Her voice was a night-quiet, misty whisper, grave, the kind that could silence an entire room. Well, except for her sister Renazi, who still seemed to be laughing to herself.
“A hunt, given the situation?” Veron asked.
Zaida looked toward him, the rest of her countenance unmoving. “Mati has us in territory farther out, by way of the tunnels.”
Amira nudged Veron’s shoulder. “We’ll be safe, Veron. Don’t worry!”
“Just because we have aid doesn’t mean we should stop our way of life. You know that, Veron.” The man with the simmering frown approached, nodding to her, every part of him taut and clenched. “Dhuro,” he said, looking her over before meeting Veron’s gaze for a moment, his own speaking a thousand words she didn’t yet understand. Dhuro seemed ready to pop like a bubble himself.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, inclining her head.
His eyes narrowed. “I wish I could say the same.”
“Dhuro.” Veron stepped up to him, every part of him rigid as he leaned in. “Apologize. Now.”
Dhuro leaned in, too. “The kuvari and Yelena talk, Veron. Did you know her sister has married into the Brotherhood general’s family? How do we know this isn’t all a human ploy to sack Nozva Rozkveta? She could be biding her time, waiting for a chance to open the Gates—”
“The ring. Now,” Veron hissed, and cracked his knuckles.
Dhuro thought she was a traitor waiting to turn on them? And Veron wanted to fight him? She touched his shoulder, but he didn’t budge.
Footsteps approached from behind, and everyone turned as the queen walked in, wrapped in her flowing white silk robe and peplos. “There will be no challenges tonight,” she said firmly. “Veron, take a breath.”
Forcing a harsh breath from his nose, Veron leaned away, fiery eyes still spearing Dhuro as he shielded her from his brother’s line of sight.
“Dhuro, sit down and keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to speak.” The queen looked down on Dhuro, her stance ready—would she attack him? Her son?—until he sighed and plopped onto the bench, slapping his palms onto the table and raising his eyebrows.
Amira, Zaida, and Renazi greeted their mother before saying their goodbyes and heading out on the hunt, and Arigo excused himself to put Dita to bed.
And just like that, she stood with Veron, facing Dhuro and Vadiha, neither of whom seemed fond of her right now. At least Vadiha didn’t call her a traitor to her face, so that was a win.
“Get the food, Vadiha,” the queen said, jerking her head toward the archway, and Vadiha obeyed, but as she passed Aless, scowled at her.
“Aless, overlook my family’s poor manners,” the queen said to her, brushing her upper arm with a light touch. “They seem to forget that they have food on the table thanks to you, and that you and Veron have been standing up to the Brotherhood from the moment the peace was signed.”
Behind her, a muscle flexed in Dhuro’s jaw.
“I understand,” Aless replied, fidgeting. “I’m new here. No one knows me yet. Trusting a stranger is a lot to ask.”
Veron took her hand and rubbed her fingers gently. “But they all know me. And trusting me isn’t a lot to ask of my family.”
Dhuro rolled his eyes as Vadiha brought in platters of food. The queen gestured them to the benches, and they all sat. Across from Dhuro, Veron glared at him, eyes wild and intense, narrowed. She held his hand, giving it a squeeze every so often, hoping to break that intensity. To no avail.
Dhuro glanced at her from time to time, over the dishes Vadiha laid out. When she finished and everybody was seated, the queen took a deep breath, sweeping her voluminous unkempt tresses back over her shoulder.
“I’m only going to say this once: Aless is our ally and part of our family.” She looked from one face to another at the table, meeting Vadiha’s stern face and Dhuro’s simmering frown unequivocally. “Dhuro, repeat that to her and apologize.”
His face hard, Dhuro looked away, ran a palm over his mass of shoulder-length hair, and turned back to her. “You’re our ally and part of our family. I’m sorry for accusing you of betrayal,” he gritted out.
The queen looked to her. “Do you accept? If not, it won’t be Veron thrashing him in the ring, but me.”
What, really? The queen would fight her own son—no, thrash him?
