For another three days, Blade continued his solitary existence. He spent his time exercising, reading or drinking, as his fancy took him. Arken tried to entertain him by challenging him to a popular board game, but stopped after Blade had fleeced him of several tendays' wages. Verdan visited to examine his arm, unstrapping it in order to do so. Blade could hardly move it, and attempting to do so brought intense pain, so the healer replaced the bindings.
On the fourth day, Blade decided to find out why his wife was avoiding him, and inform her of his plans to seek out Shamsara. Kerra's warnings of the consequences of him leaving the palace bothered him, as did Chiana's strange behaviour.
When he arrived outside her door, the guards' reaction surprised him. They shifted nervously, and barred the door with crossed spears.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"Beg pardon, High Lord. Orders from the Regent. She will not see you."
"Indeed?" Blade's brows shot up, and he smiled. "Well, this a novel turn of events." He chuckled as he sauntered away.
Chiana looked up from the papers she was reading when the guard pushed open the door and entered, bowing.
"Regent. Lord Conash was just here, asking to see you. You asked us to tell you when he did."
She nodded. "Thank you."
The man bowed and left, and, as the door closed, she put down the papers and leant back in her chair. Her throat grew tight and her eyes burnt as she struggled to quell the impulse to leap up and run after Blade, drawing on all her newfound strength. The last tenday had been a constant battle to stick to her resolve. The fact that he had been outside her door, asking to see her, brought fresh emotional torment. She longed to visit him, to thank him for saving her life and spend time in his presence, to listen to the account of Endor's death and marvel at his skills.
Chiana could no longer bear the cold emptiness of his eyes, however, which so belied the words he had spoken on the day he had stopped her from taking her life. She had thought that he had discovered his true feelings in the instant when he knew he would lose her forever, but he had not. Those wonderful words that still echoed in her mind had been a lie, but when he had spoken them, she had believed him, so great had been her longing for it to be true.
Without Inka, her life was almost entirely empty. Only Kerra's affection and her own unrequited love sustained her. The cold void inside her, so briefly filled with joy, was becoming a tight, chill knot. From it she drew her strength, and found a boundless font of bitterness and resentment to draw on, which flowed from the wound that had once been the warm presence of her familiar. Now she understood that Blade's bitterness stemmed from a similar emotional wound, one that was deeper than hers, and would never heal.
Blade had lost far more than she, all in one terrible day, and, although she could now understand his pain, she could only imagine its depth. The fruit of this bitter tree of wisdom that had sprouted in her heart was acrid indeed, for she now knew why Blade could not love anyone, and never would. Her love for him would not die, but its futility sparked a deeper tide of bitterness from which she drew the strength to reject him.
A soft tapping at the door made her heart leap with foolish hope that Blade had returned and forced the guards to let him pass, since they would not dare to prevent him physically. Instead, Verdan entered and bowed, his expression becoming concerned when he noticed the way she sagged at the sight of him.
"Are you all right, Regent?"
Chiana nodded and rose to pour herself a cup of wine from the bottle that stood on a table.
Verdan approached. "I heard about Blade's visit."
"You have good spies."
"The best. How did he react?"
She shrugged. "He walked away, what do you think?"
"He did not want to know why?"
"I am sure he does not care."
"And how do you feel?"
Chiana sipped the wine and gazed out of the window. "Empty. Sad. What do you expect?"
"Angry?"
"What would be the point? That would be like raging at the wind for blowing down your house, or cursing the rain for falling. And just as futile."
"But you have a right to expect -"
She swung around. "What? Love? Affection? Husbandly duty at the very least? I once thought I would acquire those things in time. Minna-Satu even said it may happen. But it has not, and it never will. I know that now. He warned me before I married him, so I cannot blame him. He knew."
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because now I know some of what he has been through. Just a small taste of it, but it is terrible. Sometimes when I lie awake at night, I think I am going mad. I do not sleep well anymore. I have terrible dreams of suffocating, of struggling in gigantic hands that are crushing the life out of me. I can hear my bones breaking."
She walked into the sitting area and sank down on the pile of cushions. "His familiar was gutted before his eyes. He not only felt it, he watched it too. I am surprised he can sleep at all."
Verdan lowered himself onto a cushion, studying her with deep concern. "It will get better with time."
"How would you know?"
"All wounds heal, even emotional ones."
"But not loss. They say that a person who loses a limb can feel it for the rest of their lives."
Verdan shook his head. "That is a physical loss."
"So is mine. Inka was a part of me. You know that."
"Yes. But it will get better. And perhaps you are right not to see him. His presence only torments you. The best thing would be to try to forget him."
