The Exile's Curse

by M. J. Scott

  "We'd better get organized," he said. "The temperature will keep falling. And I don't want anything joining us for the night." He looked toward the entrance and raised a hand. A perfect semblance of a roaring fire blazed to life, lighting the cave better than the actual flames.

  The ease with which he wielded illusion always startled her. If he hadn't been a Truth Seeker, he would have been, no doubt, highly sought after. Pity it gave off no warmth. "Could you add a warmth charm to an illusion?" she asked.

  His brows lifted. "Perhaps. But not tonight. I don't want to waste any effort." He looked around the cave. "I'm thinking if we put my clothes down as a base layer and then use yours and the cloaks on top, we should be able to stay warm enough if we take turns sleeping and using the charm."

  "You want us to take our clothes off?" she squeaked. "Lucien, it's freezing."

  He nodded. "I know. But the army trained us to survive in odd conditions. Skin to skin is warmer than clothes."

  "You snuggled up with your fellow soldiers?" It was an amusing thought.

  "One fellow soldier. When faced with the choice of freezing or not. It wasn't my best night's sleep ever, but it was effective. Hairy though." He smiled. "You at least smell better."

  That made her laugh. "I wouldn't be so sure of that after today." She suspected she smelled of mud and horse and damp wool and fear sweat. And smoke. Not that she should care what Lucien thought she smelled of. Even so, the thought of sleeping beside him skin to skin made her nervous. The night after the wedding had been a moment of insanity. Never to be repeated. But if that were true, then she shouldn't feel awkward about doing as he suggested. But the bump in her pulse wasn't just embarrassment.

  "Your virtue is safe with me," Lucien said. "I'm suggesting this to get us through the night, not to get you back into my bed. A damp and smelly cave is hardly arousing."

  Somehow she didn't think he was being entirely truthful. And that he, like her, wasn't entirely unaffected by his proposal. But she trusted him to keep his word.

  "All right," she agreed. "Where exactly did you have in mind?"

  It didn't take long to rearrange things as he suggested. He moved all the stones to the other side of the fire and then shifted to a spot several feet away from the flames, out of reach of any dying sparks but close enough to maybe benefit from whatever heat the embers gave off. He stripped down to his drawers without any hint of embarrassment, arranged his clothes on the floor, and turned his back while she slipped out of her clothes and added them to the makeshift pallet. She left her underwear on. Her corset, she suspected, would keep her sore rib more comfortable than not, and it and her other underthings were hardly going to add much to the pile of clothes beneath them. A corset, in fact, would only be uncomfortable to lie on.

  They settled awkwardly on the pile of clothing and pulled the cloaks over them. At first she tried to keep some distance between them, but he put an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him gently. "Skin to skin is the point, Chloe," he said. "Now, you should sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours."

  Warmth crept through her, and the faint hum of him filled her ears as he used the warming charm to make things comfortable. She was still all too aware that beneath the few layers of linen and cotton and wool, she rested on hard stone, but the chill of it receded enough to let her relax. And then, while she was still wondering how she would make it through the night with Lucien wrapped around her, she fell asleep.

  "Your turn, Lieutenant."

  Lucien's hand shook her gently, and Chloe opened her eyes, confused as to why he was waking her. It all came rushing back as he yawned and pulled the cloak higher around them.

  The cave. The accident. She wasn’t cold, though her face felt chilled. All she wanted to do was close her eyes again and fall back into sleep. But she sucked in a lungful of cold air instead. She had to wake up so Lucien could sleep.

  "All right, I'm awake." She reached for the bond, let the magic rise through her to chase sleep away, and started the warming charm. "You can let go now. Rest."

  "You're sure? I can do a few more hours." He yawned again, belying his words.

  "You need to rest," she said firmly. "We may yet have to walk back to Deephilm." Goddess, she hoped not. Finding their way might not be a problem once it was light, but it was a long way to walk. Especially when the weather could turn savage so fast. But that was a problem for the morning. And to get to the morning, they had to survive the night. "Rest," she repeated.

