Melissa McShane (23 page)

“You—”

“I was in agony all day, not knowing how to tell you.”

“
You
were in agony?
I
thought you were going to die without knowing how I felt.”

“I thought you were angry with me.”

“I was dying of jealousy is what I was. When did you know? How long?”

“I figured it out when I kissed Dakariou.”

“You did
what
?”

“Take a breath, my love. It was only once or twice. Long enough for me to realize I was

kissing the wrong man.”

“I knew he deserved more than the one punch I gave him.”

“Why did you hit the poor man? He’s got to be half your size.”

“I told you. Jealousy and pure terror. Remember, at the time I thought you were dying.”

“I’m really glad I didn’t die.”

“So am I.” He pulled her close to him again and kissed her, just once, but long and sweet.

She put her arms around his neck, ran her fingers down his bare spine. He smelled good, like wood smoke and the minty scent of whatever he washed his hair with and pure healthy male.

“This is like a dream,” he whispered in her ear.

“Better than a dream,” she replied, and she kissed him again, this time with intent. She could feel heat rising in her, starting in her chest and ending somewhere between her thighs. “Help me take this off,” she said, pulling at the hem of her gown.

“Are you well enough?”

She gave him a direct look. “I have been lying on that couch all day. I was lying on my bed until ten minutes ago. If I’m going to lie down again it will be on my terms, with you beside me.”

He helped her peel her dress off over her head and remove her undergarments. His eyes

gleamed at the sight of her, and she was treated to his wolfish grin. This time, the wolf had seen a little ewe lamb he wanted very much. He took off his undershorts, and it was her turn to grin with pleasure, just before laughing in delight at how pleased he was that she wanted him. He slid his hand over the curve of her breasts, her hips, and whispered, “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” she said, and then they were lying together on his bed. It wasn’t very wide, but then they didn’t need it to be.

***

“And I you,” he replied. “I’m still astonished that you’re here in my bed.”

“I’d be happy to remind you of how real I am.”

“I’m going to need a minute.”

“Just a minute? I’m impressed.”

“I never guessed you would be this insatiable.”

“I never had the right partner until now.”

He brought his arms around her and squeezed, gently. “I will be your partner forever, in

every way that counts,” he told her.

She smiled into his chest. “Just think how much we’ll save on accommodations,” she said.

He laughed, a deeper rumble now that her ear was pressed against him. “I would like to

think,” he said, “that my company means somewhat more to you than that.”

She lifted herself on her elbows, breaking his hold. “One bed,” she said. “Think how narrow some of those beds are. And you’ll be able to guard my body better than ever before.”

“And what a lovely body it is,” he said, seizing her and rolling her onto her back as she shrieked a laugh. “Let’s take another look at it.”

***

“I have a confession.”

“What?”

“You know when I came into your room this morning with my shirt off? I took it off on

purpose so you’d see how good I look naked and be filled with desire. Stop that. I swear, woman, how can this relationship go anywhere if it’s founded on you laughing at me all the time?”

***

“I’m sorry I was so stubborn about dinner with Dakariou.”

“I’m sorry I called you a bully and proud.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t apologize sooner.”

“I’m sorry I let my jealousy influence how I treated you.”

“Did I tell you I love you?”

“You can never tell me enough.”

***

“Zerafine. Zerafine, sweetheart, wake up. It’s a dream.”

“They hurt me so much. I can’t stop thinking about it. They wouldn’t stop kicking me.”

“Don’t cry, love. It will never happen again, do you hear me? Never. I swear it.”

“Promise?”

“My life on it.”

***

that night. She woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. She judged it was about an hour past sunrise. Reflexively, she sat up and wrapped the blanket around her chest, pulling it off Gerrard’s shoulders. He came instantly awake, but didn’t sit up.

The knocking came again. “Madama
thelis
?” said Aesoron.
Does that man know

everything? “There is a
thelos
from the temple of Sukman here to see you.”

She looked at Gerrard. “Surely not Genedirou?” she said.

