To Dream of White & Gold (Death Dreamer Legacy Book 1)

by R. K. Hart

  And what had Siva known?

  Lida shivered, shaking her head. There were too many threads for her to follow, and the Kali’s look was expectant.

  ‘Maya has gone to find the Myrae.’

  ‘He will need to go very far south then,’ the Kali said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Sick of the Cold

  The Kali left Lida when they reached the outskirts of the city, disappearing into the maze of tenats. Lida was skittish and agitated; she could not quite hold what the Kali had said in her mind. She wanted badly to speak to someone about it, to talk through what the Kali had told her, for someone to tell her that it was mad and that the Kali must be wrong. She wished very much that Ava had come north with them, and for the tiny Setiian woman to gently explain everything so that it made some kind of sense.

  Lida wandered around the tenat circles, her mind running through it again and again. Siva was my mother’s advisor. When she cared for me as a tiny child, she was a young woman. She called her Aimee. What is the brightest star in our sky? There were no other dreamers, and so she taught my son.

  With a start, she realised that she had not been paying attention to her path. She was in a part of l’Cour du Kali she didn’t recognise; she must have turned around and walked the wrong way. The mountains all looked the same to her, and she didn’t know which direction she was facing. She skirted around family circles carefully, searching for something familiar. She could smell an odd metallic scent, and a rhythmic tapping was coming from somewhere nearby, overlayed by the deeper, louder sound of someone chopping wood. Lida resolved to ask for help, practising the phrase until she was sure she had it right. She walked between two tenats to where she could hear the wood block.

  She took a sharp breath in and was drawing before she realised what she was doing. Lorcan stared back at her, astonished, before he caught himself and his face shuttered. Lida didn’t notice; her eyes were elsewhere, for he’d stripped to the waist and she was suddenly finding it difficult to think about anything much at all. He didn’t look a bit like Aaron, whose bulk was akin to a small mountain; Lorcan was built like a dancer, and the lines of muscle on him were long and graceful, his shoulders broad and strong from his work with the bow. Lida shook her head to clear it and dug her nails into her palms, pushing the glowing in her chest back down as she tried to regroup her scattered thoughts. She shoved the illae away in a wave, rather than let it dissipate, her cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat.

  Lorcan let the wave wash over him as he considered her face, and he considered what he might do. In that moment, he thought it very likely that if he walked forward and took her hand and touched her cheek that the wave of longing would build again and she would be his - for the night, at least, which was far less time than he wanted but more than he had expected to have. In the next moment, though, all he felt was anger. He had offered her everything in a posy of snowdrops, and she had thrown them straight into the fire. He was furious that this - the meaningless trappings, the outside of him - would affect her so strongly, that it was this she wanted. And because he was angry, and because he had wished for her to need more - to see him and need the everything of him - he did not move, even though part of him desperately wanted to.

  He put the axe down and tilted his head to the side. ‘What do you want, Alida?’ His voice was cold.

  It took her a moment to answer. He saw her jaw work and thought she was biting the inside of her cheek.

  ‘Can I talk with you?’ she said eventually, her voice rather less steady than usual.

  His eyes narrowed. His anger said no; everything else in him shouted a different answer. He opted for neither. ‘It is extremely tempting,’ he said, spacing out his words carefully to keep them even, ‘to turn my back and walk away, as you did to me, three months ago.’

  She flushed. ‘Why do you not, then?’

  ‘My mother taught me better,’ he answered icily.

  Her gloved fingers, which had been toying distractedly with the hem of her coat, curled into fists. ‘Would you suggest that my father did not?’

  He almost laughed. To say that Lida lacked manners was an understatement, but he understood that while he could criticise her all he wished, Cathan was entirely off limits. ‘Sometimes students do not heed the lessons they should.’

  ‘Sometimes students have better things to do than listen to men lecture them,’ she snapped.

  ‘You seem not to have that problem with Aaron,’ he shot back.

