The Summer Child

"Yes, but wouldn't you leave, if you could?" There was something in the way that he searched her face that she did not understand.

"Leave all this? Everything I've worked for? If I hadn't come here...none of this would have ever happened. Without..." she stopped herself. She had been about to say without him. "I couldn't have done all this..." the branches above them were filled with birds, swooping and diving and singing. Smiling up at them, she found respite from the intense

"If I asked you to go away with me, would you come?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Then she looked down. "I'd have to think about it."

At this, Hunter turned away for a moment. He had been leaning toward her, his chest almost touching he knees. Now he whirled around on one boot heel, scratching his head and mussing his beautiful hair.

Kyri had already started to slide down from the branches' fork when he whirled around again, "But Kyri, you don't belong here. This place isn't your home."

"Take me back," she told him without meeting his eyes.

He tried one more time, catching her arm as she would stride away towards the horses. Circ, nearby, stood up with a low rumbling sound, not quite a growl. Hunter took his hands from her and backed away for his benefit. "Why would you stay here? What would keep you?"

"It's not what, it's who," she said, risking a little honesty.

"Who would keep you here?" Hunter's face was a mixture of questions and disgust as he threw a hand out to showcase the land. All around them, the sound of insects rose and fell with a whining hum, like the land was breathing. "This is nothing to the Summerland, the place of your birth. Your home."

"Why do you say these things?" Kyri asked suddenly, turning to him. On the handsome face she caught frustration and, before his expression evened out and he tucked it away, a touch of ruthlessness.

"Dear beauty," he said softly, "I want you to be happy."

"Then take me home," she, not liking what she felt to be false tenderness, strode on towards her mare.

He followed. "How it pains me that you must call that place home. In all of this you think too little of yourself."

"There is no joy in thinking about myself," she said.

"Well then," his tone was sharper, "What about your mother?"

Kyri sucked in her breath as if she had been cut. Not waiting for help, she stepped up to the saddle and was quickly off in one brilliant movement. Circ ran on ahead, but the princess had overtaken him before she and the horse pounded into the palace courtyard. That afternoon, it was full of both crates of goods and those who handled them, as well as a good contingent of the king's men to guard over all proceedings. All attention was on the mare as she stopped in a cloud of dust. Close by the open gates, a circle of men were

"Have a good ride, princess?" one of them called. It was Piper, leaning on a large sparring staff and looking at her knowingly.

"Yes, thank you," Kyri dismounted, flushed and bright eyed. Down the road, she could hear Hunter following at a gallop. She gave the mare a smug smile as their partners on the outing arrived.

"How are you passing the day?" Kyri asked, ignoring Hunter and the twinkle in Piper's eyes.

"Sparring, my lady," the answer came from one of the group of men, still paused in their activity gaze on her. She felt suddenly shy as she realized all the men were gathered in a fight ring, with the mood wild with the excitement and action that must have just taken place. A few previous contenders were already dusty, stripped to their breeches, bare muscles polished in sweat or even blood.

"Does us good to have something to do. Keeps us in fighting shape," she was told, and she blinked. The speaker was the king. He stood among the taller of the group, and, though not as thick as some, his strength was obvious in the muscles of his arms and chest.

"Who's next?" Hunter approached. There was a still a surly note to his voice. Kyri tried not to stand too stiffly, but he walked past her, into the circle, to face the king.

"My good knight," the king inclined his head politely, though Hunter gave him none of the greeting deserved of a king. "I have just faced my first challenger." He grinned up at a giant of a man, and Kyri stared in disbelief. The giant was a head taller and half a times more wide, with arms like small barrels, covered in dust.

"Petra here showed me how to break a farmer's hold," the king went on easily, and Kyri noted the brown cloth of the man's trousers, marking him as a landowner and not a warrior. The burly man smiled back at the king, looking down and showing a missing tooth.

"My lord is quick but I have a good hold," he said in a happy drawl, "comes from carrying pigs." He laughed with a sound like the boom of a drum, and the king laughed along with him. His forehead bore streaks of sweat, she noticed, but he was not dusty from the ground.

