Chapter Text
An unwelcome draft entered through the large double windows. Opeli lay on her bed atop the blankets. She curled into herself as the cool air passed over her. She turned from her right side and onto her left to face away from the window.
Everything felt wrong.
Rather, everything felt different.
The room was her room, yet it was not her room.
The room was spacious, yet it was suffocating.
The breeze was refreshing, yet it was too warm and humid.
Her room was high in one of the towers along the outer wall of the castle. At first, she was delighted to be assigned a room with such a stunning view. She could see everything for miles around. But her delight was short lived. Being so high in the tower meant climbing an endless flight of stairs several times a day. Moreover, the wind entered her room completely unobstructed. When there was a strong gust, her windows shook and sometimes blew wide open.
She wanted to go home.
Her sleep was restless, that is, when she could get any sleep at all. She had arrived only five days ago, eager to start her new life in the castle. But her enthusiastic spirit was waning. Too much change had come too quickly. She missed her hometown. She missed the room she had grown-up in. She missed her siblings. She missed her mother and her father.
She had also been given homework. Her matron, the High Cleric, had recited the guiding words of the Order of the Clerics, and she was expected to reflect on its meaning.
“A cleric offers light in darkness. A shelter in the storm. Compassion over indifference.”
The words seemed hopelessly vague, more purple prose than an insightful doctrine. She wondered what she was supposed to do with those words. She put the words out of mind and rolled onto her opposite side again in search of a modicum of comfort. That feeling proved elusive, so she forced her eyes open and sighed. She stared blankly at the ceiling.
Thoughts of her childhood room crashed like a wave in her restless mind. Back then, she could never see the ceiling. She always had the bottom bunk. Two beds, three bunks apiece, crammed into a small room. Her five siblings all wanted to claim the top bunk as their own. But not Opeli. She preferred the bottom bunk. It was easiest to get in and out of, and that suited her just fine. She was the oldest, and that meant that she needed to get up early to help her parents with chores. But she did not mind. She was happy to do so because she loved her siblings. That is what her parents taught her to do. Support those who could not yet support themselves.
Laying in her new bed inside her new room, she laughed. She yearned for that cozy comfort, packed into a tiny bed, in a tiny room, in a tiny house. It did not seem such a wonderful thing while she lived it, but now, it was everything that she ever wanted.
She scoffed at her nostalgic desires. It was wrong of her to complain. This was what she wanted. This was what she had worked so hard to attain. So what if the room did not feel like home? So what if she had no friends here? Here, she would not need to worry about the coming winter, or about the rumours of a bad harvest, or her parents getting sick again and not having money to buy medicine. She could send them money now. She had set out on this course to protect her family. To give up was selfish. Still, she wanted to hug her mom and dad and her siblings.
Not even a week had passed since she had come to the castle, having been accepted as an apprentice of the High Cleric. She was one of a half dozen other young women, each of them hoping to serve their kingdom.
Still, she had to admit that it was not all bad. She was learning, and she loved to learn. She was able to do things that she had never done before. That very night, before crawling sleeplessly onto her bed, she had even gone to the King’s Masquerade Ball.
Opeli stood with her back pressed against the wall of a grand ballroom.
She saw so many elegant people.
She heard such beautiful music.
She smelled such lavish food.
She had never been to such an extravagant event. The spectacle was something to behold. But Opeli had not come to take part in the merriment. She had come to learn. Her matron, the High Cleric, had brought her and the other girls to the ball to learn.
To observe.
To listen.
The High Cleric insisted that the dynamics of the kingdom were on full display at these sorts of events. It only took a distinguishing eye to see it. This gathering was about power and politics. All of the players were there, and it was the job of the High Cleric to understand their performances.
