by Jill Myles
Graeme’s face remained carefully neutral. “She has been removed from court.”
She waited for him to clarify that Lady Aynee had also been sent away for her protection, like Melene. But when he remained silent, Seri realized this was her answer. She sat back heavily in her chair, understanding washing over her. Lady Aynee? She licked her lips, trying to think of something appropriate to say. How did one comfort one’s husband upon the dismissal of his former mistress? “Well.” She thought for a moment longer, then added, “I am glad you sent her away, but I am sorry for your loss.”
“It is no loss. I would not drink from her were I starving.”
And he was starving, she could see that. His hunger pulled at her, eliciting both sympathy and that aching, restless need. She thought of him sitting vigil over her bed, as Josdi had described. Rescuing her family in the middle of the night, feeding Josdi and providing the best healers for her father, even though he had no idea if she’d ever wake. Staring into his fathomless eyes, heat slid through her veins, and she got up from the chair and went over to him.
“What are you doing?” Graeme’s voice became sharp, raw.
Seri ran a finger along the side of his face. His skin was smooth save for the hint of stubble along his jaw. “You need sustenance.”
He remained in place as she sat on the edge of the desk. Her hands shook as she unbuttoned the tiny row of buttons on the back of her tunic. It was the perfect excuse to touch him, this hunger of his. This way, she didn’t have to risk her own heart. Not when there was such a practical need behind his hunger.
The collar loosened and the heavy fabric fell forward, pooling around her shoulders and exposing her throat. She looked up then, and saw his eyes hot on her own, his emotions blazing, her own matching it in strength. Whatever else was between them, this was real, and this was what he needed.
She needed it, too.
Her breath hitched at the look in his eyes, at the way his lips parted. When he stroked the side of her throat, she shuddered and leaned into the soft caress. He loomed over her, heat and warmth, and she closed her eyes. Fear fluttered inside her a little at the sight of those sharp incisors that would soon pierce her skin. But instead of going straight for her throat, he kissed the delicate line of her jaw. She tensed at the small touch, waiting for the terrifyingly delicious scrape of his teeth against her flesh.
He kissed her again, sliding lower on her throat. “Why do you do this?”
Seri felt his body bearing down over hers, almost pinning her to the desk. A moan escaped her throat, even as her hands moved to twine in his hair. “Do what?”
There came the fragile scrape of teeth against her throat. She trembled.
“This,” he said against her skin. “Offer yourself to me. I can feel your fear.”
“I . . .” She struggled to form her thoughts. “You have done so much for my family. I would not let you starve.”
He pulled away from her abruptly. “Indeed.” Gone was the passion-glazed look on his face, masked by anger.
Confused, Seri touched her throat. “What is it? Aren’t you going to drink?” She gestured at her exposed skin, trying not to feel a sense of loss, of vulnerability.
“Is that what this is about? You think you owe me?” His voice was as icy as his aura. He pulled her tunic back up over her shoulders with precise, cold motions. “That is a generous offer, wife. However, your people may enjoy a martyr, but not I.”
She sat up, wrapping her arms around her body to shield it from his view. She suddenly felt very stupid. “No,” she said. “That wasn’t it at all. I only wanted to come to say thank you. And to help you like you helped me.”
“Help me,” he sneered, his lip curling. “When I ask for Vidari charity, I assure you, my lady, that you will be the first to know.”
She flinched and took a step back from his desk, hurt. “Then why did you sit with me while I was ill? Why did you save my family?” She sounded small and foolish even to her own ears.
“Why?” He laughed, not turning to look at her. “Duty. How would it look if I’d just let my wife’s family starve?”
Seri reeled at his hateful words, ignoring the humiliated tears that spilled over her cheeks. “I see.”
She’d been a fool to come to him, to try to thank him. To want him, like she thought he wanted her.
Vidari charity.
The words still stung in her mind. She buttoned the tunic with shaking fingers, but the small, annoying holes blurred in front of her eyes. She grabbed the cloth and knotted it at her neck, then swallowed hard. “I hate you,” she said, but it came out weaker than she wanted it to be. With that, she dashed out of the room.
“Wait,” he called behind her, but she didn’t slow down. “Seri, wait.”
She raced out in a stream of fluttering silk and tousled hair. The guards let her pass, merely stepping aside, and she careened down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the floor.
“Seri,” she heard him call behind her as she dashed down the corridor, past the staring servants, desperate to get away.
Gods, she wanted to get away. She flew down the stairs at a frantic, dangerous pace, and then out to the one place she knew Graeme wouldn’t follow her.
Seri pushed through one of the heavy wooden doors and stumbled into the courtyard, feeling the heat of the dawning sun on her skin. Her hair rippled in the wind, and the tunic clung to her body, outlining it enough so that the guards nearby gaped at her and the folk in the courtyard dropped what they were doing to stare at her. But she didn’t care.
Here, out in the sun, she was free.
No one approached her. They watched her, and a few touched their foreheads in respect, but for the most part they kept their distance from the crying princesse. It suited Seri just fine. Once she was able to breathe deeply and compose herself, she glanced back at the castle. The heavy wooden door was shut, and one of Graeme’s guardsmen stood a safe distance behind her, watching over her.
