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Alma the Younger
Alma paced the length of the room in his hut, then turned back.
"Sit down," Kaman said, half joking. But his expression was anxious, just how Alma felt.
"Where are they?" Alma asked, mostly to himself. The others had stopped answering him over an hour ago. The sons of Mosiah were late. and the men whom Alma had sworn to secrecy were getting restless.
The wine jug went around the circle of men again—Kaman, Jacob, and two other men from the village—Muloki and Ammah. but the mood was far from jovial. The previous day, Jacob had discovered which Church group had been responsible for carrying out the order to burn the tavern.
"I say we just burn their whole village," Kaman said.
"And the retaliation will never end. Although the king is against any type of persecution, he has little control over his own emissaries," Alma said, keeping one ear tuned for the king's sons. "We need to uncover who issued the order—only then will we have the power to negotiate."
The sound of a footfall outside alerted Alma. He rushed to the door and threw it open. The four sons of the king stood there, wearing hooded robes. "What happened?"
"Another banquet at the palace," Ammon said. "It was hard to get away unnoticed."
Alma grimaced and ushered them in, and they greeted the village men one by one, all of them bearing similar scars on their palms. Alma was pleased to see the half-moon necklace hanging from the brothers' necks as well, although he knew they had to conceal them when they were at the palace.
Ammon eyed the rustic surroundings. "When are you going to get yourself a new place, Alma?"
Kaman said, "If the villagers have their way, Alma will be living in a chief 's home soon."
The king's sons all looked at Alma, grins on their faces.
"No, I won't," Alma said. "I don't need to live above anyone else."
"Does that mean you'll accept the position?" Kaman said, his face eager.
"I said no such thing," Alma said. He folded his arms across his chest, indicating that the conversation topic was over. "Let's get to the real reason for our meeting. We've wasted enough time." he looked at Kaman. "Fill them in."
When the brothers were seated in the circle, Kaman stood, his hands twisting together. "The traveling shaman came to our village yesterday and told us about an interesting guest he helped about a week ago, the very day after the tavern had been burned. A young man sought his services, paying a healthy sum for a curaio salve." He relaxed his hands and paused. "The boy had no burns himself—it was for another."
Alma nodded, watching the reaction of the king's sons.
Kaman continued. "The shaman was concerned, wondering if the boy knew how to treat a burn properly, so he followed the boy. It was no easy task, since the boy moved quickly, leaving the village and running into the city of Zarahemla."
"Where did he go?" Ammon asked, rising to his feet.
Alma cut in. "To the home of a royal—a priest in the king's temple."
The brothers stared at him in astonishment, curiosity in their eyes.
"Limhi." Alma only had to say the word, and three brothers were on their feet, talking at once.
Ammon stayed silent, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked at Alma, and it was as if they had entertained the same conclusion.
Kaman folded his arms across his chest, nodding with satisfaction. Alma had told him that the king's sons would be irate, and although Kaman had doubted, Alma knew his friends.
The noise quieted down, and Kaman said, "We suspect everyone from Limhi himself down to his most lowly gardener. It must be someone in that household, and it is only a matter of time before we find out who gave the order."
"That's why we need your help," Alma said, his frank gaze meeting that of Ammon's, then sliding to Aaron. "It will be easy for you to get closer to the family of Limhi, especially considering Aaron's betrothed . . ."
Aaron nodded in agreement even though his face had grown pale. "Aaron," Alma said in a quiet voice. The men in the hut were completely silent, listening. "If you want out—"
"I made an oath," Aaron said, his eyes hard. "I want to discover the man behind these senseless and dangerous attacks as much as anyone." he looked around the circle of men. "I will help in any way I can."
"Me too," Ammon said, followed by Omner and Himni.
Kaman grinned. "Then it's settled." he stepped forward, slapping Ammon on the shoulder. "Are you men thirsty?"
Laughter made its rounds with the new wine.
The men were merry, their former melancholy shed. The king's sons would help them infiltrate the household of Limhi, and together the band would bring down the man ultimately responsible for the death of Belicia—one of their own. An innocent victim.