She gave a harsh laugh. "Impossible. But the sight of him only reminds me of what I can never have. At least I can avoid that, but forget him? Never."
"So you have given up then? You no longer hope that he will change?"
"I have resigned myself to the possibility that he will not, but hope springs eternal. If he ever does change, he will find me."
Verdan sighed. "It grieves me to see you so unhappy, My Lady. I wish there was something I could do to help."
"I wish you could tell me how to make him change. There must be a way to his heart, but I fear I shall never find it."
The old healer shook his head, looking pensive. "I do not think anyone can make him change. He must want to, then he will."
"And how can I make him want to?"
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I wish I knew, My Lady."
Blade stared out at the bleak winter garden, lost in thought. A further tenday had passed since he had been turned away from Chiana's door, and the tedium of palace life ate at his nerves. Yesterday, Verdan had removed the strapping that had held his right arm pinned to his chest and replaced it with a sling. He could move it a little now, but it still hurt.
At first, he had found Chiana's rejection amusing, a new ploy intended, no doubt, to bring a reaction from him, some sign that he cared about her. After a few days, the amusement had given way to resentment at her callous treatment of him. He had, after all, avenged Endor's abuse and saved her life, and she had not even thanked him. What was more, the fight had left him with an injury that seemed destined to linger for many moons, and was not only extremely annoying, but had prevented him from leaving the safety of the palace.
Now that he had regained some use of his arm, and did not look so handicapped, the lure of the city grew strong. Although the blizzards that swept across the land prevented him from seeking out Shamsara until the spring, the city offered distractions such as gambling and troubadours, who entertained the masses during the cold winter moons. Such pastimes were available in the palace too, but he had no wish to share them with primping courtiers and conceited lords who cast him arrogant looks when they thought he would not notice.
His mind made up, he pulled his bag from the wardrobe and stuffed some clothes into it, donned his cloak and quit the splendid room with its roaring fire and soft bed without a moment's regret. Chiana's refusal to see him had removed the last obstacle to his departure, freeing him from the concern for her health that Kerra had succeeded in planting in his mind. If she did not want his company, she could hardly be devastated by his leaving.
Blade strode down the long, cold halls towards the main doors, ignoring the guards who snapped to attention and the servants who bowed. At the huge doors, he paused and glanced back down the hall, wondering if he would ever return. A wave of fresh bitterness and resentment washed over him, mixed with a dull anger at Chiana's betrayal. At the same time, he wondered why it bothered him. He was gaining the freedom he had always craved, and he did not want her company or gratitude.
Blade turned to the doors, and the guards opened the small door to let him out into the freezing wind, bowing low as he passed.
Chiana picked at the succulent fowl bathed in rich, spicy sauce that may as well have been wood shavings and water, for she did not taste it. As usual, she ate alone in a cosy alcove in her rooms, where gilt-edged velvet curtains of deep royal blue kept out draughts and the roaring fire in the sitting room provided warmth. Alabaster platters and golden cutlery glinted in the torchlight, and the soft strains of a harp drifted from lounge where a minstrel sat plucking it. Silk-clad maidens stood behind her, ready to leap into action at her slightest whim.
A soft knock at the sitting room door preceded its opening, and Redgard entered, bowed and approached her. "Regent, you asked me to inform you when your husband left the palace."
She nodded, toying with her food. "I expect he has gone to visit a taproom again."
"This time he took some of his belongings in a bag."
Chiana sat back and signalled to her maidens, who removed the plate with its half-eaten contents. Her stomach knotted, and when a girl placed the next course before her, a cherry tart smothered with whipped cream, she thought she would be sick. Rising, she walked over to the window and stared out, turning her back on Redgard to hide the tears that brimmed in her eyes, then overflowed and ran down her cheeks.
"Send my best spies after him. I want to know everything he does, and where he goes. They must also be able to protect him if he gets into trouble."
"My lady, it will be very difficult to follow him without being spotted."
"I know that," she retorted. "Just do it."
Redgard bowed. "Yes, Regent."
When the door closed behind him, Chiana ordered her maidens to clear away the dishes and leave her alone. Only then did she return to sink down on the pile of cushions and weep. Nothing would ever touch Blade's frozen heart, and that he had chosen to vanish into the winter snows only convinced her that this time she had lost him forever.
*****
The tale continues in Book VI, Lord Protector. Then get two prequels, Dead Son and God Touched.
About the author
T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa.
T. C. Southwell has written over twenty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.
All illustrations and cover designs by the author.
Contact the author at [email protected]
Acknowledgements
Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.