“We shouldn’t,” she told him fearfully. “I would be horrified if Varia came back and saw us.”
He grinned down at her. “Isn’t it amazing? We get to experience the fear that normal parents have of their kids walking in on them!”
“No!” she said in a trembling voice, pushing him away halfheartedly. Tears sprung to her eyes as she turned to face the wall. “Not here; not in this room—on this bed!”
“Zuri,” he said softly. He cupped the side of her face and rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I know what this place means to you, but you have to let it go. Let’s make a memory that overrides all the horror that you experienced here. When you think back to this place, I want you to think of me—not of that bastard who stole you from me. Do you understand? He’s dead! Fuck him! I’m not going to let a fucking gay ghoul keep you from me!”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Trevain—”
“No. Prince Zalcan is not going to come between us anymore. Nothing is going to come between us anymore! Not this cabin, not the empire, and not Elandria.”
“Elandria,” Aazuria whispered, her face awash with guilt.
“Yes,” he said vehemently. “This is it, Zuri. We’re at the bottom of the earth. There’s nowhere to go from here but up. Are you with me?”
Again, without really intending to do so, she nodded. Without really knowing what she was doing, she found herself reaching up to pull him against her, aching to feel his skin against hers. She rubbed her face against his, reveling in the feel of the fresh stubble he had accumulated during their transpacific flight. She felt her body automatically arching her hips to meet his as soon as he could unclothe himself. When he nudged her knees apart, she found that her legs were quavering with anticipation. She felt like a stranger in her own skin as Trevain’s mouth descended to her ear.
“Breathe,” he told her as he slid his hand over her hip. “Breathe, Zuri.”
She shook her head in refusal. “Do this first. I’ll breathe later.”
He chuckled softly against her neck, and she could feel the vibration of his laughter against her body. For that alone, it was worth it to her. It was worth everything. All of her senses came alive as they strained to absorb every tickle of him exhaling against her skin; every throb of his heart against her chest, and the warmth and strength of his fingers as they intertwined with hers.
He lifted his head to pierce her soul with his green eyes. “Zuri, I love you—”
“Sedna, I know. Hurry up before our daughter walks in!” she urged.
He wasted no time in complying with her command.
She found herself gasping as her thoughts were jostled clean out of her mind. As her head rolled back, she saw that the little cabin which had always been boring grey metal, reminiscent of a cold-war submarine, suddenly glowed with all the hues of a tropical lagoon at midnight. Aazuria felt like she was seeing something that had always been there, but she had never noticed before; this place was beautiful.
Trevain had somehow managed to turn her hell into nirvana.
It seemed astonishing to her that her subterranean prison, with the only added renovation of her husband’s presence, had been capable of transforming into nothing short of cloud nine all along. She could not process this as she allowed her body to take control of the situation, grasping his shoulders tightly and pulling him closer against her. Something about his nearness sent her very core churning in a whirlwind of rapture. She could hear his breath coming in short pants, and she wondered if he felt as delirious with need as she did.
Unable to bear the intensity of his viridian eyes, her head turned to the side. She saw her own black hair spilling out all around, and over the pillow—the one, very flat pillow that she had used for all her lonely years of captivity. The little cot creaked in a familiar way, and the softness of the bed was suddenly comforting. A musky scent from the old sheets filled her nostrils, reminding her of a decade of despair, but it mingled with the scent of Trevain’s sweat, reminding her of something divine that was both old and new again. She felt tears gathering in her eyes, and was too emotional to keep from shedding them.
“Shhh,” Trevain said, kissing them away. “Hey, Zuri—I think I should go on more prison tours with you.”
His attempt at humor did not stop her tears, but she tightened her arms around her to show that she appreciated it. “We have some spectacular dungeons at home,” she said between sniffles, “if you’re into that sort of thing.”
He smiled. “I’m into anything with you. Anywhere.”
Aazuria nodded, but she found it hard to concentrate on his words when his body was moving in such a raw, primal manner. Another memory drifted back to her as her fingers splayed against the wall of the metal cabin.
Day Eighteen Hundred and… I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. Varia is out for a swim, and I’m lying here, all alone. I had a dream about Trevain last night—if it was even night. I dreamed that he was making love to me, and it felt so real that I woke up devastated. I’m still devastated. I couldn’t picture his face—it seems to be growing fuzzier in my memory. I could hear his voice, but it was distorted and unclear. Is he fading from my mind altogether? I hope so. I wish the dreams would just stop! It’s torture to remember, and even worse to remember only fragments. It’s been so long that I’m not sure why my dreams bother to keep wishing and hoping, long after I’ve given up. How can I knock some sense into my subconscious? How can I make it understand, once and for all, that I’m never going to see my husband again? It’s over. I’ve lost the fight. I have to purge him from my insides if I want to stay strong and together. I have to stay strong for Varia. She needs me! I cannot be a crying mess of a lovesick woman, pining for a pipedream and castles in the air. I can’t delude myself that things will ever return to the way they were. This is it for me, and I have to learn to live with that.
