Here we have it, the continuation of Adaela Book I. This is NOT a sequel; it is more of the story. You will be utterly lost if you have not read Adaela yet. You can find it under my (Asriya)’s author page or by running a search for stories under Adaela. Go read it! It’s not that bad! If you’ve read Adaela, welcome to Adaela Book II. It continues!

Book II:  The Denian Conqueror

                It occurred to Adaela as she rode on the large dark horse she had been given that she would see the sky as had been planned that day, although not with Khalid.   Adaela was resigned to her fate.  Oddly enough, she did not resist, nor did she complain.  Lord Wildham hadn’t been particularly cruel to her, and it really seemed that there was no chance she could escape; she was grossly outnumbered.   Perhaps an opportunity would present itself, but until then, she was treated well as long as she was obedient.  If some bond of trust was forged between the captive and the captor, it may be easier to find the means of escape.  Emotionally, Adaela had been worn thin, as well—she sat silent in the saddle, riding alongside Wildham who neither trusted her to ride behind him, nor in front.  No one had noticed their hasty flight from T’lana, and none seemed to think anything of the fact that one girl was being escorted through the Denian countryside by five men.

                Being back in Denian was very odd.  Under any other circumstances, Adaela rather fancied that she could even enjoy being at her home.  Now, it was just odd to be riding through the countryside so similar to that which she had grown up in, with Lord Wildham at her side and four guards surrounding them.  The morning sun rose after they had been traveling for nearly two hours.  It’s honey-stained light cast shadows over the mountains and over the road.  It caught in the leaves of the trees, and in the flower-buds that hung heavy off branches, ready to burst open in the new day.  Spring was opening into her height, and Adaela was sad that she had missed its beginning. It was like coming into a dance when it was already mostly done—you could get a taste of the ending, but never the full flavor it could offer.  Several birds flew through the sky, dark specks that eventually glided down to a tree branch.  They would pass under the same branch’s shade in a few moments.  The wind danced playfully through the grassy field.   The entire scene was like a dream… One that Adaela didn’t feel she belonged in.

                She glanced over at Lord Wildham, who rode tall and confidently in the saddle, a half-cloak fluttering behind him. He seemed utterly unconcerned with her, or anything else, for that matter.  Though she hadn’t asked why she had been taken, the answer was pretty obvious; she had been a threat to him, and all the other nobles, for that matter.  She was proof that Khalid could be moved emotionally, and proof that someone who did not have the same values as the rest of the powerful T’lanans could gain influence. So, she had been removed.  What Wildham would do to her now, she didn’t know, and didn’t much care to think about.  Adaela knew she had to theorize, though and prepare herself for whatever would happen.

                It was clear that she would somehow be disposed of.  Perhaps locked in a dungeon or a tower?  That possibility seemed overly dramatic, and Adaela convinced herself it was the product of too many childhood afternoons spent reading tales in the attic.  Stuffed quietly into a convent with the explanation that she was a delusional liar was a more realistic possibility, and could possibly work, as well.  With just the right warnings—not to mention the right amount of gold—she would live under lock and key for the rest of her quiet life. Then, there was always the more simplistic, and infinitely more permanent, possibility; that Wildham would kill her once they were far enough away from the city that no one from T’lana would ever find out.  Adaela’s spine went cold at the thought and her scalp crawled.  She had no great love of death, and was not ready to accept that as a possibility.  Whatever Wildham was, he was her captor, and the thought that her captor was a murderer was not a very pleasant one.   Adaela supposed it was too much to hope that he would let her go; there was always the threat that she would return to T’lana. 

                “What are you going to do with me?”  Adaela impulsively asked of Lord Wildham, who was broken out of his daydreams abruptly.  He turned and smiled to her.

                “So, you have decided to be sociable after all.”

                “Well, we all have our moments.” Wildham smiled wider and nodded, turning to look straight ahead.  “You haven’t yet answered my question…” Adaela reminded him, unsure as to whether it was wise of her to possibly antagonize him.  The fiery disc of the sun was nearly straight overhead; it was golden-white, blazing furiously.  Adaela squinted at the foreign orb.

                “Why should I tell you what I am going to do with you?  If I did, it would cease to be a surprise.  And I’m sure you like surprises, don’t you Adaela?  Most young girls do,” He pointed out.  Adaela frowned.

                “Then where are you taking me?” She tried a different approach.

