Leda

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Colvé to Dal Reniac

Colvé to Dal Reniac

The Summer

My dearest parents

You will no doubt wonder how I found the time to write another chronicle of our lives when I have so many duties to perform. And I must confess I wonder myself at times, but the truth of the matter is that I write at night when the court and city sleep and there is no one to disturb me. Then I creep down the corridor to my study, I gather my papers, and I sit for hours with my quill and parchment, struggling to set down in words the events of the last year.

And if either of you wonder at my lack of modesty ˗ at the praise which I heap upon myself, or the references to my beauty or courage ˗ I'd like to reassure you now, that this was not my doing. So who, you ask, wrote those passages describing my adventures on Brennac's shore? None other than Oræl! And how did she manage such a feat, you will now ask, being unable to read or write? Let me assure you that she is an eager and capable student, and that with little assistance on my part, she contributed to those sections. She does, I admit, have a tendency to embellish the truth, but she insisted on these passages and who was I to discourage her?

With regard to my plans for bringing greater harmony and equality to our empire, let me reassure you that however grudging the court might seem, the threat of further war makes it bite its tongue. Daily, I hear rumours of plots to challenge my claim to the throne. I am patronised and ˗ on rare occasions ˗ openly insulted in the senate and ministries. And yet I refuse to pay serious heed to their petty factions and rivalries. I am the Empress now. I may be young and inexperienced, but I have seen the destruction that unbridled power, ambition and self interest can wreak. And I have no mind to let it take root in our lands again. I must admit I miss Marc's guidance. But I feel his spirit beside me as I work, and I know that I am right. And when I force the court to examine itself and to see the consequences of factionalism and disregard for my authority, it is clear that there is no serious appetite for further anarchy or chaos. And therefore I believe that for now at least I am safe.

But in truth I am not writing to you both to talk of politics. Something has happened to me: something that has made me the happiest woman in the empire. And I would like to share that with you.

Since his death, Edæc has never been far from my thoughts. I miss him so much that there are times the lack becomes unbearable, and I hide myself away in my apartments. He was a light in dark times: always so full of good cheer, his lust for life irrepressible. And I thought it would dishonour his memory to even think of another human being in the same way. It would be an affront to his soul, I told myself. I could love once and once only. There would never be anybody else.

But then I came to realise how Oræl felt for me. I was blind to it for so long. Foolishly blind. I took her affection in the spirit of friendship. And yet you both saw what she wanted, what she needed. Why did you not tell me?

I came, I believe, to understand it at last that night she killed Castor. The way she looked at me ˗ her expression told me more than any words could have done. And, strange to say, but when she told me that she wanted to return to the croft and to her parents I thought my heart might snap. I wasn't sure quite how I would manage without her. But I respected her wish, and I believed that this was just my own selfish desire to keep my friend at my side. You can imagine my relief when she changed her mind.

Over the days, the weeks, the months here, however, I found myself thinking of her more and more. In a particularly difficult or tedious session of council, I would find myself watching her. Knowing how she felt, I started to speculate on what it would mean to be her lover. Then I berated myself, for I was loyal to Edæc. But she began to haunt my dreams, and that I could not control. I ached for her on some days when she left the palace on an errand. In the evenings, we would sit and talk and laugh and then she would leave and return to her apartments, leaving me with something akin to an emptiness within. There were times when I even opened the door and stepped out into the corridor to call her back. But I couldn't ever quite venture over that precipice. It was not just, I realised, Edæc's memory which held me back. To my shame, I will admit that it was the court's wagging tongue. And the thought of what those rumours might do to Oræl. No one knows better than yourselves what can happen to those who swim against Colvé's filthy tide.

And so this tension, this yearning, it swelled within, and with no prospect for its release. Until, that was, a few weeks ago. Weeks? It seems like years! We had, both of us, stepped out onto the balcony of my apartment to enjoy the last rays of sunshine. Heat hangs over the city now like a solid weight, and it's hard to imagine those icy winter days in which we fought at Dal Reniac. The palace gardens lie beneath my apartment, and the air was heady with fragrance. From there, we could hear the distant rumble of the city and we stood listening, breathing in the dusk. I felt ˗ and this is unusual for me, as you know ˗ at a loss for words. Every time I tried to speak to her, they stuck in my throat, and so I ended up saying nothing at all. Oræl must have noticed my silence; she must have felt it and understood it. She threaded her fingers through mine and we stood motionless for what seemed like hours, although my heart punched like a fist against my ribcage. And then, slowly I turned and looked at her. I made a study of her beauty: of her gold flecked eyes, her auburn hair and her body so shaped by the weather and water. And I...I could not stop myself. I leant towards her. She seemed startled at first. She froze. I think she understood what it could mean, what it might cost, if she gave herself to me. But once started, we could not stop. I leant towards her and our lips met. It was like returning home after the hardest of journeys, or a glass of water after hours in the heat with nothing to quench your thirst. We sank together. I believe we cried too. I held her in my arms for ˗ for hours, it seemed. And then...well I blush to think of that! Of the absolute freedom and joy that followed. Of the way we discovered each other truly. And of waking up together, a knot of arms and legs, her hair spilling out across the pillow, the sunlight streaming in over her beauty.

So now, you see, it has happened. I will declare to the court that I have no intention of marrying, because I cannot ever imagine that I could sacrifice Oræl's love for what others see as the good of the empire. As you know, my heir will be freedom. I have no need to bring any other child into the world. I do not believe that it is possible for anyone to be happier than I am at this moment. I cry with joy even as I write. And I think I begin to understand what it has meant for you both to defend your own love against the odds.

Please do not tell me that I am being unreasonable or rash. You know I will not listen to you anyway. Just remember this: that I love you both, and that I will always be proud to be...

...yourdaughter, Leda