“I thought you were going to die last night.” His voice cracked.
So did I. She pushed away remembered fear and pain. “I’m too stubborn to die that easy.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He released her reluctantly.
She stepped back and smiled for him, a smile weighted by the sorrow of the coming separation. “We’ll be home soon and we’ll have other problems to deal with. Right now, I’d like to continue assisting Ian and I believe you wanted to speak with the new emperor. Please remember that I put myself at his disposal. He’s the same man you got along with so well back in Caithin.”
Caplin nodded, though she could see resistance in his eyes. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Yiloch watched the door.
“Are you going to make her stay?” Ian stared at his hands resting on the edge of the table.
Yiloch laughed, a sound edged with bitterness. “I don’t think any of us could make her do anything.”
Ian looked him. “I didn’t mean that. She would stay if you asked her, wouldn’t she?”
How he wanted to believe that. “I don’t think so.”
Ian’s hopeful expression wilted. “It’s too bad. She’s useful to have around and…”
And you adore her.
He’d achieved his greatest goal and all he felt was disappointment. How could an entire empire pale next to her deep blue eyes and honest smile? If he’d known the effect she would have on his life before he pulled her into the prison, would he have done anything differently? Probably not. She hadn’t been obligated to do any of the things she did for him. She owed him no loyalty. She certainly didn’t owe him her life, which she had almost sacrificed for him more than once.
He looked at his father, relishing a flicker of satisfaction.
Rylan used him after his mother died, taking advantage of his hunger for revenge, his anger, and his sorrow, to convince him to destroy an entire village. Those villagers had never sheltered his mother’s killer. Rylan fed Yiloch lies in order to free up the land as a political favor to a lord who never put it to use. As far as Yiloch was concerned now, his father had killed her. Now he was dead. There was justice in that.
“How’s Adran?” Ian’s question broke through his thoughts.
“Without Eris, he seems lost, though Leryc’s been distracting him with an endless barrage of questions about our years in exile.” He couldn’t imagine how losing her felt to Adran, who had been her shadow most of his life. Ian had also walked in the shadow of her energy for years. He regarded the young creator, noting dark circles under his eyes. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m furious,” Ian admitted, “but it doesn’t help.”
“It never does.”
“At least we won. That would have pleased her.”
Caplin and Indigo returned then and Caplin bowed with more respect this time. Yiloch met Indigo’s eyes at the depth of that bow, wondering what she said to change the man’s attitude. She flashed him a quick smile and went to stand near the table.
“Emperor Yiloch, I would speak with you if you have a moment.”
Yiloch inclined his head. “Certainly, Lord Caplin.” He turned to Ian and Indigo. “If there is more you can discover here, please do so. Send for attendants to prepare the body for burial when you’re done.”
“Yes, my lord,” Ian replied.
Yiloch turned to leave and felt her gentle caress within him. Was she asking him to be easy with Caplin or just seeking the contact? Perhaps both.
He led Caplin past the throne room. He hadn’t gone back in there, though they’d certainly cleaned it by now. Early morning he’d spent sorting soldiers with Hax and one of Ferin’s adepts who specialized in sensing emotion. They went meticulously through the surrendered troops, searching out those who weren’t willing to bend to new leadership. Perhaps because he was the legitimate heir or because so many of them had followed him in the past, there were few that genuinely resisted the change. The result of the process, losing so few soldiers and ascard users, lifted his spirits despite exhaustion.
Adran was overseeing repairs on the walls and damaged structures within the city, a task Leryc happily offered to help with. Ferin, with his myriad creators and adepts, also joined them. Paulin directed the cataloging and removal of dead, a task Yiloch didn’t envy. After working through existing troops, he turned Hax to the task of finding the palace steward to work out wages for the army and address the needs of individual lords who had provided troops. He would review the final numbers, but it would take a day or more for the steward to get the rolls and individual needs lined out.
He led Caplin through a doorway beyond the throne room onto a terrace overlooking the Gilded Straight. Caithin ships cycled through the port, resupplying and repairing for the journey home. He leaned on the railing and gazed out to sea. Departure of the ships meant Indigo’s departure, not something he cared to contemplate. Caplin stood beside him, mimicking his pose without obvious intent.
“Your soldiers and healers were a phenomenal asset, Lord Caplin. And your routing of the archers the first day was brilliantly done. I don’t believe I ever thanked you for that.”
“It was lucky timing. We were in a good position when they arrived. I only wish we could have been faster. It might have saved Eris.”
Yiloch caught sorrow in his voice that struck off a fresh pang of loss. “Any number of things might have saved her. There is no point looking back. She will be deeply missed.”
Caplin was silent.
Yiloch waited, breathing in salty ocean air.
“I don’t mean to rush things, but I believe we’ve fulfilled our part of the agreement. The ships will be ready to leave tomorrow. I see no reason to linger.”