  She twisted her lips. ‘Well. Aaron. He is an exception.’

  He went cold and straightened. He had expected it, but because he had expected it, he had not thought it would hurt so much. ‘It is true, then,’ he said flatly. ‘You will stay.’

  She frowned. ‘What?’

  He struggled to keep his expression impassive as the snow clouds pulled at him. He pushed back. ‘There is a rumour that you have decided to stay here.’

  She stared at him, incredulous. ‘Gods above, why would I do that?’

  He drew in a careful breath. ‘To be with the Kalisson.’

  ‘What?’ She took a step forward. ‘Did you not see what I did to his face? How could anyone think that?’

  ‘Have you seen yourself with him?’ Lorcan snapped, his temper getting the better of him. The last time he had seen them together, Lida had almost been sitting in Aaron’s lap. ‘It is not an unreasonable assumption.’

  ‘So I burned him because …?’

  Unaccountably, he felt his face heat. He looked away.

  ‘Because?’ she prompted angrily.

  Eianna save me. ‘Because you are … because he presumed too much in kissing you. Because …’ He took another level breath. ‘Because you are saving yourself until you are married. Because you are Eilin,’ he added, hoping that would explain everything.

  Apparently, it did. She looked even more mortified than he was.

  ‘I’m not saving myself,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t need to be saved. And I have better taste than to choose Aaron.’ She turned, and shifted her weight onto her toes.

  Lorcan took a moment to process what she had said. He sprang forward and caught her before she could flee, his fingers closing over her wrist between her glove and her sleeve. Her skin was hot under his fingertips. He heard her catch her breath, and she went very still, like a rabbit in the undergrowth.

  ‘Then it is not true,’ he said. She was so close that he could smell the rose oil she used on her hair.

  ‘Of course not! I’m not staying here. I’m not marrying Aaron. Gods above, he’s insufferable most of the time.’

  ‘Everyone knows that.’

  She glared up at him. ‘Then why would you think it? You, of all people?’

  His fingers tightened on her wrist then released, but not enough to let her go. ‘Me of all people?’ he repeated. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You know what it means,’ she spat.

  ‘I do not know what it means,’ he hissed back, though he thought he could guess. ‘I have nothing from you, Lida; no words, just a brush of your hand in the snow. You threw my promise into the fire, you have spurned me for months, and in return you expect me to have knowledge of the workings of your heart?’

  She bit her lip. He tried not to notice. ‘Promise? That was l’peti mor?’

  He blinked. ‘It was not l’peti mor,’ he said disdainfully. ‘It was something much greater. I would never give the gift so lightly.’

  ‘You seem to accept it easily enough,’ she snapped, and wrenched her arm away.

  He felt the loss of warmth. ‘Accept it?’

  ‘I saw them on your bed. The wildflowers. The roses. Dylan said that Bronwyn barely waited an hour before she left them.’

  Lorcan felt a momentary and unreasonable flare of resentment for Dylan. ‘And you think I returned her gift?’ he said incredulously. ‘Is that truly what you think I have been doing for the past three months? Bedding Bronwyn?’ He ran a hand through his hair and laughed; even to his own ears, it
sounded too wild. ‘It would have been easier, certainly. Perhaps she might have left me alone if she had seen for herself the full extent of my disinterest. She does not give up the hunt graciously. I have escorted her from my tenat, sat through multiple conversations with her mother, and had an extremely uncomfortable audience with the Kali. I am not sure which of us was more embarrassed.’ He laughed again; there was no humour in it. ‘Bronwyn has always claimed she loves me, and when I was younger, I believed it. What she really wants is possession, and the power that comes with it. She wants a tame Illarus to breed gifted children, and she wants my family’s ships. If she cannot be Kali, then she would settle for Priom-la of the Kellith, with a stom-ruith by her side.’ He growled under his breath. ‘As if I would inflict that upon Kell. What I want does not seem to factor. For most people, one refusal of a marriage proposal is enough.’