Opeli hugged the wall at the rear of the ballroom, out of sight and out of mind of the elite. As she watched, she felt out of place. She knew that she did not belong among these people. They could surely see right through her. They would recognize her low-born accent, which she worked so hard to cover up. She had learned to speak from the diaphragm to avoid her nasally voice. But they would surely detect her origins and ridicule her. She grumbled, filled with doubt that she could ever become a cleric.
Across the room, she spied King Harrow for the first time. Only a year had passed since his coronation, which came earlier than anyone had expected after the untimely death of his father, King Atticus. The kingdom mourned Atticus, but the people eagerly looked toward the future with Harrow. The new king acted quickly to set a different course from that of his father. Things were rapidly changing in the kingdom. Optimism and hope were the common sentiments among the people.
The king stepped into the centre of the ball room with Queen Sarai, both of them adorned in masks which partially obscured their faces. Opeli noticed that it was Sarai leading Harrow by the hand. Sarai was known for her strengths. Strength on the battlefield, yes, but also her strength of will and strength of character. She was not merely Harrow’s Queen. She was Sarai, her own person.
The gathered masses made way, creating a circle at the heart of the room. The King and Queen took centre stage and placed their arms around each other. When the band started playing, the couple began an intricate dance. They were both incredible dancers. After a few minutes, Harrow raised his arm to the crowd, inviting them all to join in the dancing.
A wide smile swept across Opeli’s face as she watched Harrow and Sarai. The look they carried in their eyes said everything. They were hopelessly in love. Opeli recognized that look because it was the same way her parents looked at each other. True love, it seemed, looked the same among the common folk and the nobility. That knowledge brought the young cleric-in-training incredible comfort. As they danced, Opeli imagined what they might be whispering into each other’s ears. Sweet nothings and adoration, surely.
As the dance continued, a shadow crept across the room, looming large over the dancefloor. Opeli followed the shadow to its source. When she set her eyes upon him, her back stiffened and she stood straight up.
The High Mage of Katolis.
He strode toward the king, determination and purpose in each step. He was taller than Opeli had imagined. He was on her mind often. He was on the minds of everyone from the Tenderloin. He was one of their own. A boy born into nothing who had risen to one of the most powerful offices in the Pentarchy.
To Opeli and others like her, he was so much more than the High Mage. He was hope. He was proof that they could amount to something, that they were not worthless. He was the reason Opeli had set out to become a cleric. Without his example, she would never have believed that a poor girl from a poor neighbourhood could find herself at work in the castle, an earshot from the king himself. But here she was. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to let him know that she owed him everything.
For a time, she considered that she might have a girlish crush on him. But that thought had passed. Of late she had started to wonder if she preferred girls. Yet, she had never made time to truly figure out that side of herself. She was too busy. There was too much on her shoulders.
That lack of understanding about herself hurt. A cleric was expected to know the answer to a question before the king thought to ask it. How was she supposed to know such things when she did not even know herself?
The High Mage made his presence known to the king with his deep voice, and he stood up tall and proud before the monarch. His crisp, pressed tunic fit him well. He looked dashing. He looked almost as regal as the king himself.
The king peaked over his shoulder and greeted his friend with a smile, not losing a single step in the dance he was sharing with the love of his life. The king nodded along with each word from this most trusted servant. But his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. To Opeli, it was abundantly clear that nothing was on the king’s mind but Sarai. The purity of his love made Opeli’s heart flutter.
When the High Mage had finished talking, the king thanked him and danced away, putting some distance between them. Yet, the High Mage apparently had more information to relay, and he approached again. Opeli smiled as she watched this choreography repeat three times.
On the third round, Queen Sarai leaned forward and whispered something into her husband’s ear. The king chuckled in response and turned to the High Mage while wearing a royal smile. He patted the other man on the back and said something.
“Why aren’t you dancing, my friend?” Opeli imagined the words coming out of his mouth.
The mage looked back in shock and responded.
“A High Mage does not dance!” he would protest.
With an open hand, the king directed his friend to look across the room. Opeli and the High Mage alike followed his hand with their eyes. On the other side of the room, they settled their eyes upon a woman.
