Sorrows of Adoration by Kimberly Chapman Page B

needed sleep
yourself I hear,” I said. “Don’t make yourself ill worrying for
me.”
    “I seem to recall you
worrying for everyone but yourself in the same fashion when last we
met, Lady Aenna,” Jarik said. His manner was warm and friendly, yet
his face yielded no matching expression.
    Kurit laughed. “Give
her a moment, and she’ll tell you she’s not a lady, right
Aenna?”
    I smiled. I had not
actually been about to say it, but indeed, I had thought those very
words.
    Jarik smiled, but
somehow it seemed pained. I surmised that perhaps he was tired if
he had only just returned to the palace. “From what I have heard
told, you possess the nobility of a lady,” he said.
    “Indeed she does,” said
Kurit, a beaming smile on his face. “She is magnificent.”
    I felt my face turn so
red it felt hot enough to boil water. I wanted to pull the blankets
over myself and hide!
    “Kurit, you’re an
uncouth rogue, making her blush like that. Don’t fret, Aenna—we’ll
teach this scoundrel some manners yet.” Jarik gave Kurit a light
smack to the back of his head, and it so shocked Kurit that I could
not help but laugh. It seemed that these cousins were more like
brothers.
    Kurit pretended to
glare at Jarik, who in turn pretended to ignore Kurit and instead
bowed to me deeply. “I’ll take my leave now, Lady Aenna, but should
this rapscallion offend your good nature again, simply summon me,
and I shall take him outside for a sound thrashing.”
    I smiled at Kurit, who
was feigning putting a hand to a sword, though there was not even
one there to draw in jest. Jarik continued to pretend to ignore him
and kept bowing to me on his way out of the room.
    When he was gone, Kurit
looked back to me, a happy smile on his face. “I’m sorry if I
actually embarrassed you,” he said. “But I meant what I said, and I
would proudly proclaim it to the world.” He reached forward and
gently caressed my cheek. “With all that you’ve done for me, with
all that you’ve demonstrated of yourself in such a short time, how
I could not love you?”
    My heart thundered in
my chest. That was the first time he had used that word.
    “And I do love you,
Aenna. I wanted to wait to tell you, I wanted to take you out to
the gardens and kneel before you to tell you, but I can’t wait for
that. I cannot wait for you to be strong enough, let alone wait for
spring. My plans and intentions flew away when I held you in that
cart. Do you remember that? I shall never forget, holding you like
that, trying to stop your bleeding, your blood on my hands when it
should have been my blood that was spilled. I was so terrified you
would die in my arms, you can’t know how that shook me to my very
soul.”
    He closed his eyes and
bowed his head as if reliving the moment, squeezing my hand between
his, pressing the back of my fingers to his forehead as though in
prayer.
    “Did you know that I
wept for you? Thoughts of strength and honour were far from my
mind. I didn’t care who saw me,” he said, lifting his head to look
at me again. “I didn’t care what anyone thought. I cared for
nothing in that moment but you. Nothing else mattered. That changed
me, Aenna. I’ve many times been accused of not taking things
seriously, that I jest too easily. And it’s true. You know
yourself, as we fled—supposedly for our very lives—I could not help
but pretend it was all a game.
    “But, Aenna, the game
ended as you were bleeding in my arms. That was the first time I
felt true fear, true loss. I’ve been sad in my life, as anyone has,
but never have I come so close to such misery as I did imagining
that I would not ever kiss you again.” He paused to slowly kiss my
hand. “Does that sound foolish? I feel like I sound foolish.”
    I shook my head. “No,”
I said. “I wish I hadn’t put you through that.”
    “Oh, no, that’s not
what I meant at all,” he said, rising from the chair to move to sit
beside me on the bed. He continued to hold my