The Eighth Saimar: Chapter Two

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“Your eyes are as blue as a summer sky.”

“Stop it,” Enovi laughed, slapping Quinn’s hand away from her face. “I hate that poem, and my eyes are not blue.”

“A cloudy summer day,” he amended. “Better?”

“You have not redeemed yourself,” she said in a mockingly haughty voice.

He bent down and took her mouth in a deep, lasting kiss that left her breathless. “Better?” he asked again.

Enovi nodded, not having words at the moment. She entwined her fingers in his fair hair, soft as silk, and pulled his face down to hers again. He laughed when he came back up. “Shall we go again?”

Enovi nodded.

Much later they both laid back on the blanket covering the hay. Enovi shifted to where the hay stalks weren’t poking through the blanket and into her bare backside, and said, “How long has it been?”

“Not long enough,” he replied softly, twining a strand of her hair around his finger. “Not nearly long enough.”

“I love you, Quinn.”

He smiled back at her, with blue eyes she thought really were the color of a summer sky, though she would never admit to having such a silly thought. “I love you, Enovi. Why so serious?”

She thought for a moment about telling him her secret, but the moment was too perfect. Let them deal with their problems later. “Nothing,” she said, snuggling up to his side. Perhaps there won’t be a later. “Do you think time can just stop right now, just like this?”

“I’m hoping,” Quinn replied, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

But time never stopped, and there was no denying that soon the both of them would be missed. Enovi and Quinn dressed and left the stable, and she waved to him as he headed toward the guest quarters. She went in the opposite direction, picking straw out of her hair and smoothing the winkles from her dress. She reached the door leading to her outer chambers and entered it, noting with a lack of surprise that Naydyn was inside, staring at herself in a full-length mirror. Though Naydyn and Andran had a whole suite to themselves, Naydyn often took refuge in Enovi’s room.

Naydyn stepped back from the mirror, running her gaze up and down. “Maybe if I start getting fat it would give them hope for a few days.”

“Mother giving you trouble again?” asked Enovi, running her fingers through her hair to make sure the worst of the tangles were out.

“Mother, Da, the whole empire,” said Naydyn, not even turning around. “They won’t leave me alone. They keep talking about duty.”

“House Tierlach can’t continue without heirs,” Enovi pointed out.

“Bah. Then let Andran bear them.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Enovi thought about Quinn and her secret, and spotted parchment and ink on the desk in the corner of the room. Perhaps she could write Quinn a letter to tell him. She moved over to the desk. “May I?”

Naydyn glanced at the parchment. “I don’t care. It’s freshly scraped.”

Enovi sat down at the desk, picking up a quill.

“I don’t know what they expect,” said Nadyn, turning back to the mirror. “I’m not even twenty yet.”

“Mother was seventeen when she had you,” said Enovi, smoothing out a piece of parchment and dipping the quill into the ink bottle. She stared at the blank surface before her, dread dropping into her stomach and sitting there like a cold lump of iron. She focused on the quill. Dear Quinn, she wrote.

“I don’t care how old Mother was,” said Naydyn. “Besides, Andran and I have already tried twice.”

Enovi started in surprise. A drop of ink fell from her quill and blotched out Quinn’s name. “Twice? You’ve been married for nearly four years and you’ve only done it twice? Doesn’t Andran think that’s . . . odd?”

“Andran,” said Naydyn, sounding supremely pleased with herself, “is clueless about most things and does whatever I desire, including not sleeping with me. Not that I want to wish ill about anyone, but Andran’s father falling sick was excellently timed. Andran won’t leave the Korenmar’s side until the old man dies or gets better. Meanwhile, the son’s poor wife is all alone and must make do without him. Her potential heirs must wait.” She gave a sarcastic smile in the mirror. “You look surprised, sister.”

Enovi shrugged, getting a new piece of parchment. “I just didn’t know that . . . nothing was happening.”

“I’m not you, boffing the stableboy at thirteen.”

“That’s not true,” Enovi shot back. She had been fourteen. She rewrote Quinn’s name at the top of the parchment. Underneath she wrote, I have something to tell you.

“If you insist,” said Naydyn.

Enovi didn’t answer. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner, she wrote, but I didn’t know how.

“Speaking of that,” Naydyn continued, “how is the young Korenmar of Dalanyard?”

Enovi jerked in surprise again. Fortunately no ink flew this time. “What are you talking about?” she asked harshly.

“Please, Enovi, I see the way he looks at you. And it’s very strange how often he comes to Untoreld, isn’t it?”

“He’s meeting with Da,” said Enovi. “There’s unrest in Dalanyard.”

