The Grey Ones
The Open Cage: XVIII

JUNIPER

When she left the Vasaath’s tent that morning, she was still mortified by her recklessness earlier. The general hadn’t in any way acknowledged her indecency, even though he had every right to—what had she been thinking, asking him for help dressing? She was ashamed, but she did not let it show. Instead, she smiled, as sweetly as she could and pretended like it never happened.

When she met the Kamani in her tent, they were happy to see her. She fetched them some bread, some carrots, and some water, and once they were all fed, the children wanted to play. They were getting bored and restless, almost to the point where they would be forsaken if they didn’t have someplace to run and play and be children. When Kasethen joined her, she was beyond relieved to be pried away from the children who adored her like a princess.

“I see it is quite lively in here,” said Kasethen, and Juniper could see the line between his brows.

She sighed deeply. “There must be some other place they could stay? Please, Kasethen, the children need space to run!”

“This isn’t a place for children, my lady,” said Kasethen.

“There must be somewhere!” she begged. “Look at these people, Kasethen! This is a cage!”

The advisor looked about the tent, pondering. Then he said, “There might be space for them amongst the converters. They will have to build their own shelters, but someone could probably house them until then.”

Juniper sighed in relief. She knew there were converters and she knew they were housed at the farthest end of the encampment, towards the woods, but she had never met them nor seen their housings. But she agreed.

Together, they escorted the Kamani away from the fort and out the western gates. The soldiers were too busy to notice them as they walked through and soon enough, more and more humans started to appear. She recognised some of them as ohkasenon, but some were dressed in rags.

Soon, she felt as though she was in the poorer districts of her own city—only, the people had more food and better shelter. She had a sick feeling to her stomach as she walked through it, and their eyes followed her like wolves; they hated her, and to them, she was nothing but a tyrant.

She walked closer to Kasethen. “These people came to you?”

“Many of them were starving on the streets,” said Kasethen. “So yes, they came to us for shelter.”

“They would rather turn to strangers and frightening invaders than plead to their Lord…” It was a sad realisation, and she wondered how severe it truly was in the city, and how deep their resentment ran.

She had never been allowed to go further than the market districts unchaperoned, and even when she was chaperoned, she had only ever been allowed to see a façade where people kissed her feet and threw beautiful flowers at her. She had never seen the starving people up close, never been within their reach. Her escape from Fairgarden had brought her closer to the people than ever before. Now, walking amongst those brave enough to turn away from Noxborough to seek their fortunes elsewhere, she was frightened.

Kasethen, ever so watchful, seemed to notice her uncertainty and graciously offered her his arm. “My lady, you mustn’t slip in the mud.”

She took it, thankful for his support.

The Kamani were thankful, as well, to be provided with space and housing with people they didn’t have to feel fear towards. The children were happy, and it seemed as though they were acquainted with some of the converters.

“Do you think you’ll be comfortable here?” Juniper asked the old man she knew as Vincent.

He nodded. “Indeed, my lady. Thank you for all your care and help! Builder’s blessing to you!”

She smiled, grateful she had at least some friends amongst her own. She then turned to Kasethen. “Perhaps we should return?” She felt anxious, knowing the wolfish eyes kept following her.

“But, my lady,” said Kasethen, “prove to the others that you care. Help them build.”

She looked at him, bewildered, afraid. “But I… I don’t know how to build. I’m—I’m worthless!”

Kasethen smiled. “Indeed, you’re not! Come, I’ll help as well. Show your interest, show you aren’t like your father, and then we can return to the safety of the fort.”

Reluctantly, she agreed. It wasn’t as much the work as it was the hateful eyes that made her uneasy, but with Kasethen and the Kamani by her side, she soon relaxed and helped with what she could. Mainly, that meant keeping the children occupied, seeing as they simply wouldn’t leave her be.

After an hour or two, Kasethen said it was time he and Juniper withdrew back to the fort. She agreed, relieved to escape from the eyes that hadn’t grown kinder during the past hour.

“See, it wasn’t so hard,” said Kasethen as they made their way back.

Juniper smiled. “No, but the people there truly hate me. I’ve never seen such disdain before.”

