By Dark Deeds (Blade and Rose Book 2)

by Miranda Honfleur

  The whoops and calls of crewmen came from the pinnace, and she drew away, enough to just hold his gaze for a moment before blushing and looking away.

  Don’t look away. He drew his eyebrows. Don’t ever look away.

  Grinning crookedly, Liam trudged through the surf and clapped him on the back. “To the ship. You’ll have plenty of time later to remind yourselves you’re still alive.” He tilted his head toward the pinnace.

  Rielle kept her reddened face turned aside and wouldn’t meet his gaze. She cared for him, and that was enough for now. He took her hand, and they boarded.

  Reminding ourselves we’re still alive…

  He took one last look at the island, at the embers of the extinguished fire already being swept away by the wind.

  Chapter 45

  Jon pulled back his presence from the rose bush in the gardens below and hissed. It was near midnight, and he’d accomplished nothing.

  Aiolian muttered something in Old Emaurrian, too quiet for him to hear, even if his nightly language lessons with Aless had worked wonders in comprehension.

  “You’re still perceiving as a man would,” Leigh said. “Would you at least attempt to do as she says?”

  Jon eyed him and grunted. “I’m still perceiving as a man because I am a man.” He grabbed the goblet on the stone balustrade, drank, and stared out into the night.

  “Can’t you just be a rose bush for a moment?” Leigh leaned his back against the balustrade while Aiolian glared at him peripherally. She murmured something to him, then sighed and strode past Raoul and Florian back into the great hall.

  “What did she say?” He did catch hopeless human and small mind in there, but not much else.

  “You don’t want to know.” Leigh exhaled lengthily. “I know you’re a novice at this, so you won’t come into your full power overnight. But I’m leaving tomorrow, and achieving some progress would be a good parting gift. You need to do the meditation like she said.”

  He puffed. “What, imagine I’m some bush while the kingdom demands action?”

  “The kingdom needs its Earthbound king at full power.”

  Jon sighed. Leigh was right.

  Spending hours each day, imagining himself as a bush, a tree, a mountain, a river… What it would be like? The answer to moving mountains wasn’t haunting the mountain; it was being the mountain. No, the life in a mountain, the anima. That there even was life in a mountain was news to him, but now he had to be it. He’d been a human all his life and now had work to do in learning to become everything else.

  But supposedly, if he could abandon his human perception and learn what it meant to be the anima in a bush, a tree, a mountain, a river… then he could learn to control them, imbue them with his will.

  Just not nearly fast enough. If only he’d had the power months ago—

  “You’re worried about her,” Leigh said.

  Gods. If only he knew.

  “You should be,” Leigh added grimly. “When she returns and finds out you’ve been fooling around, you’re going to lose her.”

  Jon straightened. “I—”

  “Don’t even bother denying it. I’ve seen enough secret lovers to know you and the Sileni princess are”—he cleared his throat—“close.” Leigh glared at him peripherally. “Not sticking to the Code much anymore now, hm?”

  Jon sighed and bowed his head, staring into the gardens below. “I have to wed one of them. She’s a wise choice.”

  “And Rielle?”

  He and Olivia had decided to wait to tell Leigh until after the peace with Vervewood was negotiated. No doubt he would abandon everything to find her… to find her body.

  As I should have done.

  He shook off the feeling. Brennan would find her. He had to. She’d find her eternal rest here, in the soil of her homeland.

  “The cost of being king. You have the power to protect and save countless lives, but at the cost of love, joy, honor… self.”

  Leigh stared into nothing for a long moment. “When she returns, you must tell her. The entire truth, direct from you. She’s no stranger to duty, and might put up with you anyway.” A lopsided grin appeared and faded just as quickly. “But if she finds out any other way, you will lose her.”

  If Rielle were alive, he would have ended things with Nora, prayed Aless would release him from his word, and begged Rielle’s forgiveness. He would have moved mountains to marry her, and she’d have helped him. He would have brought the Tower and the Order under the Crown, as he’d planned, but much sooner. He would have unified every willing Immortal race in the land. He would have made the need for a political marriage unnecessary.