“One would think then that the Korenmar would be better off protecting his realm instead of overextending his stay in the Brey’s palace.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” said Enovi. “I’ve barely said more than greetings to the man. I’ll remind you I’m promised to someone else, as I’m sure he is as well. If he pants over me, then let him. It’s not my problem. I would never dream of creating such a scandal.”

Naydyn looked her over. “You’re right. You wouldn’t dream of it. Unlike me, you lack all sense of rebellion, sister, and that’s why you’re Mother’s favorite and why she lies awake at night imagining all the ways I’ll run the empire into the ground.”

“She doesn’t think that,” said Enovi, writing, I suppose the best way to tell you is to just say it.

“I don’t care,” said Naydyn, waving her hand. “Just watch out for Quinn fidh Morews. He has a hungry look when he gazes at you.”

“I will,” said Enovi.

“Who are you writing to?”

“No one you know.” Enovi covered the name at the top of the parchment as Naydyn drew near.

“All right, I’ll allow you your privacy,” said Naydyn, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “I hear there’s going to be new stableboy, by the way.”

“Get out,” said Enovi, laughing and throwing one of her shoes at her sister.

Naydyn left, her own laughter echoing down the hallway.

Enovi turned back to her parchment, writing, Quinn, I have just discovered that I am with child, and I think it is yours.

#

Enovi stopped before a worn tapestry depicting the battle of Lowings Hill, which had taken place five hundred years before and where the Brey of Artesia had won a victory against the nation of Dalanyard. That had been back in the days when Artesia still had to go to war to win new territory, when there was still new territory to win.

She smiled as she studied the tapestry, though she had looked at it enough to know every curve of the worn warhorses’ flanks, the sword position of each depicted warrior, every tatter and thin place where time had worn away the cloth. Naydyn hated history and could never stop complaining about the subject. She had been more than relieved when she turned sixteen and her formal education ended.

But Enovi adored history and didn’t plan to stop reading about it when she turned sixteen, and this tapestry was so familiar, representative of everything she considered home, that she felt compelled to look at it every time she passed by. The tapestry covered the entrance to a back hallway, one used mostly by servants, that led to the wing of the palace in which Enovi’s room was located. She preferred to use that passageway as opposed to the main hallway, where she might accidently meet someone who would insist on detaining her to talk. Enovi’s mother was especially bad at this, always wanting to have long conversations with her daughter and usually taking that conversation to her own chambers, where Enovi sat uncomfortably while Turelli prattled on about nothing in particular.

Enovi had been fourteen before she realized her mother wasn’t the most intellectual woman she had ever met, and that Naydyn disdained her for this reason. Enovi wasn’t so judgmental, but she did find Turelli’s preferred topics of conversation bland at best and insipid at worst. She sometimes wondered who her father would have married had his union with Turelli not been arranged for politics’ sake.

Shaking her head to clear her reverie, Enovi pushed aside the tapestry and entered the darker hallway behind it. Here there were few windows, and since it was just after midday the torches lining the walls were dark. Soon, when the sun began to set, servants would come through and light the torches, but for now the hallway was dim.

She started forward, uttering a little scream when a hand came out of the darkness and forcefully grabbed her arm, spinning her around and jerking her back toward the tapestry. Another hand clamped around her mouth, a harsh voice whispered, “Quiet,” and Quinn stepped from the shadows.

She pulled his hand from her mouth. “Quinn,” she said softly, willing her heart to stop beating so hard. It felt like it was going to fly out of her chest. “You frightened me. What are you doing here?”

“I thought you’d come this way after midday dinner,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that Enovi recognized, with a sense of dread, as the letter she had written to him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I thought I made it perfectly clear,” she answered.

He frowned at her, and it was then that she saw he was truly angry, his face red and his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. She realized it was taking him a good deal of effort not to scream at her. This thought made her angry, and she ripped her arm away from his grip. “Or can you not read it?”

“It’s clear, and I can read it just fine,” Quinn hissed. “I just want to know why you thought it was a good idea to send this to me. What if someone had found it?”

“I didn’t know how to approach you,” Enovi admitted. “I thought a letter would be the next best thing.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yes.”

He ran one hand through his fair hair, which looked nearly silver in the dim light. It was interesting, to see silver hair on one so young. Quinn couldn’t be more than twenty-five, if that. His father, the former Korenmar of Dalanyard, had died only two years ago. She realized Quinn was talking again, and forced her attention to his words. She had a bad habit of focusing on inappropriate things in awkward situations.

“ . . . shouldn’t have told me at all,” Quinn finished.

“Why not?” said Enovi. “It’s your child.”

He sneered at her. “Is that so?” He unfolded the letter and read, “I am with child, and I think it is yours.” He angrily shoved the parchment at her, holding it right against her face. “You think it’s mine? Who else have you been with?”