  "All right. Good night."

  She felt it when he let go of the charm, the hum of his power fading. His breathing slowed and deepened, the warmth of him solid at her back, and she peeked through the bond to make sure he was truly asleep. Difficult not to wriggle closer still and soak up his heat, but she was warm enough with the charm and the weight of the cloaks above them. Between that and not wanting to complicate things, it was better to stay where she was. But lying there with him in the dark, staring at the illusion of fire he'd built at the cave's mouth, her thoughts whirled.

  Lucien had saved her life today. None of the Andalyssians had come after her—or, if they had, they'd turned back as the storm had worsened. Only Lucien had thrown himself into peril. He could have been hurt, or worse, but he hadn't cared. He’d come after her. Without him, she probably wouldn't have woken up from her fall, freezing to death in the snow and rain.

  A difficult thing to come to weigh. Especially considering what happened after the wedding.

  She wanted to hate him. If for no other reason than loyalty to Charl seeming to dictate that she should. But he'd been right in the words he'd thrown at her. Charl was the one who'd forsaken them. So what loyalty did she owe his memory? He had shown her none with his recklessness. But Lucien...Lucien had protected her without hesitation. He'd done it the night he'd warned her after Charl's death, too. It could have cost him his career if his actions had displeased the emperor.

  But what would people think if she became...friends again with the man who'd condemned her husband? There would be gossip and worse. Near certainty that there would be some all too ready to think that perhaps they'd been together before Charl had fallen.

  She wasn't sure she could bear it. Bad enough to be a traitor's widow. But to let people think she had betrayed him first? They would say she had driven him to his bad choices, perhaps. Easier to blame her. She was still here to blame. And what would Charl's family say? She didn't know how things were between them and Lucien now.

  Simpler to remain at a distance. But simple didn't always consider emotion. She couldn't ignore the fact that the weight of him at her back and the warmth of his body and the knowledge that he would charge into a storm to save her made her feel...safe. Protected. In a way she hadn't for a very long time. A strange sensation to have lying in a cave in the Andalyssian wilderness, hoping not to freeze to death. But she knew it to be truth.

  So what did that mean? What should she do?

  Not something she would solve tonight. She tried to tame her thoughts and the heart that beat a little too fast with him beside her, even now in these ridiculous circumstances, back to something calmer. Focus on breath and just appreciating the presence of someone next to her in the dark. It had been a long time since she'd spent a whole night with a man. Not since...Samuel.

  Ah, Samuel. Captain Jensen.

  There was a memory to distract her.

  The man who'd spirited her away from Lumia into exile all those years ago.

  She still counted herself fortunate that it had been his ship she'd stumbled across on her flight from the city. He'd charged her a pretty penny, of course, but he hadn't robbed her, nor slit her throat and dropped her over the side of his ship after taking her money. And the advice he'd given her about what to say to the temple in Kingswell to claim asylum had worked.

  She hadn't expected to see him again but a month or so after she'd finished her “supervised” stay in the temple, where they'd drilled her into her head that water magic was heresy
and an abomination and made her take oaths never to practice it again, he'd stepped out of one of the Portholme laneways to join her on her walk home to the tiny room she could barely afford on the equally tiny wage she'd been making working in the kitchen of an inn.

  Checking up on her, he'd said, and then he'd dropped a hint that Ginevra Talbot might be looking for an extra pair of hands. That had proved true, too. The next time she'd run into Samuel, her room had been less tiny, and she had begun to feel as though a life in Anglion might be possible. That time he'd looked her up and down, declared she was looking like she'd found a good mooring, waltzed her off to dinner, and charmed her into bed, telling her that she wasn't going to shed the sadness of whatever man was ghosting her memories alone.

  She'd been part guilty, part relieved, to discover the next morning that he'd been right again, in a way. She hadn't forgotten Charl, but she had been reminded that her life wasn't over, too.