  She twisted her lips. ‘The last time you were here. That is what happened? You refused her?’

  ‘Of course I refused her. Have you met her?’ He glowered at her, bunching his hands into fists at his side. ‘And exactly who did you think Rose was, if not my sister?

  She glared right back. ‘Think about what I heard, Lor! She called you beloved. You told her she was beautiful! And she said he looks just like you!’ She all but stamped her foot. ‘What was I supposed to think?’

  He hissed wordlessly. ‘You thought Connor was my son. And Rose was … what, Lida? Someone I left with a child?’

  She shifted her weight again, ready to run. He watched the emotions flicker over her face: remembered hurt, sadness, guilt.

  And because there was sadness, he spoke. His voice was softer. ‘Would you like to hear the story? Or would you prefer creating your own theories?’

  With effort, she planted her feet back down. She did not speak, but her eyes flickered up to meet his, which he took as an answer.

  ‘When I was three summers old, my father left to negotiate a trade contract with some jewellers in Brinnica. He was gone for months. Fidelity is not a requirement of Erbidan marriages, though Priom-lun are expected to be loyal to their wives. My father has never taken much notice of expectations, except the ones he chooses to place upon his sons, and he has never been faithful to my mother. This journey was no different, other than that he was careless, as well. The woman he loved was Mirren; you might have seen her, I think, at the Kali’s heartfire? She is lovely: kind and generous, far too good for my father. She has been a most welcoming host.’ He paused to let the barb sink in; Lida ground her teeth.

  ‘Mirren had a daughter with my father. Rose. She is your age and has just apprenticed as a gold and silver smith. She is working right now.’ He nodded to the tenat to his right, where he could hear Rose tapping a pattern into a thin sheet of beaten gold.

  ‘Then, almost two years ago, a trading delegation from the Erbidan Council visited l’Cour du Kali. I was on that trip; I had been home and was taking the ship back to Port Royal, stopping in Brinnica along the way.’ He did not mention that he had stayed in the Northern Sands to avoid Bronwyn. ‘One of my childhood friends, Cian, was part of the delegation. He saw Rose, and Rose saw him, and … well, Connor happened.

  ‘So, yes. Connor looks like me. Because he is my nephew.’ He looked down at her. ‘I wish you did not think so badly of me, Lida. I would never leave a child. And I would never hide that from you.’

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, running unchecked. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He clenched his hands before him. ‘I am sorry too,’ he said flatly. ‘Almost three months, Lida. Three months we might have had, in the snow and in the springs and on the plain. Three months I might have swum with you and ridden with you and listened to the heartfire tales each night. Three months you might have known my sister and my nephew and Mirren. For three months we might have -’ he stopped himself abruptly.

  She wiped her face and sniffed. ‘But I never would have learned,’ she said quietly.

  He stared at her.

  ‘It wasn’t the Kali that Siva wanted me to find. It was Aaron. She taught him as a child, everything she could. The Kali gave me nothing but more questions. Aaron taught me to use my gift.’ He stood very still as she reached out and gently touched his hand, her fingertips featherlight. ‘Was that not the purpose of this trip? To find what she left for me? To find out more about her gift?’ She shook her head. ‘If I had been with you, I never would have spent the time with him. I would not have trained. I would not have learned. I would not have what I needed. I would not be able to dream.’

  He pulled his hand away from her touch, unfairly bitter. ‘You needed him more,’ he said coldly.

  ‘You’re twisting my words,’ she snapped. ‘Would you prefer me stay untrained? Gathering bruises and worse from the nightmares I walked through? Would you prefer me sharing the pain of others, unguarded and vulnerable? Would you prefer me to stay unable to defend myself, just so you felt that you were needed?’

  ‘That is not at all what I mean,’ he said, running his hand through his hair. ‘Of course I would not prefer that.’

  ‘Then you should be grateful to Aaron, for he did what no one else could. I am grateful to him.’