She was uncannily beautiful.
Her long blonde hair was wrapped into a bun.
She was the most gorgeous woman Opeli had ever seen in her nineteen years.
She was busy wrangling three children, who each seemed to have their own objectives.
Opeli knew that she was the High Mage’s wife, but she had not learned her name.
“Ask her to dance!” the king’s voice rang in Opeli’s imagination.
A strange look appeared on the High Mage, and Opeli could not decipher it. Perhaps he was not much of a dancer? Opeli wondered how anyone could hesitate to dance with her!
Opeli turned her gaze back to the High Mage’s wife and the gaggle of children. Two of the kids were her own, Opeli knew, and the third was the child of the king. Rather, the stepchild. He was the youngest among them, and his innocent eyes were glued to the black-haired girl who hugged her mother’s hips. Opeli could tell that she was a shy thing. She would rather be home in her mother’s embrace. She carried a stuffed animal under her arm. A unicorn, by the look of it.
The oldest boy seemed surer of himself. He performed lunges and squats, constantly darting his eyes to his father as if to impress him with his feats of strength. Yet, as his father approached, he walked by the boy without acknowledging him.
As the High Mage neared his wife, the king called out to him. The king tapped the mask that still adorned his face.
“No dancing without a mask!” Opeli interpreted the message.
The High Mage nodded and removed the mask he had stuffed into his back pocket. He took the final few steps to his wife. She had not seen him approaching, and she seemed startled when he called to her.
The High Mage placed his mask over his face. His wife had her own mask tied around her neck, and she lifted it into place. The High Mage extended his hand in an invitation to dance, and she slowly, almost cautiously, lifted her hand toward him. Yet, he did not take her by the hand. Rather, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor.
The way they danced baffled Opeli, but the precise reason why escaped her. She was not much of a dancer herself, but she knew the basics. Watch your partner’s eyes, not their feet. But this couple watch neither. They looked over each other’s shoulders, refusing to make eye contact at all. Yet, they were marvellously well coordinated. Their dance was flawless, save for the lack of heart. There was no intimacy in their steps. It was a routine, an almost mathematical formula.
Around and around and around they went. When the music stopped the High Mage released her, and they turned away from each other immediately. The High Mage pivoted in search of the king, but the monarch had vanished into a crowd of dancers. The scowl that appeared on the High Mage’s face made Opeli uncomfortable.
The High Mage’s wife dashed toward her children and hugged them. She scooped her daughter into her arms and kissed her on the forehead several times. The girl welcomed her mother’s loving embrace and shut her eyes. She called to her son, and they headed toward the exit as a family.
As the blonde beauty walked away, Opeli caught a glimpse of her eyes. She looked incredibly sad. Just before she stepped out of the ballroom, she turned around. Her green eyes locked with Opeli’s grey ones. Opeli averted her gaze and tried to shake the awkward feeling that she had been caught eavesdropping.
The High Mage’s wife exited the ballroom with her children.
And the band played on.
Opeli continued to roll in bed, unable to forget the sad eyes of the High Mage’s wife. She wished that she knew her name. That was surely something a future cleric should know. She wondered what emotions were at play within her. She recognized the love in her eyes when she held her children. The purest kind of love. Absolute love, which could never be shattered. Yet, there was an entirely different feeling at work at the same time. Some sort of unease, or lingering dread. The way she held herself did not sit right with Opeli. Was she afraid?
Opeli wondered what there could possibly be to fear within the castle walls. There was not a safer place in all of Katolis. Perhaps she came from the aristocracy and led a sheltered life. Perhaps the nobles placed too much weight on knowing the fashionable dances and etiquette. Maybe she risked harming her family’s reputation with a few missteps. Opeli dismissed that idea. The look she observed was not born of such a fickle matter.
