106. Rings

“I am already married,”

I responded.

“To you.”

Remaining quiet, he still would not turn towards me.

I tried to wait for him to speak, but could not.

I said, “Do you not want to be married?”

Then he turned, eyes wide.

“Edith, my gods, you are stubborn.

You must choose not to see it, I swear.

Why do you think I have spent every spare moment by your side? I prayed over you for days and nights.

Why am I here now if not for love of you?”

I bit my tongue inside my mouth, willing myself not to interject, to let him say his piece.

Rueful, his mouth pulled to one side, he said, “I love you, Edith.

I know I could not say it before, but, of course, I want to be married to you.

Do I not show you enough?”

A childish part of me asked, “Why could you not say it before?”

“I have said it before,”

he countered.

“I have said it to you by trying to think before I speak.

I have said it to you by reading to you and listening to you read.

I have said it by trying to meet any need of yours, any want.

I have said it by seeking to know who you are.

I have said it by telling you things I have never shared with another.”

I stared at him, unsure of what to say.

“The only time I had said those words to a woman, before loving you, she replied by saying ‘it is not enough,’ and I was yet a coward when I fell for you.

I let my heartbreak as a boy impede my happiness as a man.

Still, I did try to tell you in my way.”

“You did?” I asked.

He sighed and turned away, back to looking at the city.

“I said it to you almost every night while you were asleep.

No, I am certain it was every night.”

“Every night?”

“Every night since you found your magic.”

He still looked out over the balcony.

“I said it to you that night when I thought you slumbered, because that is when I knew I was lost to you.

You were so proud of yourself and I was so proud of you.

And I was so angry at Cian for making you bleed, I almost committed the blasphemy of striking an archpriest.”

My voice was timid and I asked, “That is when you knew you loved me?”

He turned back to me, eyes sharp.

“No.

That is when I knew I would never not love you.

That is when I knew I would be in love with my wife for the remainder of my winters, until my death and if spirits and ghosts exist, then I would also be in love thereafter.”

“Are you mad at me?”

I knew I sounded petulant, but he rarely showed much feeling and I was unsettled by his shortness, especially as he had just said he loved me.

Alric looked down at my feet.

He set the book on the chair Hinnom had just vacated and put both of his hands on my ankles.

“No.

I am mad at myself for being so gutless.

I should have said those words to you moons ago.

At least when I knew I had a chance of you.”

He looked up at me.

“Do you wish to know an account of this love?”

I nodded.

My husband tilted his head, eyes still on me, a crease at the corners of them.

“We met on the day of my greatest failure.

Despite much preparation, we could not find The Council of Ten.

Tintar has not been officially at war in my lifetime and though I am experienced in soldiering, I had never, none of us, not the oldest of generals, conducted a restrained invasion.

There had not been broken agreements like that in some time.

I was discouraged, defeated and so tired.

Jeremanthy advised that we join his troops in their invasion as we continued to look for your former city’s leaders.

And that is how I felt and who I was when I then encountered you, priestess.

And I never chose or told you which rumor for us two to live by, because I could not, even to myself, admit that both were true, that yes, I had fallen for your ruse and yes, I had fallen for your face.

Cleverly, you had deceived me or I had let you deceive me for a few hours.

And you had unquestionably beguiled me.

I knew that I wanted you that first day as we marched out of Eccleston.

Your face was peeking through the slats of that pig’s wagon.

I thought you were lovely.

I could not stop looking at your mouth, at the curve of your cheek.

Then I saw you swimming in the glowing stream in Nyossa, when you took your scribe’s dress off under your priest’s robe.

All the rocks and plants were lit around you in the water.”

“You were angry with me then.”

“Of course, I was.

You were seducing me and you were supposed to be my captive.”

His mouth had a wryness to it, and it was softening as he spoke, but not yet a smile.

He went on.

“I wrestled with giving you that comb.

I watched you sleep for a moment, your hair still damp.

And I could not then and cannot now resist how sweet you look when you sleep.

When Perch told me he was too big, that his horse could not carry you both, I should have assigned you to another man, but I could not stop myself and I took his place.

Even seated behind me, you were too much a distraction.

I tried not to look at you for the rest of the journey.

And then, as we rode out of the farmlands, you wore that brown dress from the farm women.

I had guessed at you having a beautiful figure, but that day, I knew it.

To me, that old dress was as a queen’s gown.”

I snorted a little, but his face remained serious.

“But,”

he continued, “I knew I could love you the night before our wedding.”

Raising a brow, I said, “The night you referred to our marriage as your fetters? What was it you said? Oh yes, ‘these are shackles to which there is no key.’”

“Such an excellent memory,”

he parried, his face still unreadable despite that mouth.

“No.

That was the night you showed such grace towards that pregnant girl after she was so spiteful.

And then I knew you were not just comely and tempting and not just brave and smart, but kind.

And that is when I knew I could feel something more than desire for you.

And thus, I was truly furious with you.

That is why I was hostile.

I did not want to fall in love with the woman who represented a mark on an otherwise perfect military record.”

And here, I smiled, because having known him for four seasons, that made a kind of Alric sense to me when he explained it.