  Why could it not be anyone else? Lorcan thought. Anyone in the world but him. ‘Grateful may be pushing it,’ he muttered.

  Lida raised an eyebrow, calculating. ‘You’re jealous.’

  ‘Of course I am!’ he snapped. ‘I have spent an entire month believing you will marry him!’

  ‘You might have asked me.’

  ‘As you asked me about Rose?’

  She bowed her head, uncharacteristically contrite. ‘I will ask, in the future.’

  His heart pounded.

  She waited.

  He stepped forward. ‘Why did you burn his face?’

  The corners of her lips curled up. ‘Because he presumed too much in kissing me,’ she said, echoing his words back to him. She looked up, and wrinkled her nose. ‘And because he’s an utter beast. I told him to stop, and he didn’t listen. I hope Maya knocks some sense into him.’

  ‘Maya?’ he repeated, confused.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, smiling fully now. ‘Siva told Aaron that he would marry her daughter.’

  His fingers twitched. ‘Are you sure it is not you?’

  She shook her hair back over her shoulder. ‘Very sure,’ she said tartly, and she held out her hand.

  He took it, and laced his fingers slowly through hers, giving her time to pull away. She did not, pressing her fingertips tight between his knuckles and taking the last step to close the distance between them, laying her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders as it began to snow in earnest; it settled in his hair as she turned to press her lips to his hand. He pulled her tight against him, scarcely daring to breathe.

  She lifted her face to the sky. ‘Take me home, Lor,’ she said, so softly he almost missed it. ‘I’m sick of the cold.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four: The Belle

  The Bay of the Lost was wide and deep, its water a blue so dark it was almost black. A cold wind blew flurries of snow across the sand, chilling Lida through despite her coat and gloves. A round-bellied, three-masted ship was making its way into the mouth of the bay. Lida watched it warily, noting the low way it wallowed in the water, weighed down with goods from Erbide and Brinnica to be unloaded in the south. It was larger than she’d expected; she had never seen a ship so close, just the boats that docked near the Kingstown warehouses. Its size was at once comforting and unsettling. The ship was less likely to be drowned by the frighteningly wild waves of winter, but more likely to swallow her whole. Its sea-green sails snapped in the wind, like teeth.

  It had taken a week to reach the bay, a trip that was uneventful but difficult, as an increasingly large carpet of snow had fallen over western Brinnica and complicated both their wayfinding and their walking. Despite her trepidations about the ship, Lida was thoroughly exhausted and ready to let it c
arry her south and closer to home. The journey over water would be just as long as the walk, but would - she hoped - be significantly easier, weather permitting.

  Aaron had chosen to use the walk to go over everything he had taught her, as if he were anxiously ticking each skill off a list. Each morning had seen the pair of them drained and cross, snarling like cats at each other and at anyone else naive enough to believe they were human enough for conversation. Aaron had told her that she would need at least ten more years of training to become a barely-competent warrior, but that he had given her everything he could in the dreamscape, and it was up to her to practice and make herself stronger.

  ‘Walk in your memories every night,’ he’d commanded warningly. ‘Do it so often that it is as easy as breathing.’

  Lida had glared at him, but when she thought about the Illara Dana and King Lucius, she reflected that he was probably right.

  She slid down from Sacred, patting the mare’s neck absently as she stared at the water. There was a single long, wooden jetty jutting out into the bay; the merchant ship was making its way there with deliberate carefulness.

  ‘We will need to hurry,’ Katrin said. ‘The tide is turning. You need to board while it is still high.’

  Aaron dismounted, landing with a thump on the rocky ground before leading them from the snow and onto the sand. He ushered Lida before him onto the jetty; Sacred’s hooves clipped dully on the wet wood. The ship dropped anchor as they walked, a gangway emerging from a mouth-like entrance on the side of the ship. Lida’s fingers twitched, remembering the last time she’d been on the water.