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Cassia
Cassia couldn't sleep. Her dreams were uneasy somehow, and she kept waking throughout the night. Later, she heard shuffling in the corridor. When she peeked into the hallway, she saw the disappearing forms of her brothers enter their rooms. They'd been out again.
Finally, as the night changed from black to deep purple, she gave up and climbed out of bed, pulling a robe across her shoulders. She walked to the window and peered outside. Through the copse of trees outside her bedchamber was the main plaza. It was early yet, and no one milled about. The smoke from the various cooking fires rose lazily against the sky. Most in the city of Zarahemla awoke at first light. Wives prepared meals of hot maize cakes before their husbands left for the day to work in the fields or around the city. Just beyond the plaza was the marketplace. The first vendors had likely arrived, hoping to catch the earliest customers.
Cassia propped her elbows on her windowsill and rested her chin on her hands. This afternoon Nehem would be coming to spend time with her, and they'd make some final arrangements for the wedding. Then tomorrow, she'd attend the first fitting for her wedding clothing. She and her mother had already started embroidering the veil. To anyone outside of the palace, she seemed to have a perfect life—a handsome man eagerly betrothed to her; a royal family bent on making her happy; and youthful, good health.
So why do I feel unsettled? She could no longer blame Alma for any misgivings she might have about her coming marriage—in fact, she sometimes wondered if he had really wanted to marry her at all. Wouldn't he have tried harder? it seemed that with the distance and the passage of time, she had let her memory of them together fade bit by bit. At least he didn't creep into her thoughts each moment of the day anymore, and he wasn't the last thing she thought of before falling asleep. Well, not every night.
Cassia breathed out a sigh. Working on her wedding clothing was another step in the process of fully committing herself to Nehem. She brought a hand to her lips and pressed against the warmth, thinking of saying good-bye to Nehem the night before. He had become more and more persistent in his affections, and for the most part, Cassia had resisted.
"When are you going to kiss me?" he'd asked. "The betrothal law states that we are as good as married." His eyes twinkled. "Come now, wife, kiss your husband."
She'd laughed, but the amusement turned serious in Nehem's eyes. "We'll be married soon enough," she said.
The lightheartedness returned to his gaze, and he'd taken her hand. Bringing it slowly to his lips, he said, "You are beautiful."
"I'm all angles," she protested.
"You're perfect," Nehem said, kissing her hand. "And I have a special gift for you."
"Another attempt to steal a kiss?"
He chuckled. "That would be special too, but I have something else—I'll bring it tomorrow. But we need to be alone." he reached out, touching her cheek.
"All right," she said, allowing his hand to linger on her face. "I'm available in the afternoon. My father will be in council, and my mother will be visiting with a vendor about designing my wedding clothes."
"Tomorrow then." He dropped his hand and took a step back, bowing. Then he winked. He'd left quickly after that, leaving Cassia curious about the gift. It was probably a necklace, or perhaps a pretty scarf, but still she was curious.
Without realizing it, a smile had crept to her lips as she looked out the window. Nehem was a sweet man, and his enthusiasm contagious. Maybe she could talk him into escorting her to the market today—she hadn't been recently. Her father forbade all the women of the household from traveling outside the palace grounds alone, and she and her mother weren't allowed unattended near the market. Unrest had broken out in the city once again between the Church and the unbelievers. Her father was holding another large council today to try to find more solutions.
The worry brought Alma to mind again, but Cassia quickly pushed all thoughts of him away. She knew she had loved him, but she had been a girl. As a woman, she could only allow herself to care for him as a friend of the family. If she was to be a faithfully married woman, she must let memories of Alma fade and not worry about his well-being except as a friend.
Her languishing gaze out the window was distracted by movement in the plaza below. She studied a figure hurrying across the open space, trying to decipher who it might be. Was it someone she knew? A soldier? A priest? Maybe even one of her brothers? But no, they'd been out all hours of the night, and most mornings didn't even appear for the meal. Many an argument had taken place among the men of her family, especially between Ammon and her father. But the king was so busy with quelling the unbeliever rebellions that kept cropping up, he often gave his errant sons a quick dismissal.
