by Anya Bast
“You overestimate my value. I may disappoint.”
His face drifted closer to hers. “I knew you then and I know you now. You’ve aged, grown wiser, more sure of yourself. It’s made you even more beautiful than you were before. No, I will never undervalue you, Lilya. I never have and I never will.”
That was true enough. It was seeing her value in his eyes that had saved her life, had put her on the path to seeing value in her own eyes when she looked in a mirror. Without him she would have died in a dirty alleyway years ago.
His lips brushed hers, just the slightest, softest of touches. Her body went malleable, her blood heating. Just the mere prospect of his hands on her turned her insides to jelly, frightened her with the intense desire it lit within her. It was irresistible, so new and different. She wanted more.
She reached up and cupped his cheek, his jaw warm and prickly against the skin of her palm. His gaze met hers and the expression in his eyes—need tightly leashed—reached in and squeezed emotion in her chest. Tilting her head to the side a little and enjoying the feel of his breath on her lips for a moment, she pressed her lips to his.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat and slanted his mouth over hers. The action made a thrill of anticipation run through her, set her heart to pounding. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, and his arm snaked around her waist. He pressed her into the seats and parted her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth.
Her body hummed with need. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man this way. If he asked her she would allow him to take her right here and now in this carriage on the way through Milzyr. The time and place didn’t matter—only their bodies and the promise of mutual ecstasy mattered.
The carriage jolted to a stop. Outside the sounds of the transport station filtered in through her pleasure-drugged senses. Desire faded to disappointment. They’d arrived.
Byron pulled himself away from her reluctantly, his eyes heavy-lidded and hungry. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe, and arranged her mussed skirts.
The carriage door opened, letting sunlight stream in. “Steam transport station,” announced the narrow-faced driver in a heavy East Milzyrian accent.
She looked out the open door to the long, sleek black transport beyond, steam puffing from its engine. With Byron at her side she suddenly had the sensation that her world was about to change forever. Her stomach fluttered and, stepping out of the carriage, she had an inexplicable urge to bolt. She wasn’t sure she wanted her life to change.
Her steps faltered and she looked away from the transport, back toward the city. Maybe she should turn him down, go back to the Temple of Dreams, and forget this ever happened.
“Are you all right?” Byron asked, placing a hand at the small of her back.
“I’m . . . fine.” This was nonsense. She needed to get a grip on herself. She’d been 100 percent in control of her life since the moment Byron helped her regain it. There was no reason to suddenly feel as though she’d lost it all again in his presence. It was simply her past rearing its head. If she knew what the trouble was, she could face it—defeat it. She looked up at him and forced a confident smile onto her face. “I’m fine, really.”
She just wished she fully believed it.
“Good.” He guided her toward the transport. “This way. I rent a private car because of all the trips I take into Milzyr.”
Allowing the carriage driver to take care of their luggage, they mounted the steel steps that led into the transport and traveled down the narrow walkway to the car that Byron rented. He shut the sliding door behind them while she sank onto the cushioned seat near a large window and looked out at the busy platform. People hurried up and down the narrow walkway, suitcases in hand and, in some cases, children trailing behind.
“It’s amazing,” she murmured. “So full of activity.”
The steam transport was one of the few inventions that the Edaeii family hadn’t suppressed during their reign. She supposed its usefulness outweighed the threat they’d perceived it to be. Still the transport was relatively new and Lilya had never had any cause to ride it. She’d only ever seen the station from afar.
He took the seat across from her and gazed out the window. “It’s a marvel of the new age. The Tinkers’ Guild is a wonderful organization. I can’t wait to see what they come up with next.” His words held more than just a hint of wonder.
Soon the conductor blew a shrill whistle and called for any remaining passengers. Then the doors closed and the transport jerked from its place and began to roll slowly down the tracks. They passed out of the city and soon the rolling green countryside became their vista.
She tore her eyes away from the beautiful scene. “So, you know what I’ve been doing these past six years, but what have you been doing?”
“Taking care of my father’s business, playing crossball, dabbling in philanthropy, dodging the revolution. Now I’m working with Gregorio. It’s been an eventful few years.” He paused. “You never left my mind, Lilya. Not ever. Not even for a day.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Charmer.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
Glancing into her lap, she admitted the truth. “I never stopped thinking about you either.” She raised her eyes to his. “Shame on you for never sending word.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Lilya, but I thought it was better that way. I needed to leave when I did, otherwise I never would have had the strength. You needed me to leave too.”
She tilted her head to the side, annoyance suddenly flaring. “How do you know what I needed?”
“Back then you had no idea, Lilya. Admit it.”
She inhaled and looked out the window. “No, I probably didn’t.”
“You definitely didn’t need a mooning man whom you couldn’t love following you around.”
She smiled, but it was bitter. He was missing the irony of that statement. All she’d had since he’d left were mooning men she couldn’t love. “You never would have been that to me.”
