Ruins of bone, p.19
Ruins of Bone, page 19
“That’s wise, my dear. You must regain your strength.” Aunt Caris patted my hand. “Shall I send up some tea?”
“No, thank you.” I pushed back my chair and fled the room.
Jade and Asrina accompanied me; Riven followed in silence. Exhaustion weighted my limbs, and I stumbled over the final step. Did lack of grace indicate mortal blood ran stronger in me than fae? Never mind that now. On the threshold of my bedchamber, I hesitated.
Riven stood close behind, and the power inherent to his nature surged about me.
I froze.
How could I do this? He’d spoken of the arrangement in practical terms, a defense against Lord West, but I knew nothing of fae conventions. What if he expected something more in return for the protection he offered tonight? I spun around, the door at my back. “I can’t—there’s no room for you to sleep here.”
It emerged as awkward and graceless and faltering as I felt.
“Tell me.” He spoke low, but his words carried an edge. “Should I be insulted that you’d rather face the fury of a thwarted fae lord than spend a single night in my company?”
The tone of his voice suggested he was insulted, and I struggled to even my own. “I meant no insult.”
“Then you have no concern over the situation?”
He’d worded it so neatly that it was impossible to deny. But how could I explain the tangle of fear within—how overwhelming Other felt? How could a fae ever understand what it felt like to be mortal, if I even was mortal? How could I confess that when his power washed over me, for a moment it took me back to the grasp of Damir, to the shadow-cords he’d used to bind me in place? If I confessed, I’d appear as weak as fae believed all mortals. My breath caught.
He reached around me and opened the door. “Fae need little sleep. A chair will do. But the longer we linger here, the greater chance I will have to glamour someone.”
He strode into the bedchamber, and I forced myself to follow, to attempt to reason. If he’d wished to take advantage of the imbalance in our circumstances, he could easily have done so before. Yet all the raw emotion of the day poured over me, driving out rational thought.
He crossed to the window and surveyed the drenched world of darkness beyond. “I’ll wait here while you prepare for bed.”
I stepped behind the dressing screen, and Asrina fluttered to perch atop it.
At least one thing on this dreadful day had gone right. She’d survived and regained her full health. Yet Lord West—Damir—still waited for his opportunity to strike. Instinctively, I reached for my pendant.
But it was gone.
Sharp and vivid, the acrid scent of burning flesh returned. The rage on Lord West’s face. The force of his shadows, driving pain deep into my body.
I sank to the floor and buried my face in my hands. I shouldn’t indulge in tears, not with Riven here, but I could not restrain them, not anymore. Though I did my best to keep quiet, my breath shuddered.
Perhaps Riven would take it as more evidence of mortal weakness. Perhaps it was. I must collect myself. I’d already taken far too long changing.
And I did not want him to check on me.
I struggled to my feet and pulled on my thickest dressing gown. Yet I remained as frigid as if the rain outside sluiced over my skin.
After I climbed into bed, Riven crossed to the chair before the hearth, the lines of his body tight in the flicker of the gas lamps.
I’d forgotten to lower them.
Jade padded over to them and gave a soft mrow, catching Riven’s attention. With a quick motion, he drew their light to himself, and it vanished, shimmering into his skin.
I’d not needed another reminder of all I didn’t understand about fae. Even in the dark, the tension in the air became a living thing, the weight of what remained unspoken pressing upon my chest. Had I caused offense? Broken some rule of fae etiquette in our interactions?
Exhaustion weighed upon me, slowing my thoughts as though they’d become mud-mired. I tugged the quilts up to my neck, breathing in the scent of sun and storm that Riven carried.
If he wasn’t here, I’d be petrified in the dark, waiting for Lord West to come and finish what he started—to fight for my life and almost certainly lose it, as I’d not yet found an effective means of defense.
But I’d offered no thanks for his assistance. Perhaps if I did, it would mend whatever was strained between us.
“Riven?”
