Page 103 of Bride of Ash & Dust

Zarek

YOU LEARN TO CARRY IT

The sun is directly overhead by the time I stumble.

We’ve made it off the ridge and into the protection of the forest that hugs the mountains’ flanks, and we’re dragging ourselves through an overgrown stream, at my insistence. Lilias wanted to follow the paths that had probably been left by sheep herders, or possibly wild game, but I pointed out that horse hooves and the occasional giant, steaming pile of horse shit would make us too easy to track.

So now we’re walking through a stream as it tumbles down the mountain. My feet are freezing, and I haven’t been able to stop shivering, even though the sun is beating down on my shoulders. The forest pulses in and out every time I raise my head, which is probably some nasty after-effect of being drugged and then used as a magical windmill. Or whatever it was they did to me.

And then my foot slips, and the streambed rises up to meet me. I land on my hands and knees, somehow getting icy river water up my nose. Lilias is at my side by the time I stagger back to my feet, coughing and gagging.

“We should stop,” she says.

“I’m fine,” I reply, shaking the river water from my hair.

“The horse needs to rest,” she says.

I look at the horse. He looks exactly like a horse; huge, stupid, and vaguely menacing.

I open my mouth to insist that we’re all fine, and we can keep this up all day. But Lilias presses her lips into a thin line, and my words fade before they reach my lips. I glance at Syvan’s stallion again. He flicks an ear at me. He does not look like he needs to rest.

“I’m—” I begin again, but my voice fades as I turn back to Lilias.

My wife looks exhausted. The side of her dress is streaked with blood, there’s dirt across her cheek, and her hair is a dark, tangled mess.

“Great,” I finish. “Yes. He does need a rest.”

Her shoulders relax, and for a moment I feel like she’s going to collapse into my arms right here, in the middle of this little mountain stream. But instead, she turns away from me, then leads the horse out of the water, up the bank, and into a little meadow tucked beneath a stand of tall pines.

I follow her, shivering under the warm sun. She has the horse’s saddle off by the time I reach the meadow. I drag it into the shade as she takes off the bridle so the big, dumb white stallion can graze. He drops his snout into the sweet spring grass with a snort of appreciation. Lilias steps back and stares at her hands.

“I— I need to wash,” she whispers.

She vanishes over the lip of the riverbank. I stand next to the horse, waiting.

And then I hear her crying. Softly, like she’s trying to hide it.

I make as much noise as possible when I drop down the bank, kicking rocks, sliding on loose dirt, so she doesn’t think I’m trying to sneak up on her. Still, Lilias doesn’t look at me. She’s sitting on the bank, her blood-stained skirts in the water, her head in her hands, and her dark hair falling over her shoulders.

I sit next to her, wondering how we must look, both exhausted and beaten to hell. The sun sparkles on the water. Birds call to each other from the pines, soft and sweet. Eventually, her sobs taper off. When she leans toward me, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She rests her head on my shoulders.

“I killed him,” she whispers. Her breath is warm against the bare skin of my chest. “I killed a prince of Vsenrog.”

The prince. My heart sinks.

My wife still thinks I’m the prince of Dungal. My own words come back to haunt me in the brilliant spring sunshine. Everything I know, I promised her, I’ll share with you.

What a fucking liar I am.

I bury my head in her hair and close my eyes. I don’t deserve this woman. And someday, probably someday soon, I’ll have to tell her she’s married to a myth. Because the first Zarek, the real prince of Dungal, died years ago.

And that means our marriage is just another sham.

“Yes,” I say. “You killed a prince.”

Her shoulders tremble against my chest. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

“You saved my life,” I whisper. “The prince was going to kill me. Slowly and painfully.”