and tried to replace the face with another, but Jarik’s visage kept breaking through the image, right down to that bit of hair in front that was too long and hung over his eye.

I chastised myself. I had to stop myself from thinking such things before I went and spoiled what pleasant parts there were to this otherwise difficult journey. I reminded myself of the cold, hard fact that this man was the cousin to the future King, was no doubt betrothed to a refined and elegant lady of court, and was probably simply being polite to the dirty little peasant girl in order to have a more pleasant journey himself.

I fell asleep telling myself repeatedly that allowing my heart to get involved with anything about this man was a foolish notion, one that would undoubtedly result in great pain.

* * *

In the morning when we woke, we looked out upon a world blanketed in white. It looked beautiful for the first few moments, until I remembered that we would have to walk through it; then it lost its charm. Jarik leaned against the rocky wall, sighed, and suggested we wait to see if the sun would come out and melt it away.

Only if you care to wait all winter, which I certainly do not, I grumbled, seated at the mouth of the crevasse. Our words had that softened, muffled sound that always comes from speaking whilst surrounded by snow.

We can still make it to Endren. I still know my way, and we have enough food that even if we aren’t lucky enough to get another rabbit, we shall not starve. But I am concerned for you, he said.

I’ll be fine. It’s just snow, I replied.

I know, but your boots look so thin. Do they remain dry inside?

No, of course not. Why, do yours?

Well, yes, he said. That’s the point of good boots, to keep your feet dry and warm.

I suppose I’ve never had good boots.

You shall have some when we return. I shall see to it, he said, kicking aside the snow that had drifted at the entrance to our shelter.

I need no reward, Jarik. I—

You were only doing your duty. I know. You keep saying that. Well, I consider it my duty to ensure that you at the very least are properly outfitted before you leave the palace. That is, if … He paused, then stammered, kicking idly again at the snow, That is, if you want to leave.

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he offering me work at the palace? I dared not hope for it and certainly dared not ask. I chose to say nothing rather than risk saying something absurd.

He turned to me, seeming to expect a response. When none was forthcoming he continued awkwardly, which was quite different from his usual elegance. Because, you know, there is no one who would make you leave. Not after what you did for me. And the Prince. The Prince, of course, you saved his life. He, well, he’s unlikely to forget that. In fact, I can assure you with certainty that he won’t. And he’ll definitely want to reward you whether you want it or not.

Again he looked at me as if expecting a response, and again I was afraid to say anything lest I should appear presumptuous.

Well, regardless of that, that’s days off and we should start moving, if you think you’re able.

I nodded, because truly I was saying yes to his seeming offer of employment.

But your boots. Aenna, the snow will melt under your feet and make them wet. You’ll catch your death of cold. We have to do something about them.

I looked thoughtfully at the thin, cloth boots. The leather soles were almost worn through and had already been patched from the summer. I looked back at Jarik and confessed that I didn’t know what to do.

He stared at my feet in thought for a few minutes and then looked to the pile of gear beside him. He bent to the pile and set about putting the contents from two of the smaller bags into one of the larger ones. One of the smaller bags was really a large leather pouch with a thin leather cord to close it. The other was made of heavy burlap. He knelt beside me in the confined space and slipped the leather pouch over my foot. It fit, albeit awkwardly, and he arranged it so its bottom corner was over my large toe. He asked how that felt, and I stammered, I suppose it’s fine, but—

He held up a hand to silence my rebuttal. He took the pouch off my foot and removed its tie cord. He cut the cord in half with a knife and rethreaded half of it in the pouch’s holes. Then he placed it back over my boot and tied the small cord around my ankle. There was barely enough of the cord to make a knot, but he managed to do so, and asked if it was too tight. I shook my head, and he immediately set about putting the burlap sack over my other foot, and threading the remaining piece of cord through the burlap’s weave to tie it similarly.

He bade me stand and walk, so I did feeling silly and awkward but dearly appreciative of his efforts. The Temple folk who had raised me as a child had cared for my well being but never with such intense concern and effort. I was so touched by his efforts my throat felt tight, and I found myself fighting silly, girlish tears.

He had me walk about, as much as our tiny shelter allowed, and he decided the burlap was too loose and I might trip on it. He looked through the packs to find something to wrap it tighter with but found nothing. Then, to my shock and dismay, he began tearing a piece of his own cloak.

No, don’t do that! I cried, stopping his hand, though the tear was already begun.