Yiloch fought a spark of hatred for this man who would take Indigo away from him. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between them. The young lord loved Indigo, it was in every look he gave her, but he didn’t know what he loved. Even since Yiloch met her in the prison, she had changed. He loved watching her grow in strength and confidence. Caplin was unwilling to let her become more than she had been before. In that way, he was no better than her useless fiancé.
Yiloch grew weary of tense silence. “You’re eager to take her away from here, aren’t you?”
A muscle twitched in Caplin’s jaw. “She says you’re not at fault. All I know is that, when I saw her lying there in the throne room, I was ready to kill you or die trying. I don’t know why you insisted on putting her in danger, but there’s no point arguing about it now. She belongs in Caithin.”
Yiloch’s anger grew with every word. He was close to saying or doing something he would regret. “I demanded nothing of Indigo.” The informal address drew a sharp look from Caplin. “It was her choice to help me. I never wanted to see her hurt. I still feel that way. If you believe it’s your duty to rush her away for her own protection, then I expect you to protect her. The danger she faces in Caithin may be more subtle, but it’s no less deadly.”
Caplin’s hands tightened on the railing, his knuckles whitening. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave her here.”
He was tempted to argue that point, but the decision didn’t belong to them. Even the authority of the emperor held no sway in this. She wasn’t one of his subjects. “If you care for her, do what you can to help her or stay out of her way. She deserves that much consideration.”
Caplin turned on him, eyes blazing. “Don’t presume to tell me—”
Yiloch took a threatening step forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. “You think you love her, Lord Caplin? I know I do.” The ring still hanging around his neck grew heavier with the declaration. “I would keep her here if the decision was mine to make, but it isn’t. Nor is it yours. Perhaps you can take time on the way back to Caithin to get to know the woman you think you love.”
Caplin trembled, surprise overpowering the rage in his eyes. He took a
step back and faced out to sea. He said nothing for a long time. Yiloch watched waves rolling up on shore. Dusk brought its gray veil down over the landscape and an adept somewhere lit lanterns in the port, glimmering beacons in the fading light.
“How could you come to love her so quickly?”
“You have to ask?”
Caplin scowled.
Yiloch yielded a little. “I leave that to her. If she wants to, perhaps she’ll tell you. It’s enough to say that, without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”
“Excuse me, my lords.” Terral joined them on the terrace. “Emperor Yiloch, if it would please you, my troops and I can stay until things are situated here.”
Yiloch appreciated the interruption more than the offer. “That would please me greatly, Cousin. If you’ll both excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”
He left them. There was business to attend to, but he avoided it, sticking to quieter halls of the palace and eventually ending in the throne room. It waited empty, every trace of the battle waged under the crystal ceiling less than a day ago now gone. He walked to his throne and sank into it, gazing down the long room. An extraordinary work of art, every detail carefully considered, precisely worked to blend with or enhance some other detail. Beautiful. Desolate.
Night had fallen and stars sparkled in a black sky, their light shining radiant through the faceted crystal ceiling. He took a deep breath, considering all that was now his. All the power and responsibility that came with this station wasn’t enough to get him the one thing he wanted.
A side door opened and Indigo entered, her gaze going directly to him. He drank in her graceful and unassuming motion with his eyes as she approached. Her hair hung loose in thick dark waves around her face. The gown she wore molded over her curves. The link must have told her where to find him and his misgivings about it faded more as she glided up the steps. Without a word, she moved to sit on the step below the throne and he stood.
“Sit here.” He gestured to the throne.
She shook her head. “I can’t sit there.”
“I insist.”
She met his eyes then sat in the throne, settling her arms on the sides, her posture rigid. She traced some of the elegant workmanship with her fingers then smiled up at him, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Can I issue orders now?”
He leaned down and kissed her, savoring her taste and the feel of her skin under his fingers when he caressed her neck.
“You can order me,” he whispered.
“If only.”
He sat at the foot of the throne, leaning against one corner, and gazed up at the sky. “You leave tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Regret and sorrow tightened her voice, a reflection of his emotions.
“Will you come back?”
“What for?” He turned. Did she take him for a fool? She blushed and looked at her hands, beginning to pick at her fingernails. “What can I be to you?”
“I can’t marry you.” The nobility wouldn’t tolerate a woman of anything but the purest Lyran lineage on the throne. “But with your abilities you could help Ferin train adepts.” He took one hand and kissed it. “Who will protect me from Myac if you leave?”
“So I could be useful to you.”
He saw a glimmer of hurt in her eyes. Would it harm anything for her to know she was so much more than a tool to him?
“Come.” He tugged her forward and she stood, moving aside to let him rest his back against the front of the throne. At his direction, she sat in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned close to her ear.
“Look up.” He felt a small shiver of pleasure run through her when his breath tickled across her skin.
She leaned into him and looked up through the created crystal ceiling. Her head rested on his shoulder. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I would share so much with you, given the chance. But this? This is who I am.”
“The emperor of Lyra?” She sat up and twisted around to face him.
