Chapter 8—Water in the Desert

The night after he’d almost died to save her bottle from being smashed, she hid away in the shadows to comprehend it. That hard desert of a heart cracked and splintered, and it hurt; it hurt to finally move with life after so long of being dead. She didn’t want to be alone, but she feared that if she stayed too close to him, it would hurt worse when she killed him.

Because she couldn’t let him live, otherwise she would have sold her soul for nothing, and pain like she had experienced couldn’t be washed away by something as simple as someone showing her a bit of selfless life-risking.

***

“Fivar, it’s hot.”

They had not been under the apple trees for too long, chatting and munching away at apples, when the noon day sun burned off the dew, turning the heat into a rising vapor that sunk through their clothes and cloyed about their skin.

“Tell me about it,” she grumbled, fanning her face. Einar had already filled their sack of apples and left it in the tree they sat under out of reach of their white rides tied beneath.

“Want to go for a swim?”

“….Excuse me?”

He lifted his hands from behind his head in a ‘what?’ gesture. “You can’t tell me a cool swim doesn’t sound good to you right now.”

“What would I swim in? My riding dress?” Forget that most royalty didn’t even know how to swim, having never the need. But she didn’t know if he knew that, having come from such low noble stock.

“Your underwear,” he said matter-of-factly.

She made a loud noise of indignation.

“What? It’s not like we’ll be seeing anything through the water. Did it all the time at home. Nicest feeling in the world.” He sighed happily as though he could feel the cool water already, then stood. “You know what, that’s it. Water just sounds too good right now.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a random swimming hole around here too.”

But he was already walking away through the ancient apple orchard towards the glen of trees waiting just beyond them, whistling the tune to that morbid sister-killing ballad. She groaned before climbing to her feet, shuddering at the feel of sweat running down her calves from their pockets behind her knees. Cold water did sound good. It wouldn’t hurt to just put her legs in.

By the time she caught up to him he was already stepping down through the trees, their sparse canopy sending diamonds of sunlight dancing across his figure.

“Question,” said Kyanna. “How do you happen to know so much about the grounds anyways?”

“I always scout any new area I plan on sleeping in.” He looked back at her and waited a few steps so she could walk along his side. “I checked it out before you woke up the first morning here. It’s an old habit of mine. Saved my life a few times.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know, busting ambushes, knowing locations for good hidey holes, short cuts, treasure—speaking of.”

Ahead of them down a gentle slope of green grass was a beautiful pool of water created by a lazy river. The water flowed so gently that she hadn’t even heard it before they were upon it. Though because of this, the water was slightly murky. She wrinkled her nose.

“Don’t tell me you’re—“ but Einar was already unbuckling his belt and pulling off his tunic as he trotted towards the river. At the sight of his broad shoulders and chiseled back through his sticking undershirt, she whipped around, face heated. Sure she’d seen the soldiers training before with their shirts off, but if they had known she could see them they wouldn’t have. Yet before she could catch up and give Einar a proper yelling to about propriety (not that she thought it would be any good seeing he’d just throw the ‘wife’ card at her), he had stripped down to his leggings and waded into the water, flinging great walls of it as he plowed through.

“Yes!” he cawed. “This is so nice!” and he plunged in headfirst.

“Einar?” But he was already halfway across and hollering with glee. She sighed again and found a nice, flat rock to perch herself on as she dipped her feet into the water. Once she slipped off her own slippers and the cool water met her feet, she understood Einar’s obnoxious excitement. The calm waters had warmed just enough above cold, giving relief from the humid heat without freezing. She kicked her feet about, tempted to slip farther and farther in, but held her place. She pushed back strands of hair from sticking to her face.

For a moment, she stilled her legs, wondering if she could make out her reflection in the water. Just as she begun to pick out the gold of her hair, tied up in a tight bun, Einar sloshed over, breaking up the image. He leaned against his arms as he folded them against the base of her rock. His hair had turned dark brown with the water and spilled across his collarbone, hiding the silver chain of his marriage pendant.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you coming in or not?”

But she couldn’t respond right away at the sight of his bared arms. Distracting from the thick bands of muscles were scars of various shades and shapes, striping and dotting up until they disappeared behind his shoulders onto his back. He had always kept them hidden beneath the long sleeves of an undershirt until now.

He must have followed her eyes, for he pulled his arms back into the water.

“Something bothering you?” he asked.

“Your scars…there’s so many of them.”

He sunk neck deep in the water, expression oddly flat.

“Yeah, scars happen.”

Feeling strangely nauseous at the sight, she asked with her hand to her mouth, “What happened?”

“I was a warrior, Kyanna,” he said dryly. “What do you expect?”

“I’ve seen the greatest warriors of my kingdom training with the soldiers, and none have ever had as many scars. Something different happened to you.”

It took a second for his flat expression to waver into one of his usual friendly grins, though weak.

“A story I’ll tell you at a better time,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to hear it now. Trust me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’d like to decide that for myself.”

“Oh, so you were lying when you said you didn’t want to hear the monster horse story? Because I guarantee, this one is worse.”