"Perhaps you should try a warrior opponent," Hunter said loudly, stepping further into the ring. The men fell silent. Hunter regarded them all with a disdaining sweep of his eyes, and then faced the king, "I have not met a worthy challenger since arriving in North country," his tone was dismissive, bordering between seriousness and jest. "Unless," he smiled a little, but his smile was not as light hearted as the rest, "you would rather play the part of a pig."

A few of the men muttered angrily; one or two rose from their squatting spectator position. But the king was calm, standing with hands easy at his side even though his eyes never left the knight Hunter's face. It seemed a long pause before he said,

"You were gone a long time, and time has changed you, Hunter. It is good you have returned. And yes, I am ready for your challenge." He waited while Hunter shrugged off his finer coat. When the two men finally faced each other, slightly at a crouch, Kyri saw they were evenly matched in height and weight. Hunter, in fine breeches and unspoiled shirt, seemed the kinglier of the two, and his muscles were larger, if slightly softened from time spent in the summer land. The king looked like a plainly clad pauper and his bare-chested body was lean and hungry compared with Hunter's build. The king's lips formed a slight curve as he faced his opponent. Kyri found she had forgotten to breathe.

Then Piper gave the signal and almost too quickly the men dashed at each other. With surprising savagery, Hunter slammed into the king, seeking to knock him immediately to the ground where it would be a matter of pinning the opponent. The king, warmed to the exercise and lithe, wriggled and shied away, eluding the brunt of the force and looking for an opening.

"Come coward, fight!" Hunter cried, and the onlooker's shout's quieted at the insult. Their cheers turned savage. They wanted to see the knight put down.

"There's a fine lord for ya—a real sportsman. Dirty his clothes a little!"

But the king would have none of it. Feinting as nimbly as a boxer, he slipped away again and again, baiting Hunter's attacks. Angry now, Hunter rushed him, and caught the king as there was a collected gasp from the encircling audience. Kyri found herself swept along in their calls. Beside her was Piper, calmly calling plays.

"Hunter wants a wrestling match. But the king is playing the wearing game—an interesting move considering Hunter's fresh and he's not."

Kyri barely heard him. The knight had the king locked and the tanned muscles looked impressive in their hold. They were both still standing. But too quickly for the eye to watch, the king gave him the slip and was free, while Hunter staggered on a bent leg.

"A touch, a touch!" Piper was excited now. "The king has jarred the other's leg. If Hunter falls this match is done."

But Hunter would not fall. The king, quick as a wolf turning on an injured beast, whipped around and tackled him, bringing him to the ground. The cries of the men turned into a hush as the tussle in the dirt wore on.

Piper whispered, "It's a thinking man's time now. You look your opponent in the eye and see his weakness. Then, you go for it."

Kyri could make sense of none of it, but watched the men's legs flex and seek holds along with their bulging arms. Both had faces like beasts ready to gnaw at prey.

"Oh, come on," she cried out in the pressure, and then the king snapped around the other way. Hunter unbalanced and before he knew what had happened the king had pinned him to the dust.

"Yes," Kyri cried before she thought.

"A good move, a wolfish move," murmured Piper. The king was already standing, looking modest and mild in triumph. The men were ecstatic. Kyri, suddenly conscious of her burning cheeks, muted her celebration. She hung back, which is why she, of all of them, saw the savage look stride across Hunter's face, just before came to his feet and pushed away towards the king's unprotected back.

"Look out," she shrieked.

"A knife!" someone bellowed, and it was the pig farmer. The giant waded it, pushing others aside and pinning Hunter's arm against the farmer's own body. The blade was plain to see, glittering in Hunter's hand.

Slowly, the king approached him.

"Let him go," he commanded the farmer, never taking his eyes off Hunter. The farmer didn't move; the grip on Hunter's arm was white.

"Obey me, man," the king said, still looking at Hunter. "I trust him."

Once released, Hunter shook his arm. The anger on his face was gone, replaced by a rueful, joking grin. "There are different rules in the Summerland," he said by way of excuse. The king said nothing. Slowly, Hunter handed him the knife. With great care, the king examined it and then handed it back.

"I trust you," he said again, holding the knight's eyes. Hunter, looking cowed, gave a nod.

