Now his mother was leaning down and saying, "You're special. You're different. You'll see. It's like a game." He enthusiastically told her circle of friends at Court that he was "different, special" until she slapped him and told him to never say anything like that ever again. He waited for his magic to manifest. It never did. He waited to grow his wings, so he could fly away. That never happened either. And then he found out about his blood—he was different and special after all. But it was the worst game ever.
He woke with a start, not knowing where he was, and threw up a hand to keep the fireball out of his face. When he understood that it had been a dream he shook his head and laid back down. The fire was almost out and Lelet was curled into a shivery ball under her smelly blanket.
I should tell her everything. When exactly is a good time to tell someone you've spied on them? Stolen from them? Lied to them?
The least he could do was keep her from freezing. Moving carefully so not to wake her, he rearranged himself close at her side. Eventually he slept and this time it was the other dream, the good one about water. In his dream he reached out and let it run through his hands.
***
Hours later, Lelet woke in the dark. She was deliciously warm. The distance between them had closed, he was lying right behind her with an arm thrown over her, both of their faces towards what remained of the fire. His hand gently cupped her breast. She was about to carefully move it away when he sighed, shifted, and pulled her closer.
She watched the fading embers and listened to him breathing and wondered how it was possible to feel so safe in such strange company.
Chapter 58
"Don't you see?" asked Gwenyth, pressing the glittering rope back into Sir Edward's hand, "I'd rather wash his pots than wear your jewels. Because that is what love is." She laughed, although she felt nothing but fear. "Why, you mean no more to me than... this windowsill!"
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 150
Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)
Mistra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
Road through the Great Forest
The next day turned fine, with a blue sky and warm sun, and Lelet found her disposition much improved. She knew plenty of things about herself—she could be a horror without a proper meal or a decent night's sleep—but there were things that she didn't know. Stealing had been so much fun it made her a little worried. And how she'd essentially run off with this strange man—because if she was being honest, she knew she could have taken the horse and left a dozen times over. Why hadn't she? He'd get in trouble with her brother, but what was that to her? There was a time not long ago when that would have been all the reason she needed, the idea of ruining one of Rane's little games. She wondered again what her brother was up to. Unless something vile was planned for the end of this trip it didn't feel like he was taking revenge for being sent away. And she didn't think Moth would allow anything to happen to her, anyway. What are you playing at, Rane? Did you think I'd magically fall in love with someone utterly unsuitable? Is that your idea of revenge? That's a long game, even for you.
It was an interesting idea, though.
To her own surprise, she was even getting used to sleeping outside. She was, however, not surprised at how much she wanted Moth's arms around her when she woke up, and how disappointed she'd been to open her eyes and see him bothering the horse. It was funny, really, they hadn't seen anything other than birds, and she knew the woods were full of deer from listening to tales of Billah's frequent hunting excursions (his stories usually involved a lot of beer and someone falling out of a tree).
She wondered if all animals didn't like Moth. It was too bad, he was absolutely determined to make friends with the horse, who even now was slowly backing away from him. Maybe he was coming on too strong?
"They have feelings, you know, they can tell things." She stood between the demon and the horse, whispering to it and rubbing its ears until it calmed down.
"Such as?" He looked offended, but was trying to hide it. When the horse made any move, from flicking its tail to shaking its head, he jumped, at the same time trying not to jump.
"He knows you're afraid of him, and I think he knows you're not a regular person. Oh, don't look like that, plenty of people don't get along with horses. And he's right, you aren't regular. Give me your hand."
"No. He'll bite it off." She took his hand and together they stroked the animal's nose. Then she moved to its side and they ran their hands, fingers entwined, along its long neck. As long as she was between them, the animal relaxed. Eventually, so did Moth.
She felt a sudden warmth, as if they'd been plunged into high summer. For a moment she wondered if she had come down with a fever, then she realized Moth was simply radiating heat, much as he had done last night. She looked up at him, wondering if she should be concerned, but he looked fine—in fact, better than fine. He looked happy.
"You see?" she said to both of them. "You just have to trust that everything is fine, and nothing is going to hurt you."
He folded his hand around hers. "Thank you," he said.
***
She leaned against his shoulder and dozed on and off. He stole a glance at her, face tipped up to catch the warm sunlight. She caught him looking.
"You look different," she told him. And he did—he'd found a piece of string and tied back his long hair, and that plus the scant beard which caught the light and gave his fine features a slightly rougher appearance. He grabbed at the end of the tail which hung just past his shoulder.
"What do you mean? Different how?"
"Different as in with your hair like that I can see your face." She put her finger to his lips before he could start in. "I like your face. If May was here she would say something about how everyone looks better with their hair out of their eyes."
"I think I am learning how to see things here."
"What do you mean? Can't you see normally? Do eyes work differently back... where you are from? Wait... I know this... Eriis!" she finished triumphantly.
"Eriis, that’s right. Very good. No, when I first got here there was so much to see I didn't know what to look at. I'd have to stop and look at every tree, all the rocks, I didn't know what was important." He looked her in the eye, and she realized how infrequently he’d done that. "I think I’m learning."
