“You still don’t see Gemini, do you?” He rose, presumably to point it out to me, and Ronan got to his feet as well, sidling closer. “Easy,” the monk said in a reassuring tone to Ronan as he came to my other side. “I’m only going to show her.” He paused, as if waiting on Ronan’s permission. Then he edged even closer, slightly behind me, and pointed upward, so close now that the inside of his elbow brushed my temple. He smelled of sandlewood and juniper. My skin tingled at his proximity. Again, there was a brief sense that I knew him from somewhere. A familiarity.
“There, beside the V of Taurus, and the three stars of Orion’s belt?” he said, his breath washing over the bottom of my ear lobe. “Trail eastward, and there you have it, Pollux and Castor.”
I could feel Ronan’s agitation. “Got it,” I said, moving away from the monk and closer to my knight. “Thank you. How did you learn so much of the night skies?”
“I find them fascinating. And the stories behind them even more so.” His tone was like a shrug, as if he worried I might decide he was silly.
What was wrong with me? I was paying far too much attention to this stranger. But there was something about him that drew me. Swiftly, I took the bench again, feeling the need to gather some information to justify my actions. Otherwise what would I say to Ronan tomorrow? Or Niero?
I felt the curiosity from him, this time lingering and open, as he walked languidly around the tiny garden to take the bench opposite from me again. I breathed a bit easier, given the space between us. Because with this one … Well, I’d never had my pulse jump around a guy other than Ronan. For good reasons. Lord Jala was another matter.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“We all go by ‘brother’ here,” he said, “none of us with greater stature than the two elders that lead our community.”
“Ahh, I see,” I said, vaguely disappointed. But what about Zulon? Maybe that one had broken some rules, mentioning his name.
“And you, my friends of the Valley? What do they call you?” He struck a match and lit a candle between us.
“Andriana,” I said simply.
“Andriana,” he repeated, as if relishing the name, then his eyes flicked to Ronan.
“You can just refer to me as ‘brother’ too,” Ronan said quietly, the first he’d spoken. I felt his anger and frustration again, but I ignored him. His emotions were lost in the face of the newcomer’s curious desire for connection, and my own pull to meet him, read him, for more than a moment.
“Brother, can you tell me what religion you practice here?” I said, plunging forward. “It was my understanding that no religion is allowed to be practiced anywhere in the Trading Union.”
“Ahh, but sister Andriana, you are now in Pacifica.” He looked up at me, and his dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He nodded gravely, arms again on his knees, hands together. “This is an experiment of our brother, the emperor,” he said. “A new religion in which we practice living together in peace, harmony. Our hope is that it will entice the earth to return to her normal rhythms, and she will be restored.”
I stared at him, deciding to plunge on, even as I remembered the trader’s warning of a crime punishable by death and felt Ronan’s rising agitation. “What god do you pray to?”
He gave me a gentle, confused smile. “We do not pray to one god. We are but stewards of the earth, and we’ve been poor stewards at that. We endeavor to try and change that. We wish not to control, but to make a way for the energy to flow through us. To model to others that a way of peace is the way to happiness.”
I nodded, wanting to appear amiable. And really, did not some of his words make sense? Weren’t we ourselves striving to let the Maker work through us, through our gifts? Wouldn’t we all rather lay down our weapons and live in peace with others? “There is much to be done to get our world back in order. Have you, by chance, met any Drifters?”
He laughed, the sound of it warm and pleasant. “It takes a long time to help heal a planet so desperately wounded. But we believe it’s possible to take steps toward that healing, and that in time all people will come together. Even the Drifters.”
We shared a smile. He was highly educated — that was clear. He looked older than I, but felt about my age. Did they study here as part of their religion?
“And you say — you say the emperor advocates this religion?” I said.
“It is not a religion, per se. It is a way of life.” He lifted his brows, full lips pursed. “Though none would dare argue it with him.”
“I have to say, that is quite brave of him. To advocate a way of life that even echoes of religion.”
