Searching the Heart 3

The rain began to fall lightly as Arlan followed Cora without hurry. She truly was a fine horsewoman. She sat tall in the saddle, leaning slightly forward with her hands buried in Nivo's thick, silky black mane. Her lower leg was perfectly still on her horse's side, and she moved naturally to his rhythm. He almost thought he admired her and her fine figure. But then he laughed at himself. Fine figures and horsemanship were not everything. A rational, wise and intelligent mind was most important. She was intelligent, but not rational. She did not have a sense of rank or stature, did not seem to know what it meant or how important it was.
The rain continued to fall, and the wind swirled the clouds overhead like a dark whirlpool and it rumbled in a deep and resonant voice. Lightning streaked the sky like white vines. As the clouds grew darker and heavier, the rain beat down on the two riders and their horses ruthlessly.

"We'll find shelter," Cora called to Arlan as another thunder rumbled overhead of them. She could feel Nivo trembling beneath her and jump slightly from the thunder. He was being brave and well mannered despite the weather and loud, surprising noises that would prompt any other horse to spook and bolt.

They bore the slapping water in their faces as they searched for a barn or house to stay in until the rain passed. But Cora knew it would not be passing soon, for rainstorms were long in Sanjia, richening the soil. Fortunately, they did find a barn of an older couple, a kind farmer and his wife, Dethus and Maidra. It was spacious enough to shelter Cora and Arlan and their horses. The couple offered their horses a hot grain mix and water and the prince and princess warm bread and stew that had sat over the warm fire. The stew was served in clay pots, chipped a little on the edges with the paint peeling off. Their spoons were crudely carved of wood, but smooth from much use. To Cora's surprise and relief, Arlan's expression remained fairly neutral, almost pleasant.

The meal was hot and filling, vividly flavored with spices. After Cora had thanked Dethus and Maidra profusely, she and Arlan were left alone. The only sound was the gentle pounding of the rain on the rooftop and the crackling of the fire. Cora wrapped the blanket Maidra had given her around herself tighter, shivering slightly as her soaked clothes clung to her skin. She leaned back against a wooden pillar and sighed.

"I suppose we must have some conversation," Arlan said. He was leaning on one elbow in a mound of golden straw, surveying Cora with a lopsided grin, one that seemed to be laughing at her.

She did not look at him, but she felt herself scowl. As the fire crackled, it seemed especially loud in the silence that followed Arlan's words.

Arlan chuckled softly to himself as he threw a bit if straw into the fire idly. "Fine then, I'll just talk to myself. Or maybe I'll talk to you, Demon." He looked across the barn at his horse, which was munching contentedly on hay. "Well, I'm having a hell of a time. I don't know about you, Demon. But being dragged across the country on dusty roads, sleeping on rock-solid mattresses, being preached to about life, and getting caught in a storm is not my idea of fun."

Cora refused to allow herself to grab the bait. She clenched her fists and looked intently at the wall.

"You know, I could be enjoying the lovely company of a princess in a clean house, wearing clean clothes, eating decent meals in fine porcelain bowls with fine silverware. We could have all kinds of arguments in the palace of marble and stone where our arguments would be made public as our words echoed throughout the whole palace. Yes, that would be much more enjoyable, scandalizing and shocking the good people of Sanjia and Amalur." He paused, eyeing Cora, who still refused to look at him or speak.

"I rather enjoy shocking people," he continued. "It brings much entertainment to my life. But I'm sure our little escapade will be shocking and scandalizing enough. What gossip will circulate when we return! Of course, I shall feed that gossip with a few words, hints, and they, being people, will snatch at it, misconstrue every meaning, and spread scandalous rumors. That's what keep people alive at court: rumors and gossip. It feeds their hungry minds and voices since they refuse to do anything more substantial with them. I wonder what I should say that will be innocent, and yet shocking."

"Enough!" Cora cried at last. "I cannot understand how any human being can walk through life spreading chaos and discord everywhere he goes with a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat. Have you no shame? No compassion for other people's weaknesses? Have you no pride?"

He laughed in astonishment at her. "Pride? I would not talk of pride to me, my dear princess," he said dryly. "I must admit, I have no shame. And compassion? Is it my fault they have such weaknesses? I merely test them, help them; I want to make them realize how ridiculous they look as they huddle in a corner and whisper behind their hands. But they refuse my help. And pride. I have plenty of pride, as you so charmingly told me."

"You should know better!" she snapped. "It is so beneath you to encourage false gossip and rumors! It is undignified and despicable."