She wasn’t amused.

“You’re my husband,” she said, quietly. “And the soon to be king. I, of all people, should know if someone’s hurt you.”

Before she could catch his flicker of surprise, she looked away, wondering if she should have said anything at all. Those words could only be misleading. She didn’t like him like that. Not yet, anyways.

The water lapped up near her knees and suddenly his damp, warm chest was pressing to her shins. Every hair on her body shot up and the shock forced her gaze back down to his.

“Aw now, are you actually getting protective of me?”

Yet, despite the teasing, cocky sound of his words and the crook to his mouth, his eyes showed no such confidence, shivering on her own with clear, fragile uncertainty.

Even so, she put her hands to his shoulders and shoved him off, the feel of their firmness and the various dips and bumps of his scars burning into her memory.

“It’s my job,” she said with every ounce of blandness she could inflect. “Enemies of yours are now enemies of the kingdom. Keep that in mind from now on in case you’re hit with the urge to do something stupid.”

Hope would have cheered if she had heard her right now. Then probably follow it up with teasing of where the princess who’d dumped manure on a duke had gone.

Einar saluted her from where he floated on his back, now too far away for his eyes to be read.

“Righto, Princess.”

Then he leaned his head back and proceeded to drift back across the water.

She watched him until her back started to hurt from slouching on her rock perch. Then she laid herself back on the flat, warm rock, watching the leaves dance above her. The sky peeked through them like the legs beneath a dancer girl’s skirts.

Her mind drifted to another dancer, skirtless and all the more feminine for it.

What is it that you wish?

Kyanna reached up, lazily tracing swirls in the air with a floppy hand, imagining she could hear the horns and zills crying along to the steady heartbeat of the drums.

Why not be free?

Big, calloused hands clamped her legs. Before she even had the time to blink, they yanked, flinging her across the rock, dress and all, into the water. She floundered for her legs and snapped upright, gasping through a mop of escaped hair. Heavy skirts weighed down all around her and mud squished up between her toes.

Einar was laughing.

Hot rage bubbled up from within her. Before she could stop herself, before she could even think, she found herself screaming, “You bastard!!”

Einar’s mouth closed with a snap. He stared at her in astonishment.

“Why the hell did you do that? Do you have any Fivar damn idea what this shit is going to do to my waistcoat!”

She sloshed towards him, fists raised and teeth bared, but he just continued staring, flabbergast.

“And now I have to ride the whole damn way—“

“Princess…”

“—in a gods damn wet dress!!! Do you know what kind of rashes that will cause?!”

And she was upon him. He took one last look at her…and burst out laughing again.

“Oh, wow!” he cried, nearly drowning in the shallow water with mirth. “So the princess really does know some pretty words!”

“Damn right I—“ and she stopped abruptly, a shameful irritation sinking in. Pressing her lips closed, she resorted to glaring at him, barely holding back from smacking him upside the head as peal after peel of laughter overtook him. Grumbling, she turned and did her best not to look like a wading wad of floppy cloth.

“Where—ha ha ha—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he took a deep long breath, pinching his nose. “Where did a princess like you learn such sailor talk, dare I ask?”

“Well it certainly wasn’t my father,” She said, grimacing as the dirt turned to mud beneath her feet and squished through her toes. She attempted to wring the water out of her heavy skirts. “Stop laughing, I know where you sleep. How rude, yanking me into the water like that, I could have drowned.”

To this, he just smiled as he watched her slink away to another rock to squeeze out more water.

“And vicious too,” he shook his head. “Come on, Princess. No one is watching. I know there’s a little thirst for fun somewhere in you. ”

“And how would you know?”

To this, he merely shrugged, leaning back into the water.

“Maybe I don’t know,” he said. “After all, you’re too old for adventures, maybe you’re too old for play too.”

But the way she caught his eyes sparkling gave her the impression he didn’t believe this for one second.

“Just…be quiet.”

Yet her mind only turned back to the dancing desert woman who had given her that same look.

Sweetheart, there’s millions of men in the world. Do you really wish so dearly for something so common place?

Why not freedom?

Kyanna stood and untied her bodice and waist coat. Then she reached behind her and tore at the buttons holding her skirts in place. Einar flinched from where he floated and raised his eyebrows, but otherwise said nothing as her clothes dropped around her feet, leaving her only in her undershirt and bloomers. Her collarbone and throat sang as she lifted the heavy weight of the pendent off her head. Last, she undid whatever was left of her bun. Long blond hair dripped down past her waist.

“Stare too long and I end you,” she said.

Then she dived headfirst into the water, old swimming lessons from Hope’s sons from her childhood resurfacing from the grave.

Something came over her as cool water pulled in over her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone swimming, let alone felt anything but carefully warmed bathwater touch her so thoroughly. She could almost imagine the world peeling off her in multi-colored tendrils, leaving her pale and floating as though in flight.

When her head broke the surface, she no longer felt like herself anymore. Or, rather, she was returning to the someone she had been, but forgotten.

She wiped water from her eyes to find Einar treading water besides her, a threat of that painfully tender smile pricking his cheeks.