“What is it?”
“You should know—I did try to send Asrina to you when I couldn’t find a way to stop Lord West, but he’d already injured her and she couldn’t fly.” It was easier to speak into the dark, since I couldn’t see him. “I’m glad you came. And that you’ve stayed.”
A long silence followed, so long that I wished to pull the bedcovers over my head—but could fae see in the dark?
When he spoke, his voice came as warm and gentle as a summer breeze. “You should sleep now, Jessa.”
And even as he spoke, slumber claimed me.
I woke with a start in full night. I’d forgotten to draw the curtains, and moonlight poured through the windowpanes, creating squares of silver-white on the floor.
Riven sat near them, the light glinting across his features, and several sun sylphs fluttered about him, flickering in their distinctive communication pattern. I was safe.
But still, something felt wrong. What?
Jade. She didn’t occupy her customary place in my bed. A soul-deep ache flooded my body. Where had she gone? If she’d vanished . . . I should have sought to make amends, only I’d been so weary.
She leapt upon the bedside table. I’m here.
Were you sleeping on the floor?
I didn’t think you wanted my company.
An image of her formidable fae form flash through my mind. I pressed it aside. But I do. I don’t want things to change.
Nevertheless, they have. I did not wish to presume.
The vulnerability lacing the formal words pricked like the thorn of a thistle. What could I say? She perceived the turmoil within; there was no denying it. I shifted slightly, and the bedsheets rustled. You know I have questions.
It is your nature. A slight archness laced the words, a reminder that she knew me far better than I found comfortable.
How did you come to me?
She climbed onto the bed and curled her legs beneath her, regarding me steadily. It is not a simple tale. Yet I owe it.
You don’t owe me—
I do. You will hear the truth and then decide. She hesitated, then continued. Before I came to your world, my clan was attacked by a clutch of rock drakes. Aside from high fae, not many Otherfolk pose a threat to us, but the dragon-kind do. My bond-mate and I volunteered to lead them off. We killed several, but more came. More than we ever anticipated. The battle was long and bitter.
I thought back to the wounds she’d borne when she took refuge in the glasshouse.
One of them sliced through Ti-dor’s neck, a deep wound. He could no longer fight, so I dragged him through a Crossing. It offered a chance to throw them off, an opportunity to survive. In case of pursuit, we wandered as far from the Crossing as we could, but he’d lost so much blood. He died before morning, and I would have soon followed, but I found your glasshouse.
By chance?
Not chance. The essence of Other drew me. And then you chose to tend my wounds, but you did not know.
Know what?
That to survive, I had to bond with you. Otherwise, no matter how much care you took, I would have died before another full day passed.
She’d said kit-isne couldn’t long survive a severed bond, but I’d not realized the extent. So if you hadn’t found me, if I hadn’t had something Other about me—
I would have been lost, like Ti-dor. I’d resigned myself to it, didn’t want to survive losing him. A severed bond is . . . it does not bear speaking of.
A vast grief, like that which touched me after Ibbie’s death, swirled across my senses. And replacing a lost bond with another works?
Not always. Nor was I certain I wanted it to, not at the very first, but then . . . Her eyes shimmered with their uncanny glow. It doesn’t matter. I chose, but you did not. So I will ask again. Do you want me to go? You need not fear that you will suffer from my parting—I alone am bound.
Was she volunteering to go to her death? How could she consider such a thing? I wanted to cradle her close, but I wasn’t sure it would be welcome. I have no intention of letting you go, so I hope you’ve resigned yourself to being stuck in the mortal world.
Her body relaxed. Then you should know that I’ve no objection to contact—kit-isne favor it for the nurturing of the bond, and we’re rarely parted from our bond-mates. Of course, in the rare instances we bond with fae instead of other kit-isne, we do not force them into all our rituals. Fae do not take kindly to being groomed.
So I imagine. I shifted to a more comfortable position. I have one other question.
Only one?
