Shadow Prince

Tobry hesitated. Looked at the house she had grown up in, thought about the life she had known. But there was the hand, slim and strong. Offering something unknown. And Tobry took it.

Tobry moved about the garden mechanically as she finished her morning chores. Her hands worked on their own as if divorced from the higher functions of her mind. She worked neither fast nor slowly. Her movements lacking the crisp efficiency of one interested in her work; her face strangely blank; her eyes devoid of thought.

At a glance she was one of those people too dumb for imagination but luckily also stupid enough to not know what she missed. Stuck in her tiny fenced in yard, with her unnervingly blank stare, Tobry worked. The villagers were used to her vacant gaze. The kind looked into Tobry’s expressionless eyes and said she’d had a hard life. The more pragmatic called her slow.

It had not always been thus, though. Once upon a time she’d had an imagination. Her mind had once existed in the clouds where she could be a princess swathed in silks and gauze or a gentle maid swept off her feet by a prince who made all her dreams come true. Once upon a time Tobry’s mind had soared and taken her to places where she could be Lady Tobra, the Wise; Princess Tobra, the Beloved; or Queen Tobra the Kind.

That had all been before her father had died. Before her mother had remarried. Before all delusions of grandeur had been beaten out of her. Now she was merely Tobry the Plain. Tobry the Dimwitted, Poor Tobry of the Abusive Step-Father, child who had been broken before she could reach the intelligence and beauty promised her by a bright childhood.

Tobry was so oblivious to her surroundings that she barely noticed and so beaten down that she didn't care when a rider pulled alongside the fence. The rider waited a long minute expecting her to look up. Finally the rider spoke, “You. There!”

Tobry looked up, blankly gazing at the rider. A young woman.

“Yes, you!” the woman said impatiently. “Do you have a well?”

“Yes.”

Eyes rolled dramatically. “Well, can I have a drink from it?”

Tobry’s eyes widened slightly. She would have to go inside for a cup. Inside to where he was. “Do… do you have a flask?”

“Yes. Here.” Tobry didn’t move for a second. Villagers were used to her slightly slower responses. This girl wasn’t. “Here I said!” Exasperation colored her voice as she shook the flask at Tobry’s face.

Finally Tobry stood and moved to take it. She made her way to the well while the girl waited, still impatient. The girl was not what one would expect to find riding through a small village like Tobry’s. That the girl and the horse were both of superior breeding was unquestionable. And yet there was an air to her superiority that had nothing to do with aristocracy.

Tobry snuck a look at her, unthinking. A split tunic, over breeches. Black hair pulled into a peasants braid. And one piece of jewelry, a single black drop in her left ear.

No, she wasn’t what you would expect to find riding through a small village. But neither would you expect her in a noble’s home. 

Tobry carried the water flask back and handed it to the rider. She waited silently while the woman took a long pull; waiting for another order.

“What’s your name?”

“Tobra Iominsa. Tobry.”

“Iomin Sa? Iomin’s daughter?” the rider asked curiously. It was strange to use a mother’s name and not a father’s. “Who is your father?”

“Dead, Ms.”

The girl thought for a long moment. She looked at the cottage and back to Tobry. “Are you the girl that they told me about at the Inn?”

“What girl, Ms.?” Tobry asked after a second. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“The girl who’s step-father…” suddenly the rider stopped.

Regardless Tobry blushed. “Yes.” She whispered.

The rider’s glance slid over her again. This time noting the darkened skin just blow Tobry’s left ear and the bruise on her neck that barely showed beneath her rough tunic.

“Take off your tunic.”

“What!” Tobry asked, eyes wild.

The woman looked around “Is anyone about?”

“My… my step-father. He’s asleep in the house”

“Well he’s asleep and I’m a girl. Do as I say.” She demanded.

Tobry was too beaten to refuse any order so directly given. She slipped off her shirt and stood nervously in her skirt and breast band. The woman let her glance slide roughly over Tobry again. This time noticing the three overlapping bruises on the stomach, the smaller bruises above her breasts, the finger marks on her shoulders.

“Turn around.” Tobry obeyed, and with the same rough glance the rider cataloged the bruises on her back. After a second she said, “You can put your tunic back on now.”

Tobry obeyed and turned around again. She stood and waited.

The rider seemed to consider something, then as abruptly as she had done everything else asked, “Would you like to leave?”

“What?” Tobry’s voice was startled.

“My name is Jocey. I’m offering you a job with me.”

Tobry continued to stare at her, uncomprehending.

