Chapter 44

Her eyes opened to a dim glow. White silk floated above her, draped across oak beams. The silk twirled down four vertical ornate columns connected to the beams to sweep down as curtains by the sides of a bed. Deep red sheets spread across her shoulders. She sat up slowly so that the sheets fell to her thighs. Carefully, she pushed aside the curtains and scanned the foreign room, decorated in black, red and golden hues. A glowing fireplace stood in the center of the room, highlighting a red and golden spun rug in front of it. Expensive golden trimmings framed the fireplace and a painting above it.

Her gaze froze on Tyzlan’s side profile, sitting by a square table in one corner of a wall. His fingers played with a cup on the table, a wine bottle placed in the center. He was staring out a set of opened windows by the foot of the bed, where red velvety curtains flapped loosely in the wind.

He picked up the cup, sipped from it and spoke quietly, “You have a habit of leaving when I’m speaking to you halfway.”

His face turned slowly towards her. “Where am I?” she asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, she felt his gaze travel down the length of her bodice. When his eyes next met hers again, there was a glint of gold in his eyes that made her body tremble slightly. She looked down and realized that her clothes had been changed. A silk, cream robe hugged her curves. She clutched both hands across the middle of the thin material and looked back up at him.

“Who changed me?” she asked.

“Modesty towards your betroth, Tarya?” he said sarcastically. And it was only then that she realized his voice was slurred.

“You’re drunk,” she said, surprised.

He stood up slowly, leaning on the table for balance with one arm. “Hardly,” he said and began moving towards her, a determined look in his eyes. The look frightened her and she backed away from him further inside the bed, taking the quilt along with her. “What do you want?” she said, her voice shaky.

“What do I want? I don’t know, Tarya. I don’t know. I keep wondering. Perhaps you can tell me.”

His knees reached the edge of her bed. Before she could get away, he reached across the bed and grabbed her.

She pushed him away with an outstretched arm to his shoulder. “Stop it. You’re drunk.”

But he only reached for her again, this time moving closer to her so that his face was just inches from hers. “I’m not drunk.”

The strong smell of alcohol in his breath hit her and she turned her head away from the stench. “Stop it. This is wrong.”

“Wrong?” he slurred. “I’m a king. I can do no wrong.”

He bent his head towards her and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Stop it,” she said again, more desperately.

He whispered into her ear. “You came from the slums. Surely you know what a man needs.”

She shoved him away then and her open hand connected with his face. The blow turned his face sideways, his dark golden hair spilling into his face. Tarya froze in horror, her breath coming in heavy pants.

He slowly turned back around to eye her as he rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek and said, “And the physician said you were suffering from malnutrition. Seems like you still have enough energy. Remind me to remove that hand of yours later.” His gaze went to the offending hand. “Seems like it doesn’t know how to behave.”

She hid her hand behind her back but bit back, “It will behave when you behave.”

He broke into a slow smirk. “Why, Tarya? Didn’t you tell me you love me? I’m only giving you a chance to show it to me.”

His cold gaze chilled her.

“I don’t love you,” she said. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“You lie about everything, don’t you?” he said scathingly.

He reached for her once more but she only shoved him away again.

“You’re a monster,” she told him.

“Really?” He glared at her. “There are so many women dying to be in your place. You have no idea how fortunate you are.” His hand reached out to her face and she moved her head back but he only traced a finger along her cheek. “You’ll love me, Tarya,” he said. “I’ll make you love me. And then I’ll kill you and your family.” He closed his eyes. “Ah, yes, I’ll make you love me before I kill you and your family.”

“You’re mad,” she whispered.

His eyes opened. “You’ll tell me you love me and mean it, Tarya. And then I’ll kill you.”

She stared at him, her breath falling and rising shakily.

Then he suddenly retracted from her and stood up. She watched him stumble towards a door and left. In the following silence, she sobbed.

Tyzlan returned to his room. For a long while, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, motionless. The time passed with only the sound of crackling wood from the fireplace. Then he slowly stood, changed, took a bottle of wine and a torch with him and stepped through the dark, secret tunnel he’d always used to the rooftop.