She smiled and looked away, not wanting to draw attention to his gaze and embarrass him. "I think you mean background and foreground. Like in a painting."
"I know what paintings are. It’s from art, isn't it?" he asked.
"I take it you don't have artists?" she replied.
"Oh, we do, but making a design or a mark on something isn't considered very special. Our artists are more... performance? They create an emotion, or an experience. I'm not sure I'm explaining it. We have excellent and brilliant artists. They create themselves for us at Court."
She laughed. "At Court? What are you, a Prince?"
"Yes."
It was almost a full minute before she could manage a reply. "A Prince. You're a Prince? Prince Moth?"
He laughed, but there seemed to be no humor behind it. "No, not Prince Moth."
"So Moth isn't your real name."
"It's my name while I am here." He paused. "Lelet, please don't be impressed. I am not gifted. Even if I had properly manifested, I have almost no abilities—no more than a child. My being a prince doesn't mean anything. It's like being a building's best windowsill."
Lelet had known men who liked to feel sorry for themselves and she guessed 'can't do magic' wasn't much different from 'can't ride a horse', or 'can't throw a ball.' Men hated the can't part. Demons couldn't be all that different—particularly this one. She took his hand and laced his fingers between her own. He looked down at their joined hands and back up at her curiously.
"Well it means a great deal to me. I’ve never met a prince before, much less been kidna
pped by one! When this is over, you will be positively immortalized when I tell the story. My friends will froth at the mouth and die from jealousy." She figured this was the right thing to say, and he was at least that much like other men, because he draped his arm around her waist. "If you're a prince you must have a great Lady waiting for you back home."
He dropped his arm. "I... ah... well...."
"Are you married?"
"No! No. No. Definitely no. No."
"Hmm, whoever she is she must be a peach. Definitely no. So tell me about her. She's beautiful of course." He didn't answer. "She's probably tall." Lelet bore a grudge against tall women, having conveniently forgotten his repeatedly describing his people as small. "We've established that she's a bitch, your Madam Definitely No, so I'll venture that she's insanely good in bed."
"Lelet!"
"I'm right, obviously. What is it like, between your people?" She thought of what he'd told her—flame and flight. "I'll bet there's fire involved. Do you literally set each other on fire? And you can put your arm back, I'm not going to tear it off."
"Well, it’s funny you should say that. About arms." He paused and she wondered if he was about to do that ‘can’t get the words out’ thing. His arm remained at his side.
Lelet, idiot, do not tease this one. She was afraid she’d ruined it, but to her relief he continued. "If we are going to have this conversation, you should know that my people aren't as sensitive as human persons. Hot and cold, for instance. That doesn't bother us. Pain. Pleasure. We don't really differentiate between the two. It feels—I am told it feels almost the same. And we heal extremely quickly. So our joinings tend to be... aggressive. Extremely. So, yes, there is literal fire."
"You hurt each other," she said. She wondered what he meant by, "I am told."
"Sometimes quite a lot. Although it’s not supposed to feel like pain." He was quiet for a moment. "I told you I'm different... I don't have the same kind of abilities as the rest of my people. I just can't do it."
Lelet considered this. He can't do it? Why would he tell me that? That's horrible!
Finally she couldn't stand it and had to ask. "Are you telling me you can't do the joining part?"
"No," he looked surprised. "No, I didn't mean that at all. I mean if I am hurt, I feel it. Pain feels like pain to me—although not as much as it would to one of you. And it takes me longer to mend. No one else is like me, as far as I know."
"Oh! Well." She felt quite relieved to hear it. And that explained the 'I am told.' "You feel pain. You probably don't inflict as much either." He shrugged uncomfortably. "You can't do all that magical stuff. Moth, I have news for you." He looked down at her serious face.
"Moth, you're a human."
His laugh was strained. "No. Ha. No. My mother would have. No. That's funny though. Human. Hilari—Ow!"
She had pinched the tender skin on the inside of his elbow.
"Human."
He pulled the offending hand away and held it up as she laughed. He pulled her close and looked into her pale eyes. She stopped laughing and waited to see what he would do.
Why does he look so sad? He held quite still, he was waiting for her. She wound her arms around his neck and her mouth found his. For a long moment, he held perfectly still, not breathing, just waiting. She could feel the heat slowly rise as he relaxed into her arms. His lips were as soft as she’d hoped, he felt like silk and fire. She wanted more of him, and pushed his stolen shirt off his shoulders.
She knew he was tall and now she could see he was lean and beautifully formed. But she looked again and gasped.
"Oh, Moth."
"What? Oh, those are just rings. I know your people don’t ornament themselves-"
"No! No. Oh, your skin." His body was a patchwork of pale scars and silvery lines, stark against his golden skin. He looked like a badly mended porcelain cup. She was sure she could see the faint outline of a hand in the middle of his chest. It had been a fine boned, delicate hand.
"Moth, who did this to you?"
