“You’ve improved,” he said with a grin when I beat him at the first round. “You actually remembered the rules this time.”
“No thanks to you.” I swept up the cards and started shuffling inexpertly, fumbling more than usual due to my increasingly fuzzy head. “If I remember right, it was Saniya who taught me to play while you argued over whose horse had won some stupid race.”
“Here, let me do that.” Leoth took the cards from me, his hands lingering on mine. I had a sudden urge to move closer to him; if he had been sitting on a larger chair, I would have joined him.
He shuffled for several minutes, dropping cards as often as I had since his eyes never left mine. At last he put the cards to one side and leaned over the table toward me, one hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw.
“Nine plagues, Kalleah. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks. You’re—” I was surprised to find his fingers trembling gently against my chin.
He leaned closer still, until he was in danger of falling off his chair, and I was drawn inexorably toward him. Then he paused, his lips just a finger’s breadth from mine.
“Don’t stop now,” I whispered.
Leoth closed the distance between us hungrily, his hands digging into my hair, lips consuming mine.
A cough from behind broke us apart, and I nearly knocked over my goblet as I struggled to right myself. We were no longer the only patrons at the inn; I had not even noticed the door open.
“Whoops,” Leoth said with a sheepish smile. “Should we go somewhere a bit more private?”
Warmth flooded me as I realized what he was suggesting; I could only nod. Leoth took my arm and guided me from the dining room, inexplicably shy—from his reputation, I was sure he had been with a hundred women at least. But it didn’t matter. I was no delicate maiden whose honor must be preserved; no one would wish for my hand in marriage, regardless of my reputation. This could be my only chance to love someone in body as well as heart.
At the end of the hall, Leoth pushed back the door to a small yet cozy bedchamber with a fire smoldering in the grate.
“I’ve arranged a separate room for you,” he said, “but I thought—”
I cut him off with another kiss. Leoth kicked the door closed behind him and enfolded me in his embrace, our bodies molding together. The desperation in his kiss matched mine, though I could not explain it—surely he would court another woman as soon as I was either crowned or disgraced, and would think no more of me.
But his warmth and the feel of his strong arms around me, his chest pressing against mine, drove away all further thought. When his hands trailed down my neck, brushing aside a wisp of hair, and fumbled with my top button, I reached for the collar of his silk shirt.
Leoth paused long enough to ask, “Are you sure about this?” He was already three buttons down my dress.
“Absolutely.” I had never in my life wanted anything more than I wanted Leoth—with an overwhelming, selfish desire that erased everything else.
I was halfway down his shirt now, though I did not want to pull away from him enough to unfasten the last few buttons. I could see his muscles now, hardened from a lifetime of swordplay and riding, and I ran my fingertips from the hollow beneath his throat down to his belt, pulling out the last of his buttons as I did.
Leoth made a low sound in his throat as he yanked my dress off my shoulders. His hands were soft on my collarbones, the calluses on his palms raising goosebumps down my arms. I could feel him hardening against me, and my insides melted as he pressed me closer still.
My shift fell to my ankles, landing in a bundle atop my gown, and I stepped to the side, shivering as the chill air from the room rushed over my naked skin.
Leoth’s eyes roved over my body for a split second before he captured my eyes in his once again. “You’re stunning, Kalleah. Damn it, but I love you.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” I said, though without much feeling. This was all wrong—we were enemies, and we would ruin one another—yet everything about this moment was right.
I reached for his collar and tried to pull Leoth’s shirt off, but he forestalled me with a hand. Though I was curious—was he scarred or disfigured in some way?—he distracted me by unbuckling his belt. Then he lifted me under the knees and onto the bed, where he crawled above me, kissing my neck and lips and breasts as I dug my hands into his thick black hair and dragged him closer still.
“Kalleah,” he murmured, his hands trailing down my neck and across my stomach. “Whatever happens, remember this night. This is the truth. I love you, and everything else is a lie.”
* * *
When at last we finished, Leoth gathered me in his arms, smiling sleepily at me. I relaxed in his arms, letting his warmth lull me to the edge of sleep. I had never felt so safe, so whole. I had been lonely since birth, unable to take comfort in the touch of another human; this was what I had craved for so many years.
Before long, Leoth’s breathing evened out and his eyes dropped closed. I remained encircled in his arms for as long as I dared, wondering how much of his exhaustion was my fault and how much was driven by wine and warmth and satisfaction.
Then I sat up with a start. I had begun to drift off myself, and I could no longer tell how much time had passed. Disentangling myself from Leoth’s arms—he murmured in his sleep and rolled over—I slid gently off the bed.
“I do love you, Leoth,” I whispered. “Even though it will be my downfall.”
Kissing him on the temple, I dressed quickly and let myself out.
The innkeeper looked surprised to see me, or perhaps it was just the mess I had made of my hair that shocked him.
“Are you well, Milady? Has Prince Leoth injured you in any way?”
