Yuragwyn: Ours

---Chapter 26

∞Kaitra∞

                If stares could create earthquakes, Traugott would have long fallen between grating plates and been swallowed into the earth.  I tremble at the frothy hatred pooling over in the eyes of the Granzian man whose clutches I have so daintily tiptoed into. 

                Cyneric stands over Traugott, a malevolent smile crossing his lips.  “Bow.”

                Slowly, Traugott gets to his feet, still a bit shaky with shock and probably fatigue.  Did he run the whole way from Cordina?  A bit clumsily, he crosses his arm and his legs and drops in a deep bow.  “Madame, forgive me.”

                I draw up my head and my strength before Cyneric can speak again.  “The intruder will answer to me in my apartments.”

                Cyneric makes a rather overstated gesture of deference, and I surge forward, pulling Maxen and Calanthe along with me.  I release Maxen’s hand, grip Traugott’s arm, and march forward.  The younger elf, who offered elvish support to me, leads us to a rather spacious home, two stories, with a small stable for our two pegasuses.  At the door I turn towards the people, “A most gracious thank you, dear elves, for your hospitality.”

                Satisfied, the streets clear in moments, silently, as though nothing of such treasonous magnitude had just occurred. 

                I point venomously to a straight-backed chair in the living room, “Sit, Traugott.” 

                I take my pack from Maxen and go in search of a room, any room, in which to change out of this ball gown and into something I can think clearly in.  Emotions war within me, and my mind still reels from those terrifying words- all of them.  They call me Madame; they call Maxen Master; they call me Maxen’s flower.  Now Traugott is but a prisoner in my home- palace.  I am the leader of a rebellion.

                This is not how this was supposed to work. 

                I trace the embroidery in my dress again as I lay it on the bed and crown it with the circlet.  It reminds me a bit of the first time I set foot in a closet in Yuragwyn.  Then, I thought nothing could be worse, but now I would give anything to be back there, without fear of armies or war or death. 

                “Kaitra,” Calanthe whispers, rapping gently on the door, “are you alright?” 

                I muster up my courage and go out to face my- oh what is he to me now anyway?  Traugott hangs his head as I return, but already I can see the swelling, purpling bruise bulging from his cheek bone.  His hair is matted and a bit muddy, as are his clothes, but as much is to be expected of a soldier here, for showers are few and far between on the nearly empty plains and deserted mountains.  He seems older now, though, and more mature, more like an adult.  Little white scars line his dark arms, evidence of years in the military.  There must be many more lacerating his heart. 

                “Traugott, look at me,” I say calmly.  I want to see his eyes, to search for his feelings. 

                He looks up at me, eyes murky and brimming with emotions.  Again, they remind me of someone’s, but so many faces have come and gone in the last half year that they blur together. 

                All the fear, all the confusion, all the hurt: they all come crashing down on my shoulders, and the tears I have held back for so long begin to fall, slowly at first, but then quickening and quickening until I can see nothing except a river and feel a vague sensation of arms holding me tightly.