He thought for a moment, gave up and said, "Everyone."
She gently traced a finger along a scar which snaked across his collarbone. He shivered.
Why, she wondered, do I want to care for him? Why do I want him at all? Is it only because he is beautiful and sad? He looked at her again with such longing and such despair, and she wondered What does he think is going to happen? Just ask quickly she answered her own question. He is waiting for this to feel like pain. 'I am told', he said. He doesn't know any other way.
"I will never hurt you," she told him.
"Yes," he replied, "I think you will. I think before this is over, we both will."
There was only one response to that, and because she knew the moons would fall into the sea before he did it himself, she unlaced her dress and shrugged out of it. He reached for her and that was answer enough for both of them.
She buried her hands in his silky hair and kissed him fiercely. He held her like he was afraid she would fly away. She felt, as much as heard, his groan as she reached up and twisted the gold ring that pierced his nipple, figuring correctly that that was what it was there for. And there was the familiar rush of heat rising from him, surrounding her. In his soft hair, she caught the faint, sweet aroma of wood smoke. She could feel him, too, hard against her stomach, and slid herself along up against his warm, flawed skin. She could feel the golden rings against her own body. They were cool but he was so warm... and then he wasn't. He pushed her away.
"Lelet, move." She felt the sudden sting of angry tears. "Do as I say, move away from me right now." He actually shoved her back onto the seat. She scrambled to retrieve her dress as he practically leapt over her to get out of the cart and create more distance between them.
Her face burned with humiliation and she was about to tell him she had only kissed him because she felt sorry for him, when she realized they were being watched by two men. One had a club. The other held a dented sword.
Chapter 59
Eriis
20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar
100 years later, Mistran calendar
Before the High Seat
"You cannot say your behavior was acceptable. You cannot say you performed your duties with honor and dignity." Yuenne had made more or less the same speech in front the High Seat every day for the three weeks since his disastrous party. And for three weeks, Hellne had sat on the Seat and smiled politely and thanked him for his advice. She examined the cuff of her gown until he was done.
"Your comments are always welcome at Court, Counselor. I will consider them."
He allowed the tiniest sneer. "You should have considered them while you were entertaining the enemy. It is not as if you weren't warned. I myself—"
"Again, we welcome everyone to speak freely at this Court. As long as they do not overstep." She had no intention of admitting to any impropriety, despite the truth of the accusations. Her original intent had been to simply wait and let the exciting story of the prince's parentage burn itself out. But that looked less likely to happen, as Yuenne continued his attack. It was a bit of a relief to have his enmity out in the open, not whispered behind a hand. No, she had to do something and soon, because every day, more friendly eyes turned away, and more friends failed to appear to show her support. Even now, she felt the disapproval in the room falling on her skin like dust at dawn.
"Do you intend that as a threat?" Yuenne asked.
"Just an observation. Are there any other matters to address this afternoon?" Yuenne, dismissed, stepped back, and no one else stepped forward to face the Seat. "If that is all, let us thank Light and Wind for the gift of this day." She rose and nodded to Diia, who gathered her silver cup and papers and followed her out. The courtiers followed the Queen and Yuenne followed behind them. He caught up to her in the Great Hall.
"Hellne," he said, "be reasonable. I'm not doing this to harm or insult you." At her laugh, he said, "Truly, I am not. But Eriis needs stabili
ty and reassurance that their leaders are united. I think... and please forgive my bluntness, but I think the people no longer have faith in their Queen."
She stopped and turned to face him. "It was my hope that this ridiculous uproar would blow over when the next scandal came along, but you have made that impossible."
"Ridiculous? You would have put a human's son on the High Seat. That's not ridiculous. It's treasonous."
He has been waiting to say that to me, thought Hellne. He has been practicing in the mirror. At least he spoke in private. "He is my son, raised here, by me. And I strongly advise you to consider your words."
"You don't know what harm you've caused by sending him away." Yuenne leaned closer to her ear. "We will have him back, the Mages and I. What can you do against us? You and your friends from the hills."
She smiled calmly. "I am still the Queen."
He smiled back. "The day is not over." He gave a polite bow and left them.
Once safely inside her own chambers Hellne dropped her smile and sat heavily on a carved wooden bench. She held her arms out as Diia took off the heavy robe of office and hung it neatly away. She handed Hellne a lightweight black silk tunic trimmed in cream. The cream piping was a bit faded, but it was Hellne's favorite. "He's right," she told Diia as she tied it at her hip. "I am short of friends and he'll move against me soon. But I can't leave yet. What if Rhuun should come back? With no one here to protect him, he doesn't have a chance."
Diia poured Hellne some water. "He has friends he doesn't know about, many friends."
Hellne sighed. Gossip and rumors were easy to repeat, but if it came to it, how many ‘friends’ would it take to stand against both Yuenne and the Mages? "Perhaps it would be best if he made his way to the human world and stayed there."
"His place is here," Diia said. "He must come back." She spoke rather more loudly than usual, and Hellne cocked her head curiously.
The Sand Prince Page 32