Get over it, Aazuria. You will never see him again. You will never touch him again. You lived for hundreds of years without knowing the love of a man, and you can live for hundreds more. It is not essential. It’s a burdensome weakness, and you need to rid yourself of all the foolish desire and lust you ever felt. Cleanse and purify your mind; there is only room for strength! No more wavering. No more yearning or craving. Trevain could be dead for all you know—and he should be dead to you. Everyone you know is as good as dead. You must let go of the past and move forward with what little sham of a life you can scrape together in this vile, disgraceful metal shack. Varia needs you, and you can’t fall apart like this again.
Aazuria blinked away the cascade of tears that had been pouring down her face throughout this memory, and throughout their lovemaking. She knew that she needed to find a way to unravel the carefully spun fabric of her mind in order to destroy her excessive devices of self-defense.
Then he smiled at her.
She felt the battlements weakening. Perhaps his smile would do all the work for her.
Chapter 10: Varia of Vostok
“How much further, Varia? We’ve been swimming forever. Your parents are going to worry.”
“So let them worry!” she signed noncommittally. “It’s not too far away now. Gosh, I hope it’s still there!”
“What? Where the heck are you taking me? I feel like you’re leading me to an underwater cult so they can sacrifice me to some ancient pagan god.”
She paused in swimming for a second to lift an eyebrow. “Honestly, Glais, where do you come up with this garbage? You and I are the only ones in this entire lake! If there are any gods around here, they’re much too ancient to be called pagan. So shut up and follow me!” She turned and kept swimming, occasionally reaching out to feel the edges of the glacier. After several minutes, she stopped and turned to him with excitement. “Here it is!”
“Here is what, Varia? A dragon guarding a secret treasure of giant oysters and mega-pearls?”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “My secret hideout! Mom helped me carve it out of the
ice when I was four. I used to play here all the time when I was a little girl, but Mom wouldn’t let me into the water very often. This is my favorite place in the entire world.”
Glais smiled as he swam forward and squeezed himself through the opening in the ice. “Hey, this is pretty cool, Vari! Kind of like your twisted version of a treehouse.”
“I don’t care if you don’t like it,” she told him as she crawled inside. “This was the spot where I was happiest in my whole life. It was mine, and only mine.”
“Of course, I like it,” he told her, reaching out to poke her in the side. “Kind of jealous that you grew up in this awesome place.”
She smiled as she pulled her knees up to her chest, looking around at her little cavern lovingly. “It’s kind of a tight fit for us both, isn’t it? I guess I was a lot smaller back then.”
“Actually, it’s pretty cozy,” he said before sprawling out across one of her ice-chairs. “I could get used to it here. Let’s stay here forever.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a smirk. “Every time things get difficult in Adlivun—every time someone pisses me off, I just want to run away and hide here.”
“Is this what you meant when your mom died? When you kept saying that you wanted to go home—to the house she made for you?”
Varia nodded sadly. “Except now I realize that this wasn’t just a playhouse. She built it in this location, so far away from the cabin, so we could hide in the lake if Prince Zalcan ever became violent toward us. Even my toys and games were meant to protect me in some way.”
“Your mom is awesome,” Glais said seriously. Then he grinned. “You should have explained things better to me back then! I would have run away with you, and we could have just chilled out here for years and years. Geez! If it isn’t enough that you’re the Princess of Adlivun, you also got to grow up with a whole lake all to yourself. Some people get all the luck!”
“Funny story about that,” Varia mused. “Even before I knew I was a real princess, I used to come here and pretend I was Princess Varia of Vostok, and this was my ice palace. Kind of ironic when a dream comes true, but it’s so much more complicated than you ever imagined—and then you actually prefer to go back to pretending.”
“Well, I’m glad that your dream came true,” he told her. “I’m thankful that you came to Adlivun so I could meet you.”
“Me too,” she answered, scratching at the floor idly for a moment. “You’re my best friend, Glais. I never had a friend before you.”
“Well, I had lots, lonesome girl.” He moved across the little cavern to sit beside her, nudging her with his shoulder. “But none of them ever really took friendship seriously. I guess you need to know what it’s like to be alone in order to be a good friend, don’t you? That’s pretty ironic too.”
She gave him a mischievous look. “You’re smarter than you look, honey-glazed donut.”
“No!” he yelled in horror, so stricken that he forgot to use sign language. “Dammit, I told Visola not to call me that in front of you! I knew it would catch on and you would torture me forever.”
“I already made this whole system,” Varia explained. “Honey-glazed means I’m feeling amiable to you, while vanilla-glazed means you’re being boring. Chocolate-glazed means you’re being badass, and sour-cream means I’m pissed at you. I also have a bunch more that I saved for special occasions.”
“But you don’t even like donuts! You prefer croissants!”
“So?” Varia asked in confusion. “There’s nothing fun or patronizing about croissants.”
“You really are related to the general, aren’t you?” Glais signed with a groan.