  To be with her, even for three years, for three months, even three minutes, he would have done anything, or died trying.

  But that was past him now. She was gone.

  Leigh patted his arm. “No sense in worrying about it now. Why don’t we focus on the Earthbinding? Just try to make some progress tonight. I’ll wait with you.”

  It would be a long wait. But if Leigh was being supportive, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  With a sigh, Jon, closed his eyes, pictured the enormous balcony off the great hall, Leigh, Raoul, and Florian, the stone balustrade, the chill spring air beyond and below… Bare branches and thorns, roots spread into the hard earth. Feeder roots, small and fine, into large anchor roots, stable and strong. Emerging up, the hardy rose shank, thick to the bud union, where basal canes scaffolded, others sprouting from the bud eyes—and redundant canes that would be pruned. Weakness cut away to preserve strength.

  Old wood recently cut away, part of the shank opened up to air circulation. Cool air kissing vibrant life, a slow-moving stream spreading to every stem, spirit. He could feel it in his veins, follow it to a cane, push it to a petiole of seven leaves, toothed like a serrated knife, and a bud, anxious for life, and he let it free, encouraged it, and hope bloomed. He drank in the sun, relished it with every fiber of his being, until the wind shook through his leaves.

  He swayed but did not break, and shadows interrupted the blessed light, tall, dark shadows.

  People?

  People… He remembered his own face, up there on the balcony, past the air and the stone balustrade, next to Leigh and Raoul and Florian…

  He gasped.

  “Jon!” Leigh shook his shoulders, and Olivia covered her mouth with a hand while Aiolian said something to her. Raoul and Florian crouched next to him, a squad of guards behind him.

  Bright light assailed his eyes—noon sun—and he blocked it with his arm, a heavy fur falling off his shoulders. He was on the floor, covered in furs. At noon.

  Olivia rushed to him and knelt, resting a hand gently on his arm. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded. Last he remembered, it had been evening, and he and Leigh were talking on the balcony… “How long was I out?”

  “All night and all morning,” Leigh grunted.

  Aiolian arched a brow and said something to him, about the gardens?

  Leigh frowned. He really wasn’t the best of translators.

  “What is it?”

  Olivia beamed next to him. “In the gardens… A single rose is blooming.”

  Heart racing, Rielle fidgeted with the clasp on her cloak, tightening the knot. The snow-covered bright white stone of Trèstellan Palace came into view, a shining jewel at the crown of Courdeval.

  Warmth radiated against her arm—Brennan standing sentinel at her side. The stark white palace neared, and she shivered.

  Brennan covered her gloved hand with his own. She glanced at him, unsure of what to say. Thank you.

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  She owed him her life. And so much more.

  Silence lingered over the soft roll of waves. He gazed at the white-gray sky and sighed. “What’s the plan once we dock?”

  She’d planned it for months now. Jon had to know about Shadow as soon as possible, and telling him would necessitate revealing her own arrival.
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  And yet, if the world knew she was alive and well in Courdeval, a serpent like Shadow, who had so relied on her continued suffering, might be tempted to strike, swiftly and fatally. And Jon couldn’t be placed at risk.

  Incognito. It was the only way to return to Courdeval.

  “I can’t be here as myself, Brennan,” she whispered. “But I need access to the palace, and to Jon.”

  He blinked. “Mine.” He cleared his throat. “My access—you could blend in among my liveried household. No one will pay you a second glance.”

  At Trèstellan, no noble would question a servant. Beneath their notice… It would be an ideal disguise.

  He leaned against the railing, intense hazel eyes fixed on the vast expanse of blue. “I’ll send him a message.” He glanced at her. “And a messenger.”