Jocey sighed. “I’m on my way home, and I’m tired of traveling alone. Your job would be to accompany me to my home, cook my meals and take care of my horse during the journey. In return I’ll pay you a silver mark a day and feed you for the trip. When we get home you can either choose to stay with me or find another job in the city. You’ll have nine silver marks to start off with. An extra two if you do a good job. And three new sets of clothes; I can’t have you with me looking like that.”

“Lady…”

“What?” Jocey snapped. She wasn’t used to tentativeness.

Tobry took a deep breath and screwed up her courage. “Why?’

“Because. Because I can. Because you… your situation reminds me of someone I cared about once. And because I’m lonely and I’ve only been on the road for two days. Now will you come?”

Tobry nodded dumbly.

“Do you need anything? Need to say goodbye or grab anything?”

“No.” Tobry said. The first completely sure, completely assertive word she had uttered in years.

“Good.” Jocey handed her the flask. “Go fill this again. Quickly now.”

Tobry obeyed, much faster this time. Then Jocey offered her a hand. For a second Tobry hesitated. Looked at the house she had grown up in, thought about the life she had known and what she might be accepting. But there was the hand, slim and strong. Offering something unknown. And Tobry took it.

-----------------

It is weird to think, looking back, how it all started. We were so different then. So young. I had no hope, and she had nothing but hope. So much potential, where I had none. But there was that hand and she held it out to me. I don’t think I realized when I took it and let her swing me up onto her horse what I was accepting. I don’t think she realized what she was offering. We were so young. I wouldn’t give it up though. Not for anything. Not even for the Prince in the clouds that I once dreamed of.

-----------------

“Not like that!” Jocey scolded. “You’re a country girl. Don’t you even know how to set up a fire pit?”

Tobry shook her head silently.

“Blooded light!!” Jocey swore. “Come here, then. Watch.”

Tobry moved silently, as she had done all day. Watched silently. Hooded eyes cataloged Jocey’s moves, stored them away. Jocey was beginning to regret bringing the girl along. Tobry had barely spoken all day. It was getting on her nerves. 

She was not mean by nature, but she was loud, competent, and respected like-minded people. This girl was a shadow of her friends. A shadow. Silently following her around the campsite. Unsure of every move and afraid to make a noise out of place, afraid of Jocey.

“Can you light the fire?”

Tobry nodded.

“Good. I’m going to set up the rest of camp. The flint and dinner supplies should be in that bag. Get started.”

“Yes Ma’am.” The same quiet voice. Docile. Passive.

In the dark Jocey sneered.

Jocey moved to the horse, her Kalik, a gift from her parents when she reached her majority of seventeen. That had been two years ago. She took the small tent out of one of the bags, a gift from her best friend the same year, and began to assemble it. Behind her she could hear the clank of food being prepared.

She threw a glance over her shoulder, preparing to issue more orders. The sight stopped her. She turned and watched. In the fire Tobry’s hair glowed, soft and warm. Muscles, built from years of hard labor, shifted under her tunic as her arms moved, competently. Assured.

Into the pan went water from the flask. Then rice. Tobry sifted through unlabeled packets sniffing this and that, replacing some and dashing a bit of others into the pan. She took out some of the dried meat, threw that in as well. Then Tobry took something green off the ground--something that Jocey hadn’t even seen her gather. As she cut it into the pot, crushing the greens, a smell of spice entered the air.

Jocey sighed appreciatively and Tobry spun at the sound. Her eyes were wide with apprehension again, but for the first time they didn’t annoy Jocey. She saw them, saw the years behind them, and asked, “How old are you?”

“What?”

Jocey moved to join Tobry next to the fire. “I’m nineteen. I was just wondering how old you were.”

“Sixteen.” Tobry said, voice shaking a bit.

Jocey gave the younger girl a sidelong glance; she would have thought the girl either much older or much younger. Tobry’s hesitant attitude, so at odds with the years of pain behind her eyes: she acted like one that was both older and at the same time younger then she was.

“That smells wonderful. What did you put in it?”

Tobry shrugged. “Just some things I saw when we stopped.” She hesitated, but continued after a second; offering something of herself for the first time. “The b*****d would never give me money for spices at the market and then, when the food didn’t taste good enough, he’d…” she stopped. “I’m sorry Ma’am. I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this.”

An incredible sadness filled Jocey. Those lines, so reminiscent of another’s. Filled with the same bitterness and touched with the same reserve for her company. But all she said was, “It’s fine. I’ll go finish with the tent and let you cook dinner.”

