Lightfall, p.38
LightFall, page 38
I held my breath, my gaze fixed on the prince’s face. But there wasn’t the slightest flicker in his icy eyes, and the sardonic quirk of his mouth didn’t ease. “That was before,” he said. “Before the dragon, before we both knew what it would take to even hold the line.”
It was the king who looked away first, and I found my heart aching a little for him, that he’d reached out only to be rebuffed. But in all those years, he’d presided over the festivities while his brother had suffered the bloody aftermath of the Feasts.
“So that was before,” the king mused. “What about after?”
It was Aric’s turn to look away. “I don’t know. All those years, I had only one task, gruesome but simple. What do your advisors tell you about the rest?”
The king rolled his eyes, and in his expression I caught a glimpse of the carefree, reckless, noble-born boy he must’ve been, rampaging the palace halls with his adopted brother, before… “They have so much wise counsel about what I might do,” he said, emphasizing the words with a bitter drawl. “They are less clear on exactly which way to turn. I’ve always been ready and willing to fight, you know that, but maybe it’s true that my studies of history and strategy haven’t always been as diligent as the marshal and Kalima and no’Maru might want—which you also know.” That charismatic smile flickered back, like the sparks he’d drawn from his sword. “Remember that time we—”
“Don’t,” Aric said harshly. “Don’t do this, not now. Nothing good can come of it.”
I winced. That wasn’t just a rebuff; that was a dismissal outright.
Mikhalthe looked down at the sword he’d been cleaning with a soldier’s diligence, and I liked him a little better for not leaving the task to one of his underlings—although maybe he understood well enough what mattered most for his survival. Except a sword alone wouldn’t save us, would it? “No palace, no plan, no Dragon Prince,” he murmured. “What possible good—or impossible bad—remains?”
I didn’t like the edge to his tone, not hopelessness, but something even more hazardous—the sort of futile recklessness I’d heard in the voices of street-sneaks in debt to Orton and frantic for the big score that would keep their heads above water and attached to their shoulders. That sort of desperation led to poor choices. I knew that all too well.
So with my own bit of rash unruliness, I popped up from my side of the wall. “We can’t just rush back,” I blurted out, hurrying to the prince’s side. “But we could sneak back.”
The king had stiffened at my abrupt appearance, his fist closing around the hilt of his sword, although he relaxed as soon as he saw me as the amount of threat I was—which was none. Aric didn’t even twitch, as if he’d known I was there all along.
“Feinan, this isn’t the time for one of your pithy, inspirational asides,” Aric said.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “What else have we got?”
His lips curled back at me, not in that sarcastic way he’d mastered, but in the way it seemed he reserved for my own personal stamp of ridiculousness. “True.”
Before I could explain, the pitch of annoyed voices reached us just as no’Maru stalked into the shelter of broken walls with Lor Berindo tagging behind.
The old lor was saying, “It was not my place to ask. I do as the numinlor tells me—”
“Kalima is missing,” no’Maru snapped. “She and the youngest lor weren’t in the carriage with the rest of the haloria.”
I froze. Imbril hadn’t made it out of the lightkeep? He would be so frightened.
I felt the brush of Aric’s attention before he turned to face Berindo. “Where is Kalima? And don’t pretend you don’t know something. You’ve been around too long for that.”
Berindo raised his chin. “I could’ve been numinlor,” he said in a petulant tone. “She shouldered right past me, no respect at all, told the other lors she had insights into the auguries none of the rest of us could claim.” His face scrunched up like a speridia rind left out to dry. “And everyone else seemed to agree. Unless they were just too cowed to say otherwise,” he finished with a dismissive sniff.
“That’s ancient history,” the king growled. “What do you know about where she is now?”
The lor glanced sideways at no’Maru, then blew out a ragged breath. “She questioned the advice you were receiving, Your Illuminance. She feels her auric duty to the Living Lands deeply, and she believed there would be those left in the High Keep who would need her blessing and protection.”