I shook my head with an embarrassed smile. “No, all is well. But I wondered if you had a room I could sleep in that was far from anyone else? I don’t want anyone on the rooms either side of mine. I—I cry out in my sleep sometimes, and don’t wish to wake your other guests.” The lie came easily.
“We have only one other guest tonight, and he is across the hall from Prince Leoth,” the innkeeper said kindly. “The opposite wing will be yours entirely.” Taking the lamp from his bar, he led me down an ill-lit hallway to a room that looked as though it had not been dusted in at least a quarter. “I apologize for the mess. We get few guests between the harvest festival and Midwinter, so we close off most of our rooms.”
“It will do just fine.” I paused with a hand on the door. “Forgive me for asking, but has Prince Leoth brought others here before?”
The innkeeper shook his head, eyes twinkling. “He’s always come alone. You must be very special, Milady.”
I bobbed my head and slipped quickly into the room before he could see my smile.
22
Midwinter
A frantic pounding woke me. It took a moment to shake off sleep and figure out what the sound was—I had slept better than I had in quarters.
“Kalleah?”
That voice. Leoth’s concern cut through my groggy thoughts, and I threw off the sheets and wrapped a blanket over my shoulders so I could let him in.
Now he was rattling the door, and when I pulled it open, he stumbled a step forward.
“Cloudy gods, Kalleah! When you disappeared, I thought—”
I stepped back to let him in before closing the door softly.
“Have you honestly forgotten?” Amusement gave way to surprise at the look of concern on his face. “Leoth! You would have died if I had stayed with you for too long. Of course I had to leave, or you wouldn’t have woken up.”
His mouth opened and then closed again. Then he laughed. “I’m a fool. And you passed up a perfectly good opportunity to eliminate your competition.”
I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile. “The fact that you forgot—you have no idea how much that means to me.”
* * *
As much as I wanted to stay here for the next quarter, pretend
ing nothing existed except this cozy inn in the middle of nowhere, we had to rush back to Baylore before too many questions were raised about our absence.
We did not speak much on the way back to the city, and we rode our horses hard for the first hour, making as much distance as we could.
“We cannot spend time together once we’re home,” I said as we slowed our horses, the gates of Baylore rising in the distance. “We must pretend indifference.”
“I know.” Leoth’s tone was flat; he reached across and clasped my hand for a moment, rubbing the back of my knuckles with his thumb. “But I want you to save me a dance at the Midwinter Ball.”
“Of course.”
* * *
We were fortunate—a Flamespinners’ show in the main square had drawn the attention of most passersby, as well as of the palace guards, who were trying to restrain a group intent on attacking the young men and women on stage. As the crowd cheered and surged forward, partly to protect the entertainers from attack, we slipped through the palace gates without drawing notice.
We parted ways at the steps to the Cheltish wing, and I was able to escape to my room without anyone catching sight of me.
Once there, I sat on my bed for a long moment, trying to calm my racing heart. When I caught sight of my reflection, cheeks red from the icy wind, eyes sparkling with joy, I couldn’t keep from smiling. That had been one of the worst decisions of my life.
And I had never enjoyed myself more.
As the exhilaration and fear of discovery drained from me, though, I realized I could afford no weakness as the palace vote drew near. Leoth was too great a distraction, too much a liability. I had to avoid thinking of him if I was to succeed.
* * *
On a tattered scrap of parchment, I drew a grid counting down the days until Midwinter. I would have five additional days between the festival and the palace vote, but I could not count on making any alliances in that time. Everyone would be too busy with the wintertime festivities to pay me any mind.
When I finished, I was alarmed to realize I had just under three quarters—only twenty-eight days—until Midwinter. It would fall on Tabansday this year, and the palace vote on Talonsday.
In the squares, I began writing names of those who I had some hope of persuading to my cause. Saniya was first—even without further persuasion, I had a suspicion she would vote for me, since she did not think highly of Leoth—followed by several other members of his group of friends whom I had spoken to individually. It was a gamble, since they had been Leoth’s friends first, but I had no one else to call on. Mother would be speaking with her peers, as many as would hear her, and despite my efforts, I had made no close acquaintances outside the dubious ties I now had with Leoth’s companions.
The very next day, I sent my favorite family guard to request Saniya’s presence for tea. We would meet in a plush, secluded room in the main historic wing, as I did not want to compromise any of my potential allies by forcing them to meet me in my own wing of the palace.
“Oh, Kalleah, it is good to see you again!” Saniya curtseyed as she swept into the tea-room. She looked very pretty in a dress of deep blue, her flyaway black hair strung up with silver netting. We were several floors up, and the small latticed window afforded views over the palace grounds, where snow was beginning to settle. “It’s much warmer here than in my family’s wing,” Saniya said with a shiver. “Mother insists the tapestries ruin the aesthetic, so instead we must freeze.”
I laughed. “I know how that is. My tower has too many windows, so it feels as though a persistent wind blows through the space.” I settled back in the deep cushions of the settee, allowing my head to rest against the Weaver-enchanted tapestry that radiated warmth into the small room.