"Alright, you lazy lads, back to work," Piper called out. "Move these crates on before nightfall and there's fine wine for you all. My lord," he turned and broke into the silent conversation between the king and the knight, "will you escort the princess back to her berth?"

"I can go myself," Kyri did not want to face the stares of the men as they remembered she was there. But before she could collect the reigns of her mare the king had taken them, and was ushering her to the palace. She strode quickly.

"That was an interesting game," she babbled, and wished she had the courage to stay silent.

"It was," the king was polite. Kyri wondered if she realized it was no game.

"Hunter is a passionate fighter."

"Your cheers were of great worth to him," he said.

They had reached her rooms. She halted, wondering if she should tell him it had not been Hunter she cheered. The king was waiting for her to turn and go; he was dirty and tired, no doubt ready for the care of servants. But still she paused, holding him there.

"I wanted to say," she began awkwardly, "that the Summerland is beautiful. And my childhood was beyond compare."

At this the king was tense, as if steeling himself for an opponent's weapon that he could not turn aside.

"But," she said, "I would trade a lifetime there for a year in North country."

"A full year," the curve was around his lips again and she realized he was trying to smile. "including winter?"

"Including winter," she said.

"You are kind, princess," he said.

She nodded and ducked her head. There didn't seem to be anything more she could say. Why did she linger?

"You must be tired from your ride," the king said. "I leave you now. Good evening."

She nodded again, and went in, and wondered why she suddenly felt so miserable. Silly child, she told herself, babbling on while the man's desperate to get away, get clean. She called a maid to do the same, turned her mind to mundane things. She did not know that the king, instead of going to his chambers, went straight to the stables to find River, and rode and rode as far as halfway to exhaustion, and still, facing the sky raving with glorious light, called down curses on himself.

*

It wasn't until late, long past moonlight in the princess' quiet room, that Kyri lay awake and restless. After a time she got up and lit a fire, and when Circ came to comfort her, stroked his shaggy coat.

"Oh, Circ," she said and looked into his familiar eyes. His patterned fur, so like a wolf's, seemed creased with concern. In his long jaw and lean look, she saw the wildness that was the wolf inside him. And then she remembered the look of the king, standing beside Hunter in plain, unashamed vigor and strength. A man who would weigh the costs, and then take action, and let the consequences fall on himself as leader. And then there was Hunter, charming, suave, and spoiled. And spoiling for a fight.

"I don't know what to do." She leaned back in exhausted thought. He licked her face in sympathy as if he could wash the dark circles under her eyes away. As the night wore on she hung on to him, overwhelmed by the questions Hunter did and did not ask, her mind spinning with them all until she felt drained. She could give no answers to him or herself or anyone, even when she realized all the questions came down to one.

How can you love someone you hate?

*

Weeks passed. Midsummer fast approached, and the harvests taken in were so many hired men from the Summerland came to help take it in. The king himself supervised, sometimes even dismounting from River to lend a hand. Folks slept well, and ate better. But the king remained serious, never sharing the laughter of his people. The first bottles from the vineyards were already available; the grapes had aged so well, the head gardener told everyone a miracle had visited the place. The wine was presented at a private feast for the king's riders, the warriors in black. They drank merrily, toasting him often. He toasted as well, but otherwise ate little and drank less. Only Piper the scout kept his head and an eye on his liege. An hour to dawn, the others had fallen asleep, and Piper followed on cat feet as the king left the room, taking the garden route to the east. Around the arbor were the princess often walked, Piper lost sight of him. But there were footsteps in the wet grass; these he followed until he came to the little gate to the princess' private lawn. It was unlatched. Like a shadow, he went through, and beyond, over the clover, violets and the beds of lavender to the window near the terrace. There the king stood.

"My lord, how often do you come here?"

When the king spoke it was a bare, hoarse whisper. "Every day," he said.

"And does she know?"

"No. She never sees me."

Piper spoke gently, as gently as an old scarred warrior could, "Why don't you tell her?"

"I cannot. She hates me. What other feeling could she have? I brought her to this place. I began the evil."