The king stiffened. “The High Keep was supposed to be evacuated,” he growled. “Those were my explicit orders.”
Berindo gave him an arch look. “Not everyone could comply, Your Illuminance. And as I told you, not everyone believed that was the best choice.”
I stared at the defiant old lor. Did he know about the sleepers? Or was he talking about servants and the like, not privileged enough to claim a spot on the escaping conveyances? Or did he mean something else entirely?
“The numinlor would do anything to preserve the Living Lands,” Berindo continued. “Clearer than most she sees the shadows that threaten us.”
“She killed everyone demon-touched,” I whispered. “How can that be right?”
Though I was once again speaking out of turn, no one silenced me. “She knows the price to be paid for our very lives,” Berindo said, as if the numinlor had some cart in a market row weighing out speridia rind down to each salt crystal. “She has had to spin and knot the spectrum threads of our survival for more years than you’ve been around, child. Not just anyone can weave around the wounds of an unending war.”
“But Kalima isn’t here,” no’Maru pointed out. “What we do have is a handful of fighters trapped on these dead plains, and no time to summon tithed troops from the other lightkeeps.” He shook his head. “We make our stand here, like Ormonde of old, engaging the horde. We win back the High Keep, and the rest of the Living Lands will bow to the king of the Living Lands once again.”
“No one would dare question me,” the king growled.
No’Maru bowed shallowly. “Of course not, Your Illuminance. Not once you defeat the horde forever.”
I’d heard so much of forever and everlasting and eternal since coming to the High Keep, considering our situation seemed more tenuous than the happiness of the sorriest urchin in Sevaare’s alleys.
“Why didn’t the horde follow us?” Aric asked abruptly. “Why do demons want an empty lightkeep?”
The king snorted. “It’s the heart of our kingdom.”
Aric shook his head. “Demons don’t care about hearts.”
“Maybe Claeve does,” I muttered. “He dons the color anyway.”
Apparently loud enough for everyone to hear, and this time they all looked at me.
No’Maru scoffed. “This supposed demon master? The horde doesn’t have a master. Vreas was just seeking to excuse his failure.”
“You weren’t there when the caravan salvage was attacked,” Aric said, no accusation in his tone but no room for argument either. “Nor was Mikhalthe, nor I for that matter.” He looked at Lor Berindo before deliberately not mentioning the haloria, then turned his icy gaze to me. “Tell them what you saw, Feinan.”
Managing not to gulp, I kept my focus on the prince to avoid meeting the skeptical and hostile stares of the king and his advisor and the old lor. “Claeve wasn’t a demon. He was…like us. He spoke to us, told us…” I frowned, sifting through the frightening memories. “He offered salvation, said our auras would shine forever. Then he killed some people, of course. Never said he wanted the castle, but he didn’t seem the sort to be satisfied with a red cloak and one moonglow sword.”
Aric twisted around to face the others. “The High Keep isn’t geographically central but it’s vital to the Living Lands. And since the Great Gorging, the High Keep is central to the king’s rule. If this Claeve claims it…”
“You think he means to style himself as king.” No’Maru rubbed his chin.
Mikhalthe bristled. “This pretender might have taken the walls, but there is more to rule than sitting on a throne.”
“Is there?” I almost winced at the words that popped out of me. But I was picturing the stripped-down chair in the black tower, jewels stolen for the seat in the palace throne room. “Because the people of Osiroon haven’t seen it. They’ve been suffering horde attacks awhile now, but nothing’s been done, no one’s come to save them.”
No’Maru shook his head. “And you and the Osri think some demon-wielding pretender—very likely the same one who has preyed on them—will be your savior?”
“I won’t speak for the Osri,” I told him. “I’m just saying the High Keep has felt out of reach to many in the Living Lands for a long time.”
Lor Berindo snorted. “And we should take such criticism from a lightkeep-named urchin?”
The prince glanced from me to his brother. “She is one among your people, Your Illuminance.”
