I smiled, letting him see my relief. “All I ask is that you try. It’s no more than I could do.”
“I suspect You could do far more,” he said, with a wry flourish and bow. “But in Your absence, I agree that Merle and I are Your next best option.”
I studied him a moment. “I notice you haven’t argued with Me about whether I will be on Calanthe.”
He raised a brow. “Should I?”
“Con did. He’s vowed to protect Me and says he’ll never let Anure have Me.”
Ambrose sighed. Merle dug something out of one talon and spit it aside. “Conrí is a true hero,” Ambrose explained. “He believes he can conquer all, and that belief allows him to accomplish the impossible. But You and I … and Merle, yes,” he added when Merle protested. “Sorry, habit. I forget I don’t have to pretend that you’re only a raven with Queen Euthalia. We understand that the seas of destiny hold terrible storms, currents that can’t be avoided, monsters waiting to devour us. Conrí has the courage and determination to set sail, the willingness to take the chances that You and I flinch from, because we can see all too well how difficult the journey will be.”
I considered that. “Is that why you don’t guide him more than you do?”
Ambrose broke into a wide smile. “Conrí might have his blind spots—and he has lessons yet to learn—but he is the captain that will sail our ship to where we need to be. If You’ll allow me to extend the metaphor.”
“I’ll remember that when the storm surge sweeps Me overboard,” I replied drily.
He beamed and offered me his arm. “Yes, Your Highness. Please do remember that.”
15
“This is a waste of precious time,” I groused to Lia.
She paid no more attention to my complaint than she had any of my previous gripes—which meant that instead of studying the currents of the Bay of Cradysica as the evening tide turned, or fine-tuning the battle plans, I was riding up a hill, dressed in bright-gold cloth, playing Sawehl to Ejarat.
Serenely riding beside me on a bay mare through the golden light of the sinking sun, Lia managed to resemble a painting of Ejarat as maiden. The blue dress she wore cascaded over the horse’s rump, overlaid with an elaborate lace veil in golds and browns. She looked mind-numbingly gorgeous, as she always did, whereas I looked like a court jester.
I understood why folk always wanted to dress up Sawehl’s chosen to look like the sun, but the shining silks made me feel like I had a big target on my back. Nothing like being the brightest person in a crowd to make a guy easy to pick out. It wasn’t my first stint playing Sawehl for the priests. Whatever it took to make them happy and get them behind the cause, but the god knew better than I did what a blackened, corrupt spirit occupied my scarred body. No one who truly knew what kind of man I was would pick me to represent Sawehl. Sure, I’d gone along with various—very short—rituals, but this one felt too serious, too important. I didn’t expect Sawehl to strike me down for sacrilege—He hadn’t so far—but even I had limits to my presumption.
“You could’ve asked me first,” I pointed out.
Lia gave me a sidelong glance, her eyes bluer than usual with the framing of the dark lashes and the wig in the colors of the sea, just like her sparkling crown. “I likely would have, if you had been anywhere to be found.”
“I was busy,” I muttered.
“So you mentioned,” she replied smoothly. “Any number of times.”
“We’re here for a specific reason. You know that. Anure’s fleet is on its way and I need to be preparing the trap, not participating in a costume drama.”
“Zsst,” she hissed, eyes flashing. “Lower your voice. Show some respect for what the people believe, even if you don’t. This won’t take long, then you can go back to staring at the water like you’ve been doing all day.”
“Aha.” I nudged my horse closer to hers, so our knees bumped. She gave me a glorious smile, but her gaze spat the warning of a snake ready to strike. “So you did know where I was.”
“Yes. And I gave orders that you shouldn’t be troubled until the timing made it absolutely necessary. You’re welcome.”
“And you decided this was absolutely necessary.”
She fixed me with that granite gaze. “Yes.”