Opeli sat up in bed and brushed her long caramel hair away from her eyes. She placed her bare feet on the cold stone floor, stood up, and stretched her arms. Her white nightgown fluttered in the cool draft, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off a chill. Her arms were exposed, as were her legs from the knee down.
She looked at herself in the tall mirror which stood opposite her bed and admired the fine tailoring of her nightgown. Like everything else in the room, it had been provided to her. She ran her hands along the silken fabric. It felt nice against her skin.
Looking closer at her reflection, she was taken aback by what she saw. She had always been a tall, skinny girl. Growing up, she was self-conscious about her appearance. It did not help her confidence when one thoughtless bully had even dubbed her ‘Beanpole’ when she was eleven. The jeering epithet stuck until she left her hometown, five days prior.
Looking upon herself now, however, she was comfortable in her own skin. She liked how she looked, and how she felt. She had resolved not to let anyone else bring her down. Nothing about her appearance had changed. The only change had been one of perspective. With the idea of perspective in mind, she grabbed her cardigan and slipped into it. If sleep would not come to her, she would go for a walk in-search of sleep. Or at least tire herself out. A simple change in perspective.
She left her room and traversed the narrow corridor, with its tapered ceiling. At the end of the corridor, she stepped into the moonlight. The air was warmer than she had expected. The moon was bright and full, and countless stars shimmered. She made her way along the battlements which overlooked the river below, tracing her fingers along the masonry as she went.
She descended another narrow staircase and passed through another narrow corridor, wide enough for one person to traverse at a time. Even with her slender body, Opeli found it a tight fit. At the other end, she arrived at the Lookout; a humble stone platform from which one could see the Valley of the Graves. The Lookout, Opeli had been informed by one of the other clerics in training, was a popular spot. It offered an unparalleled view of the countryside and was a frequent attraction for young lovers or guards goofing-off rather than attending to their duties. So late at night, Opeli was sure she would have it to herself.
But she was not alone.
A woman, her back turned to Opeli, was peering over the railing. Her gaze was affixed to the waters, far, far, below.
Opeli recognized her instantly. It was her. The High Mage’s wife. She was unaware that Opeli was behind her. She was holding something in her right hand. When Opeli squinted, she recognized the object as her mask from the ball. In the still air, Opeli heard her sniffle. She then lifted her hand over the railing and released her mask. Her quiet voice cut through the silent night as she counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
At five, the sound of the porcelain mask shattering rang through the night. The five seconds seemed an eternity to Opeli. A five second plunge. Just thinking about it made her queasy.
Then, the woman with the beautiful green eyes placed her feet upon the first rung of the railing. Opeli thought she might be trying to get a better view, until she stepped up to the second rung, and her balance seemed precarious at best. Opeli gasped, and the woman turned her head.
Her brilliant green eyes cut through the dark. Opeli saw the light of the moon and every star in the sky shimmering in her eyes. Opeli was pulled into the depths of those emerald-green eyes. Opeli looked upon her face and was astounded by her beauty. But she was marked by more than beauty.
A black eye.
A swollen lip.
Tears streaming down her cheeks.
Without making a sound, she set both feet back on the solid stone surface, nearly stumbling as she did. She kept her head lowered as she approached Opeli, who stood in the way of the exit, and she tried to step around her.
“Wait!” Opeli cried as the woman neared.
She stopped in her tracks.
“Are you okay?” Opeli asked.
The High Mage’s wife lifted her head, and her bottom lip quivered. She could not find the words to use.
“Do you… need help?”
Rather than answer the question, the High Mage’s wife responded with a statement.
“I saw you at the dance…” she whispered.
“The dance? Oh, yes. I was there.”
“You were watching me. I felt your eyes upon me,” she asserted.
A chill ran up Opeli’s spine. She had not imagined it, she had been the focus of those green eyes.
“Y-Yes. Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry if I did.”
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a cleric in the making, aren’t you? Observing is part of the job, isn’t it?”