“Aesoron would have said,” he replied. He rolled out of bed and tossed her gown at her. She made a face. “I’m going to look like a slob,” she said.

“You’re going to look like a woman awakened at an ungodly hour by someone she wasn’t

expecting,” he said, pulling on his undershorts.

She waited until he was fully dressed before opening the door, feeling an unaccountable

shyness at being seen coming out of his room. There was no reason to be ashamed, but their love was so new, she felt tender of it.

But Rovalt, waiting in the sitting room, didn’t even notice. He stood, wringing his hands, unable to keep still. “Zerafine,” he said. “I apologize for bothering you so early, but....” He swallowed hard. “Genedirou’s dead.”

“Sit down, Rovalt,” Zerafine said, sinking onto a couch and patting the seat next to her. He stumbled to her side and landed heavily on the couch. “What happened?”

“A banishment,” Rovalt said. “Like a hundred others. They’ve taken longer, lately, but....

The apparition was a man. It was a big fat man. Genedirou stepped inside it. I’ve never seen him do that before.” He shuddered. “The thing sort of collapsed on itself, it shrank until it was nothing, and Genedirou had a massive seizure. And then he was dead. I don’t know what to do.”

He covered his face with his hands and shook. Zerafine put her arm around his shoulders.

“Rovalt, you have to tell me everything that’s happened since the banishments became

difficult,” she said. “Those things could kill others.”

“I know,” he said. He raised his head. “Genedirou wouldn’t talk about the details. He always said it wasn’t my job to understand, just to serve. So I only know what I’ve observed. Every time, it takes—took—a little longer. And it looked like it was harder every time. Like he was having to work to get Sukman’s attention. The apparitions, too...at first they’d just dissolve, but lately they would fold in on themselves, or shrivel up. It was as if they were fighting for their lives.”

“But Genedirou was never hurt by any of them?”

“Not until today.” He covered his face again and let out a sob. “I don’t know what to do,” he repeated, his voice muffled by his fingers.

“You have to carry on. Genedirou wouldn’t have wanted the daily ceremonies to stop just

because he was gone, right?” Zerafine felt a little uncomfortable, a
thelis
of one faith telling a
thelos
of another what to do, but Rovalt was clearly unhinged by his superior’s death. She also felt guilty. If she’d been more patient with Genedirou, more willing to subordinate herself to his pride, would they have been able to find a solution that didn’t leave Genedirou dead?

“Did you arrange for the body to be sent to your sanctuary?” she continued. “I can send

someone to Berenica’s house if you haven’t done that yet. And worshippers will need

comforting. I know you can handle all that.”

She wasn’t as certain as she sounded, but Rovalt nodded. “I can do that.” He wiped his eyes.

“Will you find out why he died? And stop the apparitions from killing again?”

“You can leave that to me,” she assured him, and led him to the door. When he was gone,

she slumped against its dark solidity and shook her head. “This isn’t good. I wish I’d been there to see it.”

“You realize how callous that sounds,” Gerrard said.

“I know. I don’t mean it that way. But it would help if I knew what happened to the

apparition to make it deadly. Even banishing Baz didn’t do more than make my arm hurt for a short time.” She plucked at her old gown. “I need to get dressed. And we need to talk to

Castinidou.”

But Castinidou wasn’t available, not even to the official emissary. He was closeted with the rest of the Council, discussing how to handle the crisis. Though the banishment had been

performed on private property, the tale of Genedirou’s death spread at the speed of gossip and grew mightily in the telling. By the time they left the Capitol, their errand unfulfilled, Zerafine had heard rumors that the apparition had swallowed Genedirou whole—that it had turned into a wolf that bit his head off and spat it on the ground—that it had dissolved his bones to jelly so there was nothing left of him but a skin bag. As disturbing as the images were, Zerafine was relieved that she
hadn’t
heard the far more disturbing rumor that apparitions had begun attacking people across the city. For now, the problem was contained.