Fine. Let Graeme sit in that castle, a prisoner. Let him starve. She’d tried to care for him, and he’d pushed her away.
The stables at the edge of the courtyard caught her eye, and she found herself wandering in that direction. Perhaps the kittens Melene had found were still there. She needed somewhere to be alone, to sort out all her anger and frustration.
Just before she could enter the barn, though, a hand grasped her elbow and pulled her aside. “We need to talk.”
Seri gasped as she turned and found herself staring into Rilen’s angry eyes.
Seri’s heart hammered at the sight of Rilen, dressed in the borrowed uniform of one of the Athonite guardsmen. She let him lead her into the barn, scarcely able to breathe. As soon as the heavy stable door shut behind them, Rilen was on her, his hands on her neck and kissing her with all the wild intensity that she remembered. His mouth pressed against hers, his tongue seeking to part the seam of her lips.
It was like being kissed by a stranger. Her body didn’t flare at the touch, and when he pressed her against the door, she felt strangely detached. His mouth was rough on hers, and the wood against her back dug splinters into her skin through the thin tunic.
Graeme would never treat you so poorly, came the unwanted thought. She forced it out of her mind, feeling like a traitor, and slid out of Rilen’s grasp. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He laughed against her skin, then pressed another careless kiss on her mouth, trailing his lips across her jaw and down her neck. Her collar was still open from when she’d tried to seduce Graeme, and it felt wrong. Suddenly he jerked away and brushed the long hair off her shoulder, revealing a bruise on her neck.
Seri tried to pry herself from his grip, but he held tight, then cursed, running his thumb along the bruise and puncture marks. “What happened?” he demanded.
Just that small caress sent a shiver o
f remembrance through her body, which flicked with longing at the thought of Graeme. Seri averted her eyes. “An accident.”
“Did he bite you?” His eyes narrowed.
The embarrassed flush continued to creep up her face. “It’s nothing.” Her fingers grasped his arm, clenching. “Rilen, what are you doing here? If they see you dressed like one of the guards, after what you did—”
“I came to see you.” He tried to press another kiss on her mouth, but she jerked away. He scowled. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” She pushed at his chest when he tried to embrace her again. “You killed Kiane!”
“It was an accident. We got carried away. After your husband refused our demands. We had to take action to show them that we wouldn’t be ignored.” He shrugged. “These things happen in war, Seri.”
“We’re not at war, Rilen. We lost, remember? The Athonites won every battle.”
“Not at war, yet.” His eyes gleamed with a fervent light. “Be patient. Things are at work.”
“Things are at work?” she snapped. “Are these things so time-consuming that you left my father and Josdi to starve? You abandoned them when I trusted you to care for them, Rilen!”
He said nothing, but the hardness in his eyes told her that he wasn’t sorry. “I was checking on them, Seri. It’s just that . . . these things take time.”
He said it as casually as if she’d asked how the crops were growing. It made her sick to her stomach. He showed no remorse for abandoning her family. Worse, the fact that he was here meant that he and Jovis and Timmar had truly not been punished for their crime. She had known it would happen, and yet . . . she had hoped her people would do the right thing. They were not the only ones blinded by age-old hatreds.
She was suddenly exhausted from all of this. No one was acting reasonably—not Athonites, not Vidari, no one. Seri pressed a weary hand to her forehead. “Go home, Rilen. I’m tired.”
“Are my kisses not good enough for you now that you’re whoring for one of the Athonites?” He grabbed her upper arms brutally hard and she flinched. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“What did you think would happen when I married him?”
“I thought you’d kill him,” Rilen snapped. “That was the plan.”
“I tried,” Seri said.
“You must not have tried hard enough,” he said coldly. “Or was it that you secretly wanted to marry one of those bastards? Get yourself a husband with a fat purse no matter if he’s Athonite or Vidari. Is that it?”
To her horror, tears began to pool in her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
His fingers dug into her skin. “Tell me, then. Tell me so I understand.” Gone was the laughing recklessness, replaced by a quiet violence that frightened her. “Tell me that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “But it’s complicated, Rilen.”
“Is he keeping your family captive? Is that why he took them from the village with a contingent of his soldiers?”
“What? No.” Seri tried to wriggle free from his painful grip. “He didn’t steal them from the village. I asked for him to bring them here.”
A hint of his old cheer was back. “Then you’re a genius, Seri. Everyone thinks he’s stolen them away and that he’s keeping you all locked up in the castle, unable to escape him.”
“That’s not true—”
“Who cares if it’s true or not?” Rilen said. “The important thing is that we can use it against him for the uprising.”
A sick feeling twisted in her stomach. “Uprising?”
“It’s what we’ve been working toward for so long, and it’s finally coming to fruition,” he said, his eyes vivid. “Everyone is furious that the Athonites would dare to steal you and your family away and that he’d force you to marry him. This is just the catalyst we need to unite our people. I’ve been going to the other towns, sending out riders. Giving them weapons. We have a blacksmith two villages away who has been creating spears for us.”
She listened in numb horror as he spoke, impassioned.