“Y-Yes. That’s right. I’ve only just arrived at the castle, and I’m still finding my feet. I’ll try not to gawk in the future. I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. My name is Opeli.”
“I’m Lissa,” she said and looked over Opeli’s shoulder and toward the corridor.
Opeli smiled. She now knew her name.
“A-Are you okay, Lissa?” Opeli asked again.
“I’ll be fine,” Lissa said and looked away. Yet, she remained in place. A moment of silence passed, and Opeli felt Lissa wanted her to say something.
“You’ve got a cut on your lip,” Opeli said and lifted her hand to her own lip to indicate where the injury lay.
Lissa raised her hand to her mouth. It stung when she touched it. She found a smear of blood on her fingertips.
“Do you need help? I can tend to that cut. If you’d like…”
“It’s nothing,” Lissa insisted.
“What happened?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve got a bad habit of not seeing the danger right in front of me….”
“Did you have an accident?”
“Hmm. Something like that…”
Opeli pursed her lips. Lissa was clearly apprehensive about opening up. Opeli could not put out of her mind the idea that she was in danger. She remembered the words of her matron, which suddenly seemed more than empty platitudes. They informed exactly what she needed to be done, and the nature of her duty.
“I-I think it’s best if I get going. My kids are going to wonder where I am. It was nice to meet you, Opeli,” Lissa stuttered and turned away from Opeli.
“Oh, I noticed your kids at the dance! They were so adorable! What are their names?” Opeli asked.
Lissa smiled the type of smile only a loving mother was capable of. She turned back toward Opeli.
“Soren is my oldest. He’s become quite a handful. Claudia is my youngest. She’s a real momma’s girl,” Lissa explained. “Not that I’m complaining. I love how she hugs me and how she nestles into me. It’s a magical feeling.”
“Yes, she was latched onto you for most of the night!” Opeli chuckled.
“She’s afraid of letting go. But I’m sure that will pass. She’ll find her own way. Someday,” Lissa said with a warm and certain smile.
“Won’t you let me tend to that cut before you go back to your children? I know it’s a long walk back to the High Mage’s quarters, and my room is just a few steps from here. In fact, it’s probably on the way,” Opeli offered again.
Lissa mulled the offer. She seemed to be playing out a scenario in her mind. She pursed her lips and looked Opeli in the eye.
“I-I would like that,” she said meekly.
Opeli exhaled in relief. She had done her duty well so far.
When the two women stepped back into Opeli’s room, they found the windows blown open by the strong winds. Loose papers blew wildly in all directions. Opeli dashed to the windows and forced them closed with both hands.
“I’m sorry about that. These old windows won’t stay shut!” she said with an awkward laugh.
Lissa sent her an understanding smile.
“Why don’t you sit on the sofa, I’ll fetch my medical kit,” Opeli suggested. She made her way to her cabinet and searched.
Lissa nodded and lowered herself with grace upon the cushions. She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. She caught her reflection in Opeli’s mirror and could not look herself in the eye. She did not want to see herself. She could not bear it.
“Okay,” Opeli announced as she approached. “I’m not a doctor by any means, but I do have a few healing balms and lotions that will help.”
“Thank you,” Lissa said cooly.
“May I?” Opeli asked, a white cloth in hand.
Lissa looked Opeli in the eye and nodded. Opeli had trusting eyes.
The cleric in training pressed the cloth upon Lissa’s lip and wiped away the blood, which had also trickled down her chin. Opeli then dabbed the wound with a translucent balm, which served to seal the cut. It also provided a numbing effect.
“How does that feel?” Opeli asked.
“It feels…better. It’s numbing, but the sting in my lip is gone,” Lissa answered.
“Now for that eye. Why don’t you hold this in place for a few minutes,” Opeli said and handed Lissa a cold bag.
Lissa placed the bag over her eye. She winced when it touched her skin.
“It’s cold,” Lissa exclaimed.
“Yes, but it will help,” Opeli assured.
