Audrey: Painful Memories

Donovan turned and came to sit beside me. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and sighed, feeling him shiver as my breath met the warm skin there. He smelled clean like soap. His plain silk shirt looked freshly laundered, and there was a trace of his apple-scented aftershave. “How are you?” He asked.

“I’m well. You?”

“Much better now that I’m not stuck in the study. It was getting stuffy.”

I smiled. Donovan stroked my cheek. “What happened to us?” His voice was the only sound in the silence

“I was so stupid. So, so stupidly in love…” I shook my head, tears falling down my cheeks.

“Oh, Audrey.” He brushed the tears away with his thumbs, body trembling. In the short time we'd been together he had been there for me. Protected me like a stronghold, was a cornerstone in my life. Like I was to him. He was going to be the life of me, my soul. I wanted this for us. And wasn’t it normal to get cold feet before the wedding?

He curled up beside me on the bed, placing his hand gently on my belly. I didn't speak at first, just watched his breathing match mine. I heard him sigh and wondered what he was thinking about. “Everything will work out,” I breathed, and smiled, hugging him close.

He nodded, and smiled. “Yes.”

“Promise me you’ll keep your vows.” I replied.

“You know I’d promise you forever if I could.” A note of finality rang in his voice and I snuggled closer

“Oh don’t you give me those sappy lines, Donovan.” I laughed. “Besides you’re terrible at them.”

“So you’d prefer the hunter’s eyes?” He smiled widely, “I’ve got you right where I want you, little rabbit.” He growled.

“I love you too.” I giggled. A knock sounded at my door. We both stood awkwardly and he opened the door. A disgruntled tailor, with a roll of fabric in her arms, was standing there. “You do know, my lord that it is bad luck to see your betrothed before the wedding night. Now out you go!”

He laughed. “Well if it’s forever I’m spending with that woman, then this time certainly doesn’t look like bad luck.” The tailor rolled her eyes and I laughed. The door closed. I could hear him whistling tunelessly.

…As the sun sank in the sky, sending orange rays through the window, onto the cream sheets of the bed, I stretched and relaxed. He kissed my mouth before just holding me tight. I could feel the soft inhale and exhale of breath past our lips, only inches away. I felt as if I was in paradise, but burning in sweet hellfire.

“I leave tomorrow.” He murmured.

“I know.” There was finality in my words. “But you’re not a soldier.”

“Their running low on men, this opponent is fierce. Besides, I can fight.” He kissed me again, passion lingering in his touch. “I’ll be a warrior for you, I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” I looked at me with sadness in his dark eyes.

He sighed. “You know I can’t.” I knew I was hoping for something without possibility. But I had to be strong. For him. I kissed him again, just melting into his embrace.

“Stay with me.” Donovan murmured. “Don’t let me be alone tonight.”

I couldn’t cry…but I felt the tears on the edge about to fall. I clung to him. Out of desperation? No. Out of love.

…I was in the aftermath of battle. The sky was black with the wings of carrion birds. A feast. The sun was very low in the sky, mixing with the shadow. I walked aimlessly; following the golden warmth as it slowly disappeared. The wind picked up and sent a chill through me. The open field was scarred by the upheaval of earth, bodies and blood melting into the sparse green grass. Weaponry gleamed in the dying light, kissed by the sun and blinding me. I continued, stumbling forward. Unaware of where I was. Not caring as I slipped in the mud and reddened my hands with blood.

I fell to my knees, weakened by sorrow. Donovan’s body hung limply, impaled with a lance. Clothes that didn’t suite him—a soldier’s garb—blew in the soft breeze that reeked with the smell of blood and death. His hair was dark against ghastly bluish-gray skin. I looked into beautiful eyes and didn’t see love. They were full of unmistakable horror. I longed to banish that from his eyes, close them and give him peace. But I couldn’t lift my hands—they were frozen.

He was screaming. His mouth was open in a silent scream. The curves of his lips, the roughness of his calloused hands were so cold in death…they’d been warm. So warm.

Somehow, even in death, he looked as he looked asleep: Lovely.

