The Grey Ones
The Open Cage: XXI

THE VASAATH

The men were fast workers—the marching Noxboroughian soldiers were certainly a good motivation to quickly finish suitable barricades. The Vasaath himself found peace of mind working autonomously with his hands. If he didn’t occupy himself, he was certain he would float away; the girl had accepted him. She had accepted his proposition. It was nearly too much for him to bear, such eagerness, but he contained himself as he hammered at the barricades.

He saw that she was shocked—indeed, in her culture, such a proposition was surely highly unusual—but she accepted nonetheless. Her yes, although being quite breathless, still rang clear in his mind. He had wanted to kiss her then, but had refrained. He had been composed, proper, and sensible—he was quite proud of himself. But he could barely contain himself afterwards. The thought of her soft body quivering beneath him made him weak.

His work, however, was interrupted by Kasethen who seemed annoyed and slightly tense.

“My lord,” said he, his voice strained. “A word, if you please?”

The Vasaath raised a brow but nodded. “Very well.”

Kasethen impatiently gestured the Vasaath to take the lead and walk away from the barricades and the Vasaath obliged, although a little surprised—and suspicious.

“I can tell you are bothered by something, my friend,” he said and furrowed his brows.

“Forgive me, sir, if I speak out of terms,” Kasethen said, “but what exactly did you tell the girl?”

The Vasaath looked at him and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She is terrified.” Kasethen glared at the general. His eyes were hard and, if the Vasaath wasn’t mistaken, protective. “I have been your friend since we were children, my lord, and as your friend, I feel the need to tell you when you have crossed a line. You are being too direct and too insensitive.”

“Insensitive?” the Vasaath spat. “My proposition was very sensible.”

“Sensible, yes,” muttered Kasethen. “You need to focus and the girl is a distraction. It would be very sensible, indeed, to deal with that distraction. But that is our way of thinking, sir, not hers.” He sighed deeply. “Physical relationships are not something women of these lands are free to experience outside of matrimony. Her name will be tainted, her reputation destroyed!”

“It was your idea!”

“Think of the strain you’re putting on her conscience!”

“They have their faith to thank for that,” the Vasaath muttered.

“But she is not to blame for it!” Kasethen huffed. He sighed again. “I could see in her eyes that she is terrified. She burst into tears, right in front of me.”

The Vasaath clenched his jaw. Mainland women were emotional and delicate, he knew that. There could be many reasons for her to cry.

“She accepted,” he muttered. “She said yes. If she did not want it, she would have said no, but she didn’t. Why would that cause her tears? Perhaps she’s overjoyed.”

Kasethen’s eyes hardened. “With all due respect, my lord, you have been giving commands for so long that an untrained ear couldn’t possibly tell the difference between an order and a request from you. And those were not tears of joy, mind you!”

The Vasaath felt anger rising. “I wasn’t forceful,” he snapped. “I made no demands! I made a careful proposition, and the girl was reasonable enough to accept it. She could have said no, but she didn’t.”

Kasethen sighed. “Is there any way she might have thought of it as an order?”

“I was very clear in my proposition,” the Vasaath muttered. “I don’t think I could have been any clearer.”

Kasethen set his jaw tight. “If I were you, my lord, I would make sure the girl knew that my intentions were honourable and that I would never force her to do something she wasn’t comfortable with.”

“She knows that.”

“Does she? Are you certain?”

He glared at his advisor. He detested when he made him doubt himself, and detested even more when he challenged him. The girl had accepted. She had said yes, he had not demanded anything, and he would not be budged by Kasethen’s sensitivity—and yet, he wavered.

He wanted to stand firm and not give in to the worry and the anxiety that his advisor brought him, but he was finally defeated and grunted discontentedly before striding past Kasethen and into the fort. He headed to her tent and stopped just outside the entrance to take a deep breath.

So, he had to be sensitive, careful. He hated mainland decorum but he cared about the girl, and he wouldn’t want her frightened or worried. He wouldn’t want her to feel pressured or forced. There was no honour in that. He took another deep breath, straightened, and walked in.