“Thank you,” Lissa whispered.
While Lissa sat silently with the cold sack pressed to her face, Opeli was deep in thought. Every fibre of her being screamed that she should stay with Lissa for as long as possible that night. The cogs in her head turned frantically in search of a means to do that.
“Would you like to talk some more? If you’re not otherwise occupied, that is. Your kids won’t even know you were out late.”
“I-I don’t know. My children are still waiting for me…”
“They must be sound asleep by now,” Opeli noted.
“Oh yes. They’re sound asleep,” Lissa confirmed.
“How about a drink? I’ve been allotted a few bottles of Katolian wine. I’m not much of a drinker, but it’s better to share than to drink alone, isn’t it? Let’s have a glass,” she said and trotted to the shelf.
Lissa thought about it.
“Well…” she said with uncertainty.
Opeli already had two glasses in hand and held them toward Lissa with a wide smile.
“Why not!” Lissa exclaimed.
Opeli exhaled in relief. She had bought more time.
“White or red?” Opeli asked.
“It feels like a night for red…” Lissa noted.
“I agree!” Opeli cheered and uncorked a bottle.
The sound of wine sloshing filled the room as Opeli poured.
They each lifted their glass to their nose and took in the aromas. They detected notes of summer grass and leather, with just a hint of vanilla.
When Lissa lowered her glass after her first sip, Opeli noticed that Lissa’s lipstick was smudged around the brim of the glass. It was full and red, just like the wine.
Opeli sipped gingerly and contemplated how to broach the situation.
“You’re not Katolian, are you?” Opeli asked.
“No, I was born in Del Bar. I grew up there. I moved here when I was nineteen. I…met someone. We got married, and I stayed.”
“What is it like to be married to the High Mage?” Opeli said with a smile.
“I hate it when people call him that. It goes to his head. He’s Viren. Just Viren. Only Viren. Nothing more, nothing less…”
“I see,” Opeli noted and took another sip.
“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Opeli complimented. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
Lissa ran her hand through her hair.
“I’m not so good, really. I fake it.”
“How can you fake dancing?” Opeli asked, perplexed.
“It only takes the right dance partner,” she sighed.
Opeli sipped on her wine. Lissa was proving to be an enigma.
“I bet you feel out of place here too. When I moved here, it was hard. Where are you from?” Lissa asked.
“I’m from the Old City. The Tenderloin district…”
“The same as Viren…”
“That’s right! I didn’t want to say anything, but he’s sort of famous there. I mean, he’s accomplished so much! Nobody from back home ever achieved what he has. ”
“Are you ashamed of where you come from?”
“Wh-What? Of course not! I love my community. I’m proud to come from there!”
“I wish my husband still felt that way…”
“Doesn’t he?”
“No. No,” Lissa whispered. “He used to hate it whenever the nobles referred to his home as the Tenderloin. His brow would furrow, and he’d use all of his willpower to hold his tongue.”
“Why did that upset him?”
“You know how it came to be called the Tenderloin, don’t you?” Lissa asked
“N-No, I’m sorry to say that I don’t,” Opeli confessed.
Lissa sighed and drew a breath.
“A long time ago, during the Mage Wars, some king or warlord dubbed that part of the city the Tenderloin as a joke. A cruel, mocking joke played on the people who lived there. The Tenderloin is the most expensive cut of meat, and the people who live there are the poorest in the kingdom. As if anyone there can afford meat at all, let alone the choicest cut. He wanted them to be reminded of their hungry bellies every time they heard the name of their home. The Mage Wars were a time of great cruelty. Yet, that name stuck and lasted into this supposed enlightened age. Every time my husband heard ‘Tenderloin’ come from the lips of an outsider, he felt their judgment and contempt. I could see the boiling rage within him. But at some point, that all changed. Maybe it was when he became High Mage. He cut his ties with his past, and he was happy to fit in and cast judgement,” Lissa recounted.
