Although the formality had broken, the moment held no less import. “This request is preliminary, as I have not spoken to Dria or Ralan, but you deserve to hear it first. I would like to transfer to another location, possibly Ralan’s new palace or the outpost. Preferably the latter.”
Shock crossed Lyr’s face, and his fingers ceased their insistent beat. “You want to leave Braelyn? Now?”
“Not now,” Lial replied quickly. “I would not leave while the threat of illness lingers over us. This is obviously not the ideal time for a change like that. However, once that problem is overcome, I would like to arrange the transfer. As it could take months to find the best person, I thought I should make the request now.”
“But why? You’ve been here since my training years, and you’ve told me more than once that you enjoy what you do.” Lyr’s eyes narrowed. “If you do not feel fairly compensated after the increased workload our new arrivals have brought, I would be happy to—”
“It’s not that. I could commission an entire healing compound with the wealth I have stored,” Lial interrupted, his frustration building. “Can you really not see what would prompt this? You know how I feel about your mother.”
The muscle in Lyr’s cheek twitched. “Ah. That.”
“Yes, that.” Lial fought to keep his emotions in check, but it was a battle hard won. “It has become clear to me that Lynia will never return my feelings, and I find that I do not wish to spend century upon century longing for someone I cannot have. If I am able to shift to the outpost, I could still lend aid here in emergencies should the new healer or healers need my assistance.”
Lyr shifted in his seat, a frown creasing his brow. “You’re certain of this? You’ve spoken to her about the matter?”
Lial might not have asked her about her feelings in so many words, but after what she’d said the day before, he didn’t have to. Never suit. He closed his eyes for a moment against the memory before meeting his friend’s gaze.
“Yes,” Lial answered. “Beginning the process now seems best. I would rather leave before awkwardness becomes aversion.”
“I had hoped…” Lyr sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I’d hoped, I suppose. It is difficult to imagine Braelyn without you goading us into better health, but I understand your reasons. If Meli had decided to stay here but not bond, I would have struggled much the same.”
Lial had known his friend would understand, although neither of them was happy with the choice. Braelyn was home. He might be lonely at times, but he’d loved it here from the moment he’d arrived. He had a steady stream of patients thanks to the training fields and scouts, and the estate was less formal than the palace had been.
But there was also his growing longing for a family. It might have been a thousand years, give or take a century, since he’d yearned for such a thing, but the urge was no less strong for the delay in occurrence. He was tired of being alone. He would prefer to have that family with Lynia, of course, but it wasn’t meant to be. Only when the hope of that relationship died could he consider another.
He needed space for his heart to heal if he wanted any chance of moving on.
“Then you give me leave to speak with Dria?” Lial asked.
Lyr frowned, but he nodded. “If that is your wish.”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but it is my need.” Lial stood, ready for relief to fill him at his new course of action. It didn’t come. “I’ll bid you good day.”
“Good day, Lial.”
Lial gave Lyr a brief nod and strode out, searching his emotions for that sense of relief. For satisfaction. Regret. Even hope. Something. But none of those filled him. Right now…
He felt nothing.
Dinner was a fuller affair than the day before, but it brought Lynia discomfort instead of happiness. The complicated balance of family members, rank, and preference placed Lial at her right hand and Kezari at her left, and since Lynia was at the opposite end of the long table from Lyr, no one was really across from her. Even that wouldn’t usually be a problem, but the dragon woman was in a quiet, withdrawn mood, leaving Lynia to converse with Lial or no one at all.
Iren and then Eri were beside Lial, and Aris and Selia sat next to Kezari. Although Lynia could hear their conversation and sometimes respond, distance made deeper discussions nearly impossible. Not for the first time, she contemplated a redesign of the table. This worked well for formal occasions, but those here most nights were beyond such strictures. They could convert another room to more intimate dining, but that would be a shame. This room jutted out into the gardens, floor-to-ceiling windows seating them amidst nature.