“It took some time,” he said, looking up to the stars, “but eventually, they saw his way of thinking. None of the high gifts are allowed, of course,” he said casually. “Nothing that would elevate one brother over another. Here we are all lowly. Close to the earth, even an extension of the earth itself.”
“I see,” I said, dry-mouthed. We sat there for a moment in silence, and I knew it was time to go. I was just gathering the skirts of my robe to rise when he leveled a gaze at me. “Do you yourself follow a god, Andriana of the Valley?”
I frowned in confusion, feeling caught between my desire to speak the truth and the desire to stay alive. “I am terribly weary,” I said lightly, rising. “We have been on the road for weeks. Perhaps we can continue this conversation in the morning?” As in, after I’m long gone?
He paused, and again I wondered if I detected the slightest wave of irritation. “I shall look for you after breakfast,” he said. Now there was nothing but friendliness and intrigue emanating from him. Had I imagined it? The irritation? “You too, brother,” he said to Ronan.
Ronan lifted his chin in silent answer and then reached for my elbow.
I took a few steps and then turned back. Our new friend remained where we’d left him, looking up to the stars, his hands on either side of him on the bench.
“Brother?” I called. He looked at me, as if he knew I couldn’t leave without asking another question.
“Why haven’t I seen any sisters since this afternoon?”
His face held no emotion for a moment, and my heart rate picked up over his pause.
“There are other things that call to our sisters,” he said, as if it pained him to say it. His eyes were on the ground, then slowly lifted, traveling the length of my body so slowly and so thoroughly that I felt myself blush and Ronan’s hand tighten around my elbow again. His flicker of desire left me a little shocked, cold within, not like the burning embers that Ronan’s own desire had set aflame within me. “We find sisters within the sanctuary … distracting,” he said. “Only sister travelers are allowed to abide here. Our own depart come twilight.”
He forced a smile again and I ceased to be able to read any emotion from him at all, much like the other monks. They had either blocked me — or been utterly empty. “Forgive me. I’ve unsettled you, Andriana of the Valley. Please,” he said wearily. “Go to your room and rest well. Even with your guard, it is best that a beauty on the level of Clytemnestra or Helen not be found wandering about in a community of men, holy or not.”
His words shocked me. One, that he would pay me such a compliment, and two, that he intimated there might be some threat here. I nodded uncertainly and walked with Ronan quickly down the path. I knew he was angry. I was angry at myself. So much had been shared in that conversation. And yet so little. My mind roiled with a thousand questions. I knew I’d disclosed too much, that the monk had garnered more information than Niero would prefer, but one had to share knowledge in order to gain knowledge, did they not? And was it not fascinating — that Keallach advocated religion at all?
Perhaps he was not the enemy we feared. And even if he was, was it not classic advice to know one’s enemy?
We entered our room, and I knew if we’d had a door, Ronan would have wanted to slam it. He looked at me in fury, his hands waving as though he wanted to shake me. “What was that?” he whispered fie
rcely.
“That was a conversation. Fact finding,” I whispered back.
“Fact finding? I’d call it flirtation.”
“Oh, it was not.”
“Wasn’t it? I’ve never seen you so interested in stars in my entire life.”
“Ronan,” I said, crossing my arms and staring up at him, wanting to throttle him as much as he wanted to throttle me. “We’re leaving in the morning. I only thought I’d find out a bit about this place. About Keallach.”
“And in turn tell that brother all about you? You know nothing about him!”
I pursed my lips and took two deep breaths before responding, searching his eyes. He was jealous. And fearful. Trying to protect me on several levels. “He knows my name. Where I’m from. Don’t you think the clothes we arrived in screamed that we’re from the Valley? That word spreads, even among these silent brothers? I’ve not seen another settlement yet that wears clothes quite like ours. And really, there’s nothing to get so worked up over! I’ll never see him again.”