There, the sound of his footsteps alerted the pigeons in the cages. The birds fluttered and cooed slightly. He sidestepped the cages and walked towards Earl’s. The hawk had wrapped its wings around itself, asleep. He turned and found Gandel standing opposite him in front of a doorway. As always, the man had a bottle of wine in his hand, his beak-like nose red from inebriation.

“Ah, Gandel. Come and drink with me.” Tyzlan turned his back towards the man to lean against a parapet overlooking the night skies. Low, dark clouds were draped threateningly across the skies. It was nearing winter soon and the temperatures had begun to dip. Tyzlan took a long drag from his bottle of wine. After a while when Gandel still hasn’t joined him, Tyzlan turned his head over his shoulder.

The old man stood, staring. “Why, Palon, I heard news that you have been executed.”

Tyzlan paused for a moment. He had forgotten Gandel thought he was Palon. He said slowly, “Well, that must be another man.”

“Oh?”

His eyes shifted away guiltily. “Yes.”

Gandel approached him slowly, his old gray coat swaying in the strong wind. Tyzlan turned back around to avoid scrutiny.

Gandel came to stand beside Tyzlan. “You’ve never stayed away this long before. It’s been almost a year. I thought you left the palace.”

“For a while, yes,” Tyzlan said and quickly changed the subject. “How have you been?”

“The same, always the same,” Gandel said, his voice gruff. He leaned his weight comfortably onto the parapet. “You don’t look too good yourself. Where have you been?”

“It’s a long story. It would take forever to recount,” Tyzlan said. Then he took a long pull from his wine bottle.

Gandel looked at Tyzlan. “You reek of alcohol. What troubles you, boy?”

Tyzlan kept quiet.

“Ah, matters of the heart? I keep forgetting you’ve grown up, Palon.”

Tyzlan made a laughing snort. “I’ve been telling you I’m no longer a boy.”

“I still remember you as only a child when you came.” Gandel smiled at the memory. “You were a broody child.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. And you’re brooding now too.”

There was a long silence between both men. Tyzlan said quietly, “I loved her but I found out she lied about everything. Everything she has said or done.”

Gandel considered for a moment. “Did she tell you why?”

“I know why,” Tyzlan said, not in a nice tone.

“Not a good reason?” Gandel asked. Thick strands of his graying hair shifted as he cocked his head to observe the thickening clouds.

Tyzlan frowned. “Heavens, I don’t know. She saved my life. At least, that’s what she said. I can’t remember. She lies so much I don’t know when she’s speaking the truth.” Tyzlan took another swig before he continued. “But I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m going mad. She’s everywhere,” he said, frustrated. He paused a while and said, “I did something horrible to her tonight. For revenge.”

“All right. So you had your revenge. Now you can both move on.”

“Move on?”

“Yes,” Gandel said simply between dry lips. He uncapped his own bottle and took a drink.

“She lied to you. You did something horrible to her. Sounds like things are even.”

“You make things sound so simple.”

“But things are simple. It is pride that makes things difficult.”

Tyzlan scoffed.

“Ah, but it is true, my boy. Tell me, does she love you?”

“No.” Tyzlan sighed. “I don’t know. Not anymore I suppose.”

“Do you love her?” When Tyzlan didn’t answer, Gandel said, “So there you go. There are other wenches around.”

“What if I do?” Tyzlan asked.

“Ah, then you put aside your pride and make it up to her.”

Tyzlan scoffed. After a while, Tyzlan said, “What about you? I never hear you talk about your woman.”

“She died giving birth years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, boy. She gave me a beautiful son.”

“Why are you always this,” Tyzlan tilted his head up to search for a word, “carefree?”

Gandel smiled knowingly. “You see the birds, they don’t worry. When it’s night, they sleep. When it’s time to fly, they do it dutifully. And when they reach their destination, they are happy. Life is destined. Why do you think so much?”

Tyzlan groaned into his bottle. “Not that again.”

Gandel laughed. “A toast.”

And in the cold night air, the two unlikely friends toasted.