Allegiance by Cayla Kluver

noticed the abnormal pallor of his skin, tinged gray as if in sickness. He fell heavily onto the sofa, stretching out atop it, his hands clasped behind his head. I was unable to read his mood but thought he could not be feeling well.
    â€œAre you all right?” I inquired.
    â€œI’ve been better.”
    â€œYou missed dinner. Perhaps I could get you—”
    â€œNot hungry.”
    I paused, not certain how to proceed, then my eyes fell upon the jug of ale on the table in front of the sofa.
    â€œMaybe some ale would help,” I suggested, wishing he would humor me in some way and tell me what was wrong.
    â€œAle is most definitely not what I need,” he pronounced. Before I could make sense of this statement, he asked, “Why were you waiting up for me?”
    â€œTo talk to you,” I answered, honesty seeming the best course.
    â€œAh.”
    I began to understand that this conversation would be mostly one-sided.
    â€œI want to apologize,” I continued, swallowing the lump that had risen in my throat, “for several things.”
    â€œApology accepted. You’re forgiven.”
    I frowned, twining my hands together in my lap.
    â€œI haven’t even said what I’m apologizing for!” I protested.
    He winced and put a hand to his forehead in reaction to my raised voice. As he did, his right shirtsleeve slipped to his elbow, and I caught sight of a bandage wrapped around his forearm.
    â€œYou have my attention,” he groaned, motioning with his arm in my general direction. “There’s no need to be shrill. By all means, explain.”
    I decided to start at the beginning, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.
    â€œI’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my feelings for Narian. It was wrong of me to keep that from you.”
    I was hesitant to broach this particular topic, even though I knew it was probably the most important one, but Steldor did not react; rather, he seemed content to simply listen. Courage bolstered, I forged ahead.
    â€œI’m sorry for leaving the palace without telling anyone and for not taking guards. I’m sorry for being unreasonable and refusing to come back with you, and…” I grimaced as a pang of remorse shot through me. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
    Still Steldor was silent, only now I found it unnerving instead of emboldening. Nevertheless, I persisted.
    â€œAnd I’m terribly sorry that, due to my obstinacy—” I struggled to avoid blatantly stating that he had been scolded by the captain, finally settling upon “—you and your father had a disagreement.”
    I was again met with silence and wondered if he had fallen asleep. With a sigh, I rose to go into my bedroom, but his subdued voice arrested my movement.
    â€œYou’re forgiven,” he said, repeating the words, only this time with conviction.
    I smiled slightly, then proceeded to my room, not naïve enough to expect a reciprocal apology from him.
    â€œAlera,” he said, stopping me, and I turned to see that he had pushed himself into a sitting position, his brown eyes sincere. “In the future, if you would tell me before you leave…”
    He paused awkwardly, and I realized that when dealing with women, he was used to charming them, commanding them or ignoring them. I doubted he had ever before employed such a respectful tone to make a request from someone of my gender. In fact, to my knowledge, Steldor had never faltered in speech in his entire lifetime. Something about his unexpected vulnerability melted my heart, his youthful, handsome features made doubly so by the absence of a haughty expression.
    â€œI promise,” I said, allowing his sentence to remain unfinished. He again fell back on the sofa, and I stepped into my bedroom, for once having affectionate feelings toward my husband.
    Â 
    Three weeks remained until we would host the celebration for Miranna’s birthday, and