Aenna, we can’t have you falling, nor can we have you freezing to death with wet feet. This is just a cloak. I’ll get a new one when we’re home. He looked at my hand on his arm, and I realized I was being very bold in touching him so. I went to pull my hand back when he placed his other hand over it gently. I looked at him and found that he was looking at me with great concern. Aenna, really. It’s the least I can do. Please, sit.

I sat back down and watched as he tore a strip from the bottom of his fine cloak. The strip was wide and long, and he was able to wrap around my foot several times, like a dressing, tightening the burlap and giving me an extra layer of protection from the snow. He wrapped it slowly and carefully, being sure to pull it snug and asking me frequently if it was too tight, then adjusting it accordingly.

I stood again and walked out to the snow. It was amazing—I couldn’t feel the dampness at all. The foot with the leather pouch was colder but would probably stay dry longer. I looked back at him and said, Thank you.

He nodded and smiled at me. Then he picked up the remaining packs and handed me one to carry, and we were off.

We spoke little on that third day of travel, as the snow was shin-deep and tiring to trudge through. In some places, drifts were hip-high and we had to assist each other through with the packs. In the afternoon the sun shone down and warmed our upper bodies, though our legs and feet were still encased in cold.

No shelter was found that night, and so Jarik and I dug the snow away from a large rock with our hands. We took turns, as only Jarik had gloves. They were awkwardly large on my fingers, but it was sufficient protection to pull away the snow. We managed to carve out enough that we would be sleeping on frozen ground instead of wet snow, ate quickly, and slept sharing the blankets once again.

In the morning Jarik tried to be cheery, but in pointing out that we would likely reach Endren in two days more, he inadvertently depressed me. On one hand, I was sick of the cold and the dirt on my skin, and on the other, I didn’t want my time with him to come to an end. My attempts to keep romantic thoughts at bay were failing more and more with his every kind gesture, smile, and word. I grew sad to think that it was likely I would not see him again, or if I did, it might be worse to watch him marry a lady of court, knowing I could never win the heart of such a man. These thoughts occupied my mind and made me feel hopelessly lowly and insecure.

Jarik sensed my melancholy mood and kept making little jokes to force me to smile. I did every time and even laughed once or twice, but the very fact that he went to such efforts and seemed so concerned made my heartache worse. I abandoned hope of preventing my feelings for him and instead concentrated more on keeping them from him. I might have been falling for him, but I decided that there was no need to embarrass myself in doing so.

After a pause to eat and a failed attempt to catch something for a later meal, we continued walking along the increasingly rugged terrain. As we crested the rocky hills, we could see the entire mountain range stretching far to the east, and the green valley to the south where Jarik said Endren was situated. He explained this was why he had chosen to go west of the road in the first place, for if we had gone east we would be scaling true mountains instead.

The sun shone overhead, but a cold wind prevented its warmth from reaching us sufficiently. It was, however, enough to heat the top of the snowdrifts so they melted slightly, only to be quickly refrozen by the winter wind. A crust of ice was thus formed over the snow, and walking was difficult. We had to crunch through the thin ice, and frequently in doing so our shins would collide with broken edges. Jarik earned himself a particularly nasty scratch on the inside of his left knee, right above where his boot would have protected him, of course. He insisted it was fine, but I made him sit on a rock and tear another strip from his cloak, which I wrapped around his knee as best I could with numbed fingers. The frigid air helped to numb the wound as well, and we were able to continue.

As we walked along a sloped ridge down the southern face of a hill, I almost slipped on the ice because of the smooth surface of the leather pouch on my foot. Jarik caught my arm, preventing me from going over the edge, although the fall would not have been far enough to kill me. His effort left my shoulder sore from being yanked, but it was certainly better than a broken limb from a fall. The worried look upon his face was touching as he helped me back to my feet. I could not help but smile at him, only to blush immediately thereafter.

Closer to the bottom of the ridge, the slope increased drastically, and Jarik bade me go first, that I might hold his hand behind me in case I slipped again. He anchored himself by grasping a protruding tree root and helped me ease myself downwards. I did not slip, and he was able to lower himself behind me. I led us down the ridge thereafter.

When we were about a man’s height from the bottom, the rock of the ridge disappeared, leaving only ice. Unfortunately, we did not know this until I had stepped on it, breaking through and sliding down the hill to land in a snowdrift at the bottom.

Jarik cried my name out so loudly that it echoed between the hills. As I picked myself out of the drift, he came rushing down