“You were not ready for another relationship back then, Lilya.”
“Not a serious one.” She met his gaze. “You’re right. Not even one with you. Ivan ruined me for life where those are concerned.”
A light seemed to die in his eyes. “I know.”
Memory threatened to swamp her and she looked down into her lap. “Can we talk of something else? This is not a happy conversation.”
Just then a serving woman knocked on the compartment door, there to offer them refreshments. Lilya accepted a glass of iced tea and concentrated on its cool sweetness washing down her throat, forcing down all the darkness their dialogue had dredged up within her. Apparently seeing Byron had brought much of it to the fore.
Four
Byron watched Lilya mount the stone stairs of his house. She seemed unaffected by the size and luxury of the place. Of course, he knew she would be unimpressed. Lilya was not materialistic. She was never awed by titles or the size of a man’s savings account, and no man could buy her affection with money or baubles. Not her genuine affection, anyway. Nothing that truly mattered.
He opened the door and led her into the foyer. Their steps echoed on the marble of the entryway.
She turned in a circle, examining the vaulted ceiling. “It’s very . . .” She trailed off, her voice sounding hollow in the immense area.
“Large and empty,” Byron said.
She turned toward him, peeling off her gloves. “Don’t you keep any servants?”
“I have a woman named Mara who comes in to cook and clean, since I lack abilities in both realms. Otherwise, no. I think a man can do most things for himself. I clear the snow off the steps myself, build the fires myself, and so on.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Bring up the water for your bath yourself?”
He smiled. “I had heated water pipes installed the moment they became available. All I need to do is turn a spigot.”
She peered dow
n a narrow corridor leading to the study. “I’m impressed. I would have thought you’d have a whole fleet of people to wait on you.”
“That only proves how little you truly know me.”
“Well.” She turned with a sparkle in her eyes. “Then I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
His stomach took an unexpected dip at the look on her face. He’d never forgotten how beautiful she was, but he’d assumed his reaction to her must have faded over the years. It hadn’t. He was as susceptible to her now as he’d been six years ago. That meant he was about to get hurt, but if it meant helping Alek it would be worth it. And she would help Alek. Not in the way Alek would probably most like, but in the way he most needed. He couldn’t think of a woman better suited.
They held each other’s gazes for several long moments. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but he was thinking he was in deep trouble.
Her smile widened. “Also, I can’t wait to take a bath drawn from water coming through heated water pipes.”
He returned her smile, trying to keep the rumble of need out of his voice. “I’m all for that.” Especially if he could watch.
“Byron? Is that you? I’ve been waiting here for—” Alek walked into the foyer and stopped short, his eyes on Lilya. “Hello.”
“Alek, meet Lilya. Lilya, Alek.”
Alek walked toward her, totally entranced. No doubt. Any man would be. With Lilya’s thick, curling dark hair, deep, dark eyes, perfect skin and face, she was catnip to any healthy male. Yet she was so much more than just a pretty face, as Alek would soon discover. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Lilya comes to us from the Temple of Dreams in Milzyr.”
Alek stopped short, his smile fading.
Lilya rounded on him. “You didn’t tell him?”
Byron grinned, pushing a hand through his hair. “If I had, he would have never come.”
A muscle twitched in Alek’s jaw and his brown eyes flared with anger. “What is going on here? Byron, why have you brought a . . . a . . .”
Lilya smiled sweetly. “We prefer the term courtesan. I’m a very selective courtesan to boot.” She gave him an undisguised head-to-toe.
The culture of Rylisk was very sexually free, far freer than neighboring countries. In most circles courtesans were respected, but there were always those who judged people for selling their bodies for money. Byron was sure Lilya had never thought of it as selling her body, really. In her mind it was probably selling companionship, an ease to unrelenting loneliness, maybe a little caring sentiment whereas her clients would have none. In Lilya’s mind she offered a therapeutic service, no doubt.
Byron had no problem with any type of courtesan. It was their choice how they used their bodies and he was not one to judge. He thought he knew Alek very well and he was surprised by Alek’s reaction to Lilya. He’d thought Alek was more open-minded than this.
“I brought her for you, Alek. To distract you a little, loosen you up a bit, maybe even free up your magick.”
“Byron, I’m not interested in being distracted or loosened up. I’m especially not interested in freeing up my magick.”
“You have a gift, Alek. It’s not right to suppress it.”
Alek’s jaw locked. “It’s not your place to say what I do with it.”
“As your best friend, it is.”
Alek stormed out of the foyer.
Lilya turned toward him with a small, tight smile on her lips. Displeasure sat in the lovely lines of her face. “I think he’s angry.”
“I knew he was going to be angry.” But not so antagonistic. “I can handle him. The more important question is—are you angry?”
The smile tightened a degree. “You should have told him what I was.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A beautiful, fascinating, intelligent woman?”
Her eyes grew colder and he made a note to watch himself. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I also think you’re beautiful, fascinating, and intelligent.”
