sorry, this is a bit confusing. im trying, but i have a hard time expressing myself...so just tell me if something is unclear, okay? please?
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Lianah woke, feeling her cheek against the softest cloth she had ever felt. Sitting warily, her gaze fell on a gorgeous room. Silk? Silver? All this, for a simple peasant girl?
Standing and leaving the bed, she wandered through the carved door, shaking out her creased homespun skirts. Her head was still quite dizzy, and ached with a hollow throbbing. However, she was hungry! Following a delicious scent, she carefully crept down the stairs and into a small kitchen.
Terrin looked up. "You're awake. How do you feel?" He stirred a pot, simmering at the hearth. Rolling up his silk sleeves, he stirred the fire gently. Shy, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes.
"What has happened, sir?" she asked bluntly, instantly regretting the sharpness in her voice. She fingered her pendant, a thin locket of silver her mother had given her as a child.
He looked away. "As i said before, it is impossible to leave." He hated himself for being the one to impart this knowledge unto her. The fear and longing in her emerald eyes betrayed her true fright, no matter how valient she schooled her features to be.
"Never?" Her creamy voice trailed off into a whisper. Lost, Lianah stood there for several moments. "Forever?" she asked, childlike, before realizing that there was nothing at home for her. Her mother was dead, she reminded herself, before snapping back to herself. "Well," she said briskly, covering up her emotions, "You should sit, and I serve. You have to be a Lord, at least." Her slender hands gestured to his fine clothing, scarlet brocade with winking gold embroideries along his white silk shirt.
He shook his head, laughing. "Me, a Lord?" he grinned. "No, I just adopted the clothing style that was more indigenous to this place. I came," he said with some reluctance, "from a small village north of this forest." Accepting the bowl of steaming stew that she had ladled, he sat at the small wooden table with her.
Lianah looked up, eager for a good story. "Then...if you are not the Lord...then who is? And why are you here?"
Subtly, Terrin's good humor dropped. "The Byrd brought me here when I was seventeen, one hundred and ninety nine years ago." He paused for thought, his goldenbrown eyes calculating. "Yes, that's right I think."
Her green eyes wide, Lia shook her head in shock. "Thats impossible! You would be ancient!" In her own mind, she wondered if that was the reason he looked old and yet young.
"I have not aged during my stay here."
"I'm a bit confused here," Lianah remarked frankly. "I don't know what exactly happened...could you please help me?"
He grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, you had hung on to the Byrd, and it had to come home before it became too drowsy to fly." He paused, and skirted the fact that the Byrd was full from its meal, which had been her mother's soul.
Continuing, his voice rippled with amusement. "Then you stumbled into the hall, and we met."
Throwing up her hands in mock denial, Lianah giggled. "This is a bit too much for me right now! Living forever? A magical bird?" At the thought of the cruel creature, her face dropped, her mother's last shriek echoing through her head. Tears threatened to well up from her heart, and she did not think she had the spirit to hold them back this time.
Immediately sensing her discomfort, Terrin reached for her hand. "Lianah..."
Bowing her head, the girl's red hair cascaded over her face like a shield.
The boy grasped her hand in his. "What happened to you today?" he asked gently.
One hot tear tricked down her ivory nose. "My village thought it was a good omen!" she cried out, "a boon for spring harvests!" Stifling a sob, she clung to his warm hand. "But it ate my mother instead. And i grabbed it and it dropped me in the courtyard."
Looking up into his dark eyes, she saw her own reflections mirrored all too clearly. His eyes were not focused quite on her, but at something far in the distance. "Terrin?" He shook himself awake again and knelt next to her. "Why are you here?"
Swallowing, the boy bit his lip hard. "I suppose the same thing, really. My father was taken by Byrd, and I suppose it wanted someone else in its home..." he trailed off, gesturing to the palace. "It only takes those of pure heart, and I'm safe from that fate. Hatred for that terrible creature has clouded my soul at the edges."
He grinned wryly up at her, but sadness welled up in his face quickly. Ever motherly, Lianah wiped his eyes briskly with her napkin before squeezing and releasing his hand. "And the pain never ends?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. The sadness intensified in his eyes, and he turned his head away.
"Terrin? What is the Byrd?" Her gentle voice floated over the air as mildly as a summer breeze, but he flinched anyway. Shoulders slumped, the boy's posture crumpled where he knelt at her knee. He shook his head fiercely, unable to tell her. Biting her lip, Lianah wished he could tell her, release his hidden pain.
The time will come, someday, she promised herself. One day, he will trust me...
Suddenly aware of the terrors he must have experienced, the girl nearly hung her head in shame. "Acting like a silly ninny," she muttered, "letting someone see me cry, and then whilst he might be feeling just as awful. What would Mother say!" Forgetting that she had spoken aloud, Lianah looked up to see Terrin watching her carefully.
"Why," he asked, "do you let no one see you cry?" His voice was surprised, as if weeping showed no shame.
Brushing the last of the salty drops from her eyes, Lia grinned. "I suppose I'm just stubborn. I just didn't, not as a small girl, and I didn't think i would start now!" Her head suddenly ached fiercely, not a simple dull throb anymore, and she brought her hand up to her forehead in pain.
"Your head?" he asked, purposeful now. At her nod, the boy sighed again and stood, picking her up with him. "Stop squirming now," he said, slightly irritable, "I shouldn't have let you come down here anyway. You still have a nasty bump."
"Willow bark," the girl murmered, remembering her lessons with the local healer. "And a poultice of..." her voice trailed off.
Feeling merciful sleep cloud her pain, the girl sighed and went limp in his arms. Terrin barely managed to stifle his amorous emotions as, while she slept, Lianah threw her head back and clung to his shoulder. Those lips, parted slightly, were tempting after all.
When he placed her gently on a golden velvet couch, she continued to hold tightly on to his wrist. "Dont go," she murmered, talking in her sleep.
Standing and staring out the window, a gilded prison, he replied silently, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." After all, his two hundred years were nearly up...unless Lianah somehow was the one way he could escape the Byrd's terrible curse.
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copyright sorka robinton 2001