"What I see is not evil. This is not evil," Piper gestured around to the green, the hedges, and beyond, the first light of dawn. "You have much to offer her."

"I have nothing. There is no reason that, if given the choice, she would stay." The darkness fell on a bleak face as the king raised it. "There is no hope."

*

"Princess!" it was Piper, striding over the meadow to see her. Circ met him halfway; the wolf hound loved the old warrior, who had often fed him when he was a puppy. Now the dog could knock him over, and often nearly did, as he greeted him with enthusiasm.

"I did not know you were here!"

"I was out on business with the king. We went from coast to coast to take harvest census."

At mention of the king the princess seemed to grow older. "Well," she said seriously. Then, more winsomely, "I have missed you, my favorite guard. I knew you would see me the moment you returned, to chase me back to my quarters! I am returning, Piper," she laughed, gathering her skirts and coming along. "Do not worry."

"I was not, princess. I merely give you a message. The king is waiting for you in the purple arbor."

A subtle change occurred in the woman's face. Despite tan and freckled skin, she seemed a touch paler. "For me?"

"Yes, my lady. Please go to him; he cannot wait."

Mutely, she picked up her skirts higher and trotted faster. Piper escorted her, wondering what he should read in the serious look on her face. "He has been looking forward to this meeting," he offered. "He often thinks of you, and speaking to you. I know he has been sullen these past few weeks because he was too busy to visit." Piper smiled to himself as something close to fear, close to hope, flitted across the woman's face.

When they came to the meeting place Kyri slowed apprehensively, seeing the king's dark figure among the wisteria vines.

"Do not be afraid," Piper encouraged. "Go to him." He caught Circ's collar before he could gallop along behind, though he was dragged along a good few paces for his trouble. "Stay here, you mutt. This is too important."

Kyri entered the arbor tentatively. The king was looking out past the trellis, across the new shorn fields.

"Princess," he nodded. She found herself wishing she was not in an head scarf and grass-stained summer gown, and kept her hands from plucking at them. The king seemed in no hurry to speak, so she waited.

"My lord?" She finally broke the silence.

"I called you here because I thought it was time for us to meet again. We have not spoken long since...that night in the forest. This time, I thought of your comfort and tried to choose a place that was familiar," he waved a hand towards the place he had come, the entrance to her garden and rooms.

"Ah, thank you," she said, when he seemed to pause for a response. "That is kind. I hope you also feel comfortable in this place. It is, after all, your palace."

"Yes." The silence stretched longer this time.

"My lord, would you like to walk with me? The night is coming, and it is cool. We need not go far."

"Very well," he seemed almost afraid to say yes, but did hold out his arm for her. She took it, surprised at her realization. Is he nervous?

They walked slowly. Dusk had fallen by the time they rounded the corner out of the arbor. They followed the path away from the palace, down a few terraced herb beds. There were fireflies dancing like magic lights all around.

Even though her fingers touched him, the princess felt the man was far away. What is he thinking? What am I thinking? Where shall we go when this walk has ended?

They came along the side of a hill, between terraces. Further down where the stakes for the new grapes and raspberries. The y stopped to watch the sunset. When the final bit of light glimmered away, Kyri turned to him. "My lord, I must ask you. Why did you wish to speak to me?"

Like a woman, she speaks her mind. He looked at her new mature beauty, his heart twisting. "It is a question I have longed wished to ask you." He tried to say her name, and found he couldn't. "Princess..."

"Yes?"

"What do you desire?"

"What?"

"You have done more than I could have asked for, more than I could have imagined. I am grateful. On behalf of my people, I wish to thank you." He swallowed hard. "So I must ask you, what is it you want?"

"I...don't know." She sat down on the stone wall.

"It can be anything. Anything at all."

"I have..." she was about to say all I desire but then realized this wasn't true. "...all I need." She ended awkwardly.

The king just gazed upon her.

"Well. Um. What about..." she thought hard, "a ball?"

"A ball?" the king seemed confused so she repeated it. "Certainly," he said. "Of course. Balls are good things. Circ, perhaps would enjoy playing with one."

"What?" now she was confused. The king simply went on musingly, "Though as big as he is, it would have to be quite large..."