  After that, Samuel had turned up every month or two. And most times, she let him into her bed, needing the fun and the forgetting he offered. Their liaison lasted, on and off, for nearly two years. At which point, Ginevra had died of an attack of the heart, and Chloe had made an offer to her son to take over the store. To her surprise, he had accepted.

  Samuel appeared the night she'd first opened her doors as Madame Montesse's Magical Supplies. He'd brought flowers and wine. She'd made him dinner, let him make her laugh. She'd grown fond of him. He'd taken her to bed. And then he'd told her it would be the last time. She'd protested, but he'd been firm.

  "Chloe, sweet," he'd said, sounding resolute but regretful, "you are a delight and nothing less. But you've had trouble enough due to men, and even if I were not too old for you, some of what I do is risky. And some of it just plain illegal. And I won't be another anchor around you, pulling you down to disaster if something goes wrong. You don't need me." And that had been that. He'd assured her she could call on him if she ever needed and instructed her how to do just that, but he’d never turned up on her doorstep again.

  After that, her bed had been largely empty. There'd been a few nights where she'd gone to an inn on the far side of the city, hidden her hair with dye, and bedded some passing-through man with kind eyes or a ready wit to ease the loneliness, but none of them had ever stuck past the next morning.

  So she'd been alone a long time. And Samuel had been right. She hadn't needed a man. Men were trouble and anchors and disaster. The fact that her stupid, foolish heart had decided to race for Lucien, of all people, was only proof that she was also a disaster when it came to romance.

  So she would ignore her racing heart. And hope it was only the aftermath of nearly dying that made Lucien suddenly feel more like home than anybody else. And she would be perfectly fine.

  She hoped. Her arm throbbed suddenly, and she shifted, easing herself into another position with a sigh.

  "Chloe?" Lucien said sleepily. "Is something wrong?"

  "No. Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."

  His arm tightened around her, but he didn’t speak again. She lay in the dark, listening to him breathing, and tried not to think about the morning.

  "Well, this is unfortunate."

  Chloe startled awake. That had sounded like Honore. But why would Honore be in the cave? In the cave where, Chloe realized as her head cleared, she was wrapped around Lucien, her face pressed into his neck and her injured arm laid across his chest. Naked Lucien. Or so it would appear to anyone who couldn't see what they had on under the cloak. Admittedly it wasn't much, but....

  "Lieutenant, you appear to be out of uniform."

  Definitely Honore. She cracked an eye open, turning her head.

  Damn. Not just Honore. The colonel wasn't the only one staring down at the two of them. Behind her stood Gilles, Sejerin Silya, Mikvel, Irina, for some reason, and Roland. Honore looked exasperated. Sejerin Silya looked outraged. Mikvel looked mostly...resigned. Roland, she couldn't read, and Irina and Captain Theisse were struggling not to smile.

  "The storm," she said, moving away from Lucien and elbowing him under the covers. Honestly, the man slept like the dead. "We were soaked...."

  "Unholy," Sejerin Silya hissed. "Lust and worse."

  Worse? Lust seemed unlikely enough in a freezing mountain cave in the middle of a storm. What did the woman imagine they'd been doing that was even more ambitiously depraved? She opened her mouth to object.

  "Wha—" Lucien bolted upright. His hair stood half on end, and stubble lined his jaw. But his expression rapidly snapped from sleepy to cautious as he saw they were no longer alone. "A rescue party, I see."

  "Yes," Honore said briskly. "Captain Theisse sent Caesarus to see if he could find you once the storm broke. But it was dark, and all he could tell us was you were in a cave at the far end of the plateau. We left this morning before dawn. Irina was kind enough to come along to lend her earth sense to try and determine which 'cave' it was that you might be in. The sejerin thought you might need medical aid. And here we are."

  Chloe hid a wince. They had all made that ride back down the mountain in the dark to come looking for them. Though if Caesarus had found them, why hadn’t the sanctii made himself known?

  "The balance is broken," Silya said, glaring.

  Her scowl suggested she'd far rather toss them over the edge of a cliff than heal them. Did the sejerin work as healers? Chloe had no idea. But she had a sinking feeling that the seer was here for entirely different reasons.

