The Twilight Fades by Bruce Blake

Author:Bruce Blake [Blake, Bruce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-14T22:00:00+00:00

XVII Ishla – Mourning

Ishla stared out the window, but her tear-veiled eyes saw nothing of the courtyard, buildings, and streets beyond. Even if she registered what they gazed upon, she wondered if her lamenting brain would have recognized them for what they were. All it knew was her children.

And Trenan.

She drew her forearm across her face, wiping away more tears. How her body continued producing them was a wonder; it had barely given her a break since Dansil’s declaration of the master swordsman’s murderous treachery.

How can it be true?

She recalled Trenan treating her offspring as if they both belonged to him. He’d loved her in every possible way under impossible circumstances. Gifts that showed up hidden about her chambers from time to time had come from him, not from her husband. She’d kept them all, stashed away from the world, brought out in secret when she needed a reminder of love, an escape from what it was to be married to a king. How many times had she fantasized about giving up one for the other?

She turned from the window, crossed the room to her bed and knelt, bent forward until her ear brushed the floor, and reached under. Her fingers skimmed the wooden crate tucked away beneath; she stretched farther until she grasped the edge, then pulled the container toward her.

Sitting on the rug, she peered at the top of the box without moving the lid. Inside, she’d find dried flowers, a heart-shaped rock, unsigned notes written in an awkward hand—some, proclamations of love, others sincere but clumsy attempts at poetry. A bracelet fashioned by a local craftsmith, a shell from a faraway beach. Memory after memory of a love destined to fail other than on one night and in stolen glances. A love doomed from the start had now seen the last flicker of possibility extinguished.

Ishla rested her hand on the lid of the crate. Part of her ached to open the box, sort through the memories, bask in what might have been. Another part wanted to upend the container, dump its contents on the floor and stomp them to dust. Under both lurked the temptation to hide it under the bed, forget about it until she found out the truth for herself.

Behind her, the door handle rattled. The queen inhaled a startled breath, looked up from the box as the door opened. She jammed the crate back where she’d gotten it, smoothing the skirts of her dress out of habit before wiping the tears on her cheeks away with her hands. A heartbeat later, Erral stepped across the threshold.

The king’s gaze swept the room before finding her standing beside the mattress. One eyebrow rose as though he’d ask her about this, but then he must have thought better of it. He strode halfway to her and stopped, a full six paces away from his wife. He didn’t move, simply stared at her, and the grief and sadness tightening her chest threatened to become rage.

Why didn’t you do

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