It was always the same. When they got to the city it would be the same again. This was just a head start on the same disappointment of every other friendship. Except one, the one she couldn’t think about. Couldn’t remember because it hurt. And Jocey couldn’t cry. Not here. Not again.

She was tired of tears.

-----------------

Jocey woke to screams. Screams of mind-wrenching terror; terror that came from the gut with the type of force that blacks the mind and tears the heart. They came in Tobry’s voice.

“Oh God!” Jocey threw herself at the huddled ball. Her hands moved from instinct. They worked gently but insistently, uncurling Tobry and moving her onto Jocey’s lap. 

Soothing away the matted hair from her forehead. A gentle voice told her to calm down. She was protected now. For a second Jocey didn’t recognize it as her own. What she said must have worked though, even if she couldn’t put intelligent meaning to the words.

“Jocey? Ma’am? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, imsorry, sorry, sorry….” Tobry started babbling, sobbing. Tears drained from her eyes, streaked over the bruises on her cheeks.

“Shushh. Shussh.” Jocey soothed. “I took you away from that. You’re mine now and I won’t let him harm you again. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

The sobs turned to gasps. The gasps calmed to deep breathes. But tears still ran like blood from a wound.

“Come here, little one. Come here my little Shadow.” Jocey whispered and pulled Tobry down with her. She wrapped her arms around Tobry, let the young girl curl beside her, and rocked her until they fell asleep.

Mine

The word resonated.

-----------------

We were fools not to see where it would go. How could it not? I do not regret the life I lived. Would not begrudge Jocey a minute of hers. If I am but a footnote in history, it is more then I would have been otherwise. And I would rather have been a footnote in Jocey’s history then have written a chapter on my own.

-----------------

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Tobry bowed the next morning and apologized. “It won’t happen again.” She wouldn’t let on that she’d been awake for hours. Been awake, but had let Jocey hold her. It had felt nice. Warm. Right.

“Don’t.” Jocey said, meaning the apology. Tobry misunderstood though.

“Of course not. It won’t.” But a flicker of regret crossed her face.

“We should be riding into a town sometime this afternoon. I’m going to re-supply there. Get you some respectable clothes. And I think I’m going to buy another horse too.”

“What?” Tobry looked up from her breakfast preparations.

“I don’t want Kalik carrying us both all the way home. It’s not good for him. And I can always sell the new beast when we get to the city.”

Tobry turned back to making breakfast.

“You do know how to ride. Don’t you?”

“I guess I’ll be learning. Won’t I?” Tobry replied. There was a quaver in her voice. But it was smaller than it would have been a day ago.

Jocey smiled.

The sound of her voice; the loss of the quaver.

In just one day. In a few hours of one night.

Mine.

So much had changed.

-----------------

On the fourth night it was Jocey’s turn to wake up screaming. “ADELLA!!” She levitated, bolted up right gasping for air, tears streaming.

“Jocey!” Tobry scrambled over to her. “Jocey, what is it?”

Large eyes, scared eyes, stared at Tobry. “Adella… Adella.” She sobbed the name. “No, no, no. Tobry… oh God Tobry, I saw her.” She began to hiccup but continued to cry. “I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t, Tobry.”

“What? What is it Jocey?” Tobry asked, grabbing her, pulling her close

They sat like that for a long time. Tobry, arms around her mistress, rocking her, cradling her. After what seemed like hours Jocey stopped shaking, stopped crying. She dried her tears and sat up with eyes were still red and cheeks still puffy.

“I’m sorry Tobry.”

“No Jocey, don’t be.” There was a pause, and then the inevitable, “Who was she?”

“I can’t.” her voice shook a little.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Ms.” Tobry’s voice changed, became distant and servile again. Beneath it was a hint of resentment, though. “I had no right.”

“No. Tobry, no. You have every right. I just… I can’t. Not tonight.” Jocey’s voice pleaded. “Can we just sleep? Tomorrow, I can deal with it tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Tobry began to pull away, but Jocey grabbed her arm. Pulled her back, and pulled her down.

“Sleep with me, Shadow.” She whispered.

There was no answer but the tightening of Tobry’s arms and the silence of contented breathing.