                “Oh, well that would ruin the fun as well!”  Wildham exclaimed.  Adaela warily observed his expression.  He was trying very hard to cover up his nervousness with joviality and humor.  It was not working as well as he most likely hoped.  Adaela decided to take a chance and try to use his anxiety to her advantage.

                “Well, I was just thinking, I’m more familiar with these parts and where you’re going than you think.  You might as well tell me, since I can guess.”  Adaela bit her lip but kept her eyes calm.  Would he call her bluff?  Surely, he couldn’t know how familiar she was with Deneian; if he thought she was telling the truth and knew exactly what direction he was going in, he might be more inclined to give her some hint as to what was happening, to keep her quiet.

                “What do you mean?”  Well, she had gotten herself into a fine position.  What was she supposed to say now, since she really didn’t know what she meant…

                “I think you know what I mean, Wildham, don’t insult your own intelligence and don’t ask me to, either,” Adaela haughtily responded.  There, he would never deny his own intelligence, so he’d be forced to give her some sort of reply; not just another question.

                “I know you’re from this land, if that is what you are intimating.  If you think you have any sort of advantage because of that, you are mistaken,” Wildham sighed, already tired by the conversation.  Adaela came to the conclusion that Wildham was smarter than she had thought, and she had never mistaken him for a man of merely average intelligence.

                “I have an entirely different advantage than that, esteemed Lord Wildham,” Adaela kept her voice sweet in her attempt to throw him even more completely off his guard. 

                “What is that advantage, pray tell?”  Well, considering she only wanted to make him think she had an advantage, Adaela realized she had once again backed herself into a corner.  Instead of answering, she simply threw her head back and laughed lightly. Wildham just watched her. 

                “You know, Adaela, you are a very pretty girl.”  Adaela stopped laughing abruptly and nearly choked instead, but she managed not to.  Was he so desperate now that flattery was his only weapon?  He was afraid, that was certainly obvious.

                “Well, thank you Lord Wildham.  You know, I’ve always thought you had great political skill—it seems to come naturally to you,” Adaela offered, hoping that he would relax enough with her that he would slip up and she could find her opening.

                “Well, you see, political strength really is eighty per cent talent, and twenty per cent training.  But to be successful, one must be one hundred per cent strong.  When I was young, younger than you are now, my affinity for the arena was noticed and I was sent away to a school to be trained.”

                “Really! I didn’t know that they started so young…” Adaela exclaimed.

                “Well, it really does depend a great deal on the situation.  Have you been educated formally, at all?”

                “Yes.  I was taught ancient and modern Denian history, as well as the history of several other countries.  I learned simple arithmetic, a bit of the sciences, and I can speak a bit of the Illuxish tongue.  Though I doubt I will ever go to Illuxin.”

                “You were taught none of the gentlewomanly arts?”  Wildham inquired.

                “No.  Not formally, at least; my mother taught me how to sew practically, but I never learned embroidery.  I can write, of course, but I never learned any of the finer or formal hands. I was the daughter of a merchant, and you see, it was—” Adaela corrected herself and pushed back any thoughts that could have been left free by the “was,” “is—very unlikely that I will marry any higher than that.”  Wildham noticed her pause and smiled maliciously, though said nothing concerning it.   Adaela began speaking once more, not leaving it to chance whether Wildham chose to pursue the topic of marriage above one’s station—something she felt he would whole-heartedly disapprove of—or even bring it into something concerning Khalid. “My parents died recently, and my sister married just after.  I stayed in our old home, but she moved in with her new husband. I’ve oft wondered how they have been.”

                “You lived alone?  It is quite unbecoming for a young lady such as you to live by herself.  Had you thought of marriage?”

                “Yes, though not really seriously,” Adaela looked at the groves that were now on either side of the road.  The conversation was quickly becoming uncomfortable. 

                “Not seriously?” Wildham urged her to continue.

                “Well, take my sister, for instance—she married the first rich man who showed any interest.  That was all she cared about.  I didn’t want to run off and marry the first person who asked me.”

                “But you would marry the first ruler who asked.”  The words stung hard event though Lord Wildham’s voice remained quite cool and disinterested.  Adaela’s head snapped around to look at him.

