Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Once her mother left her room, Eve pushed herself to wash and dress for the first time since she had gone into bed a week ago.
She sat in warm water and let the maids use fancy soaps and oils on her.
She undid her hair and washed it, then arranged it back and up in the traditional braids.
She wore one of her silk deel gowns—a royal blue with a high golden sash—and beaded shoes.
It all felt very strange to be putting her old life back on when nothing about her was the same anymore.
Her mother was right. She had to begin living again.
If not for herself, for the new life inside her.
She ventured out of her room. The attendants showed their affection through smiles and offers of sweets.
She made her way to the front sitting room, where she sat near the high window that overlooked the steppes and the fields of wheat, barley, and oats meticulously plotted.
Her mother sent her a special tea to help soothe her stomach.
She sipped it, but still did not feel up to more adventurous snacks.
She looked out the window, across the open market and the buildings of the city surrounding the large stupa monastery, with high white walls that formed bulbs on the top.
The view was something she’d always known and never thought to leave.
Now, she wondered what it would be like to look on the green forests and blue-green seas her grandmother had always spoken about.
But that was not to be. And so, she acknowledged the beauty in her home, and she appreciated the fact that she could witness it once more.
She turned from the window and picked up a small book on philosophy that she had enjoyed just a few months before.
She sat to read, tucking her legs under her on the couch.
Just when she started to sink into it, the wives of her two middle brothers came into the room.
They wore full traditional dressings and dripped with curiosity.
Eve loved her sisters-in-law, but she had never much wanted to engage in the social games they played with each other.
Each proud women in their own right and good to her brothers.
Eve had long ago accepted them, each taking one of her brothers and pushing Eve further down the line of importance in her own family.
Still, it didn’t mean she always preferred their company.
They came in on the sweet smell of incense and gardens and sat across from her, all elegant, colorful deels and intricate hair. “Oh, sweet flower,” said the elder of the two, “you have journeyed through such hardships.”
“Yes,” the other insisted, “tell us everything.”
Eve closed her book, knowing her short moment of peace had come to an end. “Perhaps another time,” she said with a defeated smile. “I am still adjusting to being home.”
“You do not want to upset elder sister,” the younger of the two retorted. Her tone was light, but Eve recognized this trick to force her into compliance. “You should do as she asks,” the woman pressed.
“You are right. I don’t mean to disobey,” Eve said, her mischievous nature coming back. “It is just a difficult story to tell.”
“You may tell us,” elder sister said with an eager nod.
“You know I was snatched right from the fields,” Eve began.
“I was simply tending the goats for my morning chores when I was swept onto the back of the horse.” Eve shook her head and looked down.
“It was terrible to know I was being stolen by a young tribe that does not afford its women the same rights.”
“Oh, how truly awful,” said younger sister as she brought her hands to her face.
“And, yes,” Eve said, opening her eyes wide with drama. “I was forced to marry. But I escaped!”
“Yes, but how did you escape?” asked elder sister. Both women leaned in.
“You see…” began Eve. She realized this was the heart of the question. They wanted to know if the rumors were true. If she had, in fact, killed the man who had been her husband. “As we walked to the marriage hut, there was a sudden flash of light.”
“A flash of light?” elder sister asked.
“Where did the light come from?” asked younger sister.
“I had to shield my eyes,” exclaimed Eve, “from the brilliance of it. It could have blinded me for sure!”
“Yes, yes, what was the source?” elder sister pressed. The two of them leaned forward.
“I felt the heat cooking my skin. I thought the sun had struck us all down, the sky punishing us all! I did not know!” Eve cried. “I squinted my eyes enough to look, and that is when I saw…” Eve paused for effect. She raised her hands, “The dragon!” she hissed.
“A real dragon?” questioned the younger woman. Elder sister rolled her eyes and folded her arms in a huff.
“Yes, indeed,” Eve said, turning very serious, still teasing the one sister-in-law who wasn’t completely convinced the story was untrue. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go take my medicine.”
