Chapter 73: Trust

Elva opened the door. Someone had been pounding the door off its hinges while she was otherwise occupied. “What in chaos name...?” she started angrily, but stopped as soon as she saw Issa.

Her daughter was unkempt. Her blonde hair was knotted and uncombed. Her eyes were a rich, burning red and there were bags underneath. Her nose was rubbed almost raw, and there were tears still streaming down her cheeks. She looked hollow and haggard.

“He-he-he’s gone,” Issa wailed, collapsing into her mother’s arms. Issa was almost hysterical. She was grabbing onto Elva with both arms.

Elva did what mothers always did when their daughter’s lives were imploding. She sat down and pulled the young woman into her lap. For a while, the two just sat there, Elva rocking and Issa bawling her eyes out. The younger woman didn’t say anything, just wail her unhappiness out into the world. Elva didn’t interrupt the crying jag with words either, just cooing and humming.

There are only so many tears in the human body. Eventually, if even only due to dehydration, the tears have to stop. After some time of holding her, Issa’s eyes dried and the girl was reduced to gasping breath and sniffling.

“What’s wrong, Issa?” Elva asked soothingly. “Whatever it is, it’s all going to be okay.”

“It’ll never be okay,” Issa wailed. “Never again. He-he-he’s gone, momma!”

Elva was confused. The only one she could think of who might be dead was Yren – but he was just unconscious, not dead. She’d checked on him herself not an hour ago to make sure he was still breathing.

“No, he’s not,” Elva said, her face a picture of confusion. “He’s fine. I saw him late yesterday. He was not conscious, but he’s fine.”

“Chugad?” Issa asked, her look suddenly hopeful.

“No, Yren,” Elva replied in bewilderment. “Wait ... what? What’s wrong with Chugad?”

“Chaos, mom,” Issa almost snarled, pulling herself from her mother’s grasp and standing up. Her face was angry and raw. “Not everything revolves around Yren. There’s more important people than some orphan you and dad adopted.”

“I’m sorry,” Elva said, shaking her head. “I was ... there was...”

“Yeah,” Issa growled, her hands closing into fists. Her entire body became taut and for a very real moment, Elva worried her middle daughter was going to hit her. “I see where I stand now. It’s all about Yren. Everything is always about Yren. Well, I’m sick of Yren. Yren is the noose around this family’s throat. He’s the one responsible for everything that has gone wrong with this family. Dad’s death – wasn’t Yren there? Shouldn’t the almighty Yren have been able to stop that? Teran’s death or rebirth or whatever? Where was Yren? Why didn’t he save her? How about Bena? Huh? The little brat is touched in the head, hearing voices, making up all kinds of chaos about being a high priestess for a false goddess, all because Yren told her she didn’t have to return to the abbey. She should be a priestess of Tyln, not following Yren, hoping he might notice her.”

“Issa, that ... none of that is true,” Elva started. “But it doesn’t matter. What’s happened to Chugad?”

“What’s the point?” Issa said, she balled up a piece of vellum and tossed it to the floor at Elva’s feet. “What do you care? Chugad isn’t Yren, so he’s not good enough.”

Issa’s eyes narrowed as she sneered at her mother. “But then, I’m not good enough either, am I? I’m just the little waif who wouldn’t spread her legs for the almighty Yren. Well, go back to the useless piece of chaos you adopted. Lead your pretty little girls who will spread their legs for him. I don’t need him. I don’t need Chugad. And I certainly don’t need you.”

“Issa,” Elva protested.

“No, Elva,” Issa said. “You’ve said enough. I’ve had enough. I’m not good enough for Chugad. Fine? I’m not good enough for you? Fine. I have a god on my side. A god who wants me and doesn’t expect me to spread my legs for Yren. Take your other whores and you can all round robin on Yren’s mighty staff. Me? I’ll be getting real power.”

Issa looked her mother up and down, a sneering frown on her face. “I’m done with you. I’m done with all of you.”

