A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Steffen sat on the top of the mountain ridge, on a small plateau, looking out at the countryside spread out below, and, still reeling from his encounter with his family, wiped away a tear. After instructing the royal caravan to wait down below, he had hiked up here, alone, to this spot he remembered as a child, the spot he would always come to be alone. The ridge, made of rocks and gravel, climbed steeply into the air, the crater at the top now a small, shallow reflecting pond, with a radius of perhaps twenty feet. It was a quiet, empty place, a place to reflect with nothing but sky, rocks, water, and wind.

A gust of wind pushed back his hair, and Steffen looked down at the rippling waters, reflecting the two suns in the sky. Being up here brought back his childhood. Too many times he’d come up here to get away from all of them, to stare into these waters and hope to see a different person staring back. A person who was not disfigured. A person with a perfect body and perfect shape, like all of the others. A person who was tall and strong and broad; a person his father could be proud of.

Usually, after a certain point, he’d stop looking. He’d look away instead, disappointed in himself, as usual, and understanding why others were disappointed in him, too.

This time, as he sat there, Steffen forced himself to keep looking, to stare into the waters. He saw his crooked shape, his short height, and he examined himself carefully. He did not have the good looks of all the others; and yet, this time, he also saw something else. He saw that his eyes, a light cream, were not terribly unattractive; neither was his auburn hair, thick and wavy, falling past his ears. If it were not for his shape, his body, he was not the ugliest man in the world.

When he looked into his face, he saw a face too big for his body—but he also saw a long, strong jaw and chin, saw a man who was proud and determined. A man who would not let others keep him down. A man who would not treat others the way he had been treated. Steffen took pride in that. He had a bigger heart than all of them, than all of those cruel people down in that village. It made him wonder: who, indeed, was the misshapen one? Why did he empower those people?

He would never have his family’s approval, but he could live with that. His own approval, he was starting to realize, could be enough.

“Steffen?” came a voice.

Steffen wheeled, surprised anyone else was up here—and even more surprised to see a beautiful woman standing there, perhaps twenty, wearing the simple garb of the villagers.

She looked down at him sweetly, not with the hate of the others, the same sweetness he’d detected in her voice. Very few people spoke to him in that sort of tone, kind and compassionate. He stared up, blinking, and wondered for a moment who she was.

“Do you not remember me?” she asked.

Steffen examined her closely. Her face was beautiful, her eyes almond-shaped, her jaw and cheekbones chiseled, with big wide lips, light brown eyes, and light brown hair to match. She was tall and thin, and as he examined her, he noticed her right hand was missing two fingers.

His eyes lit with recognition as it all flooded back to him.

“Arliss?” he asked.

Arliss nodded sweetly, and smiled.

“May I sit with you?” she asked.

Steffen looked up at her in wonder. He could barely catch his tongue. He could hardly comprehend how long it had been since he’d seen her, how beautiful she had become—and the fact that she had come all the way up here and actually wanted to sit with him. He looked up at her, wide-eyed with shock.

“When was the last time I saw you?” he asked, reeling.

She smiled sweetly.

“When we were six,” she said.

He looked at her, flabbergasted.

“You have grown,” he said.

She laughed.

“As have you.”

He blushed, not knowing what else to say.

Steffen had never forgotten her. Growing up, Arliss had been the only one in his village who had been kind to him. Perhaps it was because she had been missing two fingers—imperfect, like him, it made her understand; the others had been cruel to her, too. But Steffen had always seen her as beautiful—the most beautiful girl in the village—and had always been so grateful for her kindness. Indeed, it had been the one thing that had sustained him up to the time he’d left, had taken away his darkest moments. He had never forgotten her, and had always wondered if he would ever see her again.

“May I sit with you?” she repeated.

Steffen remembered himself; he immediately slid over, making room for her to sit beside him.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked.

“Word spread you’d come to town, and I figured this is where you would be,” she replied.

Steffen sighed and shook his head.

“Some things never change,” he said.

“Did you see your family, then?” she asked.

He nodded, looking down.

“I should have known better,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, understanding in her voice, knowing everything immediately, as she’d always had. She understood all too well.

“I do not live near here anymore,” he said. “I live in King’s Court now. I serve the Queen.”

“I know,” she said, smiling back at him. “Word spreads quickly here.”

