I took it and didn’t taste it as it slid down my throat. The sting of my thoughts dulled, and I was more than happy for it to go. Raeth finished his in a single gulp, closing his eyes and letting out a broken sigh before sitting beside me. The mask of the Lord was gone and the genuine exhaustion in his voice shook me. “I didn’t want you to have to see that,” he said.
“It’s alright.” It wasn’t, but I had no other words.
We sat in silence before he asked, “Who was she? The girl who grabbed you.”
I closed my eyes, but the image of her didn’t go away. The desperation and fear in her eyes. A silent plea to help her. I didn’t even know if she understood I couldn’t. “Her name was Isla,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “She was my friend.” I finished my drink and set the glass on the night table.
“I’m sorry, Hania.”
Another stretch of silence, more staring, and then I managed to find the words I wanted to say. “I’m not going to…keep you company. I know I don’t have the position to stay that but I—I can’t, Raeth, I—”
He cut me off. “I said I’d keep my hands to myself. You’ll break if you go back to the Nest tonight.”
I tore my gaze from the wall to him. He looked at me, waiting. “Since when do you care if I break?”
“You’d be useless to me if you broke,” he said, gesturing toward the washroom. “Go clean up.”
I stood and made my way across the room. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know if there was anything I could say. Every limb felt like lead, exhaustion and numb shock weighing me down. I stared down at my hands, my ankles, both splattered with blood, before I set to work scrubbing them.
I scrubbed and scrubbed as the tears escaped, pouring out of me and wracking my entire body. I scrubbed until my skin was raw and throbbing and there wasn’t a drop of blood in sight. And I cried, letting out every sob and scream I’d wanted to utter before. I curled into a ball on the floor, face buried in my arms, no breath left in me to scream and no tears left to shed, and it took every ounce of strength I had left to drag myself up.
Raeth had prepared for bed but gotten as far as bracing both hands against his desk, head down, bare back to me. I pretended not to notice the tension in his shoulders as he bid me a soft goodnight and extinguished the lantern beside him. He pretended he hadn’t heard me crying.
I was alright with that.
I didn’t care that it was Raeth’s bed as I crawled onto one side and collapsed into the pillows. A softer and more luxurious bed than I’d ever imagined sleeping in, dark silk and an earthy, saltwater scent I knew was him. Like the night-blooming flowers that often decorated the halls. I didn’t have the energy to think about it. I wanted to sleep. I listened to him lay down on the other side, and then it was silent.
I laid there for what felt like hours, staring out into the shadows. I didn’t have the courage to look at him, and he kept as silent and unmoving as I did. But despite the desperate ache for sleep eating at me, it wouldn’t come. All that came were echoes of screams in my head. Again and again and again. I could feel every spot the blood had touched me, like it was searing marks into my soul. When the screams took a break they were replaced by Tobin. Aven. Marassa. My village. Raeth and his riddles. My father, waiting for his lost children to return home. My grandmother, whether she would be proud or disappointed at how I had chased her stories and songs.
I rolled over, left to stare at the dark silhouette of Raeth facing away from me. I watched his breathing, deep and even, wondering if he was asleep or also lying awake haunted by the last few hours and unwilling to show it. On a whim I reached out and touched a hand to his back. He rolled his shoulder to press it into my palm but said nothing, and I wondered again if he was asleep or not—if it was a conscious reaction.
I didn’t ask, but if he was awake, he didn’t mind my sudden interest. I continued, running my hand down, fingers trailing along his spine, feeling the muscle beneath. His skin was smooth, cool to the touch, and yet warm and alive, like water running along my fingertips. Even where the moonlight revealed those delicate gray scales.
I yanked my hand back when he shifted, rolling to face me. His eyes, turned almost black by the night, met mine. “What are you doing, Hania?” he whispered.
“I just…I need…” I didn’t have an answer for that. “What are you doing here, Raeth?”
A hint of his usual smile twisted one corner of his lips, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s my bed.”