  The perfect plan. As a messenger, seeing Jon…

  The look on his face when he’d see her… She smiled. He’d been waiting four months, and his letter—

  That letter. She melted. He’d been as worried about her as she’d been about him. When they were finally reunited, the confessions, the problems, the threats would wait one day. A single day, until she relearned the circle of his arms, the calm waters of his sea-blue eyes, the deep notes of his voice. Then she’d tell him everything and pray he’d forgive her.

  Their love could overcome anything. His love had helped her make peace with herself, become whole again after the mess she’d been from her éveil. He’d helped her save herself, and everyone she loved, from fureur, and her power was now completely under her control. All that had happened since, once she told him, he’d forgive her with time, wouldn’t he?

  And given the news she’d translated, he’d had to entertain suitresses from all over the region. What had he been duty-bound to do? Court them, perhaps even—

  She swallowed. No. It had only been four months. He would never betray her, no matter how much she didn’t deserve his loyalty.

  If he still loved her, they’d figure it all out. It would work. It had to. When she closed her eyes, she could still smell the lindenwood and smoke of him, still feel his breath on her skin, his whisper against the crown of her head. Even the memory of his embrace warmed her.

  “He’s a lucky man,” Brennan whispered, his deep, husky voice choked, “our king.” He watched the sea, eyes glazed.

  “You’re too kind.”

  He shook his head. “Selfish.” He didn’t look up. “I’m a selfish man, Rielle. Very selfish. But less so now than I have ever been.”

  “No.” She touched his arm and rubbed it softly. “I finally recognize you again, Brennan.” When he turned to her, she smiled. “The boy I loved so well… You are finally the man he was always going to become.”

  He covered her hand with his and gently stroked one of her fingers. “A couple years too late.” But before she could answer, he straightened and cleared his throat.

  Ignoring the hollow in her throat, she pulled the knot on her cloak tighter. For two weeks, she’d leaned on him for support, for comfort, and he hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t pried.

  But she’d been cruel. When the ship’s pinnace had come into view, when Brennan’s eyes had met hers, there’d been nothing in the world she’d wanted to see more. Him, alive. With her. And the power of that had pushed her past a boundary, a firm boundary, stupidly and hopelessly.

  She’d wanted to kiss him.

  Wanted to. But hadn’t.

  Brennan had been good to her, been there for her when no one else had. Their pretense at House Hazael, pretended passion, had readied her hands to him, readied her body—forced a familiarity that yet lingered, all the more pronounced in their continued close proximity.

  He was attractive, always had been, but more than that, she cared for him now, loved him, even if she wasn’t in love with him. He meant a lot to her, and there was no denying that anymore.

  “Furl all sails!” Liam shouted. “Bring her in steady, boys!”

  Courdeval. They were docking. She glanced at Liam. If she didn’t talk to him before—

  “Go on.” Brennan gave her a nudge. A sort of weariness had settled into his expression, a crease between his brows, but he still offered her a smile and nodded toward the quarterdeck.

  She inclined her head and, boots clicking, headed up to the wheel, shrugging deeper into her cloak as the chill wind blew past.

  Before she could ascend the stairs to the quarterdeck, Liam tipped his head toward his cabin. “Sterling, you have the wheel.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Sterling answered with a puff of breath on the cold air. He strode to the wheel and took it with articulated procedure.

  Liam offered her his arm. She laced hers through it and allowed him to lead her to his cabin. He escorted her to one of the tufted armchairs.

  Rather than rounding the desk, he drew the armchair next to her closer, unfastened his wool overcoat, and settled in. “I—” he began, just as she said, “Liam—”

  They shared a smile. He leaned back in the armchair and gestured for her to continue.

  “I want to see you again.” She reached for his hand. “I want you to come home.”

  He intertwined his fingers with hers and gave her hand a squeeze. “This ship is my home. You know that,” he answered softly. “But I want to visit you, too.”

  “Do ship captains get vacations?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Shore leave.”

  “So you’ll be here a few days?”