Steffen smiled.

“I forgot. The houses in this town have no walls.”

She laughed, a light carefree sound that restored Steffen, made him forget his woes.

“You coming through here with that royal entourage is probably the most exciting—and humiliating—thing that has ever happened to this excuse of a village. I think they’re all sitting down there in shame right now—at least, I hope they are.”

Steffen frowned.

“It is not my intention to shame anyone,” he said, humbly. “I came here because the Queen sent me. Otherwise, I never would have again.”

Arliss laid a hand on his wrist.

“I know,” she said, reassuring. “I know who you are. We grew up together. I’ve never forgotten you.”

Steffen turned and looked at her, and he saw her staring back at him with eyes filled with love and compassion. No one had ever looked at him that way before, and his heart began to pound. Was it possible? His entire life, Steffen never received the gaze of a woman’s affection; he’d had no idea what it felt like. But now, unless his eyes were deceiving him, he thought he was seeing exactly that.

“I never forgot you either, Arliss,” he said. “I assumed you’d grown up and gone away. That you’d likely married some local lord.”

Arliss laughed.

“Me? Marry a lord? Are you crazy?”

“And why not? You were the most beautiful woman in this village.”

Arliss blushed.

“In your eyes, perhaps. Not the eyes of the others. In their eyes,” she said, holding up her hand missing the fingers, “I’m a freak.”

Now Steffen laughed.

“And I am not?” he countered.

Arliss laughed back, and they laughed together. It felt so good to Steffen to laugh, something he rarely did, and all the tension of the day began to dissipate. Just sitting next to Arliss made him feel good. Someone who actually cared for him; someone who shared something with him, who was equally oppressed by this place; someone who understood.

“So?” Steffen asked. “Did you ever marry?”

Arliss shook her head, looking down.

“It is a small village. Not many men to choose from. Not that any man here ever looked at me with anything but scorn.”

Steffen felt himself surge with hope upon hearing she was unwed.

“Would you like to leave this place?” he asked.

It was the boldest thing he’d ever said, and the words just poured out of his mouth, without his even taking a moment to think of what he was saying. They just felt right. Arliss was clearly trapped here, and Steffen wanted to free her from this bondage, from this awful place of small-minded people. Yet if he had given it some thought, he probably would not have worked up the confidence to ask her. But it was more than just that; he also, as he’d always had, loved her.

Arliss looked at him, her eyes wide in surprise and wonder.

“And how might I do that?” she asked.

“You can come with me,” he found himself saying, his world a blur as he was speaking, the words stumbling out, changing his life, and hers, forever. “Come with me to King’s Court. You can stay in King’s Castle. There are many rooms.”

“I’m sure the Queen would love that,” she said, sarcastic.

Steffen shook his head.

“You don’t understand. I am one of the Queen’s right hands. If I ask for something—and I never ask for anything—she would grant it. More than that, she sees through people. She would see your good nature. She would love you. I’m certain of that. In fact, she would be happy to have you there.”

Arliss’ eyes flooded with tears, and she laughed as the tears slid down her face. She wiped them away quickly and looked away, then right back at Steffen.

“No one has ever spoken to me the way you have,” she said. “I do not know whether to believe it. I’m so used to being made fun of.”

“As am I,” he said.

Steffen realized he needed to let her know how serious he was.

He rose and held out a hand, looking down earnestly. Slowly, hesitantly, Arliss took it.

“Those days are behind you now,” he said. “Never, in my presence, shall you be made fun of again.”

Arliss rose, holding Steffen’s hand, and looked into his eyes, long and hard. They each held the stare, and Steffen felt himself getting lost in her eyes, lost in another world, lost in something greater than himself—something he had never experienced before.

Arliss did not look away, and Steffen, suddenly, found himself overcome with emotion, and leaning in to kiss her.

Arliss did not back away. Instead, she waited, and at the last second, she leaned in, too, her lips trembling on his.

They kissed, the first time Steffen had ever kissed a woman, and to him it felt like it lasted forever. When it was over, he felt like a changed man. He felt he understood what love meant.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said, unsure. “I did not mean to be too forward.”

Arliss looked down, squeezed his hand, and held it tight. Then she looked back up and smiled.

“Nothing,” she said, “has ever made me happier.”