She turned and stalked to the door. “Oh, and if you should happen to see Chugad – tell him I’ll catch up to him eventually. Then he’ll see what my god does to those who dump me.”

She turned and took a single step before flipping back around angrily. “Oh, and tell Yren I’m coming for him, too.”

Elva stood quickly and ran after the girl. “Issa ... Issa stop. It isn’t about Yren or us. Issa!”

The young woman never turned around.

Elva cried as she watched her middle daughter stalk away. It had all happened so fast. She didn’t know where she had gone wrong. She walked back in the room, stooping down to pick up the paper Issa had thrown. She smoothed it out and read it.

“Chaos,” Elva swore.

---- ∞ ----

The morning dawned bright and clear, only a few fluffy clouds lazily drifting across the sky. Yren, as was his wont, had awakened before dawn. Usually, he would have begun his exercise rituals and worked diligently at them for the first hour or two, but instead he’d walked out to the small balcony off his room and sat for a few hours watching the sunrise and then dozing in the morning sun.

He had to admit to himself that he was tired and sore. The fight itself had been brutal. The lightning in the beginning, while he was still collecting himself, had hurt more than he let on. He had never fully recovered from it.

The blast towards the end had caught him unawares and it had slammed him to the ground face first. He’d managed to push himself to his feet quickly enough, only to be grabbed by those dark tendrils and crushed.

He shivered as he remembered them. They’d felt cold, like they were sucking the very life out of him even as they tightened, bending armor and bones with equal ease. They had frightened him far more than for which he could account, but he instinctively knew that was part of their purpose. They drew the force of life and replaced it with a towering fear, the better to freeze their opponents while they finished them off.

Yren sighed as he wallowed in the sun’s warmth. The heat helped drive the memory of those black tendrils back down into the pits of his mind, where they would be less bothersome. He had been afraid before, of course. It seemed for the past few months, he’d been constantly afraid. He was afraid he would fail Elva, Teran and Bena when they needed him most, just as he’d failed Ardt. He worried that he would not be enough to champion Ataya. He even feared what he was becoming.

The secret was, he would not give in to his fears. Sir Givens had once told him that bravery wasn’t being fearless. Bravery was recognizing the fear and acting in spite of it. It was a lesson Yren had taken to heart and one he’d tried to live by. He would never allow fear to win.

The knock on his door broke into his thoughts. He rose and walked slowly, with a slight limp, the short distance, a blanket covering him over his shoulders and down to his thighs. He had dressed earlier, before watching the sunrise, but had not cleaned up beforehand. His hair was uncombed and his face unwashed. So he was particularly embarrassed when he opened the door and found the princess outside.

“Ready?” she said brightly, with a dazzling smile.

“Sorry, your highness,” Yren replied, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I lost track of time. Give me a moment to wash up and then we can grant his eminence the favor of our presence.”

Ataya sat in a chair near the wall and watched carefully as Yren removed his shirt. She had heard the rumors, of course, so she looked closely for any bruises, cuts or even scars, but she found none. All she could see were cords of muscles bunching and flexing as Yren washed. She longed to walk up to him and run her fingers down his bare chest and over his massive, bare arms. Her lips pursed with the need to kiss his skin and her tongue tingled with the need to lick it.

She turned away, looking down. She was being foolish. She was betrothed to the bishop. How would that work? The two hated each other.

Her eyes looked up, though, and the hunger returned. Her heart yearned for him. From the time when she first really understood that she was a princess and would one day rule, she’d considered who she wanted to rule by her side. She’d often listed the attributes of her fabled prince.

While certain characteristics had changed over the years, there were four core traits which had never been altered. He’d be strong enough to hold her in his arms and make her feel safe. He’d be noble enough that he would share his entire being with her and not need to feel smaller in her presence. He’d be tall enough she could ride like a child, clasped firmly to his chest. He would be fearsome and step between her and anyone who would ever try to harm her.