“No, I mean…what are you doing in the Court? What do you need me for? And why me? And are you the person who wants to use everybody for his own gain or the person who looked like he thought about crying over dead humans?”
He sighed and propped his head up on one hand. “I can’t be both?”
“I don’t know whether to hate you or like you.”
“I do have that effect on people.” When I didn’t reply, he studied me again, a different kind of sweep of his eyes than when we’d met. “I know the entire Court thinks I claimed you for the entertainment, or for the novelty. But there’s something in you I can’t let die, and I saw it the first time I looked at you. Every day you prove me right. I need you to help me, and if you hate me for it, so be it. I don’t hate you, however it may seem sometimes.”
Azali’s comment swept through my mind again. He cares about you, on some level. Did he? And what about Azali herself? What did they have between them? “Help you do what?”
Something in him cracked a little. Some flash of sorrow. “Not tonight. Soon, when there aren’t a hundred other things for us both to think about.”
“I don’t want to think,” I confessed, closing my eyes. “I don’t want to see it and hear it again. I want it to go away. Everything.”
When I opened my eyes, he looked closer, or maybe it was the whirlwind of exhaustion and anxiety playing tricks on me. The way he watched me was a silent question. I made the decision in an instant, no thoughts in the way.
There was no hesitation in the first instant his lips met mine. His kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle like Aven’s, it was hungry, no trace of anything but a burning need for another body close. I pressed against him, looping my arms around his neck as his fingers trailed along the thin fabric of my gown. The feeling made shivers lick up my spine. I pushed my fingers through his hair as he rolled us halfway over, but caught himself before he hovered above me. Pulled back. The sudden rush of cold air ached.
“You came here with Aven,” he reminded me in a whisper. “I don’t know what you two have but I know you feel something. If I could smell him on you, he’ll smell me.”
Aven. There were too many tangled strands of the web in my mind and somehow his had slipped away. All at once the heat was gone, replaced by blue eyes, flashes of sealskin in sunlight. The sound of his name sent a fresh wave of hurt though me. I let my head fall back, eyes closed as tears pushed at them. “I miss him, Raeth.” Why couldn’t it be him here? Why couldn’t it be him willing to hold me tonight?
“I can’t do anything for that, even if I wanted to.” I couldn’t answer. I pressed both hands over my face like that would give me a clearer picture of what to do. Raeth’s voice was raw. “It’d be a lie to say I’m in much better of a state than you are tonight. Neither of us wants to be alone. But be sure.”
Maybe Aven would know. And it would kill him to know. But he’d brought me here. He’d told me to survive. I couldn’t break now, and I was close. I was teetering on the edge and it would take nothing more than a whisper of wind to knock me over. Aven couldn’t fix this.
Raeth couldn’t, either. I knew that. But he could help, for a little while.
I looked up and met Raeth’s gaze. “You said you could get me away from my thoughts if I ever needed it.”
His eyes were dark. So dark, their magical green turned to jet black, and they burned with the same nameless things I felt in myself. They searched my face for another moment, and then he braced his forehead against mine,
closing them. I closed mine as well and listened to his voice wrapping around me. There were no words to the song but it was like a language, ebbing and flowing and drifting. Magic rang through every note and seeped into my bones and the pit of my stomach. The tension running through me eased, and I threw myself toward the magic, to the peace it promised.
“Your thoughts are going to be the end of you,” he whispered. “Stop thinking and rest.”
The screaming, agonized dark quieted, calmed. I felt Raeth pull away from me, heard him get to his feet. I listened to the tinkling of glass as he poured himself a drink, the whisper of curtains. He sang a different song as he went, so soft I wouldn’t have heard it had it not been the dead of night. Not a song to enchant, but something raw and spun with magic nonetheless. I didn’t understand the words any better than before, but I understood the meaning. It was a song of the deep, quiet ocean and of sunlight bursting through the waves, of happiness and despair and home. It was beautiful and heartbreaking, and I promised to one day ask him about it.
He reappeared next to me, the song silencing. “Are you awake, Hania?” he asked lowly to not to disturb my sleep if I wasn’t.
