Swallowing uncomfortably at her thoughts, Lynia lifted the book, revealing a folded paper. Good, a note. Either it would explain the book and potion, or their lack of mention would reveal he’d left one of the two behind on accident. The potion had most likely dropped from his pocket. Why would he give her something like that?
She set aside the book and unfolded the paper, smiling at the hurried slash of his handwriting.
Lyni- I’ve long had this book memorized, so I thought you might wish to study it since distilling interested you. The tincture you made was perfect, of course. Elan suggested I recruit you to help. Or was it Maddy? Time blurs.
Sighing, Lynia ran her finger across the smooth binding of the finely designed tome. Knowledge was the best of gifts.
The vial I left is yours as well. I hope you will receive this without feeling any obligation toward me, but I have been unable to forget the longing in your voice when you mentioned your fears about never having more children.
Her heart began to pound, and her gaze slid to the vial a finger’s width from her hand. What had he done?
With Aris’s aid, I augmented this fertility potion. It has life magic bound inside, and though I can’t swear that it will work, my hope is that someday it will be of use. You need only go out and find a willing partner. When you have done so, drink this before you go to his bed, and it will increase your chances of conception.
Lynia jerked her hand away from the vial as though it was aflame, but the true fire surrounded her chest, a strange burning she couldn’t define. Hope? Fear? Anger? Partially anger for certain. He gave her something like this and then told her to go find someone else to sleep with? Even after what they’d shared the night before, he’d dared to make a suggestion so…cold. Remote. She almost wadded up the paper and threw it instead of reading further.
But her curiosity refused to allow that.
I would be lying to say I hadn’t once hoped you would choose me, but I never want you to think this was given for that reason. It is for your benefit alone. You deserve every happiness, and I would give up all chance of joy for myself for you to have what you need. So take this potion and hold it until you should find the right person. I’ll not leave Braelyn without offering you this hope. -Lial
Oh— And I do pray you’ll wait until your back muscles have strengthened to use it. The weight of a child could cause trouble otherwise.
A drop of liquid splattered the side of her thumb, and she reached up to swipe the sudden tears from her cheeks. So much for cold and remote. Lial didn’t want her to find someone else—he assumed she would. He’d offered her comfort and shared his secrets even as he anticipated rejection. And he couldn’t resist worrying over her health despite it all.
Her gaze fell upon the vial once more. Gods, Lial really did love her. He’d said as much, but people said many things. This, though. He’d seen the secret core of her heart, her deepest desire, and brought it to life. What had it cost him to gain a life mage’s help? He must have put a great deal of thought into the process despite all the other duties requiring his attention.
Lynia plucked the vial from the bedspread and settled it into the curve of her palm. Against her skin, the magic inside the potion practically vibrated through the glass. So much power. So much effort. Her throat closed around a well of emotion, and she curled her fingers around the vial, bringing her fist to her heart.
All this, and he was still planning to leave Braelyn. Because of her. For her.
Pain thumped beneath her fist with each heartbeat. She couldn’t let him go, and it didn’t have a thing to do with the people of Braelyn. He’d told her to find a willing partner, but she didn’t want to increase her family with just anyone. She hadn’t even remembered that deeply buried desire until she’d started evading thoughts of a relationship with Lial.
Lynia stood and marched over to her desk, opening the locked compartment with a touch of her magic. She kept her most precious items here—things like the ring her mother had given her when she was a little girl, sentimental notes Telien had written to her over the centuries, and Telien’s medallion, which she’d only stopped wearing a few years back—so many mementos close to her heart. She picked up the small wooden box carved with leaves and flowers that her grandfather had made for her and placed the vial inside, nestled against a strip of fabric from her grandmother’s favorite dress.
She wasn’t sure when or if she would decide to use Lial’s gift, but something so precious and rare needed to be kept safe until she was confident. So she tucked the box back into the drawer and closed it, sealing the compartment with her power once more. While she wasn’t willing to risk pregnancy with a plague on the horizon, she knew who to choose when the risk was negated.