“And proud of it!”
Glais smiled, leaning his knees to the side to push against hers playfully. “Are you going to come to watch me fence in the tournament next month?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t dream of missing it,” she answered instantly. “If you screw up, I’m going to be there telling you exactly what you did wrong and how I’m so disappointed in you for not doing better. Then I’ll yell at Uncle C for drinking instead of training with you. He’s such a doofus.”
“This is why I love you,” Glais said fondly. “You’re like a bratty little sister, a competitive friend, a strict mom, an encouraging teacher, and an annoyingly brainy nerd all wrapped into one pretty little package.”
“You think I’m pretty?” Varia asked shyly.
“Duh. It’s not a matter of opinion or anything—it’s just a basic fact.”
“So why haven’t you kissed me yet?” Varia asked bluntly.
Glais pulled away from her in surprise, his pale cheeks deeply reddening. “You see this?” he said, pointing at his head. “See how it’s attached to my body? I really do prefer it this way.”
“A kiss is less permanent than a tattoo,” Varia argued. “Stop acting like I’m made of porcelain and guarded by lasers and booby traps.”
“You’re only fourteen, Varia. I love you, but you’re just a little kid! I’ll do anything you ask me to do, but I won’t hurt you. Come on, your parents are probably worried sick, and it’s a long swim back. I’ll race you?” With that, he took off, shooting out of the little cavern like a bullet.
“Vanilla-glazed jerk,” Varia muttered to herself before following him.
Elandria shuffled carefully through a narrow passage of rock. Moving into the opening, she sighed upon beholding the serene atmosphere of her little lagoon. Reaching up to dislodge the heavy bag slung over her shoulder, she dropped the supplies on the ground and moved forward until her bare feet stirred the water. She had needed to escape from Mother Melusina, but she did not know where to go. She was nervous about going home to Romanova, and too frightened to stay in the big city of Limestone. The last time she had been in Diomede City, there had been an attempt on her life. It seemed that solitude in her old sanctuary was the only answer.
“Laaaa-dada-daaaaaahh ,” she sang out softly, allowing her vibrato to echo through the cave. She listened to the harmonious hush that followed on the heels of her melody. “Mmm-hmh-mmm,” she hummed. Beneath the waves, she could see the giant beasts stirring in recognition of their visitor. She smiled for the first time in a while, feeling all her tension disappear as she waded into the water. When she was waist deep in the lagoon, she felt her legs being kissed in greeting by the friendly manatees.
“Hello, my friends,” she whispered as she petted each of them in turn. She was surprised when a tiny sea-cow swam along the surface, wobbly and clumsily. Its large dark eyes peered up at her with curiosity as it struggled to keep afloat with its tiny flippers. “Oh! A new baby,” she exclaimed in delight, reaching out to hug the creature. She leaned forward to place a kiss on its leathery skin. “I am Princess Elandria,” she told the infant sea-calf, and it purred in response. “Would you like me to sing for you? I know a pretty tune about a turtledove.”
The baby manatee seemed excited to meet her, and the only gift she had to give was a song.
Let the bird of loudest lay,
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
'Twixt the turtle and his queen;
But in them it were a wonder.
Elandria smiled when she heard a flutter of wings above her, and saw birds responding to the sound of her music. She was not sure how they had gotten into the cave, but they seemed to be enjoying her voice. She continued singing the old tune, trying different rhythms and melodies to see which ones the birds preferred the most. The sharp sound of her notes hung in the air before shifting to the next octave. The birds began to sing back to her, responding in acknowledgment of her skill.
Beauty, truth, and rarit
y.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be:
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
Elandria sighed as she finished the tune. She petted the baby manatee who had seemed entirely enchanted by her tune. She was sure that he did not understand the meaning behind her words. “It’s by Shakespeare, you see,” she tried to explain. “The turtledove—I imagine him as my husband. It’s not a sin to love him from afar, is it?” The manatee purred happily in response, pushing his nose against Elandria’s hand. “There, I thought so,” she said in satisfaction. She was sure that the innocent creature knew far more about love than she ever would.
“I’m not his phoenix,” she told the calf. “I was supposed to be—supposed to learn to be a thunderbird. But I’m not that type of person. I’m not violent. I tried, but I can’t be. I can’t use my voice to cause mayhem and destruction. It’s supposed to be a tool for beauty and healing. It’s supposed to lift the spirits—not to boil a man’s flesh clean off his body. I promise you, little one, that I will never do such a thing. Regardless of what cruelty the world throws at me, I will be kind and I will be compassionate—or I will be nothing at all. I will not let them change me into what they wish—a tool for annihilation. That’s not me. It never will be me.”
“Is that so, daughter? Are you still so cowardly after all these years?”
Elandria frowned upon hearing the hated voice invade her thoughts. “I especially won’t let him get to me,” she vowed to the little sea cow as she scratched under its tummy. “He is a distant memory of zero consequence.”
Tides of Tranquility Page 15
