The Crossing (Book 1)

Chapter 11

     The late afternoon sun's waning rays were shining through Obram's bedroom windows as he stood in its center, reliving the days that lead up to Alsandair and Ayleen's death. The red and gold colors from his bedsheets and rugs shimmered up at him as he rubbed his fingers over the tops of his hands. Looking slowly around his room he turned in a complete circle, staring at the yellow and pink glow on his white walls and feeling the emptiness and loneliness that always seemed to follow. He wondered how different things would have been if he had only done things differently. Obram turned his attention to the scars on his hands and chastised himself for not killing them sooner. His father had been right, but he had been blinded by his friendship with Alsandair and his feelings for Ayleen.

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     By the time they were in their twentieth year, Alsandair and Ayleen were getting married and Obram finally hit the end of his rope of tolerance. He had always believed that Ayleen should be with him and not Alsandair. Obram would become King and convinced himself that that would be good enough for Ayleen to want to be with him. She did not know who Alsandair truly was and he wasn't going to tell her. He would allow her to keep believing that he was some peasant farmer. Believing that she would rather be with some farmer than with the future king was unfathomable to him. Obram didn't think any woman would prefer a poor life over the life a king could give. Seeking her out, Obram knew he would find her at Alsandair's and decided it was time he confessed his feelings to her.

     Obram stood by the open doorway to Alsandair's home, watching Ayleen move back and forth through the rooms, her green dress fluttering around her as she swayed to the music in her head, or so he guessed, "Hello Ayleen."

     Ayleen jumped and nearly dropped the dishes in her hands, "Goodness, Obram."

     Running inside, Obram grabbed the dishes before they fell from her hands and crashed to the floor.

     "You startled me. I didn't see you standing there. The black of your outfit blends with the night." Ayleen let out a calming breath, "Thank you for grabbing these for me, I just finished making the food. I would have had to start all over. I was not expecting anyone but Alsandair." Ayleen pushed a stray strand of hair from her face and took the plates back from Obram, placing them on the table. Walking away from Obram, Ayleen grabbed the last of the food from the counter.

     "You should not have to cook Ayleen. I would never let you if you were mine." Obram clasped his hands behind his back and inched closer to her.

     Ayleen shook her head as she moved around the table, "I like cooking and I love cooking for Alsandair. He'll be back any moment now. I'm sure he'll love that you've come for a visit. He has mentioned that he hardly sees you anymore."

     "I have been very busy in Malganadem. Preparing..."

     "The life of a prince must be very time consuming; I would imagine." Ayleen did not look at Obram.

     "It can be," Obram watched her hurried movements, "But I always make time for what I enjoy."

     Ayleen smiled, still not looking at Obram, "Good. I don't know what I would do if Alsandair was as busy as you. Supper is one of my favorite times with him."

     Obram ignored her inclusion of Alsandair into his conversation and her attempt to divert him, "Would you love to cook for me, Ayleen?"

     Ayleen looked up quickly, "Are you trying to offer me a place in your kitchen, Obram?" Ayleen frowned and didn't wait for him to answer, "That would be very nice of you to offer, but I don't want to work at the palace."