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t replace her there alone. A maasa was with her and he felt sudden anger rise inside.

“What are you doing here?” he barked in his tongue at the woman who immediately rose and bowed to him.

“My lord,” said she. “Your advisor asked me to prepare the girl for what is to come. Had I known that you would mind, I would never—”

“Enough,” he muttered. “You will keep this to yourself. Now, leave.”

“Yes, sir.” The maasa raised her head and looked him in the eye and he suddenly felt ashamed—there was no honour in being angry with the ohkasenon, either. She was only being kind.

He cleared his throat, nodded back in respect, and said, “Healer.”

“Leader.”

The maasa then left, and the Vasaath tried to calm himself. He looked at the girl and he could see in her pale face that she was indeed terrified. Her eyes were reddened, tears still fresh upon her cheeks.

He drove his tongue over his teeth, unsure what to do next. “You have been crying.” A pitiful observation, but true nonetheless.

She quickly looked away and put her hands to her cheeks, but said nothing.

The Vasaath slowly sat down next to her, choosing his words carefully.

“I—” he started, but grunted in frustration. He was rarely at a loss for words. “Within the Kasenon, we are open and honest to one another, but I have come to realise such openness could be seen as bluntness to others.” He sighed, tightened his jaw, and turned to her. “Juniper, please. I would not wish you to be sorrowful, and especially not if I caused the sadness.”

He gently grabbed her chin and yanked it upwards. Her lips were red against her pale skin, and he tenderly let his thumb caress her.

“Tell me,” he said softly, “is it so?”

She looked at him, her silver eyes dulled with pain. She swallowed. “It’s not what I imagined, I’ll admit that, but I know it is a small price to pay. I’ll recover soon enough.”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. “Price to pay? For what?”

At once, the girl seemed perplexed. “For staying here.” She looked down. “You said my stay has become bothersome for you. I do not wish to be a burden. If this is the condition that needs to be met if I am to stay, then so be it.”

He was ready to rebuke her, to tell her that he hadn’t said anything of the sort, but he refrained. He did say that her stay had become bothersome for him—indeed, it had. His desires had become unbearable, and his needs demanding. He wanted her so much, he could barely think properly—but he would never expel her if she denied him! His troubles were his to bear.

He caressed her lips, tenderly, wistfully, his eyes drawn to their fullness. His heart raced, his breath quickened, and he leaned closer.

“No,” he whispered. “There are no conditions. I wouldn’t wish you to leave, no matter what answer you give me. You could hate me, for all I care. I would still not turn you away.”

Life returned to her face by his touch, and she looked at him again. She wet her lips, and as he touched the moisture, he felt an overpowering urge to kiss her.

No, he thought. He wouldn’t pressure her. So he leaned back, released her, and sighed.

“I realise that my addresses might have been too, well, insensitive.” He grunted. “Perhaps Kasethen was right, I give too many orders.” Shaking his head, he said, “I did not mean to demand anything of you, Juniper. You have no obligation to indulge me.” He set his jaw askew. “I wouldn’t want you to think that. Why would you think that?”

She brought her hands together, looked down on her lap, and said quietly, “My father once told me that powerful men get what they want—anything they want.”

Her words were drenched with sorrow, and he sighed deeply. “And you think me powerful enough to demand such a thing.”

“Are you not?” she asked bitterly.

“I am,” he admitted. Yes, indeed he was. That he would never do such a thing was beside the point. The girl couldn’t possibly trust his honour—she had no experience of true honour, only of deceit. “But I would never hurt you like that. I swear it.” He bit down hard as he felt his heart slowly sink from his chest. Defeated, he said, “I suppose your answer will be different now that you know I wouldn’t turn you away if you declined.”

The girl frowned. “I’m not certain.”