  "Heathen foreigners." She glared up at Mikvel. "Your wedding rituals cannot be completed with the balance broken."

  Honestly? Wasn't the balance already broken with House Elannon?

  The king's brows rose. But it seemed he wasn't prepared to argue the point here in the cave. "I think we can discuss the ramifications of what has happened here when we get back to Deephilm. Lady de Montesse looks like she is hurt. Irina, Sejerin, perhaps you can see if you can provide her with some ease for the journey. And check that bruise on Lord Castaigne's face as well. Perhaps after he is dressed. After they're both dressed," he added. "We can wait outside."

  Beside him, Irina rolled her eyes, but she followed when they all disappeared back out the cave entrance, leaving Chloe starting at Lucien.

  "Well," he said. "This is...unexpected."

  "What did she mean, 'out of balance'?" Chloe said. "She can't seriously think we were out here on a jaunt to find a place to...."

  "Fuck?" Lucien suggested. "I don't know. I don't know what her game is at this point. I think we should do as Mikvel suggested. Get dressed and sort this out back at the palace. Saner heads will prevail once everyone is warm and comfortable again."

  She wished she believed he was right.

  They emerged from the cave in short order. Dressing didn't take long, and the remnants of the fire were cold and dead. Not that the cave had anything in it left to burn.

  Honore stood talking with Mikvel while Captain Theisse and Roland saw to the horses. One of them was the gray Lucien had ridden yesterday, and relief flashed over his face when he realized the horse had made it safely home.

  "My lady, may I ask if we need to look for Spetya?" Roland asked. "He didn't return with Graimm here."

  She swallowed, sadness for her house mingling again with the mix of terror and relief that she hadn’t gone with him. "I'm sorry, Wardmeister. He bolted in the storm. He went over the cliff. I am fortunate that I fell or I would have gone with him. I don't remember it all, but I think there was a lightning strike quite close. He was terrified."

  Roland looked briefly sad. "Ah. Thank you, my lady. That is unfortunate, but the weather here can be deadly."

  "Was the storm yesterday unexpected?" Lucien asked, staring at Sejerin Silya. Guidance on the weather was one of the talents the seers claimed.

  "Balance broken," she said and clamped her lips shut, seeming to think that was enough of an explanation. It seemed a convenient excuse to cover the fact that the sejerin had gotten the weather wrong or perhaps deci
ded not to tell the truth about it for reasons of their own. That seemed a risky game. It could have been anyone in the party who’d been injured. Even Mikvel.

  Had they wanted something to happen to the king? Or maybe to her? She wished she knew what was going on in Deephilm.

  "It came faster than anyone anticipated," Mikvel said. "It happens sometimes. I certainly wouldn't have risked the hunt if I had thought it would happen yesterday. So, my apologies." He looked up at the skies, which were clear and sunny, though it was cold. "We should make our way back. But first tea, and Irina can see to you both. Then we'll be underway."

  And so they were. They drank tea, ate rolls stuffed with cheese and ham, and then Chloe let Irina inspect and clean her arm before she rebandaged it.

  "I will do something to block the pain," Irina said with a glance under her eyelashes at Sejerin Silya, who was standing apart from the others, looking like she wanted to blast the mountain into rubble. She hadn't offered to help Irina. "One of the more senior healers should look at it for anything more complicated. I don't want to trap any potential source of infection. Though it looks like you did something already. How, exactly?"

  "I used some of Lucien's power," Chloe admitted. "I used an augmentier."

  "A what?" Irina frowned. "Oh. A bond. Shards. Is that what that is?" She gestured vaguely at Chloe's side.

  "You can see it?" Chloe asked. Sure enough, there was, now that she was paying attention, still a thread of light snaking between her and Lucien, and the song of him played in her head once more. More familiar than it should be.

  "I see something," Irina said quietly with another glance at the seer.

  "Is the bond what she's so upset about?" Chloe said.

  "Maybe. Being found naked with a man you're not married to is generally not acceptable around here either."