“The sliced daeri is excellent,” Kezari said, “But you seem uninterested. Is your portion lacking in some way?”
Lynia blinked down at her plate. She’d been too distracted to give it much heed, but the contents weren’t particularly inspiring. “I have never been overly fond of meat.”
Kezari tilted her head. “What else would you eat?”
“A great many vegetables,” Lynia answered, chuckling. She speared a piece of nesel and lifted it. “See? Had we been serving ourselves from platters tonight, I would have left the daeri for others, but I suppose I’ll have to eat it. I won’t dishonor its sacrifice.”
“I would be happy to honor its sacrifice for you if you do not wish to consume it,” Kezari said, her eyes taking on a draconian gleam.
Lial’s fork cracked against his plate as he set it down with a snap, and the rest of the table went silent. “You should not neglect protein while your muscles regain their strength. I do hope you have been balancing the types of vegetables you are choosing.”
“I am certain that after four thousand, two hundred and twelve years, I am capable of eating properly, Lial.” Her fingers tightened around the wooden handle of her fork until she was sure the engravings would leave indentions in her skin, but mindful of their audience, she managed to keep her tone on the right side of politeness. “Although I thank you for your concern.”
The others stared down at them in varying degrees of amusement. Then Ralan outright laughed until Cora nudged him with her elbow, and Selia made a point of beginning a conversation with Lyr about the changes she wanted to make to the library. Though a few grins were hidden behind cups, discussions resumed without too much focus remaining on them.
“Why do you always do this?” Lynia hissed beneath her breath, hoping to avoid further scrutiny.
His light blue eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his own voice low. “Why do you react poorly to my concern?”
Lynia huffed out a sigh. “I am capable of taking care of myself. Did I ask for a healer’s advice?”
“And I no longer rate as anything but the estate’s annoying healer.” Lial returned his attention to his plate, the loss of his gaze leaving her oddly bereft. “I will attempt to remember.”
Iron’s curse. No matter her intent, Lynia couldn’t seem to avoid hurting him. She longed for the days of easier friendship, although truth be told, that had been before Telien’s death. The strain had grown over the last few years, and she wasn’t sure if knowing that his feelings were to blame was better or worse than remaining ignorant.
“Cousin,” Ralan said, leaning forward so he could speak to Lial. “Have you decided when you’re going to approach Dria? I imagine you would prefer her to me.”
Lynia frowned at the unusual comment, and her confusion only grew when Lial glared down at Lyr. The table went silent again. “I wanted to pursue this matter myself, Lyr. Our meeting was not intended to hand over responsibility for—”
“He didn’t tell me,” Ralan interrupted with an absent wave of his hand. “Seer, remember? Your timing affects the future strands, as does your ultimate decision. The when and where will greatly alter your ideal replacement for one thing, and it could change who Cora and I pick as the healer of the new palace as well. I would like to narrow down the strands.”
Suddenly, Ralan’s meaning became clear. “Replacement?” Lyni
a asked. “Surely you aren’t leaving in the middle of a crisis.”
Lial’s expression went blank in a way she hadn’t seen outside of difficult healing sessions. “I would not do so.”
Relief filled her, but it was short-lived.
“My plan is not yet set, but my intention is to wait until our current dilemma is solved before transferring to another location,” Lial said without meeting her eyes. “The outpost is my hope.”
The silence grew heavy, the tone a darker one. Lial had served as Braelyn’s healer for over four hundred years, and he’d grown to be an indispensable force. The very idea of him leaving was so unbelievable that most could only stare at him in shock. Except for Ralan and Eri. The former stared at Lial with a suspicious amount of satisfaction, and the latter gaped at her father with wide eyes.
For once, it wasn’t the father chiding the daughter for dropping hints at the future.
“But what about us?” Arlyn asked from the other end of the table. She rubbed her hand in anxious circles across her belly. “Will you leave before the baby is born? What if something goes wrong?”