Jacob broke into song, and soon they were working their way through every ballad Alma had ever heard, and some new ones as well. Ammon made his way to Alma casually, without drawing attention from the ever watchful Kaman.
"I need to talk to you somewhere," Ammon said in a whisper.
Alma said, "Meet me out back in a few minutes." He watched Ammon slip out of the room with no one noticing. Several minutes later he made the excuse to leave for a moment. Kaman's gaze tracked him, but he made no move to follow.
The night air had cooled considerably when Alma stepped outside. Ammon's waiting figure was at the far end of the courtyard, shadowed by a sassafras tree that blocked the moonlight. He strode to his friend's side, curious about what Ammon had to say.
"I have a suspicion," Ammon said. "It might be Nehem. He's been quite vocal in his abhorrence to the practices of the unbelievers. He's been spotted in villages with the king's guard, going above his normal duties of a councilman. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who issued the order."
Alma stared at Ammon. "Why this village? Why the tavern?"
"He knows which village Jacob and Kaman came from—those who escaped the king's prison. Nehem is always flattering the king, and I can see him trying to get on my father's good side by any method, even if it means getting rid of unfavorable taverns. A dead harlot or two might even be to his advantage."
Alma blew out a breath, his body feeling weighted at the mention of Belicia. If he found out that Nehem was responsible . . .
"But that's not all."
Alma lifted his head to look at Ammon.
"I don't know if you care to hear it, but I promised to deliver a message to you."
Now Alma was more than curious. "Go on." He was surprised to see Ammon hesitate and avoid eye contact. A twinge of alarm passed through Alma. "Has something happened to my family?"
"No," Ammon said, but still he stalled. Finally, he met Alma's eyes. "it's Cassia . . . Nehem has asked for her hand in marriage."
Alma blinked several times, trying to digest the information. Nehem—that scoundrel—marrying Cassia. He'd tried to forget about her, push her from his mind, at least during the daytime. When sleep pressed against his eyes, her face was usually the first thing that came to view before the dream—the same dream night after night of the temple and of Cassia transforming into Belicia. Her tears . . . her demanding his promise to avenge her death with that of another.
He shook his head slightly and exhaled. "It doesn't surprise me, I suppose. Nehem seems to be a persistent fellow."
Ammon scoffed. "Very persistent. But if I find that Nehem is behind the arson, I'll stop the wedding myself." He waited.
Alma felt him waiting, but he couldn't come up with a response. What was he to say, anyway? That he didn't want Cassia to marry the lousy oaf? There would be other suitors if she didn't marry Nehem. She was a woman now and would have to decide soon.
"When is the wedding?" Alma asked, hoping his voice only betrayed casual politeness.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Ammon said.
Alma stiffened. He didn't want any part of whatever plans Ammon had hatched up—Cassia was better out of his life now. She could never accept him for who he was anyway, especially after Belicia.
"She hasn't said yes yet," Ammon said.
"Why not?" it was a foolish question, but Alma might as well hear the answer.
"She hasn't exactly explained, but you know how a woman is—she can't do anything in a straightforward manner. Look at Ilana."
Alma smiled faintly. He didn't know who had received the rawer end of the bargain—Ammon or Aaron.
"But Cassia did say she wanted me to tell you about Nehem's proposal before she made a decision."
The pressure inside Alma's chest increased. He thought he might start coughing again, although he hadn't for a good two days. "Why me?" he croaked out, wishing he had a flask of wine.
"You know why," Ammon said. When Alma didn't respond, Ammon said, "All I know is that she relentlessly hounds me every time I see her to tell you about Nehem. I'm supposed to deliver your response to her."
Alma nodded, trying to look calm as his mind raced. But his heart sank. It was too late. She was not the same girl he used to tell his dreams too. And he was not the same man that used to be her friend—far from it. If Cassia knew about Belicia or about the blood oath he'd made, the deeds he'd done, or the promise he'd made to Belicia's spirit, she wouldn't care if he were ordained a priest that very night. He would never meet her expectations—never be clean enough in her mind. And that didn't even account for the way her father felt about him.
