Free Akira Rises by Robyn Wideman, Nonie Wideman

did the newer laws. Akira had been heart sick. What her brothers had done to pacify the peasants she did not know, and they would not say. They had to have done something for Akira could not imagine any other reason for the lack of violence she expected after what her father had done. Had her brother’s simply bought them off and denied them justice? If only you would talk to me, she thought as her eyes searched their faces.
    Akira let her thoughts drift to the lands beyond the mountains, to the west, from whence her mother came. She remembered the bedtime story she had once loved and then hated. She remembered the other stories of a far-away place where life had been good to her mother. A pessimistic voice inside her head whispered the wonderful stories were too good to be true, no matter how desperately she wished them to be. Her heart yearned for them to be true.
    Common sense overruled. Common sense was like a cold bucket of water dumped on a glowing ember of hope. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride . The wishing time of childhood was truly gone and the innocence of childhood had been long gone before its time. The young woman looked the at the place where her mother used to sit. It was empty. Feeling sad serves no purpose. What good is anger if it changes nothing? What good is patience if awful things happen while we are being patient?
    Baron Rolfe’ voice penetrated Akira’s wall of thoughts to block him out. “Akira, with a little artifice and gilding, you will look as beautiful as your mother. You will clean up nicely. I will ask the servants to bring your mother’s dresses to your quarters. I’m certain you are about the same size. The dresses you wear are more suitable for one getting married to the church. And since I haven’t made that arrangement for you, you will get rid of them. Burn them. And do something with your hair.” The baron turned to his servant. “Have your wife take Lady Shy’s clothes to Akira’s room tomorrow. Burn all of my daughter’s high necked dresses and gowns.”
    Akira bit her lip. Her brow scrunched, and her lips tightened. Damn you! My damned dresses can burn for I won’t be here to wear them. Hell will freeze over before I will ever dress to please you or any other man!
    “You may not hide behind those rags anymore. There will be time for any alterations to be made while I’m away hunting. When I get back, you are to dress like a lady, not a damned dried up nun.” He looked expectantly as if he thought she might think to thank him for the gift of her mother’s dresses.
    Akira picked up her fork. She stabbed at her food. She imagined jabbing the fork into the arm he waved about as he gave his orders. She imagined stripping him down and then lacing him into a dress before she tipped him over a cliff with a few of his most tender parts between his legs tied to a huge immovable rock. Her eyes turned icier. Imaginings like that helped her to remain silent. He had no idea of the things she had done to him in her mind. No idea at all. In her thoughts she pictured herself coldly watching as he fell into an abyss.
    Benjamin gave Akira a warning look. He saw the tic at the corner of her mouth. She was holding herself back by a thread. When his father was not looking he gave his sister a look of sympathy. His eyes observed her white knuckles.
    The neckline of Akira’s dresses and gowns were unfashionably high, suited for a daughter promised to a nunnery. The high necked dresses worn of late were plain as plain could be. She went to great lengths to looked as plain as she could. The memory of her father cupping her buttock cheek was seared into her brain. She had taken to jamming a wedge of wood under her bedroom door at night. If he got into a drunken stupor and came to her chambers she hoped, it would hold the door against an intrusion. If not, at least it would slow him down and give her time to escape out her window. The dagger her mother had given her came in handy