“I…didn’t know,” Opeli whimpered. She could understand how it would make the High Mage angry. Being looked down upon and mocked was painful. It hurt even more to think of the High Mage, whom she respected, looking down upon his own people.
“Not many people do. It’s the kind of thing one learns when they spend too much time confined at home and reading books from the library,” Lissa explained and sipped the remainder of her wine. Her glass empty, she hugged her sides and felt warmth within her despite the cool draft coming in through the old windows.
Opeli mulled over the word confined. It made her uneasy. It left a bad feeling in her stomach. She did not want Lissa to leave.
“Would you like another glass?” Opeli asked and held up the half empty bottle.
“I’d like that,” Lissa said, her cheeks faintly rose.
“Why don’t we finish the bottle?” Opeli stated and topped them both up.
“Sure,” Lissa replied. She smiled over the brim of her glass as she took as sip.
“If you need… a place to stay, you can stay here. You don’t have to go home tonight…if it’s not safe,” Opeli said softly.
“Huh?” Lissa replied.
“Perhaps it’s none of my business. I don’t mean to get involved. But I sort of am involved now. If you need to stay, you can stay.”
“And just what do you think you’re involved in?” Lissa said coldly and lowered her wine glass.
“I-I don’t know. Will you tell me?”
Lissa looked away and grimaced. Her eyes faltered and she winced.
“You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to. We can have a few more glasses of wine and leave it at that if you prefer. But if you do want to talk, it’s just between us. You have my word,” Opeli assured.
Lissa opened her mouth, but silence hung in the air for the better part of a minute.
Opeli leaned closer, hopeful that Lissa would open up.
“I’m here to listen,” Opeli assured once more.
“I-I’m…not sure I follow,” Lissa insisted.
Opeli remained silent and looked at Lissa with her welcoming grey eyes.
“It’s not like you think it is….” Lissa finally said. “He’s not like this. It’s not his fault. It’s all my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“Everything…”
“Did somebody hit you?” Opeli asked bluntly.
“Wh-What? No! Of course not! It’s not like that!” Lissa protested.
“Lissa, how did you get that black eye?”
Lissa rubbed her face and whimpered.
“H-He didn’t hit me. H-He just…used his hand to – um – he put his – sort of like this – no…besides…it didn’t hurt…it’s okay – it doesn’t matter…”
“What did he do?”
“H-He...I…it was… me. It was my fault...”
Opeli said nothing, but looked upon Lissa with eyes that made the young mother feel safe.
“Wh-When he came home after the dance, I-I told him that he was too busy chasing the king’s favour rather than spending time with his children. That upset him. He asked how I could possibly know what was best for our children. He said everything he was doing was for our family. He called me ungrateful. We got into a screaming match. We always do. I was so angry. I told him I would take the kids and leave. And then he…” Lissa said and lifted her hand, which she had closed into a fist.
“And then?” Opeli asked.
“He reminded me that I’m a bad mother. That’s what this black eye is about. And he’s right, I’m a dreadful woman. How could I say something so selfish to him? I don’t deserve them,” Lissa said and looked off into space.
“You don’t deserve who?”
“My children,” Lissa blurted and hid her face in her hands.
“Surely that isn’t the case,” Opeli said tenderly.
Lissa sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“Soren was sick, for a long, long time. He was so sick. He was going to die. I was certain of it. I couldn’t do anything but watch my little boy suffer as his life slipped away,” she said and wiped the corners of both eyes.
Lissa took a deep breath and sobbed.
“I told myself that if there was anything I could do to save him, anything, I would do it. I would give my own life! I was so sure that I would,” she bellowed.
Opeli placed a hand on Lissa’s back and soothed her with gentle strokes.
