Free Duty (Book 2) by Brian Fuller
Authors: Brian Fuller
curtains around the Chalaine’s bed with a soft yellow glow. Her own veil was off, blonde curls fanned about her head upon the elegantly embroidered pillows and her hands laid one atop the other upon her stomach. She fancied that this would be the position the Puremen would arrange her in were she to die, though even in death, she suspected they would make her wear the veil.
Sleep would not come, a crowded, noisy mind unsettling her and repelling every attempt at relaxation. She thought that once she had endured the betrothal she would find some sense of peace at having fulfilled one part of her duty and having the winter to try to forget about the marriage and to enjoy the company of her friends and Protectors. Instead, she felt worse. A strange blend of emotion squirmed inside her stomach, coalescing into a draining anxiety and depression.
For one, she felt guilty for the way she thought about Fenna. In the weeks since Gen had reawakened, Gen and Fenna had spent every one of what few free moments they could manage together, their friendship deepening. Gen’s maturity helped the woman in Fenna emerge, and Fenna brought a light into Gen’s eye and taught him tenderness.
Unbeknown to them, the Chalaine sometimes used the Walls to watch them when they strolled through the castle together, read books in the library, or just sat talking in the commons. Gen had even taken to teaching Fenna how to play the lute. While the Chalaine couldn’t hear what they were saying, their mutual pleasure was evident.
The Chalaine knew she should quit invading their privacy. She knew she should confess to Fenna and Gen and apologize. Unfortunately, while she couldn’t say why, she found watching them irresistible, even though every time she did it the dark canker of jealousy ate away at her. Fenna was living the Chalaine’s dream. Gen wasn’t the Blessed One or the Savior of the World. He wasn’t destined to rule kingdoms or lead armies. He was simply a good young man, and that was all the Chalaine really wanted, and it was something she would not have in Chertanne.
Every time Fenna smiled at Gen and wrapped her arm in his, every time he sat beside her, gently showing her the proper fingering of the instrument, every song they sang together, every joke he told that had Fenna covering her mouth in shock and laughter stung her until she wanted desperately to turn away. Only she never did.
She realized that Fenna was now no stranger to jealousy. Gen’s notoriety and reputation had spread, not the least of all into the hearts and minds of young women inside and outside the castle. In front of the Walls, the Chalaine found that she was little better than the scullery maid who shot longing looks at Gen whenever he came to get his meal in the kitchen.
Deep inside, the Chalaine felt happy that Fenna had finally won Gen’s attentions, but the feeling was deep enough to be considered buried. The dissatisfaction and sense of loneliness took their toll on her mood, and the Chalaine wondered if Fenna divined her bitterness despite her best attempts to act as if all was the same between them.
Tonight after Eldwena retired, the Chalaine did the worst possible thing for her attitude that she could imagine: she used the Walls to spy on Chertanne. Watching him engage in yet another night full of drunkenness and debauchery sent her spirits spiraling even lower, and she wondered how it was that her own childhood had been one where her duty—and the rigid morality that was to enable it—were taught unceasingly, while Chertanne, it seemed, had grown up without a worry or care of any sort for duty, morality, or even a modicum of decency. The vessel Eldaloth would use to return to Ki’Hal was to come from him as well, so how did her strictness profit anything when his carefree indulgence more than destroyed any hope for a holy union?
As the memories of Chertanne’s night about town resurfaced in her mind, she threw aside the curtains of her bed and
Sleep would not come, a crowded, noisy mind unsettling her and repelling every attempt at relaxation. She thought that once she had endured the betrothal she would find some sense of peace at having fulfilled one part of her duty and having the winter to try to forget about the marriage and to enjoy the company of her friends and Protectors. Instead, she felt worse. A strange blend of emotion squirmed inside her stomach, coalescing into a draining anxiety and depression.
For one, she felt guilty for the way she thought about Fenna. In the weeks since Gen had reawakened, Gen and Fenna had spent every one of what few free moments they could manage together, their friendship deepening. Gen’s maturity helped the woman in Fenna emerge, and Fenna brought a light into Gen’s eye and taught him tenderness.
Unbeknown to them, the Chalaine sometimes used the Walls to watch them when they strolled through the castle together, read books in the library, or just sat talking in the commons. Gen had even taken to teaching Fenna how to play the lute. While the Chalaine couldn’t hear what they were saying, their mutual pleasure was evident.
The Chalaine knew she should quit invading their privacy. She knew she should confess to Fenna and Gen and apologize. Unfortunately, while she couldn’t say why, she found watching them irresistible, even though every time she did it the dark canker of jealousy ate away at her. Fenna was living the Chalaine’s dream. Gen wasn’t the Blessed One or the Savior of the World. He wasn’t destined to rule kingdoms or lead armies. He was simply a good young man, and that was all the Chalaine really wanted, and it was something she would not have in Chertanne.
Every time Fenna smiled at Gen and wrapped her arm in his, every time he sat beside her, gently showing her the proper fingering of the instrument, every song they sang together, every joke he told that had Fenna covering her mouth in shock and laughter stung her until she wanted desperately to turn away. Only she never did.
She realized that Fenna was now no stranger to jealousy. Gen’s notoriety and reputation had spread, not the least of all into the hearts and minds of young women inside and outside the castle. In front of the Walls, the Chalaine found that she was little better than the scullery maid who shot longing looks at Gen whenever he came to get his meal in the kitchen.
Deep inside, the Chalaine felt happy that Fenna had finally won Gen’s attentions, but the feeling was deep enough to be considered buried. The dissatisfaction and sense of loneliness took their toll on her mood, and the Chalaine wondered if Fenna divined her bitterness despite her best attempts to act as if all was the same between them.
Tonight after Eldwena retired, the Chalaine did the worst possible thing for her attitude that she could imagine: she used the Walls to spy on Chertanne. Watching him engage in yet another night full of drunkenness and debauchery sent her spirits spiraling even lower, and she wondered how it was that her own childhood had been one where her duty—and the rigid morality that was to enable it—were taught unceasingly, while Chertanne, it seemed, had grown up without a worry or care of any sort for duty, morality, or even a modicum of decency. The vessel Eldaloth would use to return to Ki’Hal was to come from him as well, so how did her strictness profit anything when his carefree indulgence more than destroyed any hope for a holy union?
As the memories of Chertanne’s night about town resurfaced in her mind, she threw aside the curtains of her bed and