How could she possibly know, all those years before, that she had been describing Yren? How could she have gotten everything right in describing him? How could the faceless man in her dreams have become this mountain of a man? Now, when her dreams conjured her prince, it was always Yren’s face looking back at her.

“I’m ready,” Yren said, pulling his shirt over his head. It was a light blue, cotton shirt with a few buttons at the neck that Yren didn’t bother with. It matched the darker blue, thick, cotton pants he wore.

Ataya forced a smile on her face to hide the melancholy in her heart. She stood from the chair in which she’d been sitting and grasped Yren’s hand in her own. She lamented that it just might be all they’d share but she hoped it would be enough.

As they walked the halls, Yren stumbled, almost dragging the princess to the ground with him. Only a firm leg flung forward at the last possible instant stopped them from tumbling to the ground. Yren stood back up, using their clasped hands to help the princess to straighten.

“You’re still exhausted,” Ataya accused. “You should have begged off from accompanying me today. I could have taken Bena or maybe Teran.”

Yren chuckled. “I just stumbled, your highness. It happens.”

“Tell me you do not still feel tired from yesterday,” Ataya demanded, her face set in a scowl.

Yren shrugged. “I won’t lie to you. I am still mildly tired but not enough to allow me to shirk my duty to you.”

His words soared right into her heart, which grew warm at the thought he was willing to put her needs in front of his own. As she looked to him, she saw a small sofa against the wall. “There. We’ll sit for a moment so you can rest.”

“Princess, I don’t need,” he started but the young woman was not about to allow him to finish.

“Do I need to make it an official order?” she questioned archly, pulling him towards the waiting couch.

Yren shook his head, mildly amused and let her lead him to the couch. He helped her sit before seating himself, which only thrilled her more. She looked away before Yren could see the tears of frustration crowding her eyes.

“I really am not all that tired, your highness,” he said softly, with a small smile.

“Ataya,” she replied suddenly.

Yren was confused. “Uh ... what?”

“My name is Ataya,” the princess declared, turning back to the man seated next to her. “You are my champion. You can use my name instead of all of these silly titles.”

The young man looked troubled. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate...”

“It is appropriate if I say it is appropriate,” she murmured, unable to hold it in any longer. “Just as this is appropriate if it is my will.”

Her arm snaked around his neck and pulled him down, her head tilted up to meet his own. Yren’s eyes grew wide as their lips met. He tried to pull back but there was no way to do so without hurting the young woman, either physically or emotionally. He could never think of a reason he would ever hurt the young princess.

Ataya opened her heart and finally let it feel everything she’d ever hoped for. Her heart quivered as she licked at his lips, and shook with joy when he opened his mouth and let her in. Her tongue and his slid together, sending sparks straight through her body.

Yren could not ignore what he felt. He knew it was wrong. He knew nothing good could come of it. He had Teran. He had Bena. What would they say to this betrayal? It was not in his nature to consider hiding it from them.

Even beyond the women he loved, he was a commoner. She was a princess. He knew there was no place in this world where such a joining would even be considered, much less allowed. He couldn’t deny, though, that he’d grown to like the fiery princess he was kissing. He had to admit, as well, that he might just love her. That revelation was beyond any fear he’d ever had.

Footsteps in the hallway broke their embrace. Large columns were spaced along the corridor and the sofa was placed alongside one of them. Ataya felt both angry at the intrusion and relieved that they were hidden. She was not ashamed of kissing Yren. The kiss had been incredibly freeing, and she wanted to share many more of them with this wonderful man. For now, though, she just wanted them to be for her. She wanted a part of Yren that could be hers alone. Of course, she’d have to tell Teran. And Bena, for that matter.

She wondered if they would understand. They had been incredibly accommodating and had built up a real friendship between them. Would they understand how she felt? Would they welcome her?