…I wiped my eyes and leaned against Donovan’s headstone, wishing I was falling into his embrace, wishing he were still alive. “You’re at peace, love.” I whispered, “You died but I stayed with you.” I touched the letters of his name, carefully, lovingly, committing to memory their shape.

With a heavy heart, unshed tears in my eyes and swallowed screams in my throat, I longed to find that murderer, destroy him as he had destroyed my betrothed. I was confused and defeated. Should I just let him go? But how could I when all that echoed in my mind was his name? How could I when all that was left of our union was our love?

I tried to remember the last time I lay there with you on the bed. The last time I touched your face and felt your kisses. It’s so easy to imagine you alive…too easy. But I could only call up the image of his calm, ashen face…the casket disappearing into the dark. My heart constricted in my chest, new tears threatened to spill and I cried out softly, bending over in pain. I had failed and that awareness cut me deep. I closed my eyes and placed a hand on the cool, white stone.

“Come back, my love.” My voice was quiet but desolate. Come back from your heaven and take me with you. Save me, Donovan, because I'm dying. Save me the way I couldn’t save you.

I wailed softly and let the tears fall. This time there was no warm hand with gentle fingers to catch them, and no voice to soothe me.

I awoke to the sound of footsteps. Surrounded by goose-down pillows and cotton sheets, I blinked in the darkness and instinctively reached for Donovan’s hand. But Donovan was gone forever. I tried to keep the tears back but they flowed silently down my face. A crackling made me turn to the huge fire burning in the hearth, a semi-familiar figure bent over it, moving the wood. “Aesha?” My voice seemed too loud for my own ears and I brushed away the stray tears.

Her voice gentle and silky, was genuinely concerned. “I came to see how you were doing—you were tossing in your sleep.”

“Yes…” I blinked, hiding my face in my hands.

Aesha came and sat beside me. “Want to talk?”

I sighed. I glanced out the window compose myself, saw the dawn rising. The beginning of a new day. “I dreamt of old memories. Painful ones.”

“Oh, poor dear.” Aesha hugged me and stroked my hair. She pulled me to her chest and let me rest against her. I felt my heart constrict and I choked out a sob. “You go and cry, Audrey.” Aesha’s mothering voice soothed me as reopened the scars and let them weep.

I pulled back after a while and sniffed. I noticed that she had abandoned the purple dress for a pair of brown slacks and a white shirt. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Aesha shook her head and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “Here” I took it and wiped away the tears. She put a hand on my shoulder. “Feel better?”

I nodded and Aesha smiled.

“Good because I had some breakfast made up for us.” She indicated a tray on the night table and laid it between us on the bed. She lit a candle and placed it on the night table and I could see her face more clearly. I looked down at the tray and picked up a roll. It was soft and warm. Biting into it I tasted spiced meat. My stomach growled and Aesha laughed as she helped herself to a small orange, peeling back the fragrant skin. I smiled and picked up the pitcher and one of the two cups. I looked at her briefly.

“No, it’s not drugged. Go on, have some.” She popped an orange slice into her mouth and I poured what smelled like apple cider into my cup and sipped. I was right.

“So…things have been going smoothly so far?” Aesha asked, pouring a glass of cider for herself. “You don’t mind being cooped up in my room for a while?”

“No,” I answered, a little quickly. “It’s a pretty room, and I can’t wait to explore more.”

Aesha grinned. “Most of the upper rooms are bedchambers, though there is the kitchen, a dining area, private sitting rooms, a council meeting room, a laundry...it’s down below where all the fun is.”

“Why didn’t see this from the forest?” I asked, too curious for my own good.

Aesha wiggled her fingers. “Magic, dear. The Bone Dancer dances cloak this place in secrecy—keep it from others’ eyes.”

I smiled as Aesha described the dances. They were beautiful and fierce, weaving and unraveling. I imagined ropes of bodies twisting with the music, moving and melting with the heat of the bonfire. I realized, by the end of her explanations, I wanted this. I wanted this life of peace and friendship. I wanted to be a Bone Dancer. A Bone Dancer…learning with Aesha, dancing together with Nyx. Letting the blood boil and freedom capture me, the dance overwhelming me like a tidal wave. This revelation both scared and absolutely thrilled me.