“I don’t want to hang around here waiting for Castinidou,” Gerrard said. A hot wind blew

through the plaza, chased by clouds that promised rain.

“Neither do I.” She was still getting dirty looks from passersby, though most of them just kept their heads down against the wind. There were far fewer glares and warding gestures than on the day of Alestiou’s death, but she didn’t feel like exposing herself to their antagonism.

Zerafine chewed her lower lip and thought. What else could they do? Return home to wait? Sit the hours out—and she had no doubt it would be many hours—inside the Rotunda? She had no

desire to wait at all, but what else was there? Unless....A grin spread across her face. “I have a truly excellent and cunning idea,” she said, and headed off across the plaza toward Talarannos hill.

“What are you—wait. Just stop there a minute. That’s not an excellent and cunning idea, it’s insane. If you muscle your way into Alita’s estate, she can have you brought up on charges, emissary or no. Portena has some very strict ideas about property rights and unreasonable searches.”

“I’m not going to force my way in. I’m going to ask them, nicely, to let me speak to Morica Akennos. And if they won’t, then
you
can muscle my way in. Didn’t you say just the other day that you rarely get to flex your muscles in my defense?”

“That was when I thought the worst thing we could face was a mob of uncoordinated

rabble.”

“Seriously, if they refuse, I’ll go away quietly and we’ll think of something else.”

Gerrard reached up to scratch his beard and seemed mildly surprised to find bare skin. “All right. But I don’t like the look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“The one that says that you’re not going to let them refuse.”

She patted his cheek. “I can be very persuasive.”

He captured her hand, kissed the tips of her fingers. “I remember,” he said.

“Zerafine!”

She turned to see Dakariou running toward them, a satchel bouncing awkwardly at his side.

When he arrived, panting a little, she hissed in sympathy. He looked exhausted. He also had a truly spectacular black eye.

“I won’t ask how you got that,” she said, and glared at Gerrard, who managed to look

impassive and smug at the same time. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, madama,” he said. “What your
sentare
undoubtedly
didn’t
tell you is that he only got one blow in before I twisted his arms behind his ears and held him under the fountain until he calmed down.” At her amazement, he added, “I said I didn’t take up wrestling as a career. I never said I gave it up entirely. Grand Amateur Tournament winner, four years

running.” He eyed Gerrard. “That’s an...interesting look for you, sirrah. I’m sure the color will even out nicely in a few days.”

Gerrard now looked impassive and embarrassed. “An amateur wrestler got the better of a

fully trained master longstaff fighter?” Zerafine said, teasing. “I may have to fire you.”

“I didn’t have the staff,” Gerrard muttered. “I was in a hurry. Remember, you were dying.”

She took his arm. “No wonder you were so upset.”

Dakariou looked from one of them to the other. “And may I congratulate you both on

working out your...little difficulty?” he said with an arch smile.

Zerafine looked at him in confusion. “I know I told you,” she said, “but how did you know that Gerrard—”

“He figured it out that night,” Gerrard rumbled. “Something about how I was behaving more like a man in mortal fear for his woman than a worried colleague.”

“And you didn’t tell him how I felt? Dakariou, how cruel!”

“It was your secret, my dear,” Dakariou said. “Yours to keep, yours to share. I thought it best to let the two of you work it out yourselves. Besides, it all ended well, no?”

Zerafine had to admit he was right. She wouldn’t give up that memory of Gerrard’s quiet

voice confessing the same feelings, the same fears that had gripped her that whole awful night and day. “Then I suppose I owe you my thanks,” she said.

“Please don’t. I haven’t forgiven myself for letting you go into mortal danger. It’s not

rational, I know,” he said, throwing up a hand to forestall her objection, “but there it is. I’ve tried to make up for my failings by finding out who hired those assassins. It wasn’t an easy trail to follow. Two of the four men were known thugs for hire. My agents learned that the other two were, we think, professionals lately come to Portena. And may I say that I hope never to make you angry at me, Zerafine. What you did to those men...I’ve never seen anything so destructive.”