His river-green eyes searched mine, going back and forth, until he lifted his head, angrier than ever. “Quit reading me.” He shook his hands as he turned away, as if shaking out a silent scream of rage. He walked out onto our balcony, leaned his arms on the wall, and hung his head.
I sighed and then padded out after him. “That’s not fair, Ronan. Telling me to not read you. Don’t you try and read me all the time? Even if you don’t have the gift? It’s just part of our nature. That desire to connect.” After a moment, I wrapped a hand around his arm, feeling the lovely strength and steady pulse under my fingertips and more. He was a swirl of emotion.
“Andriana, you can’t,” he said, almost as a moan. “It’s not fair. I’m trying everything I can …”
I swallowed hard, the hint of his struggle against his attraction to me right there at last.
I knew of what he spoke. The incessant need to be close, and yet to stay adequately apart. To not give in to our attraction. To not disobey the elders — elders who’d set down this rule for a reason. I knew he’d give his life for me. But if we were entwined further — if I held his heart and he mine, we might make decisions not for the good of the Ailith as a whole, but for each other.
But oh, how the admission thrilled me. It wasn’t my imagination. It wasn’t one-sided.
He felt it too.
I made myself drop my hand, not wanting to torture him. But as my hand left his arm, he straightened and caught it in his. He ran his palm against mine, separating my fingers, weaving in his own. We stood there for several long moments, frozen by our wordless admission, staring out, holding hands, simply feeling the glory of skin against skin.
Not just a friendly hold, but a hold that spoke of so much more.
He turned toward me, and his forehead fell against mine, giving in. His warm breath flowed across my cheeks, my lips, feeling like a kiss in itself. “You are beautiful, Dri,” he whispered, speaking words that no one in the Valley ever did. At least in public. “He was right, that brother.” He lifted a hand to my cheek and I looked up at him, wanting him to grab hold of my face and kiss me. Barely moving, afraid I’d mess it up again. That we’d miss another moment.
He touched me, but his hand was feather-light on my cheek, as if didn’t quite dare more contact. “Like Helen. Like Clytemnestra,” he whispered, “but far finer. Andriana.”
I swallowed hard, waiting. I took his other hand in mine, wanting to will the invitation and courage and recklessness I felt within me into him. That he might give in, act at last.
“We should go to sleep,” he said softly, and I knew the grief within him, the cost of it, to utter those words of honor, loyalty, integrity, so different than my own traitorous heart was speaking. I didn’t care what our trainer had drilled into us. What our elders decreed. This, this could not be wrong …
“Morning will soon be upon us,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.
“Yes,” I said, not moving away, lifting my chin up, offering him my lips.
His breath was ragged, a war raging within him, but after a moment he turned and pulled away. The separation felt like tearing, and I swallowed a cry. I longed to move backward in time. For him to take my hand again. For us to stand together where we’d been, all night. We didn’t have to move. We didn’t have to kiss. But if he would only hold my hand like that again …
He went to the doorway, looked both ways down the hall, clearly trying to gather himself as much as perform the duties of a watchful knight. I settled on my bed, feeling dejected, and rolled to my side, pulling my knees closer to my chest.
With heavy steps, he came over to me, and my heartbeat picked up, wondering if he was having second thoughts —
But he only reached down to take my robe, shake it out, then pull it across me. Then he took a thin blanket and laid it across me too. His tender gesture was both touching and aggravating. “Good night, Dri,” he whispered. I felt a sharp stab of fear from him, pain, until he backed slowly away.
I rolled over, one arm beneath my pillow, watching him in the nearly pitch dark.
Then he went to his own pallet and sank wearily down upon it, turning on his side toward me, staring across at me, even though I couldn’t see them.
And that’s when I felt it. The first time I was absolutely certain of it.
Love.
He loved me.
Ronan of the Valley was sick with misery, helpless in his love for me.
Not as his sacred charge. Not as his friend, although that was there too. But as a man loved a woman.