Well, Queen Zara certainly ruled her family with an iron fist. And… perhaps it was best to remain on her good side.
Aless cleared her throat. “I accept. Thank you, Dhuro. No hard feelings.”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as they ate the spread of human food with some stew made from small game the volodari had hunted. The queen asked about the ceremony in Bellanzole and their trip, while Vadiha asked about the attack in Stroppiata and their skirmish outside of Dun Mozg. While Veron cooled, she answered most of their questions, playing with his fingers.
After a brief lull, the queen’s kuvari announced Riza, who entered and saluted.
Queen Zara gave her leave to speak, crossing her long, elegant legs as she perched on the bench.
“Your Majesty, Halina returned with the Brotherhood’s answer,” Riza said, breathing erratically. Had she run all the way here? “It’s… They’re being difficult.”
Queen Zara waited.
“My queen—”
“What was the message?”
Riza bowed her head, her eyebrows drawn together, and for a moment, she shot a pained glance at Veron, and then at her, before looking back to Queen Zara. “It said, ‘If you do not comply by dawn, our geomancer will collapse all tunnels leading from your queendom. We will lay siege until you wither and die. If you wish to live to see the dawn, return our princess to us and you may have your two beasts alive.’ ”
Return our princess? She started, but Veron took her hand in both of his. With a grave face, he shook his head slightly at her.
The queen didn’t move, simply stared evenly into space. “It said ‘live to see the dawn.’ There is nothing there about suspending hostilities beyond that.”
“You’re not actually considering giving Aless to them?” Veron demanded, a low growl riding his question.
“Of course not,” Queen Zara hissed. “But I have to determine whether this is a good-faith starting point to begin negotiations before I issue a counteroffer. It sounds, however, as though even if we were to comply, it wouldn’t mean anything but a ceasefire until the dawn.”
“What about Valka and Gavri?” Dhuro spat. “We’re leaving them to die? I say we do the trade.”
Queen Zara twisted so fast that she grabbed Dhuro’s throat before he could evade. “You have no say.” She tapped a claw to his neck. “And you forget yourself, child.”
Livid eyes held the queen’s.
“Your Majesty,” Aless squeaked, even as Veron shook his head at her, “with all due respect, he’s not wrong. My life isn’t worth more than anyone else’s. Especially not two. Their general is my sister’s brother-in-law. He’s wrong, but… they won’t kill me. I’m certain of it.”
Even the scouts outside Dun Mozg hadn’t hurt her—they’d only tried to capture her and bring her to Tarquin.
Queen Zara still gripped Dhuro’s throat. “I appreciate your valor, Aless, but like Dhuro, you have no say in this.” Queen Zara’s gaze slid to hers, and the queen smiled softly before shoving Dhuro away. “Supper is over. I will summon the rest of my Quorum and prepare for the dawn. Veron, Aless, you will stay in your quarters. The next few days will be difficult, but we are well supplied and we will persevere, as we always have.” With that, she nodded toward the archway, and everyone but Vadiha rose and headed out.
No say. Every part of her rebelled.
His hand at the small of her back, Veron guided her out, leaving Queen Zara with Vadiha and Riza.
Queen Zara planned to wait out the dawn.
And if she stayed in her quarters as Queen Zara had ordered, the Brotherhood would kill Gavri and Valka, without hesitation. T
wo lives—one of which was her friend—would be lost.
Not without a fight.
Chapter 22
Aless was already pacing the room as soon as Veron shut the door. Her stomach fluttered, but she rubbed it through her robes. This was no time to get nervous.
The Brotherhood would kill Gavri and Valka at dawn. Once they did, the war would begin. Hundreds or thousands would die, and not just here, but across the country, as like-minded people rose up to take sides. If nothing changed, that was inevitable.
But the Brotherhood wanted her in exchange. There had to be a move there. Something.
There was no question that the Brotherhood would kill any dark-elf without hesitation. There was no way any of them could mount a rescue mission. But her?