Now she had to convince him to stay.
Lial couldn’t deny that he was nervous, but he did his best not to show it. Based on the odd glances Maddy sent his way, he was probably failing, but he had to try. If she knew he’d exposed his heart so thoroughly in the note he’d left Lynia, Maddy would either tease him mercilessly or offer sympathy. He could do without either. As it was, he had to fight the urge to rush back to Lynia’s room and reclaim what he’d left.
She would probably avoid him from the awkwardness of it all, but he’d done what was right. He had no regrets. And for that reason, he wouldn’t take back the potion or the note, no matter how much her reaction stung. He’d meant what he’d said about her happiness being more important than his own. He was well-accustomed to living a numb, lonely life.
While he waited for one of the estate’s helpers to bring a cup of broth, Lial ducked outside long enough to take food to the camahr. The small shelter he’d created a few years back was functioning properly—the magic melted the ice in a smooth arc around the wooden contraption, leaving a spot for the camahr to leave. But he had a feeling they hadn’t. Why abandon a warm, comfortable home when ice coated the world?
Why, indeed.
Not that Lial had taken much action to leave his current home, aside from speaking to Lyr. But it was coming. No doubt after Lynia’s reaction to receiving a fertility potion from the man she’d rejected, he would find all the impetus he needed to contact Dria. Most likely, he’d even be willing to petition Ralan if Dria said no.
Shaking his head at his own wry musings, Lial knelt in front of the shelter and replaced the empty bowl beneath it with one full of food. A small snout peeked out, and he thought he caught the gleam of eyes in the shadows. Was it going to come out into the open? Carefully, Lial gathered his cloak beneath him and sat on the edge of the ice. Then he waited.
Cold seeped into his bones until his teeth chattered, but it was worth the discomfort as the kits and their mother emerged. One kit lowered its glowing tail to the bowl, scanning the food, and Lial couldn’t help but feel a wash of pride as the mother allowed them to eat instead of correcting the kit’s technique. Last time, the little camahr’s magic had wavered. By winter’s end, they would be ready to live on their own.
The food was almost gone when the clever kit’s head rose, and its gaze met Lial’s. Lial went still, even his breathing shallow to avoid startling the camahr. This was a new behavior. Had he begun to gain favor? Excitement made his heart race before reality reminded him of the impossibility of a link.
He should stop coming out here before the camahr became more attached. He would be leaving, after all, and if by some chance he transferred before the kit was old enough to leave its mother, his departure could cause the creature distress. So when it returned its attention to its food, Lial pushed himself to his feet and eased away, careful not to scare them.
Nothing on Moranaia deserved the pain of being left behind.
Lial returned to his workroom at the same time as the broth. Work. He could focus on work. He had Maddy take a small table to the bedside while he prepared to rouse Caeleth. After he expended the energy to carefully wake the mage and monitor him while he and Maddy helped Caeleth drink, Lial would likely be ready for dinner
and sleep.
Probably not dreamless, but a man could hope.
Chapter 24
By the time Lynia neared the healing tower, doubt had set in. Not about her feelings for Lial, of course. This was worry, and fear, and nerves all bundled into a knot in her abdomen. Had he changed his mind at last? He’d said he didn’t want her to feel obligated, but perhaps he truly wanted to leave. I would be lying to say I hadn’t once hoped you would choose me. Past tense. He might have given up on her after all her indecision.
Well, she wouldn’t find the answer standing on the path in front of the tower, would she?
She’d barely knocked before his voice called out for her to enter. Taking a deep breath, she closed her trembling fingers over the door handle and entered. Unfortunately, it was immediately obvious that she’d chosen a bad time. The patient reclined semi-upright on the bed while Maddy held a cup to his lips. Lial sat on a stool beside the bed, blue glowing from the hands he held over the mage.