Arlan began to laugh again, so hard that tears began to form in his eyes. It was a full and resounding laugh. Cora waited impatiently for him to stop.

"Oh my dear princess!" he said, a hint of laughter still in his voice. "You speak of dignity like you know everything about it at every angle. You could turn your words right around at yourself and they could slap you in the face. All this" he waved his hand around "all your scampering about is not what I'd call dignified." He began to laugh again and held his fist to his mouth until he stopped. "My, what a pair we make. I am undignified in court, you are undignified in this wilderness. We both have no pride in our ranks, though much differently. Yes, we do seem quite compatible."

"I do not see the compatibility at all."

"See what you wish, princess, but sooner or later, you'll have to face reality and learn to live in it."

"I will not have you preach at me!" she cried. "I will not hear lessons of life from you! I've gone through more than you know, more than you'll ever live through. Don't talk to me of reality and life. I've lived it, died, and have been reborn again in hell."

Arlan stared at her and could not find anything to say. Cora was breathing deeply, vexed at herself for allowing herself to be provoked to say such a thing. But she couldn't take her words back now. The crackling of the fire and the accompaniment of rain were now louder than ever in her ears. She felt coldness more than ever.

"I'm sorry," she murmured at last, the anger drained out of her, leaving her empty and lifeless.

"Of course," he replied automatically, having regained his composure again. "You are tired, wet, and cold, and are prone to such temperaments. Perhaps you should rest a little." He said nothing more, seeming now to find contentedness in the silence that lay heavily between them.

Cora did not know why, but Arlan made her feel almost guilty of her outburst, as if she had been in the wrong. It was not his words, but his tone and his manner. Whether he did it consciously or not, she did not know, but she resented him for it. She owed him nothing, owed him no explanations for the hurt and sorrow in her soul. He was merely a pawn in this game the kings played at, and a pawn to her, providing her with a good home, a crown, and someone to call a husband.

All afternoon and into the night, the rain continued. The farmer and his wife came bearing Cora and Arlan another hot meal, the same meal they'd been given previously, and extra blankets.

"You are welcome to stay the night," Dethus said kindly. "I could not throw anyone out into this foul weather."

Maidra was eyeing Cora and her still damp clothes and hair. "My dear, you and I are about the same size. Why don't I bring you into the house and lend you a nightgown for the night so you'll not catch a cold."

"That would be wonderful," Cora said gratefully. She followed the woman to the stone house.

"You'll be the princess, of course," Maidra stated, rather than asked as she dug into a wooden chest. She said it like she would state the time of day.

"Call me Cora, please."

"Oh, and of course. The townspeople do be buzzing about you every time we go into town. We have met your brother once, and he was a kindly, handsome young man. Well, here you are," and Maidra held out a long white nightgown. "Yes, you're only a little shorter than I am."

Cora changed into the nightgown, grateful to rid herself of her wet clothes. She felt warmer already in the dry cloth. Maidra also provided her with a robe.

"Now I'll send Dethus out to the barn to fetch your husband so he may sleep in dry clothes, as well."

"He's not my husband," Cora said sharply, and at once regretted it. "I'm sorry. He is just a . . . a cousin of mine."

Maidra eyed her suspiciously, but did not comment further on it. They ran back to the barn, passing Perthus and Arlan running back to the house.

"Now if you need anything, just come up to the house," Maidra offered. "Though I cannot imagine you'll want to be running in this rain for anything." She slipped a loaf of bread out from beneath her apron and handed it to Cora. "This should get you through the night if you're hungry, both you and your cousin." Then she eyed Cora closely, but Cora just smiled graciously and thanked her profusely for the clothes. Then the older woman disappeared into the rain.

Cora crossed the barn to Nivo's black shoulder, watching him affectionately as he continued to eat. He had been her first real horse, the one horse she'd loved and cherished. When she'd been a young girl, her father had placed her on pretty, docile, and dull ponies, usually mares. In her opinion, she might as well have been riding a donkey than a horse. They did not like galloping across open grassy meadows or through thick forests. Rather, they preferred walking or trotting the dusty, pebbly roads. They did not care to romp in the pastures; they merely grazed peacefully or dozed under a tree. Even a little over two years ago Emerus had placed her onto a smallish mare horse, delicate and trained for parades mostly. But then she'd received Nivo for her sixteenth birthday. He was true horse that loved to frolic in the fields with or without a rider. He had spirit, a mind of his own, and power.

She looked up at the sound of the barn door being opened at the other end of the barn. Arlan was dressed in loose, wide pants and a brown shirt that was too large for him. His black hair was in disarray, most of it pushed back but for one stray lock falling into his eyes. He grimaced as he settled down onto the straw.