The figure drew closer, nearly running now. The man wore a plain robe, so he was likely not a priest, but perhaps a merchant who'd had his belongings vandalized overnight. Then Cassia recognized the woven design on the man's tunic. He was from the house of Limhi. She studied him. He seemed familiar, but she wasn't sure if he was a servant. Possibly one of Limhi's guards.
The man ascended the steps of the palace, taking them two at a time. His expression came into plain view, and Cassia was dismayed to see that he was indeed distressed. Has something happened to Limhi? she wondered.
The palace guards met him at the top of the steps, and Cassia wished she could overhear their rapid conversation. Seconds later, the guards turned and rushed into the palace entrance with the man.
Cassia backed away from the window, her heart pounding. To awake the king before his usual hour meant this was a serious matter indeed. She crossed the room and selected one of her robes, then pulled it on. As she slipped out her bedchamber door, her pulse quickened. This was one of the times she felt compassionate for her father's position as king of Zarahamela. He was his people's servant, and it was a constant sacrifice.
When Cassia reached the throne room, she was surprised to see it empty. The two heavy doors stood open, guards stationed on either side as usual, but no one was in the room. The guards nodded to her, but she didn't dare ask them about the early-morning visitor. Cassia made her way to her father's private quarters. If the visitor had been taken there, he must be a personal friend of her father, or something serious had happened to Limhi.
She hurried down the long hallway to her father's chambers. The guard who was posted there straightened as he saw Cassia coming toward him.
"Is someone with my father?" Cassia asked.
"Yes," the guard said. "I don't think he'll be long."
"Do you know who he is?"
"A man from Limhi's household."
"What's happened?" she asked.
The guard shook his head. "I have not yet been informed."
Cassia wanted to ask more questions, but the guard was right— he wouldn't be told anything before the king himself. Not wanting to interrupt, she waited in the hall. The guard remained quiet, and Cassia strained to listen for any inflection of voices but heard nothing.
The minutes seemed to pass agonizingly slow, and Cassia paced the hallway, staying close to the doors of her father's chamber. Then the door opened, and her mother stepped out.
"Cassia?"
She stared at her mother—the queen's face was pale, and she obviously hadn't attended to her dressing routine yet. She wore a morning robe carelessly pulled across her shoulders, and her hair hung long and unkempt over her shoulders.
"Mother, what's happened? is it Limhi?"
The queen hurried to Cassia and took her hands. "How did you—?"
"I saw Limhi's man come into the palace."
Her mother's mouth pinched together, and Cassia rushed to explain, but the queen interrupted. "Come with me, my dear," the queen said, her voice cracking.
Cassia looked sharply at her mother, dread flooding through her. By the way her mother was acting, the news couldn't be good.
"What's wrong?"
"Come," her mother whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she gripped Cassia's hand and pulled her toward the king's chambers. When she pushed open the door, the king turned, his eyes widening when he saw Cassia.
"You've told her?" he asked.
"Not yet," her mother said. "She was waiting in the hallway—she saw Magog arrive."
In response, Limhi's guard rose from his sitting position near the fireplace. His narrow face was pale and blotchy, his eyes reddened.
"Cassia," her father said, drawing her attention. "Come here."
Her legs felt weak. Why did her father's voice sound so foreboding—and why was Limhi's guard crying?
Cassia obediently walked toward her father's outstretched hands and let them grasp hers. She tried to focus on his face but found her eyes starting to blur. Why was she crying? She hadn't even heard any news, yet her heart knew it was grievous.
"Father?" she whispered.
Her father brought one hand to her cheek and touched it softly, his gaze tender and sad. "It's Nehem."
Cassia stopped breathing. Her body felt cold all over as alarm jolted through her.
"Nehem has . . . been found dead . . ." her father said.
In the back of her mind, Cassia heard Limhi's guard groan softly and someone else let out a quiet sob. Her mother? Me.
Cassia realized she had choked on a sob, and her chest started to take in another breath, but it was stuttered, gasping.
She pulled from her father and turned to look at her mother. The queen had a hand over her mouth, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
"Is this true?" Cassia said in a trembling voice, looking at Limhi's guard. The man hung his head and buried his face in his hands.
She whirled around to face her father. "What happened? How?"
"He . . ." The king looked away for an instant, his face twisted in pain. Then his voice fell to a whisper. "He was slain in his bed."