                “Why would you say that?” Her voice shook a bit, as did her hands, but she wound them solidly in the leather reigns and was still.  She calmed her eyes and her frazzled nerves, rightly remaining overly circumspect.  Adaela pulled her cloak tighter across her shoulders—the wind had picked up.  Perhaps it wasn’t that windy, but having been in T’lana for so many weeks, she was unused to the wind and its harassment.  Wildham didn’t seem bothered by it at all.  In fact, he didn’t seem to bothered by anything; he was in no hurry to answer her question. Eventually though, he would.

                “What was going on between our illustrious God-Ruler and you wasn’t exactly a secret in the palace, if you hadn’t noticed.”  Wildham’s voice was dry.  Adaela opened her mouth a bit to respond, but when she couldn’t think of anything to say, she went back to laughing softly at the comment.  That was always a safe response, it seemed…

                “I’m sure marriage was never in Khalid’s mind, and I can assure you it was never in mine,” Adaela replied once she had composed herself enough to do so.  To Adaela’s great relief, there was no more conversation between the two.  Wildham allowed the rest of the guards to fall behind; close enough to keep a watchful eye on all that went on between Lord Wildham and she, but far enough behind that Adaela didn’t feel so much like a prisoner.  Though she knew she still was, she was grateful for that bit of imagined freedom.

                Eventually, as twilight started to fall over the land and the moon began it’s immortal ascension into the heavens, the groups stopped and made camp in an overgrown orchard.  Adaela watched the moon in awe, grateful for it’s beauty in and soft, ivory light.  Her first thought was a wish that Khalid could see it the way she now was; not through a glass ceiling, but out in the open.  A wind rustled the trees and brought the orchard to life. It seemed as if ghosts were moving through the branches and pulling Adaela away from reality.  She shivered and sat atop the blankets that Lord Wildham had very clearly set aside for her.  Sleeping beneath the open sky was an experience Adaela wished could have been enjoyed under different circumstances. Now, all she could do was worry about what was to become of her.

                One thing was sure; she missed T’lana more than she thought she would.  It pulled at her, and she wanted to be back in the palace more than anything.  Though when she really dug down into her feelings, Adaela was sure that it was really Khalid that she missed most of all—his easy way of talking to her, the way he stood by the window and watched the street below as if he could see the whole world from that perch, the way he spoke so softly and so confidently at the very same time.  Without even realizing it, Adaela had fallen in love with him.  It was a shame she hadn’t discovered that until it was too late to do anything about it; though she very much doubted she would have had the courage to do anything about it.  Her rational mind had a way of beating down her dreamy side, the side that would have promoted any thoughts of love and romance.

                But what was love?  Love was not real—lying under the rustling trees surrounded by men who would as soon have her dead, that was real. No one would come and rescue Adaela, as much as she wanted to think otherwise.  She desperately wished she would be saved, so that she would not have to deal with anything harder than what she had already been forced to face. It was ridiculousness; even Khalid, whom she hoped would at least miss her, would not come after her.  Sending men after her, perhaps, he could try. Adaela was convinced they would just as easily be paid off by Wildham, though.  Khalid could never come for her himself, though.  It was simply out of the question; to leave T’lana was an impossibility, given his position and who he was. If Khalid left T’lana, it would be as good as giving up his claim to the thrown, and letting someone else take over.  Adaela had a sinking suspicion that Wildham would be all too obliging and snatch the power if it was left unguarded for any amount of time.  That was what he wanted.

                Now, Adaela just lay silently under the still sky.  It was stifling to be out in such an open area after having been enclosed, encased in a tomb for so long.  Adaela sorely missed T’lana.  It ached in the pit of her stomach, and thoughts of Khalid throbbed in the back of her skull.  Carefully, she pulled them out to look at them.  There was no harm now. She’d probably never see him again; he had his country to rule, and she had her new fate to dread and destiny to discover.

                Yes, it was true, she had definitely loved him.  Whether it was true love, or the fleeting kind; well, that was left to be determined.  How long would it endure, even through the separation?  Adaela bit her tongue and fervently hoped that, for her own sake, she would get over him quickly.  Still, she didn’t want to let go of the feeling so quickly.  It was warm and safe, something stable even in such an uncertain atmosphere.  It never would have worked, never, no matter what there had been between them. It was impractical and impossible.  Perhaps Wildham had seen the future before Adaela could have even guessed at it.  Well, maybe he was a more intuitive man than she had given him credit for being.  Either that or just highly suspicious.  At this point, nothing could have surprised her.  The night rained down its full fury on Adaela and she fell asleep before any other thoughts could haunt her head.