Chapter 19
The winter is past and the snow of the frontier is melting into spring.
I am well again, thanks to the care of Jason.
One morning I am clipping some flower branches in the courtyard when I hear some of the maids whispering.
"They say the general has a picture of Leah in his study!"
"No!" "I tell you he has, for the lieutenant saw it, it is just like her!"
I stop my clipping and the blood surges through me. A picture of me?
I put down my shears and go to his study to see for myself.
The guard at the door lets me go in, with a respectful nod.
The room is bare of furniture, except for the essentials.
Rows of military scrolls fill the shelves, and the desk is bare except for ink and paper, placed there in military neatness.
In the corner is a small chest of rosewood. I stop a moment and lift the lid.
Folded garments lie within, atop them rests a scroll.
I unroll it and my breath stalls: there I am beneath a plum tree, white dress against the blossoms, my face rendered with uncanny precision. Yet the paper has yellowed and the ink has paled—this is no recent portrait.
Then the dress catches my eye: the same one I wore three years ago in Belmor Town's plum garden. I turn the scroll over and find, written in minute characters, ‘Third Year of the Reign, Winter, Belmor Town Plum Garden.'
That winter I pulled Shawn from the river. I was sixteen, walking with my mother beneath plum branches powdered with snow, when a general in burnished armor flashed past the corner of my eye. The blossoms held me; I barely registered the soldier.
Was that… Jason?
“What’s the matter?”
His deep voice catches me unprepared and I nearly drop the scroll.
He is at the door and looks down at the painting on the chest, his eyes growing dark. “Jason…”
My heart begins to beat faster.
“Did you paint this?”
He comes nearer, taking the scroll, unrolling it carefully.
“Yes.”
“That day in the garden of plums, was it you?”
“Yes, it was.”
My eyes become moist.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me.”
He places the scroll back in the chest, in a low voice saying:
“You had someone else in your heart.”
His words strike home, explaining so much how he had been kind and so sorry before, why he had been distant.
He had thought I was still tied to Shawn.
“Jason.”
I breath deeply, grasping his hand in mine.
“I want to tell you something.”
He stiffens at my words and does not pull away, however.
“Go on.”
“I…,”
I say, looking deeply into his eyes with an abiding certainty.
“I do not love Shawn any longer. From the hour I chose to bind myself to you my heart has belonged to you.”
His pupils open widely, his breathing becomes difficult.
“You have been good and kind, restraining yourself because you have thought I still love someone else,” I said, low and placidly.
“But now I am telling you, Jason, that you are the only one.”
Before he can answer, I push onto my toes and kiss him. He goes still for a heartbeat, then takes control, cupping the back of my head and pulling me closer, the kiss turning urgent and deep, as if every feeling he has kept locked away is suddenly rushing out.
When he finally pulls back, forehead against mine, he whispers, "Leah, for the rest of my life, I'll protect you."
Tears well up, and I nod hard. "Okay."