“No one,” Enovi said, pushing away the letter and rapidly blinking so that a convincing tear would fall down her face. It wasn’t difficult. She hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from the man who had told her he loved her. “You’re the first one, Quinn.”

“Liar,” said Quinn, putting the letter back inside his pocket. “After I received this I made inquiries among the servants. It seems you have a reputation.”

“How dare you!” Enovi cried, prompting Quinn to look around in a panic.

“Shut up, you stupid girl,” he said. “Do you want someone to hear us?”

“I wish they would, so they would know how you’re trying to slander me!” This was completely not the way this was supposed to happen. Quinn was supposed to be supportive.

Quinn uttered a harsh, barking laugh. “I’m trying to slander you? On the contrary, it’s you slandering me. I know all about your escapades with your own staff and how you thought you were finally old enough to try your charms on someone with more power. I just happened to be the first one that came your way.”

“That’s not true,” said Enovi. “I love you, Quinn.” She stepped closer, pressing herself to him. What had worked once would surely work again.

He pushed her away. “You obviously don’t understand. No one can know about this. You must tell everyone the child belongs to one of the servants. I’m betrothed.”

“So am I,” said Enovi. “And this will dishonor me.”

Quinn shrugged. “That’s your fault. I’ll not be dishonored with you.”

“I won’t lie.” Enovi’s voice hitched slightly on the last word, and she steeled herself from giving any more away, swallowing past the rapidly-growing lump in her throat.

“I’ll deny ever having known you,” said Quinn angrily, taking a step forward and looming over her. “I’ll find some way to prove to your father that you are merely slandering me to hide your own shame.”

“You can’t do that.” He wouldn’t do that.

“I can, little girl. I have far more resources at my disposal than you, and I’m more important to your father.”

“That’s not true.” How dare he? I’m the Brey’s daughter and second heir!

Quinn smirked. “Of course it is. I’m the Korenmar of Dalanyard, one of the greatest strengths of Artesia. You’re only his youngest daughter, destined to be married to some obscure Artesian satmar. Which probably won’t happen at all now that you’ve sullied yourself.”

Enovi backed slowly away from him, anger and confusion warring inside her, each one temporarily melting away to be replaced by the other. This made no sense. Had he forgotten the time they had spent together? “What happened, Quinn? Not too long ago you said you loved me.”

He shook his head. “I was wrong to get involved with anyone, especially someone too young to understand. It was only fun, Enovi. We’re both promised to other people. What did you think was going to happen? That I’d spirit you away to live happily ever after in the forest? Those are only children’s tales.”

Enovi stared at him, realizing that she didn’t know exactly what she had expected, and that maybe there was a small part of her that had been hoping they could run away together. Despite her best efforts, tears started sliding down her face in earnest. “How could you do this to me?”

“You’re the one who got with child,” said Quinn, his voice going harsh again. “You dishonored yourself and ruined your own future.”

“You had a part in it!”

“I didn’t. And if you tell your father anything else, I’ll make your life even more miserable than it is now. Don’t think, child, that your father won’t disown a daughter who is trying to sabotage the peace in this empire. I’m sure you know of the political unrest in Dalanyard right now. It would be a shame if those against Artesian occupation were suddenly graced with a more powerful position. Powerful enough, say, to lead an assassination attempt?”

Enovi gasped. “You can’t threaten the Brey!” She clenched her fists together to keep her hands from trembling. How had this gotten so out of control? When has this ever been in control?

“I didn’t,” said Quinn. “But your father is well aware that such a thing could happen, and if he thinks you’re trying to destabilize the fragile peace he’s achieved in Dalanyard recently, you will quickly discover how much you are worth to him. Can you take that risk?”

Enovi, overwhelmed as she suddenly realized the magnitude of what she had done, grabbed onto the one stable emotion that had been forming throughout the whole conversation: raw fury. She slapped Quinn hard across the face. He barely flinched. “I hate you.”

“I suppose that’s better than a childish dream of true love,” said Quinn. “I’ll be leaving tonight after evening dinner. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“How could you do this to me?” Enovi asked again, her rage quelled enough for the moment that she didn’t give in to the urge to beat and hit and kick until the world started making sense again.

“You have a lot to learn,” said Quinn. Even in the dim lighting she could see the mark of her hand on his face, a bright angry red against his pale skin. “I suggest you learn it quickly. You brought this upon yourself. You may be the Albreyast, but you are really nothing more than a manipulative whore.”

Enovi stared at him, too shocked to speak or move. He fixed her with one last look and turned, disappearing through the tapestry. She could hear his boots clacking on the stone floor as he walked away. By the time her horror cleared enough that a retort had come to her tongue, the footsteps faded and he was gone. She stared at the back of the tapestry for several long moments, then slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor, hands covering her face as she began to sob real tears.

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