A Husband for Deva

A Firm Hand

Father Angad's study ought to have been a welcoming place, with its walls of books and the kettle always over the hearth. Somehow, though, the big desk intimidated visitors, and the ascetic wooden chairs seemed purposefully unfriendly – the thin needleworked cover of the cleric's Contemplation Bench looked almost plush in comparison.

"Might I offer you some tea, Princess Deva?" Father Angad didn't wait for her answer – he never did – before pouring two cups of his disgusting herbal concoction and handing one to her.

"Thank you, Father." I'd really rather not. Deva took a polite sip. As always, it tasted earthy and bitter, as though he'd boiled a handful of dirty roots and winter grass to death. Why couldn't he drink cider or mead or chocolate like everyone else, or at least add milk and honey to his wretched brew?

"Good, good." Father Angad shuffled through some papers on his desk, then opened a drawer and pulled out a key, put it in his pocket. "So, now that you've had a chance to become accustomed to the married state, are you content? Are you feeling well settled in your life?"

"Oh, yes, of course. It's... nice. I'm happy."

"Mmm." Nodding and smiling, he picked up a book and inspected the binding with grave intent before shelving it. "And you're not finding your marriage is pulling you astray from the Path of Light, my child?"

The blandness of the question sent prickles down Deva's spine. "W-why would it?" A question isn't a lie. "It's true that Brialach wasn't brought up in our tradition, but he respects my faith." He tries. "We don't argue about it." Except when we do. She pressed her lips together to hold back the rambling that would only dig her further into a morass of awkwardness and prevarication.

"Ah, well, we must hope he too will hear the Call to Light." Father Angad smoothed his silvery beard. "Will you walk with me, Princess Deva? There's something that I'd like to show you. A part of the Fortress of Ilujavik's history."

"Certainly." She rose and set her barely-tasted cup of tea down on the corner of his desk.

"Do bring your tea with you," he said, waving for her to pick it up again. "We can sip it as we walk."

Deva smothered a groan.

A curtained archway at the back of the study, which she'd always assumed was a storage alcove, led to a downward spiral staircase – steep and old, the stone treads worn down with time. She had to feel for each step with her toes, since the fullness of her belly made seeing her feet difficult. She steadied herself with a hand against the wall.

"Step carefully, Princess Deva." Father Angad held up his candlestick for better light, as though that would help.

In an effort to not snap I'm trying, she asked, "I didn't know this stairway existed; what's down here that you wanted to show me?"

"It has to do with the history of our following the Path of Light. You see, in older times it was better understood that we do not wander the Path alone, as bears in the wild, but together like wolves in a pack, led and disciplined by an alpha of spiritual strength and authority..." The old man rambled on as they emerged from the stairwell, the breathiness and quaver in his voice at odds with the conviction of his pontificating. Deva gazed around at the narrow passageway, where a few tall narrow windows let in a bit of afternoon light – once arrow slits, probably, though they'd been long since fitted with thick glass. Strangely, she thought she felt the presence of magic, the pull of something powerful and familiar.

"But... what is this place?" she asked, stepping forward to peer into the nearest of two chambers.

He gestured permission to enter, seeming not to hear her question as he continued his discourse. "Consider the snow cherry blossom, made to beautify the world and bear fruit for us. It's in the nature of the honeybee, you understand, to take the blossom's nectar and make honey. But when the blossom opens to the honeybee for the first time–" he coughed "–the fragile flower can become confused, forgetting that the bee alone makes the honey, while the flower's duty is to receive pollination. A foolish blossom might begin to believe that some sort of power is conferred by the bee's attraction to her nectar, and thus becomes vulnerable to canker and rot."

The small space didn't contain much, only a Contemplation Bench and a narrow cot with a chamber pot tucked under it. A shelf set into the wall held a couple of books, and Deva took a few steps closer to peer at their titles: Penances, and Returning to the Path. She took another look at the plain furnishings and walls. "It looks like... a cell?"

"It is," said Father Angad gently, sliding an iron grille across the doorway and locking it in place. "As I was saying, in older times they understood better that newly married young women, like the cherry blossom, stood at great risk of evil influences, and might need to be brought back to the Path of Light with, oh, a firm hand. Thus, these... temporary accommodations."

Deva's mouth fell open in astonishment, and at first no words would come. She stared at the benevolent-seeming old man through the bars, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then she shook her head, as if that could clear the shock and confusion from her mind. "But... I've always been true to the Path of Light. You don't need to keep me here; I don't need a... a firm hand. I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Deva Ilujava, the Lord of Light sees into your heart and knows what you harbor there," he said, in a tone of overwhelming reproof. "We are simply keeping you safe from further harm until you've renounced the Lord of Darkness and are back on the Path."

"We?" Her voice came out shrill and sharp, unbidden. Her hands shook.

"You are greatly beloved, Princess of Ilujavik. Your former companion Jenia Nujeva came to me in distress – even after you rejected and dismissed her – begging me to save you from your dabbling in arcane arts. As proof, she brought me this."

Reaching into some hidden alcove in the passageway, he drew forth a small leather jewelry case that Deva immediately recognized. My torcha! And the magic inside her surged.

___________

♥ How unexpected was that?! Deva's separated from Brialach and locked up again, but this time in a room few people know exists... Can she get out on her own? Will her husband come save her?

♥ If you want to know what happens next, click the vote star!