Лия Арден – Mara and Morok (страница 9)

“Was it a man?”

She bites her lower lip and this childish habit gives her away.

“You didn’t! He… How… How could you…” I struggle to get the words out, incredulous, unable to calm myself this time.

I look around to make sure there are no witnesses and drag her into the nearest room. She doesn’t resist and obediently shuffles behind me, lifting the skirt of her dress, which tangles around her feet. I double check the room is empty and lock it from the inside. The place is dark and dusty but I couldn’t care less. I put my hands on my hips and turn to Anna, cutting her off from the door too, just in case.

“Who is he?!”

Anna refuses to look at me again and dusts off her sleeve instead.

“His name is Arian, he’s the Prince of Serat.”

The breath I was unconsciously holding escapes in an exasperated sigh.

“Anna, you know it will never lead to anything! And a prince…”

“I know I’ll have no husband!” she snaps suddenly.

I am speechless for a moment. It’s the first time she has dared to speak to me like that. I didn’t even know she could. She notices my confusion and her boldness is gone. Her shoulders sink and she lowers her head again.

“I know,” she repeats, “but why is it so wrong that I want a little bit of love? It’s not forbidden, is it?”

“It’s not that, Anna. He’s a prince. The path of politics is paved with razor-sharp knives. If someone learns about you, you could be in danger. If the king decides, for instance, that a Mara is not worthy of his son and your affair is tarnishing the Crown…”

I suddenly feel exhausted and sink into a wooden chair. It’s beautifully carved, but blanketed in dust. Anna comes up to me and I take her hands in mine.

“I’m only nineteen, sister. I can try to protect you from evil spirits lurking in the woods and under the water, but I can’t protect you from political intrigues, let alone a broken heart. And if you love him, your heart will break. It will break the moment you’ll have to part. Does he love you?”

“Yes,” she says with a serious expression on still a child’s face.

“And do you?”

“I love him, too.”

“Oh, Anna…”

She smiles at me and starts stroking my hair, not as shiny as hers but just as black.

“Don’t worry about me, Agatha. I have never been so happy! If you could just see his smile… it’s so charming. And his hair is like gold, and when you feel it, it’s even softer than Serat silk! I’ve never seen anyone so handsome…”

A dreamy smile is playing on her lips, but my smile is rueful. I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. I’m angry with her and I worry like crazy, but maybe I’m also jealous. Everything seems to just fall into her lap. She will even know love, however fleeting, and I’ve only been loved by my parents and have already forgotten how it feels.

“Alright, sister, so be it. I won’t interfere with your happiness or try to talk you out of this madness. It’s beyond my powers.”

Anna is beside herself with joy. If I wasn’t holding her hands, she would start twirling. But I give her hands a squeeze to get her attention back.

“But I want you to introduce me to him.”

“You won’t go threatening him or anything, will you?”

“Maybe just a little,” I say with a straight face and she believes me and shoots me a frightened look. I let out a laugh but then put on a serious expression again.

“There’s one more condition.”

“Oh no…” she moans.

“I’ll keep silent and won’t tell the sisters anything as long as you start working hard. I want you to get really serious about your training.”

She knows it’s a trap. She’s breathing noisily and tries to find a way out. But there’s none, so I try not to look too smug.

“Okay, okay, I promise,” she finally gives up.

“He must be really handsome.” I laugh and dodge when her hand lashes out at me.

7

Yarat has sprawled.

It is my first thought when we climb the hill and the city stretches out before us. Yarat sits on a plain on the north-west of Araken. But the city is growing and I catch myself thinking that in a few decades it will probably swallow the gulf port too. The heavy clouds are blocking sunrays and the city seems gloomy. High spires of temples and the gilded roof of the royal palace look duller. We are still far away and all the houses are tiny, like children’s toys, with the palace standing out against them. It has several storeys and it’s longer than it is wide. However, it takes up a huge area and the adjacent square looks enormous even from where we are standing.