“And here I was hoping you couldn’t swim.”

****

A great birch tree leaned its branches over the river as though to see its own reflection.

After much play, splashing, squealing, and chasing with Einar, Kyanna crawled out to face it with her jaw jutted out, her wet underwear sticking to her skin.

“What are you trying to do glaring at it like that? Catch it on fire?” asked Einar, who lounged in the shallows with an apple. “It never did anything to you.”

“Oh shut up. I’m going to climb it.”

“Ho!” He clapped awkwardly, as one hand held that half eaten apple. “You climb that there tree, highness!”

“Only someone like you would say that at a moment like this.”

“Moment? What’s the cause for all this sudden seriousness? You were fine and silly just a second ago.” A crunch of apple. “It was quite cute, actually.”

She ignored the feel of a blush on her cheeks. “Will you stop being so obnoxious? I’m trying to concentrate.”

“On what? Afraid of heights?”

She clenched her teeth. “On not thinking of how I must look right now.”

Yes. She mustn’t think about how she was in her underwear—which might be transparent when wet—in front of a man. It had been easier while being chin deep in water. But the thrill of daring had drugged her and, if she been able to strip to her underwear to go swimming, then Fivar all mighty, she was going to climb this bastard birch tree. It had been years since she had been so high, and this new taste of freedom made her long for it.

A breeze drifted across her and she shivered, suddenly feeling as though the Soan from her dreams were watching.

“If you must know, Princess, you look wet.”

She whirled around, wet strands of hair smacking her arms and face.

“Is there a double meaning to that?”

Einar just blinked at her innocently and chewed his mouthful of apple.

Sighing, she turned back to the tree. “Forget it.”

The first branch up wasn’t particularly high, but it had been so long since she had climbed she had to reconfigure how to hold it so she could lift herself up. The shock of the rough bark against her bare feet nearly sent her back down. But her pride was at stake (how, she didn’t care, it just was). What were bloody toes to that? Before she knew it she was on top of it, clinging for her life and faintly surprised to be there at all.

Einar just watched, chewing and smiling.

What’s he grinning at? She thought before forcing herself to reach for the next branch. After that it was surprisingly easy, like climbing up a ladder. The higher she went the more thrilled she became and less concerned with how she looked. It was almost as though she were climbing away from earth to a greater plane of existence. How had she forgotten this? How had she forgotten what it was like to go so high? Soon she found herself daring more difficult reaches and spanning greater spaces to reach the blue sky winking at her through the rustling leaves.

Upon reaching the highest branch that would support her, she was able to poke her head past the upmost layer of leaves.

And became a bird, frozen in flight just above that spot, the reaching fingers of trees tickling beneath her belly. Mountains huddled close, cupping the valley of the honeymoon manor like a babe within a cradle. The wind flew through her damp hair, chilling away the last of the summer heat and awakening her senses with a burst of ice, filling her lungs with clean air and promising a liberty that tasted like peppermint and newborn glaciers.

A memory, harsh as the desert sun, broke the frozen time back into motion. A memory of burning guilt and heavy loneliness as she worked on embroidery in a room full of women and remembered how close she had gotten to immorality with a boy in the stables.

She wasn’t flying. Her feet hurt on a branch too high off the ground to be sane. Her precious pale skin was being browned by the sun and wind. She was in her underwear, her hair dirty and full of twigs, and a man she barely knew watched her, thinking of who knew what kind of lechery, and who could never be the dark Jeremy she had promised herself to.

She began to cry.

Her grip on the branch faltered as she bowed her head away. She could not fall in love with this ocean of leaves or this closeness with the sky. She could not love the height or the daring. Just as she should have never fallen in love with Jeremy.

Some branches shivered near her elbow.

“Princess?”

She covered her face with her hands. “What are you doing up here?” She hated how her voice betrayed her.

“What’s wrong? Did you get hurt? Do you need help getting down?”

“Leave me alone. I’m just being stupid.”

There was a brief pause before he murmured, “You are not stupid.”

Without answering, she felt below her for a branch to begin her way down. Eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t see clearly and slipped. Her heart flew to her throat. But barely had the fall began when it ended when Einar’s hand was wrapped tightly about her forearm. She was forced to look up at him as he gazed down at her, his other hand held tightly to the tree. His eyes matched the sky above him perfectly; that beautiful sky that wanted to break her heart.

His eyebrows had puckered with concern. He kept a hold on her hand even when she re-found her grip on the tree.

“Princess, am I....” He closed his mouth, pressing his lips tight, and looked away. “Did something remind you of that guy you wanted?”

An odd recording begun playing within her, like an echo of a great pain she knew she must feel. It was the same gentle rawness of her wedding night. Yet she now knew it was only the symptoms of something far more tragic.

“No,” she said.

“Then what is it?”

“Please let me go. I need to get down.”

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No! Just let me go!”

He complied and she wasted no more time in getting down. Einar followed closely behind, ready to catch her if she should slip again. All the while she demanded that the dancing woman in her head disappear or at least collapse under the heat of the sun like any normal person would.

She was just a woman, after all.