"Your father approves of the union?" Alma asked.
"It seems so."
"Nehem must have the blessed life," Alma said, unable to keep the irony out of his voice. "I think your father would order me burned at a stake if I showed up in his palace—even if it were to offer my congratulations."
Ammon's gaze was protective. "I wouldn't allow him to touch you."
"I know, but you're not your father," Alma said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Nehem is a fortunate man." He paused, his chest constricting. "Tell Cass . . . Tell her I hope she'll be happy."
* * *
Cassia
"What did he say?" Cassia asked Ammon.
Her oldest brother, who was normally not afraid of anything, looked extra wary. He kept fidgeting with the knife at his waistband. They stood outside in the garden, where Cassia had waited for Ammon's return all day. She'd sent him on an errand—to tell Alma about Nehem's offer. She'd made Nehem wait long enough—nearly two weeks—for her answer, since first she had to know what Alma thought, if anything, about the betrothal. Thankfully Ammon didn't pry with any questions, but did her bidding.
"You told him that Nehem wants to marry me, didn't you?" Cassia asked, squeezing his arm.
"Yes," Ammon said, looking down at her hand on his arm.
"And he said nothing? He—" Cassia bit her lip. Alma didn't care. That was the only answer. He didn't love her after all and didn't want to marry her.
"He knows how Father feels about him, especially now," Ammon said in a careful voice.
She let go of his arm. "Did he say that he could do nothing?"
Ammon's expression was pained. "What do you want him to do, Cassia? Show up at the palace with a box of silver and plead with Father? Alma isn't going to change his mind about the Church. He's changed more than you know—in a lot of ways. He's not the same man and doesn't feel the same about"—he waved his hand indicating the palace, then his eyes settled on his sister—"all this. He lives a different life now."
Cassia brushed at her cheeks, where stinging tears had fallen, realizing she knew Alma's answer. He wanted her to marry Nehem.
Ammon watched her closely, but her throat was too tight to speak. "I think he knows when the fight is over," he said. "He can't make everyone happy, so he's decided to follow the only path open to him now."
She shook her head, her eyes blurring with tears. "Which is a path of nothing—no family—"
"Cassia, what do you want me to say?" Ammon cut in. "Father won't let him set foot in the palace. Alma's father will demand an extensive retribution period, and that is if Alma wanted to return, which he doesn't. Do you want him to fight for your hand under false pretenses?"
"Why does it have to be false?" Cassia asked, hating that her voice trembled. "Why can't he just pray and find out the truth for himself? Why does he have to be so against the Church and everything about it?"
"You wouldn't be happy together." Ammon shook his head. "You'd always be fighting about the Church. He'd go one way, and you'd go the other."
Cassia wrapped her arms about her, her stomach clenched with nausea. "Tell me what he said. Exactly."
Ammon took a deep breath. "He said he hoped you would be happy."
Closing her eyes, Cassia turned away from Ammon. It was finished then. Alma had given up. He'd sacrificed his family, his home, his work, and now her, all because he couldn't accept the Church. But it isn't just that, she thought. It's even bigger. Her prayers weren't being answered. If she was really supposed to be with Alma, then why had Nehem come into her life at the very moment Alma had abandoned everything that should have been dear to him?
"It's still your choice," Ammon said.
Cassia opened her eyes in surprise. "Alma already made his choice."
"But have you made yours?"
She studied her brother. Was Nehem the only answer to Alma's rejection? She knew he wasn't, but she knew he would take care of her—love her. But would Nehem's love be enough to make her forget Alma? She shook her head, and asked, "Do you think I should leave the Church so that I can be with Alma?"
He lifted a shoulder.
"You can't possibly be suggesting that, Ammon," Cassia spat out, anger and hurt colliding in her breast. "You are the crown prince! You will be leading this country one day. You think you can be a successful ruler without following the laws of God?"
"Alma was right," he said, shaking his head. "You would never accept him unless he bowed down to everything that has to do with the Church. He knows you don't really love him—or accept him for what he is."