“Would you rather have them fear you?” he asked.

“No,” said she. “I would like them to like me, but I suppose even a neutral feeling would be better than the sheer hate I felt from them now.”

“You must learn to ignore what others think of you,” said Kasethen. “They don’t see you when they look at you, my lady—they see your father, and his father, and his father before that. They see House Arlington, the ruling tyrants, not the fair maiden who wants nothing but the best for her people.”

Juniper smiled half-heartedly. “I beg your pardon, sir, but here, no one sees a woman as anything but precisely that—a woman.”

“You speak so bitterly,” Kasethen chuckled. “One can almost suspect you don’t exactly like how your sex is treated.”

“Don’t mock me, Kasethen,” muttered Juniper. “I can laugh about many things, but I am tired of laughing at my disposition.”

“I meant you no harm, my lady. On the contrary—I, too, think women of these lands are far too oppressed. You need freedom as much as any man. Within the Kasenon, we believe that each and every one is worth as much as the other, and one’s freedom is indisputable.”

“But can you truly call it freedom?” Juniper asked. “One is placed within a profession, and stuck with it for the rest of one’s life. how could that be freedom?”

“Well, my lady, we are all free to choose within our roles,” said Kasethen. “We have to have some structure to our society, lest we’d turn savage. So yes, I suppose we do sacrifice ultimate freedom. But one has to wonder: isn’t the freedom of every possible choice also a prison of a sort?”

Juniper looked at him, not sure what to answer him.

“A baker knows what is expected of him and what he is supposed to do to serve his people and earn his living—he doesn’t have to choose between every possible profession. Such a choice would surely be misery! A baker is just as important as a soldier, but the baker and the soldier are both free to choose within their roles. They are allowed to spend their free time in whatever manner they want, as long as they abide by the Kasenon.” He sighed. “They are free to love whomever they want.”

“Not everyone,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Ah, yes, our stern and harsh Vasaath. I understand you two have grown rather close—”

“No, I-I didn’t—”

“I have seen how you look at him, my lady,” said Kasethen, causing a deep blush on Juniper’s cheeks. “Oh, there is no shame to it, I assure you. He is a fine male specimen, indeed. Strong, handsome, brave. I doubt there are any arguments against the matter. But he has his restrictions, yes.”

“We’re only friends,” murmured Juniper.

Kasethen chuckled. “Yes, well, his attention is rarely bestowed.”

“I don’t expect to receive his attention,” she mumbled and kept her gaze on the ground.

“Well,” said Kasethen, “you are a beautiful woman, and he is a man who appreciates that. I believe you’ve had his attention from the moment you stepped into his tent for the first time.”

“If that’s the case, he isn’t good at showing it,” she replied.

Again, Kasethen chuckled. “Have you ever thought of the Vasaath as a romantic person? Of course, you haven’t. No one has, because he has never been one. Yet, he has been more intimate with you than he has with anyone that isn’t a maasa. The Vasaath doesn’t share beds with a female friend.”

The flush on her cheeks deepened. “How did you know?”

“Oh, the Vasaath and I have no secrets,” said Kasethen. “I was the one to tell him to hold you when you returned after your confinement in Fairgarden.”

She looked at him, bewildered, and her heart sank. “You told him to? I thought—” She swallowed and clenched her jaw. “I thought he did it because he wanted to.”

“Don’t think of it as an insult, my lady. The Vasaath doesn’t console. I don’t think he had ever held a crying person in his entire life before you. He didn’t know what to do, and the fact that he did indeed hold you when I told him to, tells a great deal of how much he cares about you.”

Juniper bit her lip, feeling quite conflicted.

“Kas don’t show emotion the same as you mainlanders do, and it’s—”

“Kasethen! Listen.” She suddenly placed a hand on his arm and stopped. In the distance, she heard it—the drums. “That’s the drumline of the City Guard… but why are they—” She looked at the advisor, confused. “Kasethen, are they marching? Are they marching this way?”

Kasethen ground his teeth together. “My lady, let’s not be—”

“Are they marching this way, Kasethen?”

He sighed deeply, and then he nodded. “Yes.”