Grimacing, Lynia met Maddy’s eyes over the patient’s head. She gestured at the door behind her with an exaggerated motion and an apologetic shake of her head. Lial could come find her when he was done.
But she’d only managed to turn around when Lial snapped out a gruff, “Stay.”
Her brows lowered in aggravation at his grumpy tone, but her feet refused to move. “I’m interrupting.”
“No,” Lial said. “Grab me a tincture of nofa, though. Please.”
An herb used for stomach complaints, her memory supplied as she strode to the worktable and scanned the labels on the baskets. There. Lynia plucked out a green vial—not purple like the one she’d been gifted—and took it to Lial. The task occupied her well enough that she almost forgot to be nervous.
Until his fingers brushed against hers as he grabbed the potion. A hint of his magic tingled up her arm until she shivered, but thankfully, he was too focused to notice. Or so she thought until he spoke.
“Where is your cloak?”
Startled, Lynia glanced down, blushing to find that she’d left the main building in only her dress and hadn’t even realized it. Had she really been in that much of a rush to get to him? Clearly so. At least the fabric was a thick winter weight, or not even her distraction would have saved her from freezing.
“I forgot it.”
He cast her a brief, wry look. “You forgot your cloak. When it’s cold enough to keep the ice on the ground from melting.”
A lock of his hair slipped from the band holding it back, and Lial shrugged it from his cheek with his shoulder. Rather futilely, Lynia was amused to note, as the hair returned to its spot as soon as he uncorked the vial. Should she? She hesitated only a moment before tucking the errant lock behind his ear.
This time, he was the one who shivered, and the vial bobbled in his hand before he steadied it.
A muffled snort drew Lynia’s attention back to Maddy, who now held the cup in front of Lial as she waited for him to add the tincture. Even their patient stared at Lynia with a drowsy, befuddled gaze, and her cheeks heated at the reminder of their audience. She couldn’t even remember the poor man’s name, and she was interrupting his healing.
Hah. She was the one usually chiding others for their manners.
“I’m sorry,” Lynia said, meeting the mage’s eyes. “It was rude of me not to introduce myself now that you are awake. My name is Callian Myernere i Lynia Dianore nai Braelyn.”
“You don’t look like a Myern’s mother,” the man mumbled. “Name’s Caeleth.”
Lynia blinked, uncertain how to take the comment. “I…”
“Myernere of our branch looks ten thousand. Maybe older,” Caeleth offered, his words running together until she had to strain to understand. “Not young and beautiful like you.”
That brought a pleased smile to her face, though the mage would surely be embarrassed when he was aware enough to remember the uncommonly blunt words. If he remembered. From the look on Lial’s face as he dumped the tincture in the broth with more force than was strictly necessary, he might send Caeleth into another deep sleep sooner rather than later. The young man would probably think the whole thing was a dream.
Maddy chuckled. “Does he need the whole bottle?”
“Possibly,” Lial grumbled, but he’d already placed the cork back in with the vial half full.
Awkward silence fell as Maddy put the cup to Caeleth’s lips again. Lynia kept her eyes on the young Sidhe woman. “Where are your mates this evening?”
“Fen got bored and went with Aris and Kezari,” Maddy said as she helped the mage drink. “Anna’s working with Selia on water magic stuff. Good thing since we’re leaving tomorrow evening and—shit. Lial, we forgot about the blood you were going to study.”
Caeleth jerked back with a sputter. “Blood?”
“Not yours,” Maddy said, nudging the cup against his lips again. “Calm down. It’s a healer thing. Research.”
The mage didn’t look convinced, but he started taking sips again.
“When will Fen return?” Lial asked.
“I don’t know. They’re tracking that Korel guy over to a place called Oria.”
