Ashes of Dearen: Book 1

by Jayden Woods

  When Eleanor awoke to crystal clear sunlight, she felt …

  “Happy,” she whispered.

  Rebeka stirred next to her, her bare body bumping Eleanor’s. Every point of contact sent ripples of pleasure through Eleanor’s skin. She smiled sadly to herself as she stared into the cruel glare of sunrise. “Is this what it means to be happy?” asked the King-wife.

  She waited curiously for Rebeka’s response, but instead, the Scholar sat up and moved away.

  “Rebeka?”

  Rebeka bent down to gather her clothes from the floor. Her black hair spilled over her bare shoulders in voluptuous waves. Eleanor didn’t want such beauty to be covered.

  “Rebeka!” She reached out and grabbed the Scholar’s arm. “Where are you going?” She moved closer, pressing herself to Rebeka’s back. Then she reached around and pinched Rebeka’s nipple, feeling it tighten between her fingertips. “Must I command you to stay?”

  Rebeka’s body grew limp against hers. The Scholar’s breath heaved against her hand. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that, King-wife. But let us not deceive ourselves. The safra allowed us one night together. I accepted that, even knowing the consequences. When you are free of this beautiful Haze, you will reject me and what we have done together. That will be difficult for me to endure, so I say it now, while we still have the safra to protect us from pain. I’m not sure I can endure the sorrow your disdain will cause me later.”

  Eleanor considered this a moment. Then she grabbed Rebeka’s shoulders, fiercely now, and turned her around. Anxiety shadowed the Scholar’s crisp green eyes. “How could it be safra making me feel this way, if you are starting to worry?” She pointed out the strangeness of this as much for herself as for Rebeka.

  “Who knows?” Rebeka sighed. “I only know that I must leave you now, while I have the strength to do so.”

  “Rebeka—wait!” Eleanor grabbed the Scholar’s wrist even as she stood to go. “It might not be the safra. Look out the window. Have you ever seen a day in Dearen so clear as this one?”

  Rebeka followed her gaze to the blazing sunshine. Her face twisted with uncertainty. “You’re right. It is strange ...”

  “Nothing lasts forever, Rebeka, but for the Earth Mechanic himself. The Haze must have blown away with the storm.” She squeezed the Scholar’s hand, desperately now. “Don’t you see, Rebeka? My feelings right now have nothing to do with safra or magic. Perhaps without so much safra last night, I never would have admitted it, but … I have found what makes me happy, Rebeka. And it is not safra. It is you.”

  Rebeka did not move a moment, afraid to believe, afraid to accept. Then she laughed suddenly with glee, fell back into the bed, and wrapped the King-wife in her arms. They melted in a tangle of limbs and hot breath.

  “Oh, Eleanor!”

  “Rebeka ...”

  “Eleanor? King-wife Eleanor?”

  The women froze in place. It took Eleanor a moment to recognize the voice that had spoken. Belatedly, she looked over Rebeka’s shoulder and saw the door opening just as Prime Synergist Deragon peered through it.

  Eleanor screeched and scrambled to pull blankets over their naked bodies, even as Deragon retreated in a panic. The door slammed shut about the same time Eleanor covered them up.

  “God help us,” gasped Eleanor, looking up at Rebeka through the glow of the sheets. “That was Prime Synergist Deragon!”

  “Don’t worry, dearest.” Rebeka leaned down and brushed her lips against Eleanor’s. “I saw him dancing with a girl last night, and I think he had the time of his life. She was quite a young one, too.”

  “I had better go and talk to him,” said Eleanor, though she struggled to pull herself from Rebeka’s kiss.

  She hastened to roll out of bed and dress herself. Her clothes were slightly tattered from their impatience the night before; straps were uneven, buttons missing. But these clothes were closest at hand, so Eleanor donned them as quickly as possible.

  “I’m coming, Synergist!”

  She hurried out the door and found him halfway down the hallway. She struggled to regain her composure as he turned around to face her.

  “How can I help you, Prime Synergist Deragon?”

  “I, uh ...” He cleared his throat. The glaring sunshine cut through the shadows of his hood and onto the rippling flesh of his scars. “I only came to tell you something.”

  “Yes? What did you wish to tell me?”

  “It is … good news, I suppose.” Deragon looked up and met her gaze. He had big blue eyes. She had never noticed that until now, for he always tried to hide himself. Perhaps his night of fun had done him good, after all. “Princess Fayr has renewed all our passes—all the Yamairans who arrived with your carriage, that is. We can stay until the next full moon.”

  “Oh!” Eleanor had not expected this at all. “Do you wish to stay, Deragon?”

  “I do, King-wife.” He bowed his hooded head once more. “I, er, realize that Fayr is not likely to pick me as the next king. But I appreciate the chance to stay here a little longer. I have—dare I say it—rather enjoyed myself.”

  “You may dare, Deragon.” Eleanor smiled despite herself. “This is great news indeed. Let us all stay, then, for as long as it pleases us.”

  “Very well, King-wife.”

  The Synergist bowed low, then drew away again.

  Eleanor smiled, and this smile felt purer and stronger than any smile she had ever worn before.