“I see,”

I said and then hungry for more, “go on.”

He exhaled through his nose, a glint in his eye.

“Alright.

Then, and I have told you this before, there are no words for how you looked on our wedding day.

I could not remember to breathe.

I know you do not remember this, because you were as a foreigner in a foreign land, marrying your captor, likely preoccupied by your own concerns, but I stumbled through our vows.

Anwyn has not let me forget about it.

Nor has Thatcher or Perch for that matter.”

He paused and looked away.

“And then I came back from Sealmouth, determined to be courteous and gentlemanly and found you in my room, in naught but a shift.

It was really unfair.

I thought the gods toyed with me then.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head a little, still watching the lights from windows dot the city as the daylight receded.

I wondered if I would see a second smile.

“Continue,”

I said as soberly as I could.

Alric carried on without looking at me.

“And then, to make it worse, because I could not hack it trying to sleep in the infantry barracks, I had to share a bed with you.

Which was, if I am being honest, a torment.”

“A torment?”

I said, aggrieved.

“I thought we made fine bedfellows.”

He finally met my eyes, brows lifted.

“I repeat, it was a torment.

Your scent was enticing.

The shape of you was enticing.

And then you wanted to talk to me at night, so I could not pretend you were not there to entice me.

I felt as bait in a trap.

I was helpless, really.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks.

Sensing, he was pleasing me, but pretending as if he did not want to do so, he told me more.

“What else? Oh, yes.

The Rush of Flowers and your summer dress.

Which, if I am not mistaken, you wore the entire season and I never had any peace.

Then, after my poor conduct that morning, you were agreeable that night and kind to my father.

In the street, you were forgiving and you taught me to think before I speak.

I could not help but admire you.

I had before, but now I saw how though you can be fast to your ire, you are also fast to finding accord again.

And you liked the necklace.”

“What happened to my hagstone?”

He frowned.

“I threw it in the water.

I will have Anwyn make you another chain and we will buy you any pendant you wish.

Thalia thinks it contained that man’s last magic, the one who tried to summon the drakes all those winters ago.

We both thought it was keeping your right hand clenched and the drakes still drakes.

They only realigned themselves after I tore it from you.

I am sorry if you wanted to keep it.”

“It served its purpose,”

I assented.

“I must have slept near where he was laid to rest in Nyossa.”

Alric dipped his chin.

“That could be.

It found you in some way, the stone.”

“Keep telling me about how you love me,”

I urged him, nudging him with a foot.

He brought one of his hands to his mouth.

“Hmm, how I love you.

I think I admitted how I felt to myself when I took you to the watchtower to see the view.”

“When I cried?”

He nodded.

“When you cried.

I thought you were a mysterious woman who I would never understand and I thought to myself, ‘I would like to die trying to understand her,’ that that would be enough, that that was a fine life to have lived, as a man trying to understand his wife.”

My amusement faded, replaced by a catch in my throat.

His non-smile was gone too and he was again, entirely solemn.

“I did not care for that feeling, but I did not know what else to do.

I could not mistreat you because you had enchanted me.

And then River ran out of the Tallowgill.”

“Ah, yes,”

I said.

“I thought you were angry at me again.”

“I was,”

he replied.

“Until I realized that I had not successfully made you understand you could rely on me.

And then I was angry at myself.

In fact, perhaps, I still have not been successful in that regard.”

Alric gave me a look of admonishment.

“Anyway,”

he said, when I did not say anything, “then we come to the farm with its field of rocks.

And that is when I knew I was hopelessly in love with my wife.

And you were so …warm on the ride home.

You held on to me so tightly, as if Maggie was the first horse you had ever ridden.

And I wondered, Edith, if you wanted me the way I wanted you.

At least in body.”

I held my breath and now I looked away, down at my tin cup.

Alric continued and I could feel his stare.

“I was then, between that time and the night of The Turn of Trees, completely suffused with desire for you.

It was worse knowing you might return the longing.

It was ten times worse.

If you give a hopeless man a morsel of hope, he will gorge himself on that morsel.

And that is what I did, Edith.

I dreamt of you constantly.

At night, I was next to you in bed, recalling every glimpse of bare skin, every outline of your frame I saw through your clothes, every brush of you against me.

It was hellish.

It was a torment.”

“Torment,”

I repeated, sipping from my drink.

I did not look back up at him still.

“Yes.

And I had not the courage to try anything.

I bless that rogue who tried his luck with you the night of The Turn of Trees.

For he pushed me past my own fears.”

“He was very forward.”

“Did you look in a mirror that night before you left the keep?”

I did not answer, watching the surface of the whiskey in the cup.

“The tailor who measured you for your dresses must have interpreted your order as that of a woman hellbent on charm.

I cannot blame that man for his tenacity.

Had I not been already married to you, I would have ventured the same.

But I skip past much.”

“What do you skip past?”

He squeezed my ankles in his hands.

“The Gleaming.

The sight of my wife, gifted by our goddess, shredding the palm of her hand to find a child she did not know.

I hated watching you do that to yourself.

But it was a sight.

I wish you could have seen yourself.

