Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy #1)

Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy #1) Page 228

They were camped in the clearing in front of the new Great House of Andarist, which stood silent, unoccupied but ready. In the darkness, with the Houseblades ranged out to form a protective circle, Enesdia was at last permitted to climb out from the carriage. She was swathed in a thick robe and hooded and the weight of this covering pulled at her.

It was late and her father stood alone by the fire, his eyes upon the huge edifice of the Great House. She moved up alongside him, feeling strangely hollow, almost frightened by what would come in the days ahead.

‘A fine home awaits you,’ Lord Jaen said, reaching out to take her hand.

She felt the warmth of that grip and found strength in it, but also a painful longing. She would leave his side, and everything would change between them. All at once, Enesdia yearned for her life left behind. She wanted to wear the rough clothes of her childhood, and run laughing with Cryl in heated pursuit, the stains of the soft fruit she’d thrown at him all down the front of his new tunic. She wanted to feel the heat of the sun in its younger days, when it never blinked behind a single cloud, and the air smelled of freedom in ways she’d never fully grasped back then, and now would never know again.

‘I am sorry I sent him away,’ her father said then.

He had told her of his fears for his home, but she thought them unwarranted. They were highborn, and to strike at them would be seen — by Andarist, and by Anomander and Silchas — as an act of war. The Legion would not dare that, for they would risk losing all favour in the realm, beginning with that of Mother Dark herself. In truth, she believed her father was being dishonest with her, even if it was with her best interests in mind.

‘It is probably better this way,’ she said, using the words to push down the hurt she was feeling, this wretched sense of abandonment — when she had needed Cryl the most. ‘He was not happy. Hasn’t been for weeks, maybe even months.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s understandable.’

‘No it isn’t,’ she retorted.

‘Beloved daughter-’

‘Why can’t he be happy for me? If it was the other way around, I’d be happy for him!’

‘Would you? Truly?’

‘Of course I would. Love is such a precious gift, how could I not?’

Her father said nothing.

After a time, she frowned, reconsidering his silence. ‘It’s just selfish,’ she concluded. ‘He’s as good as my brother, and no brother would be unhappy for me.’

‘True, no brother would. But then, Cryl is not your brother, Enesdia.’

‘I know that. But that’s not the point.’

‘I’m afraid that it is.’

‘I’m not dense, Father. I know what you’re implying, but it isn’t true. Cryl can’t love me that way — he knows me too well.’

Jaen coughed — but no, not a cough. Laughter.

His reaction should have angered her, but it did not. ‘You think I don’t comprehend my own vanity? The shallowness of my thoughts?’

‘Daughter, if you comprehend such things, then your thoughts are anything but shallow.’

She waved the objection away. ‘Who is the least of the brothers of the Purake?’ she asked. ‘Who among them lacks ambition? Who is the first to smile for no reason?’

‘He smiles because he is in love, daughter.’

‘Before me, I mean. When I first saw him, he was smiling.’

‘His love is for life itself, Enesdia. This is his gift to the world, and I would never consider it of less value than those offered up by his brothers.’

‘Oh, that wasn’t what I meant. Not really. Never mind. It’s too late and I’m tired and overwrought. But I will never forgive Cryl for not being here.’

‘Unfair. I was the one who sent him back.’

‘I doubt he argued overmuch.’

‘On the contrary, he did.’

‘But he went anyway.’

‘Yes, because he would not disobey me. But I think I understand now. All of this. You are punishing him, and you wanted him to see it. So, in your mind, Enesdia, Cryl must have hurt you somehow. But the only way I can think he could have done that leads me to a place where I should not be — not now, only days from your wedding.’

Despite her robes, Enesdia felt herself grow cold. ‘Don’t say that,’ she whispered.

‘Do you love Andarist?’

‘Of course I do! How could I not?’

‘Enesdia.’ He faced her, took hold of her shoulders. ‘To say that I do not value the gift that Andarist possesses, by his very nature, could not be more wrong. I value it above most other qualities among a man or a woman. Because it is so rare.’