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Authors: Tristan J. Tarwater
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returned the kiss and when Dershik pulled away she didn’t look surprised. “I wish I was married to you,” he blurted. He realized how stupid it sounded after he said it. He laughed nervously and she joined him, the two of them giggling in the dark room. “I don’t want to be married to Jerila,” he admitted. “I’m not the one who loves her. It’s not fair to her or to me.” He wondered how much Cira knew. Jerila went to Cira for council but Jerila never told Dershik what secrets she divulged. Ceric answered to Kiyla while he was here. He considered the fact he might have just admitted to the entire mess. Still, the priestesses had no obligation to reveal their secrets to his father. They answered to their Order and the Goddess so their secrets were safe with them. All the same Dershik wondered if it had been wise to
share what he had with Cira. He shouldn’t have kissed her, though the recent memory would stay etched in his mind for a long time.
“But you are still kind to Jerila,” Cira said, smiling. “I know if nothing else you are friends. I see how you trust her. I know you admire her. You’re not the first son to be forced into a marriage like this, but you are dealing with it with grace and humility. You could just ignore her and take mistresses more to your liking. It happens in other Baronies.” Dershik raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear this. He didn’t see the point of treating someone who was in the same bad situation terribly. Maybe it helped the feeling of misery, to share it with others. He remembered how he had often attacked and fought with Ceric and thought it was similar.
“Are things very different? In other Baronies? Other Baron families?” He knew the Barons were free to run their lands in the way they saw fit. His father went to the Valley Colloquium every year in the summer but had never brought him along. Dershik had met the Ayilkin and the Darakin barons. Ceric had gotten on with the Ayil boy, as they talked about books and letters and the Daras had been…rough. The ‘Wicks were always fighting with one another.
“Every family is different, but every family is also the same,” she responded.
“That’s a terrible answer,” he said. “Though I guess it doesn’t matter how Baron Darakin treats his son. I’m not his son.” Dershik shrugged and laid back on his bed, hands behind his head. “If I said, ‘Father, the Darakin heir was allowed to wait to get married. And when he does, he’ll marry who he chooses,’ my father wouldn’t care. He thinks he’s above the other Barons.” Dershik sighed and looked at Cira.
“Your father thinks he’s above many things.” There was something in her voice sharp, striking Dershik as bitter. Cira smiled though, and put her hand on his arm. “But you’re right. You’re you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Baron would be better served by following his heart and not the advice of his priestess.”
“Are you trying to confuse me?” Dershik asked, sitting up again. He was still drunk and thought maybe he heard her incorrectly. “What?”
“We’re not infallible, you know this. We have faults. We sometimes put the needs of others before those we’re supposed to care for. Or we follow the law of the land more closely than the law of the heart.” Cira sighed and put her hand on his, sitting close to him. The scent of her perfume mingled with the alcohol in his brain. “It’s hard to find a balance,” she continued, her voice low and steady.
“You should go,” Dershik said suddenly. Cira turned her face toward him abruptly, surprise in her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, touch her as he had imagined, dreamed so many times but he knew it was one of the worst ideas he ever had. Not now. Not like this. Depressed and drunk in the bed he shared with his lawful wife. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel so ashamed. She rose from the bed slowly, taking her fragrance and her warmth with her.
“I wish we could
share what he had with Cira. He shouldn’t have kissed her, though the recent memory would stay etched in his mind for a long time.
“But you are still kind to Jerila,” Cira said, smiling. “I know if nothing else you are friends. I see how you trust her. I know you admire her. You’re not the first son to be forced into a marriage like this, but you are dealing with it with grace and humility. You could just ignore her and take mistresses more to your liking. It happens in other Baronies.” Dershik raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear this. He didn’t see the point of treating someone who was in the same bad situation terribly. Maybe it helped the feeling of misery, to share it with others. He remembered how he had often attacked and fought with Ceric and thought it was similar.
“Are things very different? In other Baronies? Other Baron families?” He knew the Barons were free to run their lands in the way they saw fit. His father went to the Valley Colloquium every year in the summer but had never brought him along. Dershik had met the Ayilkin and the Darakin barons. Ceric had gotten on with the Ayil boy, as they talked about books and letters and the Daras had been…rough. The ‘Wicks were always fighting with one another.
“Every family is different, but every family is also the same,” she responded.
“That’s a terrible answer,” he said. “Though I guess it doesn’t matter how Baron Darakin treats his son. I’m not his son.” Dershik shrugged and laid back on his bed, hands behind his head. “If I said, ‘Father, the Darakin heir was allowed to wait to get married. And when he does, he’ll marry who he chooses,’ my father wouldn’t care. He thinks he’s above the other Barons.” Dershik sighed and looked at Cira.
“Your father thinks he’s above many things.” There was something in her voice sharp, striking Dershik as bitter. Cira smiled though, and put her hand on his arm. “But you’re right. You’re you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Baron would be better served by following his heart and not the advice of his priestess.”
“Are you trying to confuse me?” Dershik asked, sitting up again. He was still drunk and thought maybe he heard her incorrectly. “What?”
“We’re not infallible, you know this. We have faults. We sometimes put the needs of others before those we’re supposed to care for. Or we follow the law of the land more closely than the law of the heart.” Cira sighed and put her hand on his, sitting close to him. The scent of her perfume mingled with the alcohol in his brain. “It’s hard to find a balance,” she continued, her voice low and steady.
“You should go,” Dershik said suddenly. Cira turned her face toward him abruptly, surprise in her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, touch her as he had imagined, dreamed so many times but he knew it was one of the worst ideas he ever had. Not now. Not like this. Depressed and drunk in the bed he shared with his lawful wife. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel so ashamed. She rose from the bed slowly, taking her fragrance and her warmth with her.
“I wish we could
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