“The bishop is waiting,” Yren breathed softly, further breaking the moment. Ataya just closed her eyes and nodded, feeling Yren rise from beside her. For a brief moment, she wondered why that moment they’d shared couldn’t have lasted a lifetime. Then she closed her eyes and sighed, her hand clasping the one he offered and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“You’re late,” the bishop said coldly. For a brief moment, Yren wondered if he’d seen the two in the hall, then discarded the idea. It was unlikely.

“Apologies, Harvig,” Ataya said quickly. It was one of the rare times she’d ever used Renud’s first name. She found she didn’t like it much. Her tongue felt soiled just by uttering the name. “I needed a little extra time to get ready this morning.”

“Of course, Ataya,” the bishop replied immediately, throwing in a slight bow for good measure. The princess couldn’t help but wince internally at the sound of her name from the man’s mouth. It even sounded wrong. “I fear your efforts were wasted, however. There is no chance you could be anything less than beautiful.”

“And you, blacksmith?” the bishop said coldly, turning to the large man standing against the far wall. “I understand you had an adventure yesterday afternoon.”

Yren didn’t reply. He just stood calmly, a smile gracing his face. His eyes did look at Tyln’s priest, however, and his brows did arch ever so slightly.

“Well?” Renud questioned. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“You provided a statement of fact, your eminence,” Yren replied. “There was no question there to answer.”

Renud’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Tell me about your little adventure.”

“No,” Yren replied, his smile growing slightly.

“What?” Renud snarled indignantly.

“I said no,” Yren replied, his smile growing even further. “It is none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business,” Renud said, walking around Ataya. The young woman looked over at Yren, opening her mouth to speak but the young man shook his head marginally, so she closed her lips. Renud noticed, however, and his anger redoubled. “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

Yren’s brows arched, and his eyes widened. The smile never left his face, however. “No.”

“I am a bishop of the church of Tyln,” the older man snarled, his fingers curling into claws as he stalked forward. “You will answer my questions.”

“I am a blacksmith and the Champion of Ataya,” Yren replied with a chuckle. “And no, I won’t.”

“Are you questioning my authority?” Renud spit out, his face sinking into an angry glower.

“Your authority comes from the church of Tyln,” Yren explained with a snort, his smile becoming almost beatific. “I don’t bend my knee to Tyln. I worship Kyr and Deia. You have no authority over me.”

Yren’s smile slowly faded and his look grew steely. “And you never will, Renud.”

“I’ll have my answers,” Renud spat, now less than a foot from the larger man. The fact Yren had used his name instead of his honorific angered the man more than he could stand. He knew it would be futile, but he was trembling with the need to strike the younger man.

“Maybe,” Yren replied sternly, his face unchanging. “They won’t come from me, however.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“This is positively fascinating,” Ataya offered drolly. She didn’t want the two to come to blows. Well, if she were truthful in her heart of hearts, she really did want them to come to blows. She knew how that would end and welcomed the opportunity to be rid of the troublesome bishop. She knew Yren would likely be in trouble from the encounter, however, and she didn’t want him to ever be troubled on her account. “However, I was under the impression this was my time to familiarize myself with my future husband. If that is not the case, let me know and I’ll be happy to return to my apartments.”

“Of course, Ataya,” Renud purred, emphasizing the princess’ name even as his eyes never left Yren’s. He couldn’t see, therefore, Ataya’s face curl with disgust and shiver at the sound of her name from the bishop’s lips. Yren noticed, however. “I’m sure I can wait until later to have this conversation with the blacksmith.”

Yren was careful to replace the smile on his face as the bishop turned back to his betrothed. Yren knew he was pressing his luck, but he just could not bring himself to back down from the priest. He considered it a failing, since a few words might have been able to alleviate the obvious tension between the two.

He wondered, briefly, why he and the bishop were always at odds. Was it something in his own personality or something in the bishop’s? He considered the possibility it was his experience in Tyln’s orphanage that was coloring his perception of the priest. He didn’t really know the man, but he considered him distrustful and, honestly, evil. Or maybe it was just one of those cases where two personalities simply clashed for no apparent reason.