  He nodded. “We need to resupply, and the crew need to cut loose after…”

  He didn’t need to say it.

  “How will I know where to find you?” she asked.

  “You can send me a message here, and it’ll get to me. Also, the Liberté makes berth in Gazgan, so if you ever wish to correspond, that would be the best place to send me mail.”

  “Will you?” she asked. “Correspond?”

  He left the chair and took a knee at her side, clasping her hand in both of his. “Of course I will.”

  For nearly a decade, he hadn’t. She wouldn’t hope that he’d start now.

  He brushed her cheek with a finger. “Don’t make that face, little bee. Please.” When she glared at him, he stuck out his tongue, and she smiled. “I didn’t want you to… pity me.”

  “I don’t. I wouldn’t.” She shook her head vehemently. “I… I love you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I won’t abandon you again, I promise.” He stood and kissed the top of her head. “Well, aside from literally abandoning you when we leave port.”

  She gave him a shove, but he evaded.

  “You won’t be rid of me so easily.” He plopped back into the armchair. “When we come to Courdeval, we usually stay at Claudine’s in the Dandelion District. If it’s still open, that’s where we’ll be.”

  Someday, she’d have to tell him the truth about Laurentine. About their family. What she’d done. There was so much he needed to know, very little of which she was brave enough to tell him now. “Before… Sonbahar, I was the king’s lover. I haven’t seen him in months, but I will tonight.”

  Liam’s eyes widened. “Then, Brennan…?”

  “Just friends.”

  He scoffed. “You two are fooling yourselves.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “The way he looks at you… He loves you. And the way you look at him… You love him, too.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Liam—”

  “I’m not saying I approve.” He held up his hands. “You know I don’t. But don’t lie to yourself. Never to yourself.”

  Her and Brennan? It was—

  It was…

  She lowered her gaze. Some part of her did love Brennan. What they could have been. But that part only dealt in embers and ash.

  “The king.” Liam exhaled a long breath. “They say he’s a good man—strong, pious, honorable, fair.”

  She smiled. “He makes me want to be a better person. I only hope I live up to it.”

  “A paladin, I
hear?”

  “Former.”

  He winked at her. “Well, Emaurrian politics will not welcome him gently.”

  Parliament was a nest of spitting vipers, and the Houses were worse. But Jon would have to learn to manipulate politics—perhaps he had already.

  But Jon was Jon. Despite navigating Emaurrian politics and the demands of his crown, he’d still inherently be the same man she’d fallen in love with.

  A call came from outside.

  “We’ve docked.” Liam stood and pulled her up from her chair and into an embrace. “Take care, little bee. I hope we meet again soon.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and absorbed his warmth for a moment. “You’re alive.”

  He laughed softly. “Yes. Yes, I am. Keen observation.”

  “I just had to remind myself,” she said, pulling away. “You take care, too, brother.” With a warm smile, she exited the cabin and disembarked with Brennan.

  The carriage ride into Azalée wasn’t as long as she remembered. Although the city appeared restored—with only some buildings still bearing the visible signs of siege—people didn’t crowd the streets. Perhaps the biting cold kept them inside.

  Unusual weather. She couldn’t remember a time when the capital had been so frigid in spring. Sitting next to her, Brennan rubbed her hands between his own; the heat of his blood brought some life into hers. She could have heated them with pyromancy, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

  Passersby glanced at the carriage window, but sunken deep into her cloak’s hood, she wouldn’t be recognized, even with her fiancé. The golden brown of her tan skin, lingering from the Sonbaharan sun, certainly helped.

  She and Brennan stopped at an inn, where he sent for servants and livery from Victoire, his family’s villa. They ate, drank, and bathed hastily, and when the servants finally arrived, she couldn’t wait to throw on the clothes—finely made trousers and a coat in crimson and gold, a crisp white cotton shirt, and polished black leather boots. She braided her hair simply, plainly, and then spun for Brennan.

  “Do I look the part?” She held out her arms.