“I doubt any move would be so quick,” Lial answered. “It could take months or even years to arrange properly. But regardless, I would not transfer so far away that I could not see to the health of my current patients until they are comfortable with my replacement. I give my word.”
Lynia’s stomach twisted in on itself in sick dread, and she dropped her fork with a hollow thud, the nesel she’d speared no longer appealing. His feelings weren’t her fault—no one owned responsibility for another’s emotions—but she couldn’t help but feel responsible anyway. Had her indecision increased his pain? Was it being forced to work with her so intensely? She’d never wanted to cause havoc within his heart.
What was she going to do without him pestering her?
Though she hated bad manners, Lynia pushed away from the table and jerked to her feet. It was the best of her choices, for if she were to stay, she would no doubt be unable to hold her tongue concerning this matter. She would never make it through the rest of dinner without losing her composure.
“Please forgive me,” Lynia forced out, though her throat wanted to close on the words. “I must return to my research. Please honor my portion of daeri, Kezari.”
Lynia didn’t wait for acknowledgement or to see if the dragon scooped up the meat. Instead, she fixed her gaze straight ahead and avoided everyone’s eyes, especially Lial’s, as she strode as calmly as she could manage from the room. Everyone knew it was an escape.
But she would escape with her composure intact.
Chapter 6
Lial found Lynia in the library, of course.
It hadn’t taken him long to follow, but he’d had to stop for a moment to reign in his desire to throttle Ralan. His cousin was no child like Eri to let such things slip, and he had no right to meddle in Lial’s life. Lynia had found out about his departure in the worst possible way. It was inexcusable.
Lial braced his fist against the wall, his heart in the room on the other side. Maybe he should leave her alone. Considering the friendship they’d built over the centuries, she was no doubt annoyed that he hadn’t told her about his decision first, but that didn’t mean she was truly hurt. If he left it at this, her anger would fade by the time he saw her again. To go in there now would be to invite another rejection.
But there was another possibility, however slim. One he barely dared contemplate—she cared, and more deeply than one felt for a friend. It was highly unusual for her to break etiquette, but she’d dismissed herself before eating with a thinly veiled excuse. That implied strong emotions, and it was why he’d followed.
He had to talk to her.
Finally, he straightened and opened the library door. Had it only been a few marks ago that he’d sat here helping Lynia search through texts and make a list for Delbin? The table where they’d worked was empty now, but he could sense her presence in the room. Closing the door behind him, Lial scanned the floors of bookshelves rising ever upward.
There. Fourth level, not far from the landing to the staircase that spiraled around the room.
If Lynia detected his energy or heard his footsteps as he crossed to the base of the steps, she gave no indication. Instead, she tugged another book from the shelf and added it to the stack balanced precariously against her torso. Lial’s heartbeat quickened with concern at the weight she held, and he rushed up the stairs. If she fell descending the steps while trying to carry that much, he might not be able to heal her spine again.
When he reached her, she shot him an annoyed glance. “Do not dare imply I’m too weak to handle a few books.”
His jaw clenched as he counted. “Eight large tomes aren’t exactly a few.”
“Did you come here to ruin the remainder of my evening?” Lynia demanded. “Or have you decided to make your way around the estate, annoying the general populace?”
“Neither.” He took a deep breath. “You were upset, and I wanted to see why.”
Both of her brows winged up. “Honestly?”
Before he could answer, Lynia shoved half of the books at him. He took them quickly, concern hastening his motions as her hold on the rest of the stack wavered, but she managed to right them. Then she settled the remaining books more securely against her chest and marched past him. Lial trailed behind her down the stairs, her pace rapid and steady for someone who’d been using a cane a couple of months before. Only when she’d settled her burden on her favorite research table did she turn to glare at him.