“Yes.”
She kissed him and he returned the kiss, her passion always a welcome surprise.
When they parted, she murmured, “It’s our last night.”
He stood, drawing her up with him. “Come with me.”
He led her to his chambers, trusting that she would warn him if anyone were around to catch them. They didn’t bother lighting candles. Moonlight coming in through created crystal windows cast a silver glow over the room. They undressed one another deliberately. With only her ring resting against his skin, he put his arms around her and drew her down into the bed. She wrapped herself around him and he delighted in her touch, her scent, and the softness of her skin that had been so close and so long denied him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The bright silver glow of early morning filled the room with cool light. Yiloch smiled and she gazed into his eyes, rising to kiss him. They made love again, and she understood without needing to hear it that it was love they made. It was clear in his eyes and the way he touched her.
Afterward, they lay twined on the bed and she picked up the ring at his neck, admiring the stones. He placed a hand over hers on the ring.
“You can’t have it back.” A hint of teasing lightened his tone.
She released the ring, drawing his hand over to her lips to kiss it once. “I wouldn’t want it anywhere else.”
They lay in silence a while longer. She listened to his heartbeat, comforted by that constant sound. When he stirred, sorrow pierced her chest. They couldn’t wait any longer. The palace would be waking. Did it matter? No one would judge him for it. Only she would be judged, and not by the Lyrans, but by her own people.
“I hate to leave you, but there’s much to be done.”
“We could run away and live like peasants, hidden in a remote village somewhere.” She teased.
“I doubt they’d look kindly on me if I abandoned the empire a day after seizing it.”
She pressed a hand to his chest and traced her link to him with her power. She had created it with her inner aspect, but it had since changed, becoming a perfect blending of the ascard within each of them with no obvious way to separate the two.
“About the link. I’m not sure how to undo it. I…” She trailed off when he kissed her forehead.
“I don’t care. I like the thought of being connected to you. I’m sure Ian won’t mind either.”
He stood, then offered his hand and she took it, letting him pull her up. She followed him to a set of doors that opened into a large wardrobe, half of which bloomed with a garden of gowns. The other side loaded with fine men’s clothes.
“The gowns were my mother’s. Judging by how the other one fit, you can wear anything in here.”
“I’m leaving today.”
“Consider it a small token of my gratitude. I wouldn’t be here if not for you. You realize that, don’t you?”
She flushed. “I did what was necessary.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She met his eyes, a twisting ache in her chest. “I love you.”
He drew her into his arms and held her close. She melted into the embrace, longing to stay, but it couldn’t be that way. There were things she needed to do and he had an empire to rule. She fed all of her longing into a kiss.
Afterwards, he stepped away. “Let me dress you.”
She watched him hunt through the gowns and pull out a delicate, pale turquoise gown with a low cut back. A train of material gathered at the back of the waist and trailed down the back of the loose hanging skirt. The bodice was elaborately embroidered in silver thread and loose sleeves hung off the shoulders with a small gather at the wrist. It was an elegant blend of styles and the color was unlike anything she’d ever seen. She drew on her inner aspect and inspected the material.
“The color’s created. Remarkable.” She touched the silken material. “I can’t wear that on a ship.”
He set it in her arms and dug deeper into the wardrobe, draw
ing out a soft gray cloak. “It will be a direct crossing this time. Wear this over it on the ship.”
She donned the gown and stood in front of the mirror, admiring it. Then she ran a brush through her hair and worked a few decorative braids into the sides, using them to bind it partially up. He walked up behind her in a flattering jacket and pants of pale gray with silver and dark blue accents. Brushing her hair aside with one hand, he kissed her neck.
She shivered and smiled at his reflection.
“I’ll see you before you leave.”
She turned to kiss him and watched him leave the room, picking up his sword on the way out. She took the cloak and scanned for people in the hall before stepping out. After getting something to eat, she wandered to one of the ocean side terraces and watched the port until the thought of leaving brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Then she turned to watch the waves rolling over the Gilded Straight until Siddael found her.
“Lady Indigo.”
“Yes.”
“Lord Caplin asked for you. He’s in the throne room. Carriages wait to take us to the ships.”
Reluctance weighed down her limbs. She forced herself to face him. “Thank you, Master Siddael. I will attend him momentarily.”
Siddael inclined his head and left.
She grudgingly left the terrace and walked to the throne room. Adran stood near the doorway alone. Ian stood close to where Yiloch and Caplin were speaking at the foot of the dais, Adept Captain Ferin standing quiet next to him.
She walked to Adran. Despite circles under his eyes and sorrow etched in his features, he managed a smile for her. It didn’t touch his eyes.
“I’m sorry about…” She trailed off when he shook his head and drew her into an unexpected embrace.
“I know you weren’t at fault. I blamed you at first, but…” His voice cracked and he fell silent.
She hugged him back tightly before letting go and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “Take care of the prince.”
“I will, my lady.”
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 34