Her pretty mouth split into a wide, warm smile, chasing away the frigid set of her lips and the displeasure in her eyes. “And I think you’re a sweet-talker.”
His stomach did another slow flip. He helped her remove her coat, and then started down one of the corridors that led away from the foyer. The carriage driver had set their bags inside the door. He’d deal with those later. “Come into the library, sit down, have something to drink.”
“What about Alek?”
“I’ve known Alek since we were both seven. He needs a little time. His natural fascination with you will win out and he’ll be talking to you by tomorrow, I’m sure. Maybe sooner.”
“Doesn’t he have a home to return to? Won’t he just leave? He seems very angry.”
He shook his head. “He’s staying here for the moment, as he often does. It’s closer to the university and his life is only the university.” He led her into the library.
The library was his favorite room in the house and, therefore, was the most used. It was a large arched chamber with huge windows and shelves of leather-bound books. An enormous gray stone fireplace dominated one wall. Alek had started a fire in it that crackled and snapped. Alek had also made coffee. Byron walked to the carafe, found it still hot, and poured both himself and Lilya cups and they settled into comfortable chairs. They both needed to warm up. Winter was coming upon them fast.
“Do you read a lot?” she asked, eyeing the shelves with a hungry expression on her face.
“Me? Not really. My father was the reader. Still, this is my preferred room in the house. Occasionally I can still smell the pipe he used to smoke in here.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I miss him.”
“I can see why you love this room. It’s beautiful.” She picked up a book from a nearby table and paged through it. It was a history book, undoubtedly one of Alek’s. History was his passion. Or, perhaps, more a refuge.
“Feel free to read any books you find here. My library is your library.”
She looked at the spine of the book she held. “History of Rylisk During the Meteo-Orusian War of 1230.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “I think I might go more for some of the literary classics I missed during my nonexistent schooling.”
“That one is Alek’s.”
“He’s getting a degree in history from the University of Milzyr? He’s a little old for college, isn’t he?”
“His third degree, actually. He keeps going back for specializations.”
“I see. And you, in your high-handed way, have decided he studies too much and pays attention to his magickal abilities too little.” She set the book back down.
“Yes.” He paused. “Except without the high-handed part.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Not from where I’m sitting. Why not leave the man alone to live his life the way he sees fit?”
“Because I care about him and he’s wasting himself. He’s caught in the past, afraid to face the future. The future for Rylisk is magick and those talented few who can wield it. The future of our country lies in harnessing their abilities and setting them free, not caging them and monopolizing them for the selfishness of the royals, used like broodmares and studs.” As he spoke, he found himself leaning forward in his chair and fisting his hands. “Letting them be free in the world to use their abilities for the advantage of our nation, to teach, to procreate, to live among the rest of us without fear.”
Lilya sat staring at him for several moments without replying. “You really care deeply about this. I can hear it in your voice and see it on your face.”
“I do. I always have. I was a follower of Gregorio Vikhin before the revolution because I hated to see what the Edaeii had done to the jeweled. I know that I was only a twist of fate away from joining them. When the revolution occurred, I was thrilled, although, like Vikhin, wished it could have been accomplished with less chaos and bloodshed.”
“Idealists, the both of you. Of course there is chaos and bloodshed when the
lower class throws off years of poverty and oppression.”
“What’s done is done. Three years later and it’s time to rebuild. Rebuilding our country the best we can is my primary concern. That means convincing men and women with magick as powerful as Alek’s that it’s time to shine.”
“May I ask what Alek’s magick is?”
“He’s a healer, Lilya, and I suspect a very strong one. But the magick is locked down and pocketed away. He had to keep it secret while the Edaeii were in power, but now he has no interest in developing it. Yet I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to develop it. I suspect he’s afraid of it. All he does is bury himself in history. History is safe.”
Her brow wrinkled. “But, healing? He could help so many people.”
“Yes.” The word came out reinforced with the frustration he felt. He leaned toward her, his leather chair squeaking. “Yes, Lilya, he could. Yet no amount of conversation can convince him of this. Words do nothing.”
She leaned back in her chair and pressed her lips together, studying him. “I’ll be truthful, after I saw the way Alek reacted to me, I was going to tell you I was leaving. Now that you’re telling me he has powerful healing magick locked away inside him, I’m compelled to stay. I still don’t know what I can do to help Alek, but if you think there’s something, I’ll do my best.”
Relief washed through him. He stood, walked to her, and pulled her to her feet. She was much shorter than he was, the top of her head only coming up to his shoulders. He smoothed a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “You are the only woman I could think of who would have the effect on him he needs.”
She shook her head. “I still—”
“You can make him care about someone outside himself. The last time he did that, he was hurt very badly, but in order for his magick to be set free, he must learn to do it again.”
She let out a slow breath. “You’re giving me too much credit. I can only be who I am and do what I do.”
