Page 49 of Retribution
Footsteps roused her to full wakefulness, and she straightened in the oversized chair she was sitting in, gazing at the door in hopes that Zamek was returning. He’d gone downstairs to contact a Holy One on a video comm to finalize tomorrow’s funeral plans.
Shessema. Rest her sweet soul. Though Layla had never met her and Zamek hadn’t shared many details about her, she thought the Kall female must’ve been an exceptionally kind soul. After all, she’d communicated with Zamek and given her blessing for his relationship with Layla. If Zamek believed Shessema had visited him, who was Layla to question it?
The door zipped open and Zamek strode into the bedroom. He walked straight for her and knelt before her. Even while she was seated in the chair, he was still a full head taller than her while kneeling.
“How do your wrists feel, human? Any pain?” Concern reflected in his dark eyes.
“They don’t hurt at all. I promise.”
He released a long, weary sigh. “I am glad to hear it. I did not enjoy dragging you around Sumlin, knowing that the manacles were likely hurting you. I know you didn’t wish to wear them, and I will not fault you for being upset with me for how I treated you in public today, though I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her heart raced at the sincerity in his voice. She could scarcely believe he was actually asking for her forgiveness. She wasn’t mad anymore, and she carefully extracted her hands from his, then reached out to cup his face. He stilled at her touch, appearing startled, but the warmth soon returned to his eyes and he leaned into her touch. Excited flutters rushed through her because this felt like new territory between them. A new beginning.
“I’ve already forgiven you,” she said softly.
They spent a quiet night in one another’s arms. He didn’t claim her, but she suspected his mind was on the impending funeral. Even though Shessema had allegedly given her blessing for their relationship, Zamek likely wished to wait before claiming her for the first time while in his home. She didn’t mind and she drifted to sleep in his protective embrace, feeling at peace.
The next day, they rose early for the funeral. Kall funerals were typically held during sunrise, and the entire household—including all the servants—walked to a nearby meadow, following Zamek and Xazzok as they carried Shessema’s coffin. None of Shessema’s family members were able to attend the service. Zamek had explained that she’d lost several family members in the human miners’ explosion, and her aging parents lived on the other side of planet Kall and weren’t well enough for travel.
It was a somber affair, and there was a bite to the morning air, but the service didn’t last long. The coffin was placed deep beneath the earth and everyone took turns pushing dirt atop it, then several servants rushed forward and planted flowers on the fresh mound.
A Holy One recited ancient Kall prayers and sang a haunting hymn in the oldest dialect of Kall, which Layla could recognize, even if she couldn’t understand most of what was said.
The funeral concluded at the exact moment the sun finished rising over the mountain, as if it had been perfectly choreographed. Rays of light beamed across the meadow, shining upon the newly planted flowers. The sound of nighttime insects faded, to be replaced with melodious birdsong.
The Holy One started walking down the mountain and the servants, as well as Xazzok and Fallonn, followed. Zamek lingered and his stricken expression caused her heart to lodge in her throat. Thinking that perhaps he wanted some privacy, she turned to head for the house, but his voice pulled her to a halt.
“Wait, human. I will walk you back.”
She paused and watched as he knelt before the mound. There was no grave marker, and she recalled that Kall rarely used grave markers. Sometimes plain stones or even boulders were placed near a grave, but even in those cases a name was never included. This heralded back to the Kalls’ belief that souls lived on in the afterlife and were sometimes reincarnated, but an extravagant grave marker was a worldly weight that might hold their soul in place, in a purgatory of sorts.
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven,” she whispered to herself, and continued reciting the verses from Ecclesiastes that she’d always found comforting. When she’d finally managed to visit Aunt Colleen’s grave after the war, she’d stood in the backyard of the destroyed house and recited these verses, holding her own private ceremony for the beloved woman who’d been like a mother to her.
Her throat burned when she reached verse eight.
“A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace…”
She stopped whispering when Zamek finally rose to his feet and ambled toward her. His posture was tall and confident as always, though his eyes remained clouded with grief. He blinked rapidly and met her gaze, and when a light breeze ruffled her hair, she suddenly felt the wetness of her tears rolling down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she was crying until now.
Zamek approached her and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Then he grasped her hand and led her down the mountain, back to his house to join the others on the huge front porch, where a continental breakfast was set out.
Layla had never attended a Kall funeral before, but she found it similar enough to a human one. Burial, prayers, songs, and fellowship.
Zamek picked at his food but urged her to eat her fill, and Xazzok and Fallonn stood with them, each taking turns sharing heartwarming or funny stories about Shessema. The whole experience was surreal, that she would be attending Shessema’s funeral after what Michael had done. But she was here, and she was alive, by the grace of Zamek’s mercy.
After the outdoor breakfast was concluded, Fallonn offered to show Layla around while Xazzok and Zamak visited the nearby vineyards. The house was huge—three stories and a basement with dozens of rooms on each floor—and Layla paid attention during the tour, not wishing to become lost.
Though the house looked like a medieval castle from the outside, the interior was much more modern and not very different from that to which Layla was already accustomed, though some of the appliances and technology in the house would take some getting used to.
“This is my favorite room,” Fallonn said as they entered a massive library with an arching ceiling on the top floor. “It has books, a huge fireplace, a bar, and plenty of comfortable chairs and sofas. Oh, and you can walk straight out onto the roof from that sliding door right there.” She pointed at a glass door.
“Wow, this place is amazing.” Layla grinned. “I think this is my favorite room too.”
“Do you enjoy reading?” Fallonn asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Oh, reading is most definitely my favorite pastime,” Layla replied. “And if you add drinking and a warm fireplace to it, I like it even better.” She stood in the center of the room and spun in a slow circle. “Zamek might have to drag me away from here every night.”
Fallonn laughed. “Well, I’m glad you like it. I actually decorated this room myself and selected most of the books. Most are written in Common Kall, though there are a few written in Flourishian. Please do feel free to add any books of your own to this collection.”