I am used to the life of an isolated temple, so I’ve never liked big cities, let alone capitals. I’ve only been to the capital of Serat once. But even then, I didn’t have time for sightseeing, I dashed through the city and the only thing I had time to take note of was a somber palace faced in grey marble. I’ve visited Yarat a few times, and it leaves me unimpressed. But I’m sure this trip will be especially unpleasant.

I turn my gaze to the Quiet Gulf in the distance. Its waters are always calm thanks to the three islands in the bay that break any ocean waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Daniel trots up to me on his steed. Morok falls back, but only by a few feet.

They still don’t trust me. And they are right, of course. Moreover, I prefer Morok’s silent company to that of Captain Dariy, who snaps at me every few minutes or so because I am not being respectful enough towards His Highness.

“What? Yarat?”

“Exactly.”

I breathe in the cool, salty air and wrap myself tighter in my cloak.

“Just a city.” I say drily and turn to leave. When I pass Morok I swear I can hear him snort. I look up at him in surprise but his face is as unreadable as ever.

“I seem to have wound up raising the most impertinent of Maras from her grave,” Daniel says loudly with a wide grin.

When we finally enter the city, the sun is already setting and the sky is growing darker by the minute. We move unhurriedly through the streets of the capital, and I’m trying not to swivel around in my saddle too much, though I’m curious to see how much people and their lives have changed.

Many years back, when I was still alive, the houses were all made of wood; now the capital is full of stone buildings, two, three and sometimes even four storeys high. The facades are decorated: the poorer houses have folk-art carvings framing their windows (the legacy of traditional, wooden nalichniki), the more affluent houses however, are more ornate and plastered with stucco. Before, only the main roads were paved, but now I see stone everywhere, so people can get around the city pretty easily even after rain.

Merchants are covering their stalls and closing the shops, which signifies the end of the working day. Other citizens are heading home too, but as soon as they notice Morok, they speed up or just choose a different road to steer clear of the Shadow’s servant. I keep turning my head, trying to get a better look at all the devices people have come up with to prolong evening life in the city. Men are lighting candles inside big lamps in the main square and wide streets and putting burning torches into special sconces made of metal. The light allows the citizens to see the road and the outlines of most buildings and the horses can walk without stumbling.

The square in front of the palace is paved with big stone slabs, which makes it easier to ride on. The air is filled with the clatter of our horses’ hooves. The palace is a bit long but it’s completely symmetrical. It’s painted in white and sand and is richly decorated with gold, columns, and stucco. The palace is mostly three-storeys’ high, but the central and two parts on the sides are even taller. And if my memory serves me well, there should be beautiful gardens at the other end of it.

I take in the façade as we ascend a wide staircase leading to the grand entrance. The palace has changed, too. It has more extensions now and more ornaments. In my time, there was almost no gold on the exterior. The walls are now adorned with the silhouettes of firebirds, Araken’s coat of arms. You can see the golden image of this mythical creature against a crimson background on each flag in the city. But all this splendor does nothing for me. I was never susceptible to luxury and now even the mention of a royal family makes me nauseous.

“Are you going to drag me to the king in chains, Your Highness?” I ask Daniel poisonously.

We are almost at the entrance and I’m still in manacles. They put them back on when we were approaching the city and explained it away by saying it was just a way to reassure the citizens.

“It’s not every day that they can see a Mara, raised from the dead and walking the streets. Some still believe you are the stuff of myths and legends.” The prince had shrugged guiltily as the guards snapped the manacles back in place.

“You don’t say. I thought raising people from the dead was Your Royal Highness’s favorite hobby,” I’d grunted back.

“If they were all at least half as beautiful as you are, I would definitely think of taking it up,” he’d grinned, defeating me again in this word-fencing game.

This time at least they only handcuffed me, sparing my feet. But it was enough to remind me that I was no more than a puppet in their game. Daniel is the puppeteer and the others are my guards. I should never forget that.