You don’t need to wear a mask, princess, Tarquin had whispered to her the day of her wedding. Not with me. The pride is watching. Only say the word, anytime, anywhere, that you protest, and our strength will… relieve your solitude.
The Brotherhood wanted her, but they wouldn’t harm her. Tarquin wouldn’t harm her. No, that first night, and even at the wedding ceremony, Tarquin had wanted her for something, had even tipped his hand to offer her protection. This was a man waging a war of hatred, but also Luciano’s brother, Bianca’s brother-in-law. And if he killed a princess of Silen, that egregious move would never go unanswered, as it would create a dangerous precedent. Papà would not only annihilate him but his entire family into obscurity.
No, Tarquin Belmonte would not hurt her.
And although Papà might not get involved with two dark-elves on the line, if she were captured, it would force his hand. He’d have to intervene and help stop the Brotherhood.
There was only one person who had a shot at freeing Gavri and Valka, and it was her. The most unskilled, worst candidate to do it, but the only human among them. If she got caught—and odds were high that she would—no one would die. Tarquin had promised to release Gavri and Valka in exchange for her. So she’d either successfully free them both and escape with them, or she’d be caught and demand the exchange. Either way, Gavri and Valka would live.
And unskilled as she was, being a human gave her an advantage. There were no women among the Brotherhood soldiers, but every army had camp followers. Silen’s military often had wives and children among them, but the only women who’d accompany the Brotherhood anywhere would be cooks, nurses, sutlers, laundresses, and prostitutes.
She could disguise herself as one and slip in among the camp’s outskirts. From there, no one would give a Sileni woman—a human and camp follower—a second glance as a threat. She could search for Gavri and Valka even at the heart of the camp without garnering much notice.
But if she were caught—
If she were caught, the Brotherhood—no, Tarquin—would never release her back to Veron. If she left tonight, she might never see him again.
If she told him, he’d never agree to her going. Not only because he’d worry, but because his mother had forbidden it, and disobedience was unthinkable to him. He’d be furious, hurt, but if no one did anything and Gavri and Valka were killed, there’d be a war. A war Nozva Rozkveta might not win. One he might have to fight in, maybe even die in, along with countless other innocent lives. No. If there was a bloodless solution, she had to try, even if he hated her, even if he never spoke to her again. This was to save his life, to save their people, and she’d vowed in Dun Mozg that she would do whatever it took to protect them, to keep them safe, and to maintain the peace.
Queen Zara had confined her to quarters, and nobody disobeyed her orders. Nobody. But as much as she wanted to fit in here, fitting in had never been more important than making a difference. And she wasn’t about to sacrifice countless lives just to stay in her mother-in-law’s good graces.
Come what may, she had to try.
Veron’s arms closed around her from behind, and he tucked his nose into her hair and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Dhuro and Vadiha,” he whispered.
She stroked his knuckles. “I wasn’t expecting them all to like me right away. Even you took some convincing.”
A soft laugh puffed against her ear. “You took more convincing to like me.”
After arriving in Nozva Rozkveta, she knew better than that. Far better.
“I’m glad it was you that day in Bellanzole, Aless,” he whispered, kissing her cheekbone, “because I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Even now, her skin pebbled at the words, every fine hair standing on end, a shiver stroking her spine as warmth spread in her chest. Smiling, she shook her head, swaying in his hold. “What you don’t realize is that I have loved you long before I ever laid eyes on you.”
He turned her, his eyes heavy lidded as he raised her chin. “How’s that, my love?”
“I have dreamed of these abundant, sprawling, vining roses, wild and beautiful, even their scent,” she whispered. “And when I came here, saw the Bloom—it can’t be possible, but I dreamed of this place long before you ever brought me here. You were my dream, Veron, and you came true.”
He stroked her face, swept gentle fingers into her hair as he tucked it behind her ear. “We are on the land’s biggest Vein of anima, a wellspring of the life that courses through everything and everyone. We walk toward the Bloom, and it parts for us. We sing to the stone, and it reshapes. Nothing is impossible, my love, and I believe your dreams, too, because you dreamt them and we are standing here, right now, together.”