She huffed. “I have to stop them. They have over a thousand men in the City Guard, Kasethen. You can’t win, there are too many of them! I must speak to my father.” She grabbed the skirts of her dress to make haste, but was swiftly held back by Kasethen. She looked at him, questioning. “What are you doing?”

“I am keeping you from doing anything hasty,” he said.

“Let me go,” she demanded, but Kasethen held fast. “Kasethen, let me go!”

“I cannot let you do anything that could compromise the Kas, my lady,” said he.

She tried to break free from his grip, but with little success. “Let me go!”

“Come now, my lady,” said he and began dragging her with him. It would have been gently, had it not been for her struggles. “I will escort you to the Vasaath’s tent.”

She struggled against him all the way. She had grown so used to the general’s strength, she thought she might be able to fight Kasethen, at least, but he was as much Kas as the general, and her struggles made no difference. He pulled her along into the Vasaath’s tent just as she heard the Kas warriors enter into the courtyard.

She tried, once again, to escape Kasethen, but he would not let her out. All she could do was yell at him. She heard the Saathenaan yell their war cries, and she heard the Vasaath say his words to his men. She did not understand it, but she knew enough of warfare to know it was to inspire the soldiers to fight harder.

When they marched, Juniper helped herself to a large glass of wine. She was still searing, and when Kasethen tried to start a conversation, she only snapped at him. She wanted silence to hear what was happening, but when the drums had silenced and when the commands had stopped ringing between the buildings, she heard nothing.

She finished the glass with impressive speed, and poured herself another. When Kasethen told her to calm down, she hissed at him to be quiet. She thought she heard swords and steel clash, but there was no great battle, no cries and screams of dying men. She saw the bottom of the glass much quicker this time, and she was quick to refill it. Again, Kasethen tried to make her calm down, but she rebuked him.

She paced the tent until she once again heard the marching of soldiers. This time, they seemed to march away. In an instant, she stopped her pacing, and waited for the soldiers to return. What had happened? Who had died? And why had she been confined?

It did not take more than ten minutes after the soldiers had returned into the fort before the Vasaath entered his tent. He seemed unscathed—clean, even. Had he been fighting at all? But she could neither express any relief nor curiosity; all she could do was to express the rage that welled up.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she growled at him.

The Vasaath huffed and said some words to Kasethen, who then left the tent. When they were alone, he looked at her. “Calm yourself. There was no fighting.”

“Then what were you doing?”

The Vasaath smirked and walked to the drink table to pour himself a cup of wine. “I swore this jug was full when I left.” He sighed and turned to her while taking a sip. “I met your brother. Charming boy.”

She gawked at him. “Sebastian? Why would he—” She bit her lip in frustration. “My father is a coward, of course he’d send a boy. Did you harm him?”

The general snorted. “I didn’t touch a hair on his head. He just wanted to display his strength, as if it would impress me.”

She huffed. “So that was what you were doing? Measuring manhoods?”

The Vasaath looked at her, his eyes bored. Arrogance flashed in his face, a feature most uncommon for him. “If that were the case, my lady, there would be no competition.” While Juniper rolled her eyes, he continued, “But yes, I suppose we did, in a way. They marched home with their tails between their legs.”

She could not suppress a laugh, but it was shrill and hid her fury very poorly. “Then why have I been forbidden to leave this tent?”

“I couldn’t risk you doing anything reckless.”

“Reckless?” She slammed the glass down onto the table. “And when have I ever been reckless? That is my brother! And had it not been my brother, it would have been my father!” She strode up to him—the wine gave her courage and the rage gave her motivation. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be useful? That I could speak to them? I, who know them?”

“And let you return to the lion’s den where they are about to chain you to your neck?” he bellowed.

“It’s my little brother!” she exclaimed. “He’s a sweet boy! He is a victim in this, not a culprit!”

“And yet he told me you were of no value to him,” he growled. “He’s a lion, just like your father.”

“Oh, yes, how gallant of you then to protect me, the poor little lamb, from the monstrous lions,” she spat. “You chain me up, just as they would have!”