For a moment, my presence felt more tenuous than any shadow. What was I doing here among the most important people in the kingdom? The lor wasn’t wrong that if I had anything to say, the Living Lands had fallen very far indeed.
“If this upstart Claeve thinks to make a play for the Radiant Throne, then we will fight him as any traitor, with the horde or no.” The king pulled out a whetstone and began to sharpen his blade with decisive strokes. “They surprised us once, but it won’t happen again.”
Since we’d already lost the High Keep, I didn’t see how we could lose it again. But sometimes I was able to keep my mouth shut.
“Feinan, come with me,” Aric said. “We should check on the next wave of refugees.”
The king scowled at him. “You aren’t the only one who cares about the people, brother. When you are talking to them, find a few riders and put them on the fastest steeds. We need to send word to the other lightkeeps to let them know what’s happened here and to call in our reserves.”
I stared at him. “So caring about your people means summoning them to the slaughter?” Neh, so much for keeping my mouth shut.
But Mikhalthe merely inclined his head. “We have the flamecasters and the bloodrunes. Though it may not be enough, we won’t give up and abandon our kingdom. Claeve might hold the High Keep, but there is more to the Living Lands than an empty palace.”
Though I had my own thoughts about abandonment, I couldn’t answer that before Aric wrapped his fingers around my arm and hauled me away from the sad impromptu throne room.
“I have made many poor choices,” I told him. “But it’s never mattered to anyone but me before.”
“You mattered,” he said. “You just didn’t know it then.”
Before I could decipher his meaning, he’d pulled me into another building that was much smaller but almost intact with a dense circular wall holding up most of the roof. I guessed it was part of the wall watch complex where guards would’ve sheltered in the night and bad weather while they stood sentry by turns. For now, it was a place where the prince and I hunkered down out of the wind and any watching eyes.
“You have no fear, do you?” He shook his head.
“Oh, I fear, very much,” I said sincerely.
“And yet you talk back to the most powerful nobles in the Living Lands.”
I lifted one shoulder helplessly. “I’ve always been good at running away, but sometimes my mouth runs faster.”
He snorted. “I don’t think they are yet ready to hear anything anyone else might say. They’ve had their way for so long that any change seems impossible.” He let out a slow breath. “And yet here we are, exiled.”
I found myself leaning toward him, my shoulder just barely brushing his. “Now the rest of them can know what it’s like.”
Slowly, he swiveled his head to look at me. Since he was taller than me on all levels, he still looked down at me though we were side by side, and another one of his soft snorts brushed across my head. “I wouldn’t wish our fate on anyone else,” he said softly. “I just wanted to free myself, not drag them into the darkness too.”
“Neh, I guess you’re just a better person than me,” I drawled. “And even though you were banished to the black tower, at least you had the hot bubbling pool.” I let out a despondent sigh of my own. “That would feel good right about now.”
“You are filthy.” His tone pitched in a way that reminded me of the bubbles rising through my blood. He reached for me, his hand hesitating just a moment, with just the slightest tremble, to skim the pad of his thumb across my cheek bone. “Did you fall face first into yaxen dung?”
I gave my head just a small shake, letting his fingertips ride the wave of my gesture, the skimming contact of his skin igniting bright sparks within those secret bubbles within me. “No, feels more like the yaxen kicked me in the head.” When I let my head cant to the side, resting against his hand, he curled his fingers to cradle my cheek.
“It seems like forever ago that we were in Daoja’s valley,” he murmured, “with nothing more to do than shuffle rocks. For just a moment, I thought maybe… It felt like we could’ve been just two Osri herders, maybe, clearing a high field for our flock. A hard day’s labor, a flask of ale, maybe just one bucket of lukewarm water, but it would be our life, just ours.”
I blinked at him, mesmerized by the low cadence of this vision he’d had. “I would be a terrible herder,” I confessed. “Most animals know I’m not good with them, except for vermin which don’t care how much I scream and wave, and you already see how dirty I get. But you, you are very good at hefting heavy rocks. Why, some of them seemed almost bigger than you, and I saw how your muscles bulged under your tunic.” That sounded odd to me, so I quickly added, “Just mean to say that you could definitely be a mason, if you wanted to, not that I was judging your muscles.”