-----------------

I wonder sometimes if I will go to Hell. Not for loving her, being loved by her. But for the choices I made and the lies I told. Her children argued one day, as children do, over whom she loved best. I took them to me, held them close, and whispered that she loved them equally. As much as she loves Daddy? She asked in her child’s innocence. Yes, I replied. And she loves him more than anyone else, right? He asked, with all the knowledge of adolescence. Yes. I whispered. Yes. I thought of our nights together. When she would whisper to me, call me her Shadow, her beloved Shadow. When she would place a kiss on my left cheekbone, my right shoulder blade, slowly cataloging each bruise that had made her rescue me with her lips and tongue. I remembered them and still whispered, Yes… And sent thanks to her god every day that no one ever wondered about them. The children. The elder named Tobran and the younger, Iomi.

-----------------

The next morning Tobry unwound her arms gently from Jocey and went out to start the fire. Jocey woke anyway and followed her out. Sat on a rock near the fire pit.

“I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t need to give it.”

“I want you to know Tobry.”

Tobry looked up. Set the pot down. Sat and waited.

So much had changed. One night. One word. So many bruises gone and only some of them physical.

“Adella.” Jocey’s voice held reverence and love. “There is no way to describe her. She was light. And life. We met at school in our second year. I was fifteen and she a year older. Your age.

“We had so many similarities then. It seemed anyway… Noble families, important relatives, over-protective guardians. We were both so sheltered. Especially where men were concerned. I thought, then, it was because we were both nobles. A woman’s virtue is important. That was why my parents sheltered me. Her though… her Uncle was her guardian and…” Jocey trailed off, glanced up. The raw pain in her eyes tore at Tobry but Jocey forced her self to continue. “Well… your step-father and her Uncle… had similarities.

“She hid it well at first. But things changed between us. Deepened beyond friendship. And there were only so many ways for her to explain away the nightmares. The bruises she came back from every vacation with. And the reasons she would never see me during vacations.

“We had two years together at the school, but then we reached our majority and had to return to the city. We were beyond a simple solution by then. It was hard to see each other and impossible not to, but what we were doing wasn’t just frowned upon. In our religion it is the worst of sins.

“Eventually the inevitable happened. My parents found out. I begged and pleaded. I tried everything. But they refused to let me see her. That I could have dealt with. I think. But they also went to him.

“He went insane.”

Tears began to stream down Jocey’s face but she couldn’t stop talking. She was locked in the nightmare of her memory. “She was afraid of fire. Something to do with him and her childhood. He locked her in a room with it. Lit fires everywhere. Trapped her in a circle and told her that he would burn the evil out of her. I think he only wanted to scare her. But she panicked.

“I felt it. I could always feel her. But it was already out of control. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it. I watched though.” Jocey’s voice had become distant, as if she was relating someone else’s tragedy and not her own. “I watched Adella burn. Stood there, did nothing. And saw her die.”

Jocey looked up finally. “That was two years ago. Almost exactly.”

There was nothing more to say. Nothing that could be said. So Tobry said nothing. Just took her love into her arms and rocked her while Jocey cried for her best friend and her first love one last time.

-----------------

Sometimes I wonder if I would have gone with her knowing what I do now. If I had known the truth. Not just of Adella, but everything. Jocey’s past and her future were intangible to me. Things I had aspired for in my dreams, but never thought to touch. With Adella she had the illusion of similarities. We didn't even have that. I didn't know, didn't realize just how far apart we were, though. Not until it was too late.

-----------------

"What was your father like?" Jocey asked one day while they rode. She liked having a reason to watch Tobry ride. To watch her hands on the reins and her hair in the wind. To compare the first day with present one and revel in the changes.

"I don't remember much. He was kinder then the b*****d. But away a lot. Mostly it was me and Mum."

"What do you remember then?" The days were lost like this. In memories and stories.

"Dreams. When I was a child I used to come up with the most fabulous stories."

"Like?"

Tobry blushed. It was charming in the mid-afternoon light, spreading gently over her tanned cheeks. "Not much, just... dreams."

Jocey waited. Experience had told her that if she didn't say anything Tobry would eventually continue.

"I had the same dreams that every girl has. That a Prince would come riding out of the clouds and sweep me away. Take me to a castle, make all my dreams come true. But after... well, I learned that my dreams were nothing but shadows. Shadows of a childhood that he wrecked. And after awhile I stopped dreaming at all. It was less painful then watching for the shadow of a Prince that was never going to come."

"I came." Jocey said quietly.

Tobry smiled at her then, and it was like breaking dawn on the dark of the horizon. "Will you be my Prince, then?"

Jocey couldn't help but smile back. "Always."