“That’s where Kai is from,” Lynia offered, though the truth was more complicated than that. Allafon, former lord of Oria, hadn’t been Kai’s real father, though he’d raised him, and his mother had been from another estate a few marks away from Braelyn. “Odd for Korel to be going there, although…”
She didn’t say it aloud, but it lined up with the information she’d found for Lyr, at least if Korel and Koranel were working together.
“Although what?” Maddy asked as Lial gestured for her to remove the cup.
Poor Caeleth had fallen asleep.
“There has been plenty of trouble from there. Perhaps this is a remnant of Allafon’s treachery,” Lynia said, leaving out any other details.
Maddy appeared to accept that. She didn’t ask any other questions as she and Lial put the broth and tincture on a side table and eased the pillows from beneath Caeleth so he could sleep more easily. Lynia gathered up the cup and vial while they worked, setting them on the worktable before turning back.
Lial used his magic on Caeleth again, but Lynia couldn’t divine the specifics. She suspected he must have placed the mage into a deeper sleep based on the way the man’s body went even more lax. Then the blue light faded, and Lial spun to face her, his gaze full of questions and worry and hunger and—more than she dared guess, that was for sure.
“Thank you for staying,” Lial said, his voice a soft contrast to the turmoil in his eyes. “Now I can ask you properly what you need.”
“To speak to you.” Lynia straightened her spine. “Alone.”
Lial held her attention so thoroughly that Lynia barely noticed when Maddy slipped past them with a muttered, “My cue to go.”
What was he thinking to look so upset? He had to have known she wouldn’t let his gift and note pass without comment. Surely, he hadn’t expected her to shrug and move on with her evening. But as the door clicked closed behind Maddy, he only stared at her.
“Unless you would prefer that I leave?” Lynia asked.
Lial scowled. “No.”
“If you don’t have time for a private—”
“Upstairs,” he said, practically growling. “We can talk up there.”
Gods, he sounded angry. He must have hoped to avoid an uncomfortable discussion.
But she wasn’t leaving without talking this out.
“Fine,” Lynia snapped, her own temper rising. “After you.”
Lial should have realized she wouldn’t avoid him, if for no other reason than it was the opposite of his expectations. He’d done something bold, and she’d come to tell him off for it. Well, why not? It would be the perfect end to a terrible week. No reason not to get it over with.
Resigned, he stomped up the staircase, Lynia following behind. At least she’d been kind enough to wait until no one else was around, though coming upstairs for privacy was
n’t strictly necessary. Caeleth was unconscious beneath the sleeping spell and wouldn’t have heard what they said—or cared if he had. But if she wanted complete privacy, he would grant it.
In the center of the room, he spun to face her. “There. Alone.”
“As alone as you ever get, I suppose,” Lynia said, giving a quick glance over her shoulder at the spiral staircase. “I would not wish our words to travel downward to be overheard.”
Lial huffed out an impatient sigh and activated the spell that closed the hatch over the staircase. The rough scrape of stone sliding on stone echoed around them for a moment until it sealed with a snap. He so rarely used the thing that it needed oiling again. Why bother when he rarely had personal guests? At least until recently.
Lynia stared at the hatch. “I didn’t know that was there. What if someone comes into the tower needing help?”
“I have spells on the door that alert me.” He threw his hands wide in a frustrated gesture. “Didn’t you want privacy?”
She let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Yes. Sorry.”
Was she…nervous? Unlikely. Lynia never had trouble telling him when he’d overstepped. “I appreciate you waiting until we were alone, but I’m not certain this argument is a memory I want in my personal sanctuary. For as long as it is mine, at any rate.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Berate me, of course.” Lial captured her gaze and refused to let go. “I’ll save you time and say that I’m not sorry. Use the potion or not, but I won’t regret the gift.”
“Even if you see me carrying another man’s child?”
Lial flinched. But he didn’t yield. “Even so, if you are happy.”
“And you’ll just leave Braelyn.” Her nostrils flared. “Walk away without a thought.”
Solace Page 24