“Mm-hmm,” was the most answer I could manage, turning my face toward him but letting my eyes stay closed. “Thank you.”
“Then you can move yourself to your side of the bed.” There was no irritation or impatience in the answer, just light amusement. A thin veil over the pain. I shuffled over, burrowing into the thick blankets, and heard him stretch out beside me. The distance was strange, but I didn’t try to close it.
“Keep singing,” I said. He did. I fell asleep to his song and, for the first time in weeks, didn’t dream I was drowning.
When I woke, Raeth was gone, up and about and seeing to business. I let myself revel in comfort, pulling the silken sheets around me and nestling into the bed. That deep, dreamless sleep was too tempting, far better than the waking world. I wanted to cling to it, but the night before crept into my mind.
The screams. The blood. The broken, primal heat in Raeth’s eyes. Aven.
I buried my face in a pillow. It was only a kiss—only a brief escape, one we’d both needed. It meant nothing more, and Aven would know that.
I would have been content to lie there all day if the silk and feathers and furs could have blocked out the storm of thoughts, but they never would. They were nothing more than a temporary distraction. I pushed tangles of hair from my face and rolled out of bed, pulling a sheet with me to wrap around myself and fight off the early-morning chill. As I did, another pile of dark fabric slipped to the floor with the tinkling of metal, and I swept up the fresh gown that had been left for me. A note had fallen with it, and I unfolded it with one hand, keeping the sheet cinched with the other.
Return to the Nest when you’re presentable. Breakfast will be waiting.
R
Not even his usual quip. No emotion at all.
I wasn’t going to complain, not after last night. I didn’t have the energy to. I left it on the bedside table, tossed the sheet back onto the bed, and changed. The Nest was the last place I wanted to be, though, so I took my time. A tall, silver-framed mirror stood in a corner and I paused in front of it to work the knots from my hair with my fingers. The Nest provided clean clothing, baths, hair brushes, even some subtle perfumes, to make us look the part. It was clean and comfortable, and I hadn’t been caked in dirt and grime and bruises since Raeth had claimed me. But I looked like a slave. Like a doll Raeth had dressed up to show off, like all his girls.
Raeth and Aven were polished every time I saw them. Immaculate. Even Moray appeared to have gained a little extra shine since returning home. It wasn’t that I was used to silk slippers and sparkling baubles—I was the daughter of a farmer, I understood simple dress and dirt beneath fingernails—but as I turned, eyeing my reflection, I wondered what it would be like to look like them. To dance in the swirling skirts of noblewomen. Maybe to enter a ballroom on Aven’s arm, not escorted by guards.
Shining gray and blue instead of black and gold. Hair piled up, woven with the pearls these noblewomen favored.
Something clenched in my belly and I turned away. No pearls.
I wandered to Raeth’s desk instead, unable to stop myself. For the first time, there was nobody to watch me. Nobody to tell me where I could go and what I could touch. I knew there were guards posted outside the doors, ready to keep me from running off, but they appeared content to leave me be in here. And this was Raeth’s private room. The place nobody entered but those he invited. The ideal place to keep his secrets.
Ink and pens and papers covered the rich wood, precisely placed and ordered. I dropped into the chair and let my fingers hover over the first stack of papers before I pulled it closer. Maps and trading records, it looked like. I pushed it back into place and moved onto the next. Sheets upon sheets of numbers. Records of sales. Clothing, weapons, art. I pushed it away, too. The yawn-inducing work of a Lord, nothing more. It wasn’t all parties, it seemed.
I opened the drawers but found only unopened vials of ink, ribbon, wax. The second contained blank papers ready to be used. The third was locked.
Heart picking up, I tested it a second time to be sure it wasn’t stuck and then stood. He had to have the key somewhere. I skimmed the surface of the desk again to no avail, and dug through the two unlocked drawers. Nothing.
Where would Raeth hide a key?