-----------------

She is Rakasha and I was Kintor. It shouldn't have made a difference. Not to us, not to anyone. But it did. We are one country split down the middle by religious fanaticism. Rakasha worship the Lord of Fire, the faceless god of passion. Kintor worship the twins of life and death and their never-ending cycle. Now I realize that neither religion is without its faults, or its beauties. But I had always believed what I was told. And till then I had been told that the Rakasha were demons. But I loved her. Maybe in the end that's what saved me. In the end it is also what will condemn me.

-----------------

It finally occurred to Tobry to ask the obvious on the sixth day. “Where are we going, Jocey?”

“Home.”

“I know that! Where’s your home?” Tobry sounded exasperated, but there was a smile in her voice as well. Jocey could tell, even though her back was turned. And it saddened her for what she knew must come next.

“We’re going to the Holy City.”

Tobry turned. “The Holy City?"

Jocey nodded and moved to join her at the fire. “The Holy City of Rakasha.”

Tobry jolted. Stumbled back. Her hair flew in the wind and in her haste to put distance between them. It tumbled around her face, outlined her too- thin cheeks, overly large eyes, and danced on the wind in agitation that matched Tobry’s.

“You’re…” she whispered.

Jocey sighed, her eyes sad. She had known this would come. Perhaps should have mentioned it sooner. But at first she hadn’t thought about the consequences. And then it was too late and she already had a Kintor servant. Didn’t want to mention it because she couldn’t deal with Tobry’s hysterics. Then Tobry had calmed down, let Jocey draw her out and their rapport had began to form. Jocey told herself, at the time, that she didn’t want to scare Tobry back into her shell. But then things had solidified after Adella. And it had been so comfortable she’d let herself forget. Let herself believe it wouldn’t matter. But one night and one word couldn’t change things that much. She wanted to grab Tobry and claim her; make it not matter. Make her accept it.

She was a fool.

Between the distance, the time and the two of them, the word still resonated.

Mine.

“I’m sorry Tobry. I should have told you sooner. Days ago.” Jocey waited, but Tobry still stood tense with every muscle ready for flight. “Please, sit with me?”

Something in Jocey’s voice appealed to her deepest sense. Maybe it was just her voice, maybe the note of pleading and need that had crept in by accident. Or maybe it was the true and deep sorrow and pain. But Tobry moved forward. Inched like a prey to a predator. And sat, perched, on a log next to Jocey.

“We aren’t demons. Any more then you are a worshiper of death.”

“You aren’t a demon.” Tobry whispered. “I know that. But the rest of them?”

“I am the worst of them.” Jocey replied, her voice hoarse.

“What?”

“Men are the power and woman are the vessels of that power. That is what we are taught, and that is why it is such a sin to love another woman. But for me it is ten, a hundred, times worse.” She looked at Tobry, her gaze direct and honest. Something about it, about the brutality behind her honesty, told Tobry beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was about to learn why Jocey was out alone and traveling the wilderness on the anniversary of Adella’s death.

“I am the vessel of Fire and he above. I am the personification of his power as a wife is the personification of her husband’s. What power he has, I can channel.” Jocey reached out a hand and the fire flickered. Responded to the innate nature of her gift and jumped. It seemed to pull towards her, to long to be in her hands as she released the power of a God.

“I am everything he is. I am the head of the Priesthood, Tobra. Everything you hate. Everything you fear. That is what I am. What you have been traveling with for days now.”

Tobry said nothing. She had settled, finally. No longer looked like she was about to flee. So she waited.

“I am the reason that Adella died in the fire she so feared.” Jocey whispered.

It was so easy, so simple in that moment. Tobry moved an inch, put her arms around Jocey and whispered, “I’m not Adella.”

-----------------

It was so simple then. So easy to love her in her grief. Of course she still hadn’t told me everything. Maybe she thought I knew. Maybe she knew it wouldn’t change anything. We had already committed our lives to each other. It was an honor and a pleasure to serve her, to love her and to support her. To stand behind her and listen to the chorus of Long Live Queen Joscelin the Just. And someday it will be a pleasure again. When I join her in the hell that she has already descended to. She was wrong about that one thing. I didn’t die in fire--she did. But we had our years together, a good deal more then she had with Adella, and that was enough. For me, for the Shadow of the Queen, it will always be enough. I chose my path. My heresy. And for loving a woman, rather than bearing children by a man, I too will burn. The same crime, the same hell. They say the Gods are different, but where is the line? It blurs sometimes. And if my gods condemn me for breaking the cycle, then at least I will be with her. And I have had children. Hers. It was a strange life, a strange love. Joscelin wasn’t a Prince and she didn’t come out of the clouds. But she was Love and Life. And she was mine.