Chapter 5

5 Noel 1061

Princis (Princess) Kathe wore a green gown with white lace at her breast. Long sleeves ended in a ruffle at her wrists. She smiled frequently, easily. She looked, as Naeldric remarked often, “From the hills.” She had a long face with full lips, a rounded nose, and tall, quiet eyes. Her happiness looked simple, like a child’s or a slow person’s. The Duxes instructed her to regulate how she expressed her happiness. She received the instruction and then ignored it. She was enchanted by life in Fael. It was so different from her upbringing in Veerkstad. It invigorated her. She hoped familiarity would never dull that affect. She pitied those from here, who only knew abundance and comfort and couldn’t appreciate it for what it was. Hiding that felt like an insult to the wonder that surrounded her, to the place the gods placed her.

Her marriage to Bastion was arranged four years back. She grew up knowing one day she would be wed to some Braet. Her father, the Braet (Lord) of Veerkstad raised her with this fate in mind, prepared her as much as one can be prepared for an event like this. Growing up, she imagined different ways this could happen, all of them fanciful. Scripts to an escape to someplace better in the tow of a prins from a powerful city. When it happened, the banality and transactional nature surprised her. She had been promised to a Braet from south of the river, her father never told her which. But then a messenger from Fael arrived with a contract. Her father, with help from a priest who knew how to mark words with ink, signed that night. She left the next morning before breakfast was served. The messenger led her on a horse with a triumphant grin. He bragged at night around the fire about the boon Fael has received for her hand. She nodded and asked what Fael was like.

Kathe was seventeen at the time, and four years older than Bastion. Her dowry was an iron mine and the miners, smelters, smiths who worked the pits and furnaces. She was made Bastion’s wife sight unseen. The mines had been visited, though. She was not a classic beauty. She had features that looked exaggerated. But her eyes worked in great concert with her full lips and when she smiled, they sparkled and revealed large, white, happy teeth. A true smile from Kathe warmed even the dead. At once, she became one of the favorites in Aechtung. She had a lightness about her that the household and staff were drawn to.

For her, the Aechtung was a magical place. Poised high above the river and sea, it felt as if the world rolled out at its feet in majestic blues, purples and greens. Salty winds blew away the smells of the people and animals. It was fresh. Unlike the darkened halls in the shadow of the hills, where rains pooled in vast pits and went rank and fetid. Where smoke from the furnaces painted every surfaced a greasy black. She loved her family, was proud of her line, and felt most at home with her own people -- whom she thought were nearer to the ulth (earth) and the manner in which the gods intended mortals to live, rather than the ostentatious pageantry found in cities, with Duxes who acted as if they were gods. Yet, she greeted her fate with openness. She found the good there. She felt no guilt for elevating herself from the lowly world of Veerkstad. She had a duty, and she aimed to perform it well. And she had a knack for seeing things for what they were.

She saw Bastion as any thirteen year old boy would be. He was nothing like his father. Bastion was curious and playful, he found very little in life to be serious. But she saw how Bastion’s fear of disappointing his father manifested in him a drive to hide that frivolity. Much of the time, he tamped down his spirit, shared little of his thoughts, and felt dense and impenetrable. At times, he’d forget to cloak himself and his bright childish nature would shine through. She liked that and nurtured it in him. On their wedding night, when they were forced to consummate their vows while the priests watched, Bastion shook, his skin was cold, his mouth dry. He stared at her naked form with wide eyes. He looked to the priests, over and over, as if they would instruct him. She thought he feared letting his father down. She held him, whispered so only he could hear her, “It will be fun.”

“Fun?” He looked confused.

“Don’t you hear all the adults doing this? Sneaking off into closets to be alone? Do you think they’d be doing this if it wasn’t?”

“I suppose not.”

Then, even quieter, “We can even fake it. They won’t look under the covers. Just lay on to of me and wiggle.” He looked unsure. “I promise, I’ll make them think its happening. Just don’t stop.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Gods, no. But I like to sneak in the halls at night and listen. They all sound so silly. They moan prayers to gods without any offerings.”

From that night forward Bastion trusted her. But he never showed interest in her. She served a purpose for him. When he was excited about something that he was too ashamed to tell anyone else about, he came to her. When his father’s words stung him and tears rolled down his cheek, he laid his head on her shoulder and cried. She was a refuge for him, but she didn’t feel loved. She hoped he was just too young to know the difference. And that in time, he would love her and take interest in her needs and ambitions. He was, after all, just a boy, she told herself. She wanted to be loved. A princis gets little choice to whom she is wedded. She was not naive. Marriage for a princis was a duty, and one she proudly performed. Still, she hoped, that one day, she would feel loved by her husband. She did not like the idea of performing her duty to her husband and finding love in another.

They had been married nine years by that Noel. And she remained his refuge, but nothing more. She first noticed the princis from Wogen while they ate. She sat next to two men close in age that bore a resemblance to the princis and Kathe figured they were her brothers. One of the brothers smiled at her. Then he did it again. And she noticed the princis stealing glances at Bastion. Stolen glances when she faced away. Sometimes they lingered. Every time her face froze in an unsure expression.

Kathe looked away, surprised at herself. She felt a possessiveness for Bastion she had not felt before. It wasn’t long before Kathe’s eyes wandered back to the princis from Wogen and finding her still casting looks at Bastion.

Bastion for his part was in utter oblivion. His head down, his full outward attention on his food. She saw the effort he made to withdraw in, in, in to his shell while his father sat at the table, raised above them, and bore down on him.

Kathe grew self conscious. She didn’t want to keep looking at the princis. She didn’t want to stare at Bastion, the poor man was already pinned by so many sets of eyes in the room. Staring at her food felt unnatural on such a festive night. She looked about and happened to see Raban looking straight at Bastion. His gaze locked. His jaw set. He rose from his seat at the table.

Kathe saw that the princis rose too. Behind her, her brothers appeared to give her encouragement. She would reach their table before Raban. Something in the look of Raban as he approached, she couldn’t place it, but something felt off to her. The princis asked for a dance with Bastion. Kathe’s heart plunged but her head said this was good. She gave Bastion the final push needed. Bastion and the princis passed Raban as they headed to dance. Raban let them pass with a smile.

Kathe quickly got up and headed off in another direction. She felt a strong intuition to avoid Raban, one without an explanation, but a strong feeling.

“Princis,” that calm, flat voice said. Dux Naeldric hooked her arm. “Let’s have a word, shall we?”