He had been convinced that she would nod and agree and he had been prepared for it, but when she didn’t, at least not immediately, he dared to hope again. “So I haven’t imagined the tension between us? I haven’t imagined the desire behind that kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed violently, and she shook her head.

“Then what is making you uncertain?”

Even her ears turned red as she shot down her gaze. “I—” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t want, shouldn’t desire, such a thing, my lord. We’re not married. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’re not being judged here, Juniper.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I suppose I—well, I thought there might be something more between us than lust.” She smiled nervously and shook her head. “I know that was foolish of me, indeed, and that it was only silly dreams that—”

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against hers. They were soft, warm, just as he remembered them, and he was relieved and thrilled to replace her responsive and willing, albeit shocked.

He pulled her to him, onto his lap, and kissed her passionately. He tried to explain everything he couldn’t express in words with his kiss; he tried not to be forceful, or demanding, but he wanted her to understand that he held far deeper sentiments for her than she had anticipated. Indeed, he had never felt such feelings towards anyone before her. Once, he might have denied it to himself, but he couldn’t any longer.

He kissed her deeply, longingly, and tasted her sweetness with satisfaction. He touched her hair, held her tightly, and claimed her lips with intent. His heart raced, his breath quickened, and he wished to be even closer.

When they broke apart, reluctantly, she sighed and leaned against his chest and he rested his cheek against her hair.

“There is more than lust, Juniper,” he murmured to her. “So much more. Please, do not doubt it.”

She was silent for a moment, but then she sighed again and pressed herself closer, melting into him.

He held her for a long time and she curled up against him like a cat on his lap. They kissed now and then—sometimes lightly, sometimes deeply—and just revelled in each other’s arms. They didn’t speak until they had to and the Vasaath told her that she did not have to answer his request until she felt ready to do so, and that her answer would be respected, no matter what. His wishes would remain unchanged, but he would be content if she would only let him kiss her and hold her, like now.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked her as the world slowly returned to his senses. “Only to sleep, of course. I missed you.”

She chuckled. “It has only been one night! I am sure this will go very poorly if we can’t be apart for a single night!”

“I have spent all my other nights without you,” said the Vasaath, and thought to himself that he would have to spend a great many more nights without her once she had converted and become ohkasethen. “Why would I want to spend another one like so?”

She shifted in his embrace, straightened, and smiled. “I’ll stay, if you promise to be proper.”

He chuckled. “You have my word, my lady.”

She kissed him then, a light peck, and before he had the chance of catching her lips, she rose. “There is still daylight left,” said she. “We better make use of it.”

“And what will you do?” he asked and rose.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Do you have any tasks for me?”

“Not anything that you would happily do,” he said and sighed. “I don’t expect you to gladly share your knowledge of the city and Fairgarden.”

The girl bit her lip and looked down. “I would do anything to prevent violence, sir, but if you want my help for your plan of attack, then no, I would rather not lend my knowledge for that.”

He nodded. “I respect that.”

“Well,” she sighed, “if you have no tasks for me, then I shall withdraw to a book.”

The Vasaath nodded. “Very well.”

He was just about to leave when he saw the flask and the herbs on the table. Dread suddenly grabbed hold of him, and his heart raced painfully. He tightened his jaw.

“I must have you know,” he started, but grunted.

The mere notion that he would have to persuade her that she wouldn’t be used or forced was maddening—the thought of it made him quite uneasy. That she would have to presume that her only purpose was to please men, made him furious and devastated.

He sighed again. “I do want you, Juniper. Very much. Sometimes, I want you so much I can barely contain myself. It is bothersome, yes, and I replace it hard to think about much else. That is indeed a problem I must solve, that much is true, but it is my ailment. You must understand—” He huffed, and tightened his fists. “I have the deepest respect for you, and you have no obligation to relieve me of my troubles. You have just as much say in this business of ours as I do.” Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “No, you have more.”

The girl wrung her hands together but said nothing.

The Vasaath frowned, nodded, and left the tent. He knew not if he had taken a step backwards, or a step forwards; the girl was his, and she was not.