“What for?” elder sister pried, her interest piqued once more.
“You see, if you are too close to a dragon, you will slowly turn to gold, unless you take daily medicine.”
At that point, she jumped up to escape the women. She heard the two sisters-in-law complaining about her imagination as she left. Eve scampered down the hallway, feeling the first mischievous giggle she had felt in a long time.
As she made her escape, a jarring noise came from somewhere outside.
Clangs of swords and shouts of men. Twisted struggles and booted feet scraping across the dirt.
Eve turned toward the stadium, where her father would be if there were complications.
She came to the railing that overlooked the rectangular throne room.
Her father sat poised on his seat at the far end, facing the high open doors.
Her brothers lined the walk up to him, as they did for any confrontation of consequence.
Eve hung over the balcony. From this position, she could see outside the front of the palace.
The guards shouted at each other as they came from their posts.
Then she heard noise from inside as a rush of attendants flurried by behind her.
“What is happening? What is happening?” she called as they whizzed by and down the steps to the first floor.
Unease gripped her core. She feared terrible news.
Were they being attacked? Had Timicin decided to defy the ancestors and finally wage a war because she had not already agreed to marry one of his men?
Or, and this thought twisted and made her want to vomit, was she about to see Michel’s body?
Her father looked like he might burst into flames at any moment as he prepared for whatever was coming through that door. Her brothers flexed into their fighting positions, prepared to defend their father and tribe.
Her two sisters-in-law peeked in from the door behind her. Eve saw the one bite her nails and the other scold her for doing so.
For one second, the noise halted, and the silence blanketed the great hall. Then her father bellowed, “Bring him in!”
They came into view: several guards, Khuyag, and Timicin.
Then she saw him—Michel—at the center, arms bound, struggling.
Emotions tangled through her, causing her limbs to shake. At least, she thought, at least he was alive.
“Father!” Eve shouted from the balcony into the open space, putting all the desperation she felt into her voice.
“Quiet!” he shouted back to her, without taking his eyes off the commotion at the far end of the hall.
The guards dragged Michel across the carpet runner as Michel tried to catch his balance, missing some steps and stumbling.
He looked a mess, clothes in tatters, dirt smeared across his face and down his shirt.
She didn’t know why he was here or at whose behest. Her heart ached for him, but she held herself back to understand under what circumstances he had returned.
“Leave him,” her father commanded the guards as he leaned forward in his seat. The guards backed away, leaving Michel in the center of the room, facing her father. Eve’s heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.
Her father, on the other hand, smoldered in his seat, pure fire. “How have you come here?” her father boomed, now in French.
“I escaped the cell a week ago,” Michel spoke back, his voice loud and firm despite his tattered looks. “I have spent that time in hiding, looking for a way into your palace. To have your audience.”
Her father stirred in his seat, obviously not happy that Michel had evaded his security. Eve realized that, in the time that she had been mentally tracking his movements, he had never even left.
“You have my audience,” her father thundered. “Why are you here?”
Michel stood tall with his head up, looking square at her father.
He was taller than her brothers, but they were clad in their warrior attire, while Michel had none of his protection or weapons.
Still, he stared at her father with that pride he always carried.
For once, she appreciated his arrogance.
“Speak,” her father commanded.
Michel stared at him. Everyone in the room stared at Michel.
“Speak!” her father repeated.
“I am here for your daughter.” He stood proud, noble, unflinching.
“Excuse me?”
“I would like to marry your daughter,” Michel called, his voice booming across the hall.
“I should kill you now,” her father ground out. On a wink, her brothers had their swords at the ready. “You are nothing.”
“I am not nothing,” Michel insisted. “I will be the Duke of Chevalerie, an important social and political region in France. I offer trade, I offer allies. I offer a wonderful life for your daughter.”
“My daughter has all and more. Who are you to think that you can give her something she does not have?” Her father smoldered. “You are nothing compared to her.”
Michel dropped his head. “You are correct. Without your daughter, I am nothing.”