I put a hand on her knee, not able to feel much through all the layers of her skirts, but liking the tremor that went through her. Lia might control her face with the artistry of a master, but her body gave her away. I let my own gaze show my desire, and then dropped it to her bosom, remembering the taste of her naked breasts. It hit me with sudden force that tonight might be our last night together. Kara had sent word that Anure’s fleet had departed Yekpehr. I’d been watching for the second bird with more details on that fleet’s size, composition, and heading when Lady Calla had retrieved me at Her Highness’s insistence, and with the oblique threat to drag me back unconscious, if necessary.
Having no desire to be put out for the night and wake up past the morning tide with a skull-cracking headache, I’d gone with her. For this.
Also, I knew I should tell Lia the news, but she would want to move her people and it was too soon for that. So yeah, I’d delayed going back to face her because I knew I was a shitty liar and she’d see right through me. Unless I could distract her with sex or arguments. Either worked.
“Conrí, darling?” Lia murmured through lips curved in an adoring smile.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I murmured back in the same tone.
“Get through this ceremony, treat it with appropriate reverence, and I won’t cut off your balls in your sleep.” She lifted a hand to caress my cheek, the orchid ring fluttering and glass-sharp nails trailing along the skin over my beard, murder in her eyes.
I burst out laughing—not a pretty sound, more like a dog’s pained howl than anything—and turned my face to kiss her palm. “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?”
Her eyes glittered with a hint of real amusement. “In a heartbeat.”
“I won’t be getting heirs on you in that case.”
With a careless shrug, she tapped my lower lip with a pointed nail, then nudged our horses enough apart that I lost my grip on her. “Heirs are for the future.”
The finality, the sorrow in her voice, as she spoke of the future as an impossibility hit me like a blow to the head. Suddenly I didn’t want to think about war or the battle the next day would surely bring. Here I was, in the brilliant gloaming of a tropical paradise, married to the most beautiful and fascinating woman in the world. I should savor that. “Do you suppose Ejarat and Sawehl fight like we do?” I asked her.
She raised a brow. “Why do you suppose He works so hard to appease Her with His golden light? Sawehl spends all His time circling Ejarat, lavishing Her with warmth so She can be rich and fertile.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“See? You should take a lesson from Sawehl’s wisdom.” Her smile remained lovely and closed-lipped, but her laughter rippled beneath.
We reached the peak of the hill, crowned by the truly impressive temple, and surrounded by a solemn crowd holding unlit candles. To my surprise, Ambrose waited within, standing with several priests. I dismounted, then went to Lia to lift her off her horse. I could nearly span her waist with my hands, and with her bracing her hands on my shoulders, she seemed to weigh no more than a spray of orchids—and that was probably mostly her gown. As I set her on her feet, she squeezed my arm muscles, lips curving in a sensual smile just for me.
Tempted to kiss her senseless, I kept my head and offered her my arm, escorting her sedately up the steps to the temple. It was a simple space, as Sawehl’s temples and shrines tended to be, with smoothly polished pillars holding up the curved roof. That dome, though, was unlike anything I’d ever seen. The underside was silver—a surprise with the top being gold—and seemed to radiate light. I frowned at it thoughtfully. I’d been up here a couple of times already, but my attention had been on the surrounding countryside, my thoughts all o
n the trap we were laying, piece by piece. I hadn’t noticed how truly unusual the dome was until this moment.
“The metal bilayer is so thin the sunlight shines through,” Lia murmured under her breath.
Ah. Bilayer, though—gold and silver melded together? I hadn’t known that was possible. I lowered my gaze to find Ambrose’s delighted and dancing one observing me. He probably knew all about how this thing was made. Alchemy and magic, no doubt.
Besides the magnificent dome and plain pillars, the temple stood open to the environment, as everything on Calanthe seemed to be. Smooth tiles glittered on the floor, a mosaicked pattern as in the map tower. Colored arcs denoted the range where Sawehl’s sun rose and set, bounded by darker arrows at the solstice points, and a glittering star of gold at the summer equinox, a silver one for winter.
Was the weather any different between the two? I supposed I’d never find out.
Frowning at it, I noticed something else I hadn’t before. The central pattern, which I’d taken for an abstract of spiraling colors, resolved into a replica of what I’d been looking at all day. A vast spinning whirlpool. In the sunset light, another form seemed to emerge from the pattern. As soon as I tried to focus on it, I’d lose it.