He loves me loves me loves me loves me …
I couldn’t help it. I smiled, even as sudden tears were in my eyes, my heart overcome with emotion. My laugh of joy came out in muffled huffs through my open, smiling mouth.
“Dri,” he moaned in helpless frustration.
“But don’t you see?” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “It’s all right, Ronan. It’s all right. Because I love you too.”
“We can’t, Dri,” he said, desperation in every syllable. “We can’t. Our mission — ”
“No,” I said. “We can’t stop what is. Only what might be. And this … Ronan, this-this thing between us, is. It’s always been.” I took a breath. “Hasn’t it?”
He stilled, his eyes unmoving, caught in my statement of truth, unable to deny it. Then I thought I could see a tiny, pained smile, the flash of teeth. Or perhaps I’d only felt it. The joy. The relief of admission. “Good night, Andriana,” he whispered.
“Good night, Ronan,” I whispered back.
CHAPTER
29
I wasn’t certain either of us slept much that night. But apparently I slept enough, because when I awoke as the rising sun turned the cliffs outside a warm, rosy pink, there was a beautiful, purple blossom on my pillow, inches from my face.
I smiled and then looked over at Ronan, face still lax with sleep, his eyes moving beneath those dark-lashed lids, clearly in the midst of a dream. When had he sneaked out to pick it? I couldn’t believe I hadn’t awoken. I slowly sat up, not wanting to rouse him, then ran my fingers through my hair, weaving it into a quick braid. I stole a string from my burlap satchel and secured the braid, then tucked the flower behind my ear, waiting for him to wake.
I cast a nervous glance to the hallway. If any of our companions saw me with it there, like an adornment, they’d chastise me. It was not the way of the Community to do such things. To call attention to oneself. We had higher goals in mind. Or we were supposed to, anyway.
But I couldn’t help it. I wanted the first glimpse Ronan had of me this morning to be with his gift in my hair. Before we were reclaimed by our fellow Ailith and drawn back into the madness of our life. For one brief, shining moment, I wanted him to see me, with love in my eyes, and to look upon him, knowing he loved me too.
He thought me beautiful. Beautiful. But it was he who was beautiful, I thought, staring at him. The thick mass of dark, shiny hair, half covering hi
s face. The slope of his cheekbone. His solid chin, and above it, those lips What would it be like? For him to kiss me?
Wake up, Ronan, I thought, hoping he’d somehow hear my thoughts. C’mon, Ronan, wake up … I moved the skirt of my robe, hoping the slight sound of fabric would bring him out of whatever dream had him so entrapped, then looked up, aware I was no longer alone.
My eyes moved to the hallway.
The young monk I’d met in the gardens last night stood there like he’d stopped in his tracks, staring at me. His eyes searched mine for a long moment and then he gave me the slightest smile and moved on past.
“Dri?” Ronan said sleepily, rising to a sitting position as if he regretted it. He rubbed the back of his neck and blinked weary eyes at me, then to the doorway, then back. “You all right?”
“Yes,” I said, suddenly feeling silly. Exposed. I waited for him to recognize the blossom, and a breath later, he did, smiling as if we were sharing a secret about last night. “You look pretty,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I whispered back, grinning.
He nodded, yawning and rubbing his neck again. “Did you pick it this morning?”
I stilled.
“Y-you … You didn’t pick it?” My heart seemed to pause, then pounded.
“No.” His happy expression rapidly turned to concern. “Dri. Where’d you get it?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I rose, pulling it from behind my ear, irritated when the sap from its stem stuck in my hair, pulling several strands with it. I yanked them out, just wanting it off of me. Away from me. Feeling oddly defiled, poisoned, I tossed it to the bed and went to my satchel, pretending I was looking for something among the few things there.
“Andriana,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder and crouching beside me. “Where did you get it?”
I took a deep breath and sighed. His fears were rapidly building into something bigger than the truth. “It was on my pillow when I awoke.”
Remnants: Season of Wonder (A Remnants Novel) Page 32