"Your straw bed is not to your liking?" Cora could not help but say a little maliciously. "Not as fine as your feather bed?"

"I know you take great pleasure in provoking me," he answered mildly, idly playing with a strand of straw. "And I refuse to be provoked any longer by your childishness."

She counted to ten before she could trust herself to speak. "I take as much pleasure in it as you take pleasure in mocking me and preaching to me."

He shrugged and lay on his back, his hands pillowing his head. "I am at least honest. Would you have me lie and smile charmingly and rattle away on how I love our ride together? I thought this . . . thing was to make us more familiar with each other, to be honest with each other. So I am. You might as well know what you're getting yourself into now before we get married so you may mentally prepare yourself."

She sat a little ways away from him to lean against a beam. "Then tell me something about yourself."

He raised his head slightly, but saw that her face was earnest. He then sat up and faced her, leaving against the opposite wall. "I'd be happy to oblige you."

"I'm sure you would," she said tartly. "I'm sure this is a favorite subject of yours."

Arlan grinned broadly. "Now, where to begin? I'm two and twenty years old, born in the frozen month of November. I must warn you that up north, our fall and winter is much longer and colder than they are here. But that's off the wonderful subject of me. You have the honor of being the fourth woman I've been betrothed to. But will it last? My first betrothal was while I was still in my mother's womb."

"While still in your mother's womb?" she repeated in astonishment.

"That is what I said. If I'd been born a girl, I would have been betrothed to the Prince of Carmlan, who was a year older than myself, Panin is his name. Thank the gods I was born a boy. No pride in his appearances; quite a large, stupid young man."

Cora's brown furrowed. "You don't like him because he's overweight?"

"I also said he was stupid. He's self-serving, has no mind for politics, no space for compromise, has no talent or ability. He cannot even ride a true horse, but must ride a docile gelding. The king and queen are much the same. It's a surprise another larger kingdom has not overrun them by now. Perhaps I'll put that on my agenda when I am king. They must have some way to serve a greater country."

"You're heartless and ruthless." Her voice was light and teasing.

He shrugged. "Anyway, I was born a boy, and I was betrothed to the Princess Rosmal, about four months old when I was born. We were betrothed an entire two months, then she died of an illness. When I was eight, I was betrothed to the very wealthy heiress, of Angourin. She was eight, as well. We didn't have much in common except a mutual dislike for each other. She didn't approve of my black hound, Goblin, and I did not like her rat-like creature she called a dog. I thank the gods that the duke rebelled against my father. He overreached himself, making border raids and claiming large amounts of land as his own. So Armus led an army into the duke's lands and subdued him quite easily, stripped him of his titles and hung him. He gave the titles of Angourin to my uncle.

"The next betrothal was when I was fifteen, to the princess of our western neighbor, Maduk. Her name, I think, was Shinsuin, a lass of thirteen. She was actually quite pretty, but as skittish as they come. She shied away from my every touch, every look, and every word. After awhile, I got quite vexed with her timidity, and I gave up being polite, saying whatever came to my mind. My father eventually broke the betrothal on discovering that her father was accepting money and bribes from several other men for his daughter's hand. And now, I am betrothed to the princess of Sanjia, Corana Duvo."

Arlan stretched out his arms and legs as he finished. He was smiling smugly. "Of course, I've had quite a few women in my life, but I've forgotten them by now."

Cora raised an eyebrow, for she thought she heard the tiniest, almost undetected note of defense in his voice. "Any baseborn children?" she asked casually.

"Of course not."

"And how do you know?" she demanded. "Did you ever ask them? Did you ever speak to them after one night?"

"They would have come to me, begging for money or recognition of their child. Or come cursing my name. Or come begging for love."

Cora could not believe the simplicity in how he categorized women, how narrow minded he was. Did he never consider that the women might be afraid? Ashamed? Or too proud to ask for his aid?

"So you could have a child out in the world and not even know it," Cora said, amazed at his carelessness and indifference.

His expression hardened. "Are you slow-minded? I told you, I have no children."

She at last gave up, knowing that men were impossible to penetrate once their minds were set. Why did men have to be such a selfish, stubborn creatures?

"So Cora of Sanjia, what is the outline of your life?" Arlan's voice cut through the night air. "What have your betrothals been like?"