“I realize we have grown more distant since Telien’s death, and I know you are guarding your heart.” Lynia crossed her arms. “But why did you not think to warn me that you were seeking another post? Earlier today, we spent a couple of marks together, some of that time alone. Did you leave this room and go straight to Lyr without a word to me about it?”
Lial dropped his books on the table beside hers. “That time together was what I needed to fully decide.”
She flinched. “I see.”
“It was the pleasure of it, not the pain,” he snapped. “More than that, it was pride. For both of us. I will not become a pathetic ghost haunting your steps, and you do not deserve to be confronted with my turmoil on a constant basis.”
“But to leave? We have done well enough avoiding one another lately.”
Her shoulders curled inward, and her hands dug into her waist. His actions had caused her true pain. Lial wanted to peel her fingers away from their death grip and pull her close. But he couldn’t.
“Until this crisis drew us together.” He let out a deep breath. “This will be difficult to manage in so many ways, and I fear I will be unable to bear more once this is through. Distance will bring relief to us both. I don’t want you feeling guilty for your own emotions. You owe your love to no one, including me. Especially me.”
“You count your worth too low,” Lynia murmured, “If you believe my struggle is because of something you lack.”
He found his lips curling upward. “I do not, though I could repeat the same to you.”
“I don’t like this turn of events,” Lynia said, pushing her shoulders back. “Not at all.”
“Nor do I.” Lial raked his fingers through his hair. “But although I was content in my tower for some time, lately I find myself considering a family. Even if you weren’t hurting from Telien’s death, I doubt you would be—”
“That is low,” Lynia said, her arms dropping to her sides. “It isn’t my fault that I don’t conceive easily. That has never been a secret, yet you still claim to love me.”
His brows lowered, first in confusion for her misunderstanding and then in anger. “You believe I would reject you because it might take a while to have children? Gods of Arneen, Lynia. I was going to say that I doubted you have interest in such a thing with me, not that…” He sucked in a breath, a futile attempt at cooling his temper. “Do you truly think I would taunt you with such a thing? I didn’t realize yo
ur opinion of me was that low.”
Her hand drifted to her throat, and she took a step back until the table stopped her. “I assumed…”
“I’m a healer, one with a great many favors owed.” Lial settled his hand on the edge of the table and leaned close as though confiding a secret. And in a way, he was. “If you were mine… If you wanted children, I have no doubt I could give them to you whenever you wished.”
Her eyes went wide at his blunt words, and her lips parted on a gasp. The brush of her breath across his face sent a spear of heat straight through him. Ill-timed desire, as always. But Lynia didn’t shove him away as he expected. Her hand softened against her throat, her fingers trailing against the delicate skin there, exactly where he would love to trace his mouth.
He needed to step back. Thanks to his temper, he’d already said more than he’d intended. Why wasn’t she yelling at him? Had he shocked her that much? This time, he had surely gone too far.
Lial struggled to gather the scattered fragments of his composure. And he nearly succeeded—until her tongue darted out to trace her lower lip. Until he caught the hint of desire sparking in her gaze.
Then he made the unbelievably stupid mistake of kissing her.
Before Lynia gleaned his intentions, Lial’s mouth captured hers, the bite of their argument echoing between them. But not for long. Within a heartbeat, he gentled the kiss until his lips took hers with reverent sweetness. Rough she could have denied—a mistake brought on by anger—but not this. It was as though every brush of his mouth held his heart.
The kiss deepened, and he feasted. But he didn’t hold. She could free herself with the push of a finger, but in that moment, she didn’t want to. The heat stoked by his earlier words surged to life until she wanted to wrap herself around him and take the kiss even further.
If only she dared.
He nipped her lower lip as though he’d heard, and finally, he touched her. Not with the heat she might have expected, though. He skimmed his knuckle down her cheek and along her jaw, so tenderly he might have been tending a wound. But she wasn’t soothed. She’d felt the calming rush of his magic before, and that was the opposite of what she wanted.
Solace Page 7