I remember your blood running down your arm, you were running through the surf, jellyfish shining around your knees.

You were fearless.

You were so magnificent that night, Edith.

I was exultant to be yours.

Even if you had not chosen me for a husband, I was your husband.”

I had no tears left in me.

I had cried so much when I woke at the loss of my hand and in spurts of grief throughout my recovery, from bodily pain as well as from the apprehension of what life would be like with one hand.

But, had I the tears, I would have shed them and happily.

These words, spoken by such a reticent man, were a hymn to my ears, sacred, holy, an offering.

Finally, I found his eyes, returning his scrutiny.

“I was grateful you stayed with me, running behind me.

In the water.

I was weakened by that search.”

“You could barely stand.”

“I remember I could not see your face in the night, when you pulled me out of the water and held me.

I wondered what you were thinking.”

Alric reached for my cup, taking it from my outstretched right hand.

He drank from it.

“Now, you know.

And then you took care of me, bathing me, holding me, the night the trials became too much for these tired bones.

And I thought, she has to feel something for me.

You told me I was easy to care for.”

Tabitha leapt onto my thighs, walked in a circle and then sat down to purr.

As my hand was free, I reached out to pet her, watching her sides expand and depress.

“Shall I continue?” he asked.

“Yes,”

I whispered, still looking at the cat.

“Then, then, you left me for an entire week, ten days and nights to cut down the vines from that plum orchard.

And I was out of my mind missing you.

I could not wait to see you.

You can ask the staff in the earth temple.

I asked after your return every day.

When you asked me to read to you, when you prayed with me, when you drank wine or whiskey with me at night, when you spoke at length with me, I began to pray.

I prayed for you to feel but a tenth of what I did.

And then The Turn of Trees.”

“The Turn of Trees.”

He leaned forward to scratch Tabitha behind her ears.

“I will forever hate Ruskar for being the cause of my leaving Pikestully to spy on their queen and her court when I could have been bedding my Edith.”

When I looked back to him, he smiled at me, the second one I had ever seen from him.

“Worry was all I did while you were away,”

I confessed.

“So wifely to me,”

he murmured, handing my cup back to me.

He picked up Tabitha to place her on the floor, despite her mewling.

He bent my knees to slide my feet from his lap.

Standing, he removed the book from the seat of the chair, placing it on the floor next to the tin pitcher and second cup.

He moved it even closer so that we sat next to each other.

My left arm, in its sling, was on the side he was near.

Alric placed a hand on my upper arm, thumb stroking.

“How is it today?”

I sighed.

“Better.

It is sore, but I only had to drink some of the pain tonic, not all of it.”

He took my cup back from me and drank again.

“Good.

I am nearly done.

And then I have a question to ask.”

He set the cup on the floor near its mate and reached out to take my empty right hand with both of his.

“When I returned from Ruskar, I got to, at last, make you mine.

And for nearly three moons, I was happier than I have ever been.

I could not believe my fortune, that you returned my affections.

When you told me loved me, such a reward, such a prize for any hardship I had ever endured.

Every day that led up to you, no matter the strife, the disappointments, the adversity, you were my reward.”

“You are my reward for all of my hardships,”

I responded.

“I hope to always make you think that.

And now I ask you what a king just asked you,”

my husband said.

“Will you marry me, Edith Angler?”

I smiled.

“Yes, though you forget, we are already joined in marriage.”

“But I never got the chance to ask you.”

He gave me a third smile in return.

“I don’t even have a hand to wear a wedding band anymore,”

I told him feebly, feeling tears threaten, though I was certain I had none left to shed.

He held up his left hand, his ring finger bearing not just one wedding band, but two.

He wore both of our rings.

I had not noticed it.

“The guard who retrieved your hand was thoughtful enough to remove the ring and return it to me.

Anwyn reforged it so that it fit me.

I will wear your band for you.

For both of us.”

And somehow, despite all of the tears from all of the days since I survived near death, I let two more fall, one down each cheek.

“Alric,” I said.

“Edith,”

he replied and with the hand wearing our rings, he brushed the tears from my face.

“And there is a second question.

But it is more a request.

If you are to be mine, you must, and I beg that you heed me in this, cease your self-sacrifices.

There will be no more throwing yourself in front of eight other women, not in a chapel and not in a throne room when a king says you may live and they may not.

There will be no more performances of ancient magic where you are likely to die.

No more.

Did you even consider what that would do to me?”

I shook my head.

“Then I have not made you understand that your life is priceless.

But, more importantly, you have not seen your life as valuable.

Do you not regard it as such?”

Mother Earth spoke to me then.

When you learned what The Knelling was, you did not even ask me for your life.

You asked for three moons.

You should have bargained for your whole life, girl.

I shook my head again.

“I must learn to value it.

I will.

For myself.

Not just for you.”

“That is all that I want from you.

To love yourself and to let me love you.”

I nodded.

“I think I told myself that— that someone else already had your heart.

And I was grateful for what scraps of you I might have.”

“You have all of me.”

He ran his thumb over my lips and then leaned in close to me.

He kissed me on the mouth, firmly but tenderly.

“You have all of me.

And I love you, wife.”