Page 50 of King of the Dawn

Where my family were warriors, she was mother, and earth, and nurturer.

When singing birds came to the little balcony, I watched as they seemed to draw a sigh from my wife’s sleep.

No. Not wife. At least, not mine. I had to stop thinking of her that way.

If I could have driven a knife into my own chest, it would have hurt less than the agony I was in.

The birds seemed to regard me with the same strange fascination I had for them. They were funny little birds, with black backs, white chests, and a little blue on their wings before they were capped with white tips. They chirped, as if asking me a question.

“Fuck off.” I told them, for no real reason. The bitterness and blackness which had been so familiar to me before I found my daughter, and before I had Eve threatened to overwhelm me.

I slid my arm from under her head, and she didn’t stir.

I showered, rinsing her scent from my skin, arguing that it would be easier that way. When I came out, she was awake, stretching in the bed. I tried to smile, but only managed to pull my lips back in acknowledgment.

“You should get ready. You have a long day ahead of you.” I told her, getting the little coffee pot in the room started.

“Where are we going today?” She asked, her well-rested eyes looking at me with concern.

“It’s a surprise.” I told her, and I kept the bitterness out of my voice as I added, “You’ll like it.”

“Did you sleep?” she asked, tilting her head, and I admired the little bounce of her curls.

I shook my head, pressing the button and the coffee maker gurgled to life.

“I’ll make you some tea tonight, so you can rest,” she said with a satisfied smile.

“That’d be nice.” I turned my back to her, hiding how much those words hurt me. There’d be no more fucking tea. Never again. “You should go shower.”

The rest happened in a blur. She went, and I picked out her clothes. At that point, I was just a glutton for punishment, dressing her for another man. Leather black, knee-high boots, a long plaid skirt, and copper colored jacket that brought out the redness of her hair, and the green in her eyes.

“How do I look?” she said, twirling, and kicking up one heel.

At that, I couldn’t help but smile.

She went to her bag, and fished out a long black ribbon. With heartache, I recognized it. The ribbon she had bound our hands with, on the day she cut our palms and did that ridiculous handfasting. She lifted it to her hair, placing half of it in an updo, tying a beautiful bow into her fiery hair.

The ribbon would mean nothing now. The scar on her palm, just one of many she would bear as a mark of a life that she suffered to become free.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I embraced her, burying my face into her hair, hiding the tears that welled in my eyes. I let them fall into her curls, as I whispered. “I’m a lucky man.”

I meant it. I was lucky for the short time I had with her. For the moment that she let her sweetness fill my life. But like that flower, the Queen of the Night, the moment was sweeter for its brevity. Now the dawn of our time together was coming, and it was time for me to wither and wilt, because her perfection was no longer mine.

The urge to call this all off was overwhelming. The urge to hide her and lock her away from the world and keep her only to myself was more than I could stand. But I wasn’t Alastair fucking Green.

“Let’s go,” I said, yanking her out of the room.

I couldn’t hold her hand. Not this time. If I did, I’d never let her go. But she curled her hands around my elbow as we walked, burying her nose into my arm as we made our way down the quaint cobblestone street. We passed shops that were still closed, but their owners were slowly turning on their lights. Some were turning their signs from Closed to Open.

I pulled a little black card from my pocket. I summoned all my training, all my control, to get through the bitterness that I would need to swallow for what came next.

I placed the card between her fingers.

“This is your own bank account,” I told her, keeping my tone business and casual. Stone cold. “The way to access it is on a piece of paper in your bag.”

“Oh!” She gasped. “Thank you, but you don’t need to…”

“You’ll have enough to start your own shop if you like,” I interrupted. “You could buy this town three times over, if that was what you wanted. Don’t worry about what’s in it. You’ll never need to work a day in your life, if you don’t want to.”

---