She was the one who now began to play with the straw, not wanting to look up at him, feeling reluctant. But at last, in a soft voice, she said, "I was first betrothed when I was four. He was the prince of Mulgari. The first time we met, he splashed mud all over the front of my dress. He was most certainly not Prince Charming. His father broke peace with us and bore arms against us. We waged war against them and won after six months. We now use them for their large supply of iron. I was thirteen when I was betrothed to the young duke of Pardun. He was twenty-five, and very handsome, devilish, and bold. He treated me with fond indifference. I think I could have been content to be his duchess. It was very unfortunate he died, though, while trying to put down a rebellion in one of his northern provinces."

Arlan looked up her in surprise when she stopped. He leaned forward, about to say something teasingly, but the pained look on her face stopped him. "What is it?" he asked. "Surely there was another. Rumors had reached us of another just two or three years ago, though I do not recall the name of the lad."

Cora's arms were wrapped around herself as she but her lip till it bled. She rocked herself back and forth, lost in herself and her sudden surge of grief. She had tried to freeze the grief she had felt for the past two years so that it would not hurt her and consume her as it once had. But unwelcoming memories and a certain dark face invaded her mind, smiling at her, teasing her. She did not even realize Arlan had come to her side until he touched her arm.

"Tell me," he enjoined her, looking deep into her grief-stricken eyes. He was uneasy with this side of Cora. He would much rather deal with her difficult side. He hated weak, weeping women. Though she had yet to weep, he reminded himself. He sighed mentally, preparing himself for what was inevitable to come. This was not one of those situations where he could beg to be excused and ask some other pretty girl to dance.

She continued to stare at nothing, until her voice came distantly, but strongly. "I was just fifteen when I first met him. By that age, I was a raw girl no longer, had learned to use what looks and charms I had to my advantage. My head was turned at the sight of Junas, the crown prince of Palasar."

Arlan's eyes widened as he recognized the prince's name and the story along with that name. It was indeed still a sharp memory in many people's minds and hearts. He began to stop Cora from speaking further, but she went on ahead, ignoring him.

"He was twenty-four then, and so handsome, so full of life, eager to live it to the best he could. I was charmed at our first meeting. He had wild dark hair, a tanned face and calloused hands. He bowed low over my hand, but instead of kissing it, he kissed my cheek. This disconcerted Mama and Papa, but they would not dare deny him that small pleasure. He stayed at our court for a month after our first meeting. He was the first man above twenty to treat me like a woman. He took interest in what I did, went out of his way to please me, flatter me, and just talk to me; he would truly listen to what I had to say. We often spent the late nights talking in my own private gardens, and sometimes we were content to lie on our backs on the grass to watch the stars or the moon as she waxed or waned.

"He had a great passion for horses. He was not too proud to seek out assistance from a common groom or trainer in his stables. His most common friend was a stableman. There was no distance that he would not travel to seek out a horse or advice. In his stay here, he often rode to the horse masters' village to learn from them. No man was beneath him who loved horses.

"On my sixteenth birthday four months later, he presented me with a true horse, a stallion he'd trained himself, Night Devotion, named after our long nights together. Mama greatly disapproved of Nivo; he was not a proper horse for a young woman, much too wild; and he was also trained only for a man's saddle, and not a sidesaddle. Papa just laughed and said it would be rude to return the prince's kind gift. It was the greatest gift Junas could ever have given me. It proved to me he truly did listen to me. He took to heart my dislikes and wants. He made me feel special. It was also on my sixteenth birthday that our betrothal became official. And he kissed me for the first time." She paused as a sigh escaped her lips. It was followed quickly by a choked back sob.

"And then his cursed brother, Midas, took my Junas' life." Her voice was filled with raw rage and bitterness, and her fists clenched at her sides as she held herself tighter. "Three stab wounds to the stomach and one to the heart. Four stab wounds my Junas suffered." Her voice suddenly took on an icy and cold tone, a cruel and pleased look on her face. "I was invited to Midas' execution. I was there as they sliced his stomach open with three strikes of the same blade he used on Junas. I was there to look him in the eye as he watched himself bleed on his hands. I was there as they shot a flaming arrow into his heart."

Cora again looked lost in herself, and Arlan felt himself go cold at the intense and cruel rage that seemed to engulf her in her satisfaction at the recounts of Midas' death. He would not want to ever be her enemy. He tentatively shook her out of herself and she snapped to attention. Sorrow again masked her face.

"You loved him?" Arlan asked as he rested his arms on his knees. "He's the only one you called by name."

She nodded slowly. "I did. I'm not foolish enough to continue a living devotion to a dead man. But there are times . . . "

And once more that night, the crackling of the fire and the beating of the rain filled the silence.



"Searching the Heart 4"