Rather than Resenting: Ch. 18

A Request

Notes:

Yay! Posting is resuming 🥳

What I will say is that there isn't a ton of action in the next few chapters. Just so you know^^

*****

Janner neither attended any meetings that day, nor did he run into any diplomats, either by force or by mistake. Artham made a point of sending Kalmar ahead of them as they made their way back to the private second story of Castle Rysen. The job turned out to be a rather difficult one, since with the way the dungeons were situated — their corridor coming off of the Throne Room — their path back to the private sector was cluttered with all sorts of diplomatic people from parts of Anniera. 

As it was, it turned out that Kal was very good at clearing a path to where no guards or advisors or mayors or anything else of the sort wandered their way into the Throne Room as Janner and Artham were emerging, He never told them exactly how he had done it, but later Janner reflected that it must have been embarrassing, based on the color Kalmar’s cheeks turned every time the situation was mentioned.

In the moment, though, Janner was far too tired to think about how his brother and uncle managed things. He did manage to thank them several times, though if it was spoken aloud, he wasn’t sure if they heard it, and if he simply thought it, they certainly didn’t hear it.

His felt his mind slowing down gradually from the rapid pace it had raced at while they were in the dungeon halls, but the trouble was that as it slowed down and left him with a peace he had not felt in only the Maker knew how long, he knew he was feeling more and more tired, more prone to stumbling on the stairs. There were other dreadful problems still hanging about his mind quite densely, but in the meantime the Maker’s victory in his heart had scattered light and gentleness about the premises and was not about to vacate any time soon. 

He knew he didn’t trust Amrah, not in the least, but he wasn’t angry with her. It had disappeared in a blink, a lovely blink that had lifted such a weight from his shoulders. The weight of Cerlon’s weakness and the weight of his wariness of her persisted, but the former was natural and the latter was understandable. He knew if the Maker wanted him to trust Amrah, He would allow it to happen and He would place that desire on his heart. In the meantime, though, it seemed as though He simply asked for Janner to be still and to remember and know that he was loved and forgiven.

Sara, Cerlon, Evnia, and Elquinn were already gone by the time he got back to their apartments (understandably so, as it was past breakfast time and they were likely doing either the same or various things about the more private portions of the castle to entertain themselves), and even though both Artham and Kalmar offered to stay with him, Janner declined. Artham remaining would spell disaster for Anniera in terms of any diplomatic meetings on trade and such, and Kalmar not appearing at a meeting more than two days in a row would leave him with Haldrid breathing down his neck. Kalmar may have been king, but he knew better than to make Haldrid angry.  

Instead, Janner took advantage of the time to do something he felt as though he hadn’t truly done with complete and total honesty and conviction and repentance in a while: he prayed. He prayed and he poured his heart out to the Maker, searching as hard as he could to find every little (and large) blemish where he might harbor some sort of bitterness toward Amrah or even the Maker Himself and then repented of it. For the things he wasn’t certain about or the things he had forgotten, he prayed they would be revealed to him in time. 

At a certain point in his prayer, he began feeling a strong (painfully so) conviction that he needed to change his heart toward Amrah. It was so confusing and made so little sense, not when there was virtually no way of trusting her, what with all the lies she had spun over the years. 

Yet he knew something inside of him wanted to trust her. He wasn’t certain if it was the Maker or if it was a mistake of his, but it was there and could not be ignored. 

“Please, Maker,” he whispered. “If You are the one Who has put this on my heart, please show me. And please tell me what to do next if You are the One speaking to me, because I certainly have no idea how to go about it.”

*****

Artham decided to confront Kalmar after the first meeting with the Torborron diplomats was over in lieu of helping organize anything for the Redeemer's Ball that was about a week and a half away. It had been a conference on finance and was dreadfully boring. Understandably, his mind had wandered toward the events of very early that morning several times, and now it was eating at him. He had gone down to the dungeons for the same reason Janner and Kalmar had (to speak with Amrah) and happening upon his nephews, the former of whom was in tears and near hysterics, had been quite a surprise.  

“Kalmar, I need to know,” he said gently when he was certain they were the only ones around. There was always the chance of Haldrid walking in on them, but likely wouldn’t he, considering how seriously he was taking every single meeting. He usually wasn’t as dogmatic as he was at that time, but Janner’s absence had brought that out in him. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. “What exactly happened in the dungeons to…produce such a reaction from Janner?”