I smiled into the dark. For now. Do you know of the protections in place for mortals? Those of which Riven could not speak?
The same geas binds me. There are many things I wish . . . A low, pained rumble resounded in her chest. I cannot.
I understand. I wrapped my arms around her, her sweet-grass scent wafting around me, her warmth a comfort. And I lay in the silvery dark, considering it all—all that she’d suffered, all the dangers and hostilities of the Otherworld, all the threats Lord West posed.
And Kilmere.
Somehow it all came back to Kilmere.
Perhaps there is a curse, after all.
I flinched at the sudden intrusion into my thoughts. How would I ever grow accustomed to it?
Jade’s ears twitched back.
I’m sorry, it’s only . . . I faltered.
You hate that you cannot keep your thoughts and emotions hidden.
Yes.
Her muscles tensed. Are you certain you do not wish to sever the bond? It is your right. You never agreed to it.
No! Never think that. I couldn’t endure losing you. I stroked her fur. The moonlight somehow deepened its darkness and set the white starflower patch on her chest to sparkling. Only perhaps you needn’t visit my thoughts all the time?
Kit-isne hold nothing back from their bond-mates.
But I am not kit-isne. And I felt exposed beyond my ability to endure—ah, she would perceive that too. I sighed. You said at times kit-isne bond with fae. Surely things are different in those cases. Might it apply to us also?
That is not much discussed. Only the dangers of kit-isne bonding outside their kind, for in such cases, the kit-isne bear all the risk. For a moment I felt her uncertainty—or perhaps it was only my own—then she spoke again. Since we are bonded, I cannot keep your thoughts from touching my own, not like I do with others. When kit-isne bond with fae, such boundaries flow from the fae, not the other way around. And you do not know what you are, let alone if you have the ability to put such boundaries in place. But I will create what distance I can. If you prefer, I will remain silent as before. You need not be reminded of what I am.
Oh, Jade. That’s not what I want. I can’t deny that it will take me time to grow accustomed to this. But I will, if you’ll only be patient.
Kit-isne excel at patience.
Somehow I had a feeling kit-isne believed they excelled in all things.
It is not belief, but fact. She arched her back, then stretched. Do you want to discuss Damir?
Perhaps. I fixed my gaze on the silver-tinged ceiling. Even with Riven here, he’ll not surrender his plans. And I can’t expect him to stay at my side for days or weeks on end. Even if he does, if something goes wrong, if Lord West manages to kill me, then my family will be at risk. He’ll force himself upon them, and there won’t be anyone left to protect them.
Then you must make sure pursuing them no longer offers him any gain.
But how? If I died unmarried and without a will, by default, my property would go to my father, but perhaps I might turn mortal law to my advantage? On some level, it appeared Lord West must abide by our conventions—purchasing land from its owner rather than seizing it by force.
Jade nestled close to my side. You seek to use your legal system against him?
If I can. A plan wove within my mind. If I could bring Father around—and Riven—then it might work to keep Lord West at a distance, at least long enough to allow us to explore Kilmere and find answers.
Because I couldn’t stay away any longer, no matter what obstacles lay between me and the ruins. If I had any hope of ending this, I needed to visit Kilmere myself—whatever the risks—and unearth its secrets.
Chapter 17
When I next woke, radiant sunlight streamed through the windows. Jade was curled up at my side, still drowsy. I eased away from her.
It was time to act upon the plans I’d concocted in the middle of the night, but I didn’t want to have any sort of conversation while sleep disheveled—particularly not with a fae who appeared as elegant and polished as ever, despite having spent the night in a chair. At some point, he’d removed his jacket, and he now sat in his shirt sleeves, appearing unnaturally at ease, a stark contrast to the awkwardness I felt.
I’d rather bury myself deep within the bedquilts than come under his too-perceptive gaze at the moment—and perhaps he guessed at my sentiments. Though he must have heard me stir, he didn’t turn toward me, but continued to converse with Asrina and another sun sylph, one with hair like blue flame. I took the offered escape and fled behind the dressing screen to make myself presentable.