He let out another soft breath and let his thumb fall to my babbling lips, stoppering the flow of nonsense words. “No, you are not a herder and I am not a mason, are we?”
When I shook my head again, his calloused thumb abraded my lips, and my whole body tingled, like a velvety version of the king striking sparks from his mighty sword. “We are just us, I suppose,” I whispered.
It wouldn’t be enough, of course, not a thief and a dreadmarked prince, but it wasn’t like anything else mattered either.
We were filthy, exhausted, and hungry, or maybe that was just me because he seemed as princely as ever as he slid his hand behind my nape and gently tilted my head back.
From this close distance, the shadows within his scarred eyes were like clouds shifting slowly in the highest sky, calling to mind fantastical shapes and impossibilities that could never be. Blade to bone, I knew better than to dream, but his touch wasn’t a dream, so it wasn’t impossible to want that.
“True,” he said, and I realized I’d spoken aloud. “It’s not an impossible dream if we both want it. And if I may kiss you…”
“Yes,” I whispered. “That I want that even more than a bath.” I hesitated, not wanting to sully this moment with my lies. “Or maybe as much as a bath.”
With a soft laugh, he lowered his mouth to mine.
Against silence, we weave the song.
~ From the lost Amaranthine Verses
CHAPTER 28
THE KISS I’D TAKEN from him in the pool had been wrong, a moment of desolation and hopeless temptation. I’d been uncertain, afraid. Arguably, we were in worse straits now, and yet this kiss…
There was a sweetness that had nothing to do with the heady wines available to a prince of the realm, and an urgent hunger that was nothing like the demons he fought. This was purely him, Aric. Because while he was a complicated weaving of all that he’d been through, he was not just the threads—light and dark—that created him, but someone beyond that too.
He’d told me he’d never kissed before, and while I’d believed him at the time, he was obviously a clever learner, which I supposed he needed to be to have survived as he had. His mouth traced mine with ever greater assurance, his tongue sweeping the seam of my lips so that I parted to him. The kiss went on and on, like a dinzah dream but real, so real, the rush of my blood and the spark of stars behind my closed eyes promising me all the pleasures.
I clung to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he grasped my knee to pull one leg over his lap. I hadn’t been teasing when I said that I noticed the hard bulge of his muscles when he’d been moving rocks. Though I was a negligible weight compared to that, I felt him bulge again, lower down. My own hunger ached in me, wanting to reach out and grasp his burgeoning flesh, take what pleasure was offered and share in return. But…this was not the time or place, was it?
“What else do we have?” he whispered against my lips.
Once again, I’d spoken without thinking, common enough for me and yet a worry nonetheless. What would happen if I told him something truly secret?
“I’m a greedy thief,” I reminded him. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“You are more than that, Feinan. I saw that when you brandished the animdao blade at me here not so long ago, with your back to the pyre flames and your hair wild like a soft crown of light.” He pulled me closer until I straddled him, the hard press of his erection striking a moan from me. “We could wish for more, or at least for a bath, or we can take what’s right here, right now.”
Oh, he was so good at this for someone who’d never stolen and never been seduced. He knew the words and the touches. Part of me blared a warning, that this was a demon’s lure, but the dragon wasn’t here, just him, speaking to me, touching me, tempting me with this moment.
It should’ve been an absurd thing, or maybe a tragic one, our fumbling in this fallen lookout, stealing a moment of pleasure and release. I kicked out of my trousers and freed his erection with a sincere sound of delight that made him blush, and he ducked his head to kiss me with even more passion. My head spun as if we were flying as he placed me above him, and it was a wicked delight to tower over him for once. I stroked him through my hidden folds, showing him the softness and heat that was missing elsewhere in our lives right now.