Was it … a monster? The memory welled up again of that book from my childhood. Rhéiane holding it on her lap and pointing to the images. The woman like Lia, with her bicolored eyes. And on the next page … shrines? Temples to the old gods overlooking the sea …
“This is no Temple of Sawehl,” I muttered to Lia, as the priests intoned a chant, the people outside taking it up in low tones, the rhythm of Sawehl’s journey, even and reliable.
“This place is sacred to both Sawehl and Ejarat anyway,” she replied in a low voice, eyes gleaming, deep as the sea. “And the ceremony is all Theirs. Shh.”
The long rays of sunlight dipped below the dome and streamed straight at us. A shiver of something ran down my spine. A touch not of this world.
I’d never been much for religion. I hadn’t had any interest in it as a boy, and in the mines nobody worshipped anything but survival and revenge. I supposed I’d made Vengeance my personal goddess, though there was no such being in the pantheon I knew of. She’d have sharp, bloodied teeth and claws, a cavern of a chest with a burning coal of a heart within. Kind of like that monster I’d glimpsed in the tiles beneath our feet. An image that had disappeared again.
Though I’d never seen this particular ceremony, the steps were easy enough, and I circled Lia slowly to the beat. She pivoted in place, her face always to me. The face of Ejarat, beautiful, wild, serene, and ruthless as all life is. I’d chosen the wrong goddess to worship, perhaps, but that choice had been made long ago.
As I completed the first circle, higher voices chimed in, overlaying the deep rhythmic chant of Sawehl. Ejarat’s song filled the gloaming, a sweet and sorrowful farewell to Sawehl for the night. She would sleep, the voices sang, until He kissed Her awake.
Lia held out her hands to me, facing the setting sun, her expression an image of longing. Drawing me to her, she lifted her face for my kiss. It was meant to be a ritual kiss of parting, but as I touched my lips to hers, the scent and flavor of her, soft as a flower petal, fierce as the jungle, full of the grace of a life that might have been, it all drew me in and I groaned, gathering her close.
She didn’t resist. Far from it. Her arms tightened on me, her lithe body pressed so close to mine that I could feel every line of her taut thighs and hardened nipples, the bones of her corset and framework holding out her skirts like an extension of her skeleton. I drowned in her, drinking from her and feeding her in turn. The emotions rose to choke me. Maybe Sawehl did exist and somehow gave me a glimpse of His all-encompassing love for Ejarat. Inside my chest, that burnt coal of my heart flickered with something like living flame.
I understood something profound in that moment: Without the world, the sun would continue to shine, but there would be nothing to receive its rays. Only the cold, vast darkness. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d lost the thread of vengeance. My focus had slipped and Lia had become the center.
The music rose to a swirling crescendo of joy as we kissed, and it felt as if the temple, the world spun around us. The hot light of the setting sun vanished, my back cooling, and I imagined the quiet hiss of the sun as He whispered, Fare well, My son.
We broke the kiss, reluctantly. Lia stared up at me wide-eyed, and startled—like when I woke her from the nightmare. One blue eye, one green, a flush of flower petals fluttering over her high cheekbones, bright enough to show through her makeup. I kissed her once more, lightly. “Your eyes,” I murmured, knowing she’d want me to, though I hated for her to change them.
The priests intoned the final blessing, and the crowd sent up a joyous cheer, pelting us with flowers. Of course.
For once, I didn’t mind.
* * *
I remained at the temple while Lia rode down, leading the parade of dancing, singing people. That’s part of the ritual, too, that Ejarat departs and Sawehl remains. Ideally the man playing the part of Sawehl holds vigil all night until just before dawn, when he slips into the bed of the woman playing Ejarat and wakes her in the most delightful of ways.
Lia had told me straight off she’d spare me the all-night vigil—as a nod to more pressing needs, and as sneaking into the queen’s bed was a great way to get killed by guards. I’d accepted that for the concession it was earlier. Now I nearly regretted it. That touch of the numinous, the voice that had sounded like Sawehl’s blessing … If I held vigil, awake and fasting all the night, would the god speak to me again?