Kal laughed a little nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Um…I kind of asked him if he minded if I just let Amrah go free or not, you know, since she’s sincere.”

Artham’s heart went out to Janner, and he  shook his head in disbelief. “Kalmar, I may agree with you that she’s sincere, but letting her go free without consulting anyone else is probably the most idiotic idea you’ve had since you became king.”

The smile faded from Kalmar’s face and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed, planting his elbow on the table and plopping his chin in his palm. “But I want to give her another chance if she is sincere, and it seems like she is!”

Pursing his lips, Artham looked at his nephew imploringly. “Kalmar, I want you to understand that while it is a perfectly lovely sentiment, it is not reasonable. Unless we received a word or sign from the Maker Himself, I wouldn’t release her! And Janner certainly needs to be considered when talking of releasing Amrah.” Artham actually thought Janner should be the one who made the final decision, he was just hoping Kalmar would manage to reach that conclusion without being prompted.

“But I did ask him!” Kalmar protested. “I was going to ask him before I suggested it to her.”

“You already suggested it to her?” Artham asked drily. He thought Kalmar had acquired more sense than that over the years, but apparently he had not. 

Kalmar shook his head quickly. “No, no! I wouldn’t do that.  I am slightly smarter than you think, Uncle Artham. Not that much smarter, but at least a little bit!”

Artham cracked a smile. “Well I’m glad to hear that. And you’re certain Amrah didn’t hear you?”

Shrugging, it was a moment before Kalmar answered him. “I don’t think she did. I was pretty quiet, and she’s kind of old, so I can’t imagine that her hearing is great.”

Well I hope she didn’t hear, otherwise we’re in an uncomfortable situation, Artham mused uneasily. “And that was it,” he finally said. “It was only that you asked him what he thought about letting Amrah out?”

Kalmar sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “No. Then he asked her a few questions and got angry, and then I dragged him out and was absolutely furious with him and then…” he hesitated. “I asked him something that we both know by now and that was when he fell apart.”

There was silence for a few minutes, in which Artham chose not to tell Kalmar that he had known about Janner’s struggle with bitterness for some time. He also refrained from making the point that even though some tempers had been lost and a good deal of tears had been shed just a few hours before, it was completely worth it and absolutely necessary.

He glanced over at Kalmar, who was drumming his fingers on the table, looking a little bit upset. “Do you feel bad about getting mad at him?” Artham asked gently. 

Kalmar started a little bit, looked at him, and then shifted his eyes away. “I mean…a little. Something good came out of it, which was a plus, but I dragged him up a flight of stairs and then shoved him up against a wall. It wasn’t fair to him, especially since I’m taller and broader than he is.”

Artham rolled his eyes. “Kalmar, that is not the point of what you’re saying.”

He received a nod in response. “I know. What’s worse about it is that I got angry with him afterwards. My point is that I feel kind of bad about it. I didn’t at the time…but now I do.”

Artham turned over his nephew’s words in his mind. Perhaps dragging Janner up stone steps and thrusting him into a stone wall with the intent of yelling at him hadn’t been Kalmar’s greatest idea, nor his kindest, but the aftermath of what happened during that slot of time had helped unearth problems that needed to come to light. Artham had to admit that he never would have cornered Janner, shoved him into a wall, or yelled at him. 

“I think,” he replied slowly, eyeing Kalmar. “That there weren’t that many options, nor roads, to take to resolve…issues. You chose one without knowing it and it worked. I’m very grateful for that.” Kalmar nodded but didn’t look very convinced. “You can apologize to him if you want to,” Artham offered. “But the likelihood of him actually accepting your apology is very low.”

Kalmar groaned. “Ugh, why does he have to be so impossible? He doesn’t accept anything from people. Not now, at least. Not for a while.”

Artham smiled lightly. “I know. But you don’t really, either.” Kalmar sniffed like a socialite but failed to deny his point. “And, besides: I think that’s going to change with Janner in the near future.”

At least, he prayed it would.

*****

Notes:

In hindsight, this feels like one of those "busy chapters." I mean, the first part is important, but the second part...perhaps less so. The next chapter is better. As is the one after it^^