Cassia staggered backward, trying to comprehend. Nehem. Slain? Her legs crumpled beneath her, and she sank to the floor. She wrapped her arms about her torso, trying to stop the room from spinning, but it was useless. The spinning escalated, clenching her stomach, her chest, until she had to gasp for air.
Someone knelt next to her, but Cassia shook off the hands and covered her ears to block out the horrible sound that wouldn't leave her head. Stop sobbing, she wanted to shout at her mother. Stop
screaming! Then she realized that it wasn't her mother.
Cassia's throat was raw in a matter of seconds, but she couldn't stop screaming. "No!" she cried out over and over. Her mother tried to hold her, but she fought against her grasp. Then stronger arms lifted her from the ground, and she struggled against them in vain. Soon she was lying in a bed, her mother next to her, holding her.
Her father's voice boomed in the background, but Cassia couldn't understand what he was saying. No matter which way she turned or how loud she screamed out, she couldn't get the words out of her mind. Nehem. Slain in his bed.
It couldn't be true. She wouldn't let it. She'd wake up from this horrible dream. She opened her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and gazed upward at the ceiling. She was in her parents' bedchamber. Her mother's cool hands were stroking her forehead, her face, her cheeks.
It wasn't true; she couldn't believe it. Nehem is alive. He's coming for me this afternoon. Cassia sprang away from her mother and leapt off the bed, looking around wildly. Her father was in the room, and he started for her, but she held up her hands to ward him off. "He's coming today, this afternoon. He has a gift for me," Cassia said, her voice hoarse. "He promised. He's coming this afternoon . . . with a special gift."
"Cassia," her father said, reaching her and pulling her into his arms. "I'm so sorry."
"No," she said, pushing against the king's broad chest. "He's coming today. He has a gift for me."
Her father's hold tightened around her. "He promised!" Cassia screamed.
"I know. I know," her father said, his shoulders shaking as he joined her sobbing.
* * *
"Drink this," her mother had said, then forced the cool liquid down her throat.
From the first taste, Cassia knew the wine contained a powerful elixir. But she welcomed it and its dulling effect on the pain that wracked her whole body.
The pain hadn't lessened, but when the elixir wore off, Cassia saw that it was late afternoon. The long shadows in her parents' bedchamber told her that she'd spent the morning asleep. Her eyes were open now, but she still hadn't tried to move. She wondered what it would feel like if her body could ever experience more pain than it did right now. Every part of her felt weighed down, as if she were being slowly crushed.
Her mind was clear, though. It was as if her body were detached, experiencing physical trauma, while her thoughts raced through the past weeks. Meeting Nehem at the banquet for the first time, Nehem telling her she was beautiful, Nehem kissing her hand, Nehem tasting the honeyed delicacies she'd made for him, Nehem laughing at her, Nehem asking for her hand in marriage, Nehem telling her he loved her.
The pain increased.
But Cassia couldn't speak or make a sound. She'd screamed herself silent. After a few more minutes, she moved her hand, testing . . . The movement attracted the attention of her mother, who, Cassia just realized, was next to her on the bed.
"Oh, my dear," the queen whispered, scooting closer and touching her shoulder.
Cassia flinched at the touch, then closed her eyes. "What happened?" she croaked out.
Her mother reached for her hand. More pain. "They aren't sure yet. They are looking for . . . who might have done this to Nehem."
Her mother's voice broke off, and Cassia opened her eyes and turned her head. The queen's eyes were red and swollen as if she'd spent the past several hours weeping while Cassia slept.
Cassia pulled her hand away and sat up in the bed, her body groaning with the effort. Her stomach felt weak and nauseated, as if she'd been fasting for days, and it protested at the movement. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I must see him."
Her mother sat up in an instant, her eyes wide. "No, my dear, he—"
"Mother," Cassia said, her voice stronger now. "I must tell him . . ."
That I was ready to devote myself to you. I was ready to love you, and only you. To forsake all else for you and become your faithful wife.
"I must tell him good-bye."
Her mother's arms went around Cassia. "There will be a ceremony—"
"Today, Mother," Cassia said. "before they take his . . . him . . . away."
The queen was silent for several minutes as she held onto Cassia tightly. Then she said, "I will come with you."