He was careful and cunning. It wouldn’t be anywhere easy to find. I ran my fingers along the edge of every bookshelf lining the other wall and considered pulling the books themselves out, but stopped myself. I didn’t know when he’d be back.
And besides, he’d said he’d tell me his plans. Soon. But what soon meant I didn’t know, and I didn’t know if he’d tell me everything I wanted—needed—to know.
I circled the room, thinking. It could take me hours to find a key, and I doubted I had hours. If Raeth didn’t show, the guards would wonder what I was doing in here for so long. I studied every inch of the room; if I was going to pry open Raeth’s secrets I needed to be as cunning as the tidespeople. This was a good test.
A book left out on a table. An ornate stature of a howling, wolf-like creature on the mantle. A discarded belt draped across a chair. A knife hung on it—the knife I’d used to kill the sellye cub. I couldn’t stop a faint smile as I pulled it free. It had been cleaned but not put away. A small but wickedly sharp and beautifully designed blade. I shifted it in my hand before glancing to the drawer.
I’d never picked a lock, but I’d heard of thieves who could come in the night and needed nothing more than a little knife and sure hands. I might slice a finger off trying, but…
I returned to the desk and crouched in front of it, jamming the blade into the tiny space of the lock. Only the point would go in, but I didn’t think it needed much. I wiggled it as much as I dared, a thousand thoughts of breaking the lock crossing through my head, and felt it scraping inside. Another few experimental twists and something shifted. I set the knife on the desk and slid the drawer open with both hands, grinning even as I half-expected the thing to break apart like glass. My hands felt slick with sweat.
Was I really breaking into places guarded by Raeth? The siren Lord of the Dragon Court?
I took a deep breath before I let myself look at what was inside, but within seconds I had no idea why. There wasn’t some bloody knife or dismembered body part waiting for me. No note proclaiming how to free Tobin and get home. Just a wooden box and some folded papers. I opened the box first.
Hair combs studded with diamonds. A bundle of red silk. I unwound it and found a glass vial of perfume. I turned it over once, watching the liquid tilt against the edges, and then rewrapped it. Below them sat another pile of papers, yellowed and brittle. I pulled the topmost out gingerly.
Raeth –
The day I write this marks a year you’ve been gone. I know you can’t write back, but I know you’re still alive and fighting, because if an
ything happened to you the entire Court would be in uproar. I’ve heard the whispers that say not to get my hopes up, that not many will come home from this war. I try not to listen to them.
I hope you’re all safe and as well as can be expected. I hope I’ll see you again soon. I hope this hell will end soon, for all our sakes. All it’s caused is pain and more pain, but Neshera says I’m naïve for thinking it can be resolved peacefully. She’d love to be there fighting, you know, but of course that won’t happen. I couldn’t bear to have her there, too.
I skimmed the rest—news from the Court. Marriages, parties, the litter of puppies that had been born. And signed at the end with a flourish: All my love, A.
The paper below was the same, on and on. Each a letter, no doubt written and sent while Raeth had been fighting the war, all signed with the same sweeping A.
Azali? A lump rose in my throat, and I replaced the box’s contents before setting it in its place and turning to the papers left beside it.
The first was a drawing. Towering, sweeping trees in tall grass. A castle in the distance. Beautiful, but meaningless to me. I set it aside.
The next showed a balcony, the moon overhead and a figure leaning against the railing. A familiar graceful build and half-smile, though his dark hair was shorter than it was now and the artist had chosen to cloak him half in shadow. Tiraethsi was written in swirling script across the bottom, alongside a set of numbers I didn’t know. A date?
The third drawing was of a woman, no older than me, with a soft and pretty face framed by long dark waves. Eyes cast downwards. She knelt with both hands behind her back, and even in old, blurred charcoal I recognized the throne room of the Eyes. The lines that created her were so heavy and dark, furiously drawn, that I could feel the sorrow and anger pulsing from the paper. It, too, had been given a handwritten caption, though one that made my stomach sink far more than the last: The price of Lordship. I shoved it back into the drawer.
Tide Page 37