“I can guess why you called me here,” Saniya said, sipping at her tea. “You need to be sure of your allies in the upcoming election.”
I busied myself with adding sugar to my cinnamon tea, though I usually took it unsweetened. “Am I that obvious?”
Saniya laughed softly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I am firmly on your side. Even if I did not like you as a friend, I would support you simply to keep Leoth off the throne.”
I shifted uncomfortably at this—what would she say if she knew I had slept with Leoth?
“You would do well to use more subtlety with the others, though. You have been absent for over a span now, and to appear in our lives again as though nothing has changed—it will surely raise attention.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m glad to have you on my side, at least.”
Setting aside her cup, Saniya leaned forward and scrutinized me for a moment.
“What?”
She smiled. “You look happier than before. Your face is practically glowing. Do you have a secret you wanted to share?”
I stood abruptly and walked over to the window, worried that I had been so transparent. If Saniya could read me that easily, I did not want her to see my expression as I lied to her.
“There was…a man. No one worthy of mention. But he kissed me, and Saniya, it was the first time I’ve ever been held that way before.” I turned my back on the flurrying snow, allowing Saniya to see my reddened cheeks. That part was true enough.
Saniya grinned. “Oh, how wonderful! I always wished such happiness for you.”
“Yet it was just a passing moment.” Carefully I resumed my seat, lifting my skirts around me. “I will never marry, you must know that. Whether I am queen or not, my future will be lonely.”
“Maybe someday you will meet the right person, and he will be willing to take you as you are.” Saniya leaned forward and reached for my hand, her eyes shining with conviction. “You deserve it, Kalleah.”
“Thank you.” Though I did not share her optimism, I was touched. What had I done to earn the loyalty of such a dear friend?
On my return to the Cheltish wing after bidding Saniya farewell, Mother stopped me at the top of the stairs.
“Where were you yesterday morning, and the evening before? We were concerned for your safety.”
I bit my tongue, trying my hardest to meet her eyes without blushing. “I was spending time with a friend in another wing, and did not return until late. I apologize for missing dinner.”
Mother gave me a pointed look but moved aside to let me pass.
* * *
Following Saniya’s advice, I did not seek any further allies out in private, but instead made an effort to attend every dinner, card game, tea, or other event to which I was invited, and tried to draw others into private conversation without raising suspicion. Even after so much time in the palace, I still had a horrible suspicion that most of the young nobles were only extending their kindness to me because I was Leoth’s guest.
And that was the drawback of filling my already-hectic calendar with so many social events—I was constantly crossing paths with Leoth. Much as I tried to pretend otherwise, I could not deny that I was filled with a rush of anticipation each time I caught sight of him, nor that I kept glancing his way until he met my eyes with his warm, secret smile.
The greatest danger was that someone else would see my affection written plainly on my face, and would guess at what lay between us. When I was not either studying with the king or trying to court my supporters, I stood in my room and studied myself in the mirror, trying to school my expression so I did not betray my thoughts.
Winter settled steadily over Baylore as the festival and the palace vote drew nearer, though it was a gentler winter than I was used to in Ambervale, with the snow melting until it was nearly gone before new drifts fell. Even when the winds howled and the clouds settled so low over the city that I could see nothing but filmy whiteness from my tower, I felt isolated from the elements with the hulking palace walls guarding us and the enchanted tapestries radiating heat throughout the Cheltish wing. No longer did we have to forge a new path through deep snow on our way to the privy, when the sun had not yet risen and the cold seemed to freeze the air right out of
our lungs; no longer did we take turns breaking the ice on the well so we could draw water for our breakfast. I did not miss it.
Then, so suddenly I could hardly believe it, the Midwinter festival was upon us.
Back in Ambervale, Midwinter was celebrated in what Mother derided as a very traditionally Whitish way, with all the religious connotations we ought to have done away with many centuries prior. According to Whitish tradition, Midwinter was the night when the seventeen gods of sin held the most influence. Families in our village would return home before dark, locking their animals inside, and cook their night-long stew of venison and potatoes and carrots. They would lock their doors at nightfall and light candles in every window, and then stay awake all night eating the stew and playing games and reading aloud. When the sun rose, one of the braver village boys would be sent out to play drums in the street and signal that the long vigil was over.
Mother and I had lit candles in our windows each year, so as not to arouse suspicion, but instead of the night-long stew, Mother and Lyla had recreated some of the sumptuous dishes they remembered from Midwinter feasts at Baylore Palace. After a few games, we had fallen asleep full and happy, wondering about the poor villagers whose tiring vigil would stretch for many hours to come.
I had no idea what to expect from a Midwinter celebration in Baylore, except that it would be lavish and festive.
Everyone slept in late on Midwinter morning—everyone except me, that is—so I wandered down from my tower to find a curiously silent and empty Cheltish wing. Even the cooks in their kitchen two stories below the main level were absent, as they had been recruited to help with the palace feast.
By noon, my distant relatives were beginning to appear in the main lounge; though I was preoccupied, I noticed they were much more comfortable in my presence than they had been even a span prior.
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