Cassia moved from the bed and stood, her legs shaky. She tried to focus on the objects in the room, but her head pounded fiercely. Regardless, she crossed the room to the basin stand. There she splashed water on her face and, with trembling hands, re-plaited her hair.
Her mother ordered a servant to bring Cassia a fresh tunic. When the servant returned, Cassia dressed and joined her mother.
They walked into the adjoining room. Several guards waited at the entrance to the hall, ready to aid the women. "We will travel to Limhi's home to pay our respects. Please inform my husband."
The two women waited as a guard took the message to the king. He returned in a few moments. "The king says he will accompany you."
A short time later, Cassia stepped out of the palace, flanked by her mother and father, surrounded by a dozen royal soldiers.
"Where are my brothers?" Cassia asked her father as they descended the steps.
"They are still in the council, making plans to capture the assassin."
"Do they have any idea who it might have been?"
King Mosiah's face was like stone. "None. It may be linked to a series of recent violent activities."
"But why would Nehem be a target?" Cassia pressed.
The king shook his head slightly, then lowered his voice. "Nehem was bold in his words of revulsion concerning the tactics of the unbelievers."
"Nehem was passionate about what he believed in," she said.
"Why would he be killed for that?"
"Dear," the king said, his arm linking through hers, "there was nothing wrong with Nehem's passion. He said what most of us believed, but we fear he acted too boldly to the wrong people." He shook his head. "I should have provided more protection for Limhi's household."
"But Limhi has his own guards. How did the man get past those soldiers?"
The king let out a frustrated breath. "We are working on discovering that. All I can assume for now is that one of the guards, or a member of Limhi's household, betrayed Nehem."
Cassia fell silent. It made sense, horrible as it was. Someone within the trusted household had to have allowed the killer inside. And who outside of Nehem's inner circle of friends knew about his stringent beliefs? As they crossed the plaza in the broad daylight and passed the teeming market street, it was difficult to imagine that Nehem was truly gone. Everyone around them seemed to act no different. The citizens of Zarahemla bowed out of the way as the procession moved down the market street then along the wide river. Limhi's stately home was sprawled just across the first bridge.
Cassia kept her gaze lowered but alert for anyone who looked suspicious. For a moment she wondered if it was possible to tell by looking at someone whether they were a thief or murderer. Would it appear in their eyes, their mannerisms? Cassia could only guess, but the closer they drew to Limhi's home, the colder she felt.
They crossed the bridge, and Cassia caught sight of the river beneath. Its water looked dark and murky today, and she speculated whether the river had been a witness to the man who had taken Nehem's life.
When Limhi's home came into view, the weight returned twofold to Cassia's heart. She remembered Nehem's words—how he wanted to take her through his home. And now she would see it without him.
Several men exited the house as they approached. A couple of guards and two men she recognized—Alma the high priest and another priest named Helam. When she was a child, Helam had intimidated her with his height and the mass of scars that ran along his face, neck, and arms. But her brothers hadn't been afraid, and she took their lead, soon learning that he was a gentle man behind his frightening appearance. As she grew older, she learned that he'd been badly burned as a child. And even more poignant, his brother, the prophet Abinadi, had been put to death by fire.
Now, looking at Helam and his stoic face, Cassia took strength from his strong presence. Next to him, Alma looked as if he'd aged ten years. His usually commanding presence had faded somehow. His eyes were shadowed, and his mouth was pulled into a firm line as he walked toward them. He'd probably been awakened early this morning with the terrible news.
Alma and Helam greeted the king in hushed tones and somberly welcomed the women.
Alma's gaze moved to Cassia, and he held out a hand to her. She took a deep, stuttered breath and took his hand, finding it cool to the touch. "We are sorry for your loss," he said.
She stood there for a moment, her throat too tight to speak. Alma released her hand and motioned for her to follow him inside.
She walked behind Alma, and Helam squeezed her arm as she passed by him, his gaze deep with compassion.
It was the moment that Cassia stepped inside that she realized her grief must be but a fraction of Limhi's family's. Ilana and her parents were nowhere to be seen, but Cassia felt the emptiness and sorrow pierce her as if the stately walls were in mourning.
"This way," Alma said, steering her by the elbow along a corridor, past the main hall. Everything was so quiet. Cassia had expected people rushing around, or the sound of wailing disturbing the silence. But the quiet made the pain even deeper.