“I sat with my baby boy as I did every night and helped him fall asleep. And then I returned to my quarters and wept. I wanted my husband to comfort me, but he was absent. He returned late at night, but he was not himself. He wore the face of a demon and he held the staff of his mentor. I knew that Kyp’Arr would not have given him that staff of his own accord. I knew right away that my husband had done something horrible. Something vile. He had come to collect my tears for a Dark Magic ritual,” Lissa explained. Her breathing became rapid as she relived the terrifying experience.
“Take your time,” Opeli whispered as Lissa sniffled and wiped her tears away.
“But I told him no! I called him a monster! I was afraid! But he would not hear the fear in my voice. He placed his hands around my neck and shoved me against the wall, and I kicked and screamed. I begged and pleaded with him to let me go. You’re hurting me, I shouted. He pulled on my hair until I cried. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move. I thought he was going to kill me. And then he took my tears, and he let me go. Just like that, he let me go.”
Lissa lifted her head, gulped, and dried her eyes.
“But the next morning, my son was on his feet and smiling. I held him in my arms and cried for what felt like days. I will never forget the words of my husband as I held my boy.
‘Now your tears flow so freely?’
I knew that he hated me. I knew that he would never forgive me. And he never did. I can’t forgive myself either. So what if I was afraid? So what if it hurt? So what if he killed me? If it would have saved my son, shouldn’t I have been willing? Isn’t that what any mother would do? I called him the monster, but the truth is, I’m the monster….”
“Lissa, listen to me. You are not a monster. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way then, and you don’t deserve to be treated that way now,” Opeli said tenderly.
Lissa sniffled and looked away.
“Look at me. I’m making such a scene,” Lissa bellowed and wiped away her tears. She forced a smile and choked out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you must think me a terrible mess...”
“No! I don’t think that! You can shed all the tears in the world. It’s okay,” Opeli soothed. When Opeli placed her hand on Lissa’s forearm, the young mother found her courage.
“I’d… like to stay here tonight,” Lissa stated. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning! I don’t want to be a bother! I’m sure you have duties to tend to!”
“You’re not a bother. You can stay as long as you like,” Opeli declared. “How long has this been going on?”
“ More than a year,” Lissa explained.
“That long?”
Lissa nodded.
“Yes. And you know what? In that whole time, you are the only person that took notice. Nobody said a word or asked me if anything was wrong. I mean, it’s not like this is my first black eye…” she whimpered and welled up.
“I’m so sorry this is happening to you. Are you willing to go to the authorities? You could go to the Crown Guard, surely they could do something,’ Opeli suggested.
Lissa let out a long sigh.
“No. No, that won’t help. My husband has power within these castle walls. Nothing good will come of it,” Lissa whispered.
“Is there anyone else you can turn to for help?” Opeli asked and placed her palm upon Lissa’s knee.
“I don’t have anyone here. Not anymore. All I have are my children, and protecting them is all that matters,” she said. “I can’t talk about these things openly. I can feel him watching, every moment, every day, even when I know he’s not. I suspect he reads my messages as well. I’m afraid to say the wrong thing or look the wrong way,” she whimpered.
“I’ve got it!” Opeli announced. “If you’re in trouble, but you can’t say so, we can use a codeword!”
“A codeword?” Lissa asked.
“Yes. A word that only you and I know. If you need help, use the codeword, and I’ll know you are in danger. I’ll do whatever I can do to stay with you for as long as you need. I’ll make sure you’re not alone with him. Being a cleric in training, it won’t be so unusual for me to be near the wife of the High Mage.”
Lissa bit her bottom lip and thought about it.
“I guess that makes sense,” she stated.
“Okay. Let’s pick a codeword. It should be a word we don’t use often,” Opeli explained.
Lissa shut her eyes and searched for a word. Her thoughts turned to her children. She saw their faces, and her heart pounded with unbridled love.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Unicorn,” Lissa answered.
Opeli smiled.
“Unicorn,” Opeli said as well.
Lissa felt hope for the first time in ages, and she cried.
Opeli placed a hand atop Lissa’s to let her know that she was not alone anymore.