What now?
I hesitated in the shadow of the screen. I couldn’t begin to reason out Riven’s actions, and my lack of understanding left me unsettled. He’d not taken advantage of the situation when he’d had ample opportunity to do so. He could have requested any bargain he desired in exchange for his help with Lord West, and I’d have had little choice but to accept it. I didn’t know why he’d not required more, nor what his purpose was in offering assistance—not in full. Of course, fae couldn’t lie, which meant at least part of it was the rivalry between courts and his desire to thwart Damir. Even so, it was a great deal of trouble to put himself to for what was otherwise a mortal affair, unless more remained concealed.
Yet I could not forever remain divided in mind. I must extend some measure of trust, must accept there were things he kept concealed, if we were to face Lord West together. If I constantly second-guessed his intentions, then I could not place my attentions on Lord West or Kilmere, where they belonged.
I finished weaving the braid around my hair and securing it with the pins I’d left on the stool the night before.
Jade padded over to me. Are you certain you wish to take this course?
I see no other. I adjusted my gown. But when I speak to Riven . . . I’ll not be able to converse with you both at once. I’m not yet practiced in this.
And my head still felt slightly muzzy from the events of the day prior.
She stretched to her full length, arching her back. Then I will keep silent. But have a care.
I emerged from behind the screen and perched on the edge of the bed, as if it were ordinary to conduct a conversation with a gentleman within the confines of my bedchamber. “Do you need to sleep this morning?”
“Not now—we’ve more pressing matters to address.” Fortunately, he matched my matter-of-fact tone. “Damir will not rest idle.”
“I’ve had an idea about that.” I plucked at a loose thread on the bedquilt. “He told me that after my death, he intended to glamour Father into selling Kilmere to him. As it stands now, if he kills me, he gains everything—which means my family will be at tremendous risk.”
“Only if you die.”
“Still, I’d prefer him to see as little purpose in pursuing them as possible—or in my death, for that matter.”
“What do you propose?”
Understanding a bit more about the rules governing our worlds had opened a new possibility, yet I required Riven’s confirmation. “If I made a will, must he abide by the terms?”
“He’d have to approach the new owner to acquire Kilmere upon your death, yes, but no other mortal would be able to resist his glamour.” A little spark of light played between Riven’s fingers. “The individual in question would be at risk.”
“I know I can’t leave it to another mortal. I’d hoped to will it to you.”
Riven became entirely still, no flicker of emotion to betray his thoughts. The spark vanished.
I hurried on, my words tumbling over one another. “Not that I wish to place you at any risk, of course, but no one in my world can stand against Lord West. You can, and I’m certain he knows it, so I thought if I named you the beneficiary of Kilmere and the trust from Ibbie in the event of my marriage or death, it would dissuade him from trying to force either. He’d gain nothing from doing so.”
Still, Riven kept silent.
Had I presumed too much? I forced myself to continue. “I know I’m asking a great deal, and perhaps this sort of involvement is what you must avoid. I admit there’s much I don’t understand, and if you don’t want to be troubled—”
“Jessa.” Glints of gold lightened the green of his eyes. “It’s not that.”
I pulled my knees to my chest. “Then what?”
“You should exercise more care in the bargains you offer.” He fell silent, then at last continued, his voice low. “I owe fealty to a king who’s not inclined favorably toward mortals.”
“Then . . . would I be in danger if I left the estates to you?”
“Not at this time.”
“Will you tell me if that changes?”
“Yes.” He inclined his head. “But you’ve asked for nothing in return.”
“Your assistance with the matter of Lord West is quite enough.” The idea of pressing for more left me discomfited, as did the notion of bargaining in general, with all its hidden pitfalls. “Do you accept what I proposed?”
“On the condition that if we successfully deal with Damir, this new will is removed.”