She trembled, all over, and it wasn’t out of disbelief or fear or nervousness; it was everything inside of her willing her to him, to hold him, to kiss him, to stay with him forever and never let go, and she listened to it, listened to it all in this moment, and clung to him, pressed her mouth to his, undressed him with hands that couldn’t move fast enough, never fast enough, frantic, desperate.
Holy Mother’s mercy, there wasn’t enough time to get her fill of his love, of his passion, of him. To live as his partner, to realize the library together, to raise a family. There weren’t enough hours, enough lifetimes, and if the cruel hands of fate parted them at dawn, then she wanted to live a hundred hours, a thousand lifetimes, in his arms tonight. “Love me, Veron,” she whispered. “Love me tonight, like a dark-elf bride.”
“Aless…” he hissed against her lips.
“I want to know what it means,” she said softly between kisses, “to be yours in every way.” She clutched him close, and his brow furrowed, he nodded against her, claimed her lips hungrily.
He pulled at her robes, seams tearing and fabric ripping until it was all on the floor, and when his fang grazed her tongue, she bit his lip, and he snarled, taking her mouth with renewed zeal as she pushed him toward the bed, her urging stronger and stronger, but his steps were even and slow, playfully resisting against her while his eyes gleamed. The amused smile he’d worn when she’d teased him here earlier had returned, playing on his lips.
When he reached the edge, she hooked his ankle with her foot, just as she’d seen him do in the ring, and he let her, lowered to the bed. She brought her knees down around his hips, raised his mouth to hers, and he twisted, tossing her onto her back, and pinned her to the bed.
She fought, just enough to rile him, to stoke his ardor, and the determined intensity in his gaze was enough to make her gasp, to make her stare, to make her want to immortalize that look in her mind for the rest of her life, and as he took her, she did, memorizing the set of his jaw, the lines of his brow, the blaze of fire smoldering in the warm gold of his eyes, and the rapturous dance of wildness and passion that was being his in every way.
* * *
As tired as Aless was, she didn’t let herself sleep, not completely, instead waiting until Veron’s breathing evened out, until he slept soundly. After days of traveling, he needed it, and he’d had no reason not to trust her.
She tugged a lone blanket they’d found in one of her trunks over him gently and resisted the urge to kiss him. Even so, he only stirred a moment be
fore resuming those even breaths.
This would hurt him. Deeply. But if she told him, he’d never agree to her going. But there was no living with the thought of Gavri and Valka dying for her sake, of a war beginning, of countless lives being lost, maybe even Veron’s… when she could’ve saved them simply by stepping outside. She had to try.
It was the right thing to do. The only thing. But as she slipped from the bed, all she could think of was of Veron waking to find her gone, to realize she’d abandoned him, just like his father had.
I’m sorry.
It would hurt, but with this, she’d save lives. Maybe even talk Tarquin out of this course of action altogether. Now that she knew the dark-elves, she could meet his hatred with knowledge.
She bent for her robes. They were slightly torn in places, but not too noticeably. And besides, Veron’s were huge—not an option. But if she wanted to be inconspicuous in Nozva Rozkveta, she’d get far less attention wandering around in dark-elf robes than in her clothes.
She carefully creaked open one of her trunks and looked for something suitable to disguise herself in. She had no commoners’ clothes, but the best among the prostitutes might wear something approximating some of her plainer things.
With a wince, she hastily grabbed a bustier, white chemise, and as plain a blue overdress as she could find, low cut and laced in the front, but made of fine velvet. She stashed them in one of Veron’s knapsacks, similar to ones she’d seen other dark-elves carry.
Her copy of A Modern History of Silen sat on Veron’s table, and with a wary eye on him, she slowly dug out her quill and inkwell. She had to leave, but she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, without letting him know how much he meant to her in case she didn’t make it back.
She opened to the first blank page. What could she say that would ease the sting of this? Was there anything?
She’d just be true.
I love you.
No Man Can Tame Page 23