Though what useful advice He could give, I didn’t know.
“That was lovely,” Ambrose said to me, standing by my side as we watched Lia ride down the winding trail, the sky full of sunset light and evening birdsong. Merle croaked an unlovely agreement, and I grunted an acknowledgment, sounding much the same. “Well?” Ambrose asked, expectantly.
“Don’t you know already?” I replied, though without rancor. The solace of the ritual made me feel well disposed even to the wizard. When he pointedly didn’t reply, I answered him anyway. “Kara says Anure’s fleet has departed. The trap is being laid, but we need the fleet to arrive at the right time. The timing needs to be exact. Can you help with that?”
He shook his head. “That’s not how magic works.”
“Of course not.”
“It is, however, how an elemental works,” he offered, thoughtfully. “Have you asked Her Highness?”
No. It hadn’t occurred to me, but the stuff about the weather, reversing currents … I guessed I should. “I don’t want her involved in this,” I said. “Not more than necessary,” I amended.
“Ah.” He was silent a moment, the song of Ejarat floating up to us. It reminded me of something to do with Rhéiane. Maybe only because I’d finally spoken her name aloud again, maybe from that memory of the book and the stories in it. I suddenly and viciously wished I’d made myself look at her face in the painting. I might never make it back there, which meant I’d lost my chance forever.
“It’s a dangerous game you play with Her Highness,” Ambrose observed.
For a moment I thought he meant the teasing and ferocious sex, then I realized he meant using Lia as bait. “We won’t let him have her,” I vowed. “She’ll be protected.”
“Then you’ll stay with Her? Stand staunchly by her side to defend the Queen of Flowers from the one who might pluck Her?”
I laughed, a hoarse chuckle. “You know as well as I do that our rose has the sharpest of thorns, and plenty of protection.”
“Then you won’t stay with Her?”
“I can’t. I have to lead our forces.”
“Hmm.”
I rounded on him. “What aren’t you telling me? Don’t play enigmatic wizard.”
“My dear boy.” He patted my cheek. “I am an enigmatic wizard. I don’t have to play at it.” He held up a hand to stop my retort. “I simply th
ink your place is by your wife’s side, holding the hand you claimed.” He sighed. “Though I also know you won’t.”
“How am I to direct the battle if I’m hiding in my wife’s chambers?” I demanded.
Ambrose laughed, Merle flapping his wings and cawing. “How do you plan to force Queen Euthalia to hide in Her chambers? You have such grandiose ideas of your ability to affect the forces of nature in the world around us.”
I barely managed to avoid snarling at him. “She’s a woman, not a force of nature.”
“Are you sure?” Ambrose sobered instantly. “Seems to me that She could be both. You’d do well to respect the forces of nature in your life, Conrí.”
Turning to look down the hill path again, I caught a last glimpse of her shining horse and sparkling crown, before they disappeared beneath the canopy of hand-sized, waxy green leaves. Orchids, pale as Lia’s flesh, gleamed in the last of the light, studded the darker foliage like stars.
“Why don’t you help us more, Ambrose?” I asked.
“More than what? One needs a metric—”
“No.” I rounded on him, unexpectedly angry, full of dread, as if I stumbled blindly in the dark toward some terrible … monster. “None of your riddles. Anure has four wizards helping him. I’m sure they don’t mock him and refuse to give straight answers.”
Ambrose didn’t smile. He and Merle regarded me with stern expressions. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Conrí,” the wizard replied, and his voice had a resonance that made me want to bow and apologize. “The king who believes he controls a wizard finds his belief is exactly what the wizard wants him to have. That is how magic works, my dear Conrí.”
I stared at him, unable to muster a reply.
“I am helping you, Con,” he said, much more gentle and human sounding. “More than you can realize at this point. I’m simply … keeping a light hand on the rudder.” He broke into a smile, amused at himself, and Merle cawed in apparent appreciation.
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