They walked, passing several chambers, when, finally, Alma slowed. They'd entered a large room that looked like an indoor garden. Small trees, plants, and even flowers grew beneath a roof. The air was moist and fragrant. It was a place that Cassia could picture Nehem showing off with flair.
But in the middle of the indoor courtyard was a table, and upon the table . . . Nehem's shrouded form. Cassia brought a hand to her mouth, staring at the linen drape that covered him. On the other side of the table, a man rose, and Cassia recognized his bearded face. He was one of the healers she'd seen at the palace from time to time. He bowed with reverence to his guests then moved away from the shroud.
The king turned to the guards. "You may wait outside now."
Noiselessly, the guards left the room, but Cassia was already walking forward. No one stopped her. She sensed her mother and father behind her, but she only saw the body that lay beneath the linen drape. Stopping close to the table, she looked down at the outline of Nehem's body. Her breathing turned rapid as she lifted her hand and placed it on the edge of his shoulder. Then her knees gave way, and she knelt next to him.
She knew her parents were hovering behind her, but no one spoke. She concentrated on his chest, waiting for it to rise and fall, waiting for this all to be declared as some horrible mistake. But there was no movement.
Cassia tried to steady her breath as she raised her other hand to lift the shroud from Nehem's face. His eyes were closed as if in sleep, his lashes fanned against his round cheekbones. His face was so tranquil that Cassia expected him to turn toward her and smile, confessing that he was only teasing her. But there was no smile, and there never would be again.
Her eyes traveled to the bandage wrapped around his neck. A shudder passed through her as she realized that the wound beneath had cost him his life. She looked again at his face then raised her fingers to his cheek. His skin was cold, rigid. The touch jolted Cassia, and she knew he was not there. This body had once held her betrothed, but the real Nehem was no longer a part of it.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she rose and bent over him. She pressed her lips against his cheek, wishing with everything she had that it was warm and that his arms would wrap around her, and he'd laugh and say, "Finally, a kiss."
Someone was quietly crying behind her, Cassia realized—her mother. Just the sound of it started waves of fresh pain coursing through her body.
"Nehem, why did this happen to you?" Cassia whispered, then kissed his other cheek. Her tears dripped onto his face. Then she laid her head against his chest, sinking to her knees again. Her tears were now hot and fast, but silent. After a moment, she felt her mother's hand on her back, and she raised her head, taking a final look at Nehem. His vibrant spirit was gone, his body but a cold shell.
She stood and with trembling hands pulled the shroud up to cover his face. "Good-bye, Nehem," she whispered.
She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to recall the life that used to be in Nehem's eyes, the energy and his presence, so different from the too-still body beneath the shroud.
Her mother's arm went around her shoulders, and Cassia leaned into her mother's embrace, moving away from Nehem. Tears filled her eyes as her father stepped forward to pay his respects. After a moment, her mother released her and went to stand by the king's side, taking his hand. Another hand touched her shoulder. Alma was there, offering a small portion of comfort as she watched her parents.
Cassia took a deep breath, but it was as if she couldn't catch enough air. Her mother approached and held out her hand, then led Cassia out of the room into the cooler hallway. She heard the muted voices of her father and the men as she left.
She walked with her mother to the front room, where a woman stood. "Ilana," Cassia said in a whisper. She hurried to her friend's side and embraced her.
Ilana felt soft and warm as Cassia clung to her.
The two women said nothing for a long moment. Cassia wanted to offer consoling words, but the tears were falling fast again. after a while, Ilana released Cassia and put both her hands on her cheeks. "My dear girl, I'm so glad you came."
Cassia nodded. "I—I'm sorry about your brother." her voice cracked, and she took a steadying breath.
"We are all sorry," Ilana said, her own eyes filling with tears. "I can hardly believe it. My mother has stayed in her bedchamber since the news, and my father is out with the guards searching the grounds for a weapon . . . or any other evidence."
Cassia took ilana's hand in hers and squeezed. The queen stepped toward them and put an arm around Ilana.
They were standing in a protective huddle when a flurry of shouting came from the front courtyard.
"They've found something," Ilana whispered, her grip tightening on Cassia.