Double-Edged Words

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My face broke into a smile as I read Leyla's letter. Leaning against the tree I sat under, I snuggled deeper into the cocoon of leaves and branches that drooped from the canopy. Creating my own little world where Leyla's words and I were the only inhabitants.

On top of a hill, the lone, weeping tree had become a peaceful refuge for me these last few days. A sanctum where I recite to the wind Leyla's uplifting words.

The crunching of grass broke my concentration as I read Leyla's letter for the fourth time. I folded the paper with great care and waited for the man about to disturb my peace.

"What are you doing?" Calim's head poked out from my side.

Shrugging my shoulders, I responded, "Reading."

"Another letter from the missus, eh?" A toothy grin broke across his face, only to falter and drop in seconds. "I still haven't forgiven you for not inviting me to your wedding."

"I already said I was sorry. I didn't think it was that important. Since, you know, it was a marriage of convenience. I didn't plan to get married. It was something done at the last minute."

"You also didn't tell me afterward. I remember I specifically asked you if you had a lady friend, and you said no. If the courier boy hadn't asked me to bring you your mail last month, I wouldn't have found out." He scoffed. "Imagine my shock when you told me you got married four years ago. How can you do that to your brother in arms?" He frowned, and his lower lip jutted out, the expression making him look very much like a petulant child.

"I'm sorry, sometimes I forget, you know, that I shouldn't keep everything close to my chest, that I should share things about my life with the people that care about me." It's hard to break old habits. "Please, don't throw a tantrum again." I pleaded, recalling his foot-stomping, curse threatening outburst several mornings ago. "If it makes you feel any better, she sent you her greetings."

"You wrote to her about me?" He dropped to my side. "Did she say anything else?" He peered at the folded paper tucked in my hand under my crossed arms.

"She thinks you're a fun guy, and she's happy that you're here to pester me," I smirked.

He nudged my arm. "Hey, I'm the only thing that keeps you sane in this hell hole." He smiled. "I'm so jealous. I wish I received letters from my sweet baking angel."

"Well, if you write her a letter, she is bound to respond."

"Nah, I can't. I don't want to be a creep. She doesn't even remember me."

"You don't know that, and the only way to find out if that's the case is to write to her."

"Nah, my only talent is warfare, not writing letters, so I'll pass. Speaking of warfare, the generals are requesting your presence at the operations tent. They want to go over the details again before we attack tonight." He stood up and offered me his hand.

"Tell them I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Alright." He patted my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Take all the time you need."

Stretching my legs, I leaned my head back against the tree. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air, willing it to soothe my tired, aching bones. The rustle of grass and leaves reached my ears, and, for a brief moment, I was back at the manor. Laying on the grass in the yard as I often did. I tried to picture it as best as I could and wondered what changes had passing time brought to my home. I spent a couple of minutes in that state until the pull of my duty compelled me to stand up and head back to the campsite.

My boots crunched on the soil as I trudged down the narrow dirt path that connected the small hill to the town. The pleasant scent of wildflowers wafted through the field. Hundreds skirted the trail, sticking out in splashes of pinks, blues, yellows, and reds. A long forgotten impulse to pluck some of the blooms overwhelmed my senses. Should I? Should I not? As she said, it is our anniversary; and she does like flowers. It won't mean anything special. It's only to show her my appreciation for all she has done. My feet skidded to a stop at the end of the trail. Wait, what am I doing? I'm a grown man. Why would I want to pick flowers like some child?