Cassia felt as if she'd been slapped.
Her brother continued, as if unaware that he'd just crushed her. "As for your accusations that I can't be a successful king without the Church, think about the many enemies Father has now. How long do you think this land will remain peaceful—if you can even call it peaceful now?"
"But Father has sent out edicts preventing the unbelievers from persecuting Church members."
Ammon let out a bitter laugh. "You, sister, are cloistered in a palace and have hardly stepped foot outside your precious room. Just beyond the royal plaza there is plenty of injustice, plenty of persecution. The unbelievers themselves are being persecuted as well. Offenses are not easily forgotten, no matter the law. Merchants refuse to sell their wares or goods to certain people, or they raise their prices so high that children are starving!"
Cassia flinched. Ammon's face had darkened, reminding her of Alma's fury when she'd accused him. The breath seemed to leave her body, and suddenly she was very tired. "I'm sure Father has—"
"Ha!" Ammon said. "Our father has lost control over his people. He has done nothing but protect himself with more soldiers. He sends out more and more preachers, most of whom are self-inflated and continue to berate and throw condemnation against a hard- working people who are just trying to feed their children." He turned away and left the garden.
Cassia stared after him, gripping her trembling hands together. She took several deep breaths. So Ammon agreed with Alma. Maybe not to the extent of leaving the Church, but Ammon's words still frightened her. She hurried back to the palace and made it to her bedchamber without running into anyone.
Once alone, she paced her room, keeping the tears at bay. She felt stunned but even more confused. Was marrying Nehem the path the lord wanted her to follow? Was she being tested as to whether she'd choose the Church over Alma?
Cassia sank onto her bed and hung her head. Alma had given up on her. That was all she needed to make the decision. Still, she could refuse Nehem, making two strikes against her. She'd become known as the eternal maid, and no man would dare approach her again.
Flopping back on her bed, Cassia stared up at the ceiling. Nehem adored her, that much was clear, and he might even love her. She didn't love him, but that would probably change over time, as it did with most arranged marriages. How else could she feel about a man who treated her so well and attended to her every concern? he was also strong in the Church. He was good-looking, witty, tender . . . Cassia blew out a breath. Nehem wanted to marry her. Alma didn't. What other choice was there?
Cassia sat up, a shaky feeling moving all over her body. She knew what she had to do; she just had to put more faith in that decision.
Rising from the bed, she left her room and walked along the corridor to her father's private chambers, hoping to find him there.
When the guard saw her, he granted her entrance immediately. Cassia entered the king's room and was amazed to see Nehem with her father.
They both looked at her in anticipation, and the look of hope in Nehem's eyes was undeniable.
Nehem bowed. "I'll leave the two of you alone."
"No," Cassia said, surprising herself. "You may stay if you wish."
Both men smiled, causing her heart to start pounding harder. She took a quick breath, then said, "I've come to tell you that I'm honored to accept Nehem's proposal."
King Mosiah clapped his hands together. "Wonderful!" he crossed to her, and taking her hands, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Congratulations, daughter."
Warmth spread through her body as she caught Nehem's gaze. His face had flushed, and he was smiling broadly.
Her father pulled away and said, "I'll call for your mother."
When he stepped into the next room Nehem crossed to Cassia. his smile was tender as he took her hand in his. Cassia looked at him, telling herself that she'd enjoy years of happiness with this man. He pulled her hand to his lips, and this time she allowed him to kiss it.
"you have made me so happy," Nehem said. "Are you happy?"
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. It will be all right, she told herself. Then abruptly, Nehem pulled her into a tight embrace. As the door opened, he let go and stepped back.
Cassia's parents entered the room, and Naomi hurried to her daughter's side. "Oh, my dear! Your father told me the wonderful news." She kissed Cassia's cheek, then crossed to Nehem to congratulate him. After embracing him, she said, "We must tell Ilana! and my sons!" She clasped her hands together, her eyes shining as she looked at Cassia. "Will we have a double wedding then?"
Everyone looked at Cassia expectantly. She ignored the sudden faintness that had come over her. "We will."