“They’ve been coming into the village by the hundreds, Seri. I’ve heard the last of the wild clans should be arriving within a few days. Once they do, we will attack the palace and take our homeland back.”
“Wait, no—” Her throat closed up on the words. “Rilen, it’s too dangerous.” If he failed, the Athonites would not rest until the Vidari were destroyed to a man.
But if he succeeded . . .
Oh, Graeme. The sad thought was like a sigh in her mind.
Rilen was oblivious to her despair, the anger carrying him forward. “He keeps you holed up in that castle like one of them, but you’re not. It’s obvious. The spies we have in the household say you cry in your bed.” He touched her cheek gently. “I know you’re frightened, but don’t worry. I leave tomorrow for Uday, and there we’ll meet up with the rest of the army we’ve gathered. We’ll free you from him soon.”
Free her? At the cost of Graeme’s life? Of the lives of the servants who had gone out of their way to try to make her comfortable? She had brought them nothing but misery and pain, and now she’d be their destruction . . . theirs or her people’s.
A hysterical sob bubbled in her throat. “Rilen, please—”
He lifted a lock of her hair in wonder. “Seri. Why aren’t you happy about this? It’s what we’ve been dreaming of.”
“It’s what you have been dreaming of, not me. Don’t you see how foolhardy this is? Don’t you see how many people could die? How many people have already died?” Seri said.
“But it is worth it to be free. I don’t understand why you are fighting this now—” Rilen stopped abruptly and stared at her with a terrible look in his eyes. “Seri, why didn’t you kill Graeme on your wedding night?”
“I told you, I tried,” she protested. “I wasn’t strong enough. I tried twice.”
Rilen was eerily calm. “Then I will kill him for you. I will free you from him.”
She shook her head, silent. He reached for her again, and she flinched.
“Come away with me, Seri. Right now,” he said hoarsely. “Let me take you from here. I’ll take care of this for you.”
She batted him away. “I can take care of myself, Rilen. And I won’t leave my family here.”
Or Graeme, a small voice in her head said.
“I see.” His tone was hard. “Then I can trust you not to tell him about the uprising?” At her hesitation he gave her a serious, solemn look. “It would be our death, Seri.”
Guilt and anger washed over her. Again, she was being forced to choose between Rilen’s hotheaded actions and her husband. “How can you ask this of me?”
He gripped her hand in his. “I ask this because you are the only person I can ask. You are the only one that can save us if we are caught again.”
She closed her eyes, thinking of Graeme with his angry expression. Graeme kissing her and holding her gently in their bed, brushing sweaty locks of hair from her forehead as she lay sick.
Graeme pushing her away even as she offered her body. Vidari charity.
Her jaw hardened. “I won’t say anything.”
He touched her chin one more time, the look in his eyes torn. Then he nodded and slipped out the door, leaving Seri inside the stable.
Alone at last, she released the tears that had threatened all day. She covered her face with her hands. It seemed no matter what she did, she was trapped between two worlds.
After Seri collected herself, she went back into the castle and made for the healer’s quarters. Her father was in a small room in the back, separated from the other patients. The heavy drapes were drawn, and soft candlelight illuminated the room. He had yarn wrapped around his fingers, holding it for an old priestess who knitted and babbled at him. Josdi and Viktor were
there as well, Viktor holding fabric taut as Josdi worked on new pillows and giggled at his jokes.
Her father looked healthier, Seri noted with relief. Color had returned to his face, and his cheeks were fuller thanks to a few healthy meals. The smell of putrid flesh from his bad leg was gone, and from what she could tell, the swelling was down. He even sat up in bed and gave Seri a happy look as she approached.
“My daughter,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. Radiant like your mother. Will you sit with me?”
Seri smiled as she sat down next to him. “You look well, Father. I’m so pleased.”
“These Athonites are free with their medicines. It seems every time I turn around, one’s pouring another mouthful of something vile into my throat.” He chuckled and the fat old healer shook a finger at him.
The healer picked up her yarn. “I’ll be on my way so you can have a spot of privacy. Princesse, we are right here if you need anything.”
As she waddled off, Seri’s smile faltered, thinking of the healer who had tried to overcharge her for a potion simply because she was Vidari. “Not all Athonites are so kind. These probably would ignore you if I was not married to their prince.”
“Ah, but you are.” He straightened his blanket. “I suppose if we must switch sides, it is good to be on the side with coin.”
Did her own father view her as a traitor to their people, then? Seri’s lower lip trembled and she bent her head.
Father cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Viktor and Josdi.
Viktor stood. “Come, Josdi,” he said. “Would you like to take a quick walk with me to the kitchens? They’re baking sixteen-layer cakes and I think they need to be tasted to ensure the quality.” At her giggle, he nodded at Seri and Father, then took Josdi by the arm and escorted her away. “We’ll be back shortly.”
Seri watched them go with an ache in her heart, staring enviously at their two heads bent together, like loving conspirators. She imagined Rilen seeing Josdi and an Athonite flirting. When he breached the castle walls, would he kill Josdi like he had Kiane? Would the upcoming rebellion ruin her sister’s fragile happiness?