“You came to me,” he barked and slammed his own glass onto the table. “You cried at my chest for an hour! Your face has barely healed since last they had their claws in you; who knows what horrors they would subject you to if you returned now?”

“Do you think me unintelligent?” she barked back. “Do you truly think I would return to them? I would talk to them, as civilized people do!”

He huffed, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring; his hands opened and closed, again and again. “I couldn’t risk it,” he then repeated through gritted teeth as he took a step closer. He leaned down towards her, towering over her, his face peering down upon hers.

“You told me I wasn’t your prisoner,” she growled as she raised her finger at him.

With a grunt, he grabbed her wrist and scowled. “You’re not.”

“Then why was I not allowed outside?” She tried to pull away, but she was once again detained by strong hands. “Let me go!”

But he would not, and his grip tightened.

“If I wasn’t your prisoner,” she said, her voice breaking from the angry cries that wanted to escape her, “then why do you treat me like one? If I am not allowed to leave, then isn’t that the very epithet of a prisoner? You won’t even let me go!”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he growled and pulled her to him, her small body nearly slamming into his.

Her chest heaved, anger still hot inside her. Their faces were close, and she wished she could yell at him even more and tell him that he was a liar, that he was dishonourable and false and that she never should have trusted him, but his words... Although sounding harsh and unforgiving, his words was like sweet honey for her soul. He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want it.

She wanted—she wanted. Want.

It was all she could think of as she stood on her toes and slammed her lips against his. She had never kissed a man before, not properly; what Lord Christopher did to her could hardly be called a kiss. This, however, was a real one. He could probably taste the wine on her lips, because she could taste it on his. They were softer than she’d imagined—fuller—and her anger disappeared at once.

He released her, startled, and she quickly pulled away with a gasp. She looked at him, bewildered, and he looked back, just as shocked. She feared she had done something wrong, something improper. She feared she had insulted the man.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, “I shouldn’t have—”

But he pulled her back to him, a ponder upon his brow. He cupped her face and examined her lips with curious yet soulful eyes. He asked, softly, “Why did you do that?”

She was confused, ashamed, but said, “Because I wanted to, sir.”

He stood still, her face in his hand, and seemed utterly perplexed.

To clarify her heart’s desires, she gently tugged at his harness to make him lean in. She closed her eyes, reached up, and kissed him again. Softly, this time. Slowly. She touched his cheek tenderly, and then he responded.

He sighed, held her close to his body, and claimed her lips the way she had dreamt he would. He wrapped his arms around her waist, nearly lifting her off the ground while holding her close, and kissed her deeply. She dared to taste him, dared to feel his sharp teeth against her tongue. He tasted of spiced wine and metal; his tongue was smooth, warm, and strong; his breath was hot, heavy, and wanting. She dared to let her fingers touch his hair, and lace with his thick braid and the fashioned mats, and she pulled him down, closer to her, melting into him as though they were one.

He growled lowly against her, a guttural sound rising from his depth, and just as she thought he would tighten his hold, he gently pushed her away. “Juniper, don’t,” he rumbled lowly, holding her at a safe distance.

She swallowed and dampened her plumped lips. Her cheeks burned, her heart raced, and she wanted nothing but to kiss him again. If she wasn’t fully mistaken, there was a shade of pink upon the great Vasaath’s cheeks as well.

Juniper brought her hands together and asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he muttered. “No.” He sighed. “You’ve had too much wine, my lady. Go rest before supper. I have much to discuss with my advisor.”

She let her eyes fall to the ground and she nodded. “Yes, sir, you are right. I’ll go lie down for a little while.”

The Vasaath only grunted before he left the tent.

Juniper cursed herself for her insolence, but could not help but to savour the little taste she had left of him on her lips. The large amount of wine she had consumed in such a short time was, however, starting to make itself known, just as the reality of the situations was dawning on her—her head was spinning, her thoughts were dull and in disarray, and she felt her balance fail her.

Trying not to fall, she made her way into the bedchamber. She lay down just in time to keep the world from spinning all too much. She lay there in his bed, looking up at the canvas, and relived the kiss in her head again and again. Her heart was throbbing, her cheeks were glowing, and she wished he would come to her and kiss her again.