Moth and Spark (25 page)

The air that had felt too cold while they walked the grounds was welcome after the exertion of their climb. The rushing of the fountains and waterfalls everywhere made a pleasant noise. He had heard that sound all his life. When he was a boy, he had come up here on the nights that
were too hot to sleep and sat, back against the wall, legs extended, listening to the water, watching the fireflies. Sometimes there would be a storm coming, far to the west, a pile of clouds and orange flickers of lightning while the wind picked up. Now no one came up except the sentries and the birdkeepers.

And dragons. Dragons with their gleaming claws and iridescent wings. Dragons with their enthralling eyes. Dragons who were the Emperor’s captives. Dragons whose silky scales would have been blue and shining in the moonlight.

“Corin?”

He brought himself back to the present. She never shortened his name, he liked that. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“About what?”

“Dragons.”

It had caught up to her. He wondered if she would understand how beautiful they were. “What about them?” he asked, holding back other questions with an effort. He was prepared for her to decide to leave him. It was difficult enough to be the companion of a prince, let alone one who had been given a mission. Why had they chosen him instead of some peasant or poet?

“What holds them?”

That, however, he had not expected. He had underestimated her again. He shook his head slightly, scolding himself, and said, “I have no idea.” It made him realize how little he had to go on. Kelvan might know, but Kelvan was a thousand miles away.

“The dragons—what do you
want
?”

It was an impossible question. It tugged him. “I want to ride,” he answered softly, remembering wind and shining scales and a river far below. Remembering the dragon’s eyes and the images whose meaning he had almost known. “It was bliss.”

Her face was ageless, wise. “And the rest of it? They gave you a task—a command. They gave you power. Are you afraid?”

He could not remember if anyone had ever asked him such a thing. In another woman it would have been charmingly innocent, in her it was a challenge. Not to be brave, but to be truthful.

“I was,” he said. He thought about it some more. “Now, I don’t know. I’m not trembling in my boots. I don’t fear the dragons. I will do this
thing, Tam, whatever it takes. But it will make everything different. I can’t know how until it happens.”

“Must you do it?”

Must. “I’m not being compelled,” he said, and knew it for the truth. “I could turn my back, refuse. I don’t know that I could live with myself afterward, though.”

“How will you start? With a war on, doesn’t your father need you here?”

“I had this very conversation with him this morning,” he said. It came out more harshly than he had expected. “No wonder he likes you, you’re more like him than I am.”

“Corin!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He could not admit, even to her, how helpless he felt.

There was an awkward silence, the first between them. Before he could break it she shifted and said, eyes averted, “Corin, I lied to you.”

For a moment the world went still. “When?” he asked over the coldness in his gut. He knew about the little fibs where she held back what she was feeling, everyone did that. But this must be something important.

“At the fair, the fortune-teller’s stall. I couldn’t burden you. I think I already knew something was going to happen. Your eyes had changed. They were dragon eyes. My hand—it did go through that tray. You didn’t imagine it. It was cold, very very cold.” She paused. He reached out and briefly rubbed her shoulder, comforting them both. He was glad it had been no greater lie. “It was an opening. I don’t know how I did it, or even if I did it, or if it was done to me.”

She stopped. He had the sense that she wanted to say something else. He waited. He hoped she did not fear his anger. When she did not speak, he said softly, “You did right not to tell me. I would not have known what to do with it then. I had to remember things first.”

They were silent again, but this time it was comfortable. He saw the dark swoop of a hunting owl over the garden. He reached for her hand and held it warm against his. He thought he could feel the blood moving.

After a while she spoke. “There’s more, love.”

Love. She could not mean it, not yet, not so soon. He could not help hoping. “What?”

“The thing on the steps, the dark thing, I felt it too when I made the opening. It was waiting. What is it?”

He remembered that sweetly rotten smell of death. “I don’t know,” he said. The poor people in the north would know. Liko would know. It had been watching him for years. God, he could not let it get at Tam. He had no idea how to stop it. He wanted to clutch her to him and hold her safe.

Instead he spoke. “Tam, whatever’s happening to me, call it my doom if you will, I’m sucking you in too. You’re not going to be able to get out. I don’t know if I can protect you.” He could not bear to tell her she should go.

“You’re not doing it. I saw the moths. I think maybe it’s like looking at water under a lens, it’s full of living things, moving, in their own world, and they’re there even when we can’t see them, they’ve been there all along and only in the last two centuries have we learned to see.”

The rightness of what she said was like a force. A difference in seeing. The world itself was unchanged. He did not have to change to meet it, only had to shift his gaze. Hope blossomed in him. “You are a marvel,” he said. He kissed her.

She returned it fully, eagerly. “Another?” He gave it to her, slowly, tasting everything. Her hand was on his hip. He pressed closer. Now her fingers were under his waistband sliding toward the center, telling him to yield.

He drew back. “I can’t let you,” he said. He wanted her so much it hurt, but he could not allow this. “You have to be free to marry someone worthy of you. If we go on you can’t go back.”

“Then what do you want from me, Corin? What else is there? You said last night we would.” He could not tell if she was more hurt or angered.

“I never should have started this,” he said. Every word was a blow. “I’ve put you in an impossible place.” He bit the inside of his lip.

“I have my own will,” she said. “Do you think I haven’t thought about this? There’s going to be a war. This may be all the time we have.”

“Tam,” he said, aching. “Don’t you see?”

“Of course I do. I don’t care. You haven’t with other women, why do you now?”

“Because I love you,” he said. He had thought the words a hundred
times already, but it felt strange to finally have said them. “I didn’t love them.”

“So the one woman you love is the one you won’t make love to?”

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don’t.”

She did not rise to the anger. Instead she took his hands, gripping them hard, and stared at him. He could not see the blueness of her eyes, but he felt the force of the gaze. “No one ever gives you anything,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked, startled.

“It’s all due to you. Earned or owed or traded for. You don’t know what to do with something without ties. Let me give you this, my love, please.”

It hit him in a place he had not even known was tender. She was the only person who had ever found it. And he had to put her aside. He did not have the strength—or cruelty—to do so. He returned the grip on her hands and bent his head toward hers. “Tam,” he whispered. “Are you truly sure?”

“Completely.” She gave him a kiss that left no room for doubt.

He ripped his mouth away and said, “Come with me?”

She said nothing but gave him that sly smile. They made their way down the steps and through miraculously empty hallways and stairwells. If he had seen a single other person he would have sent her back to her rooms. He could do nothing about the guards outside his door, but they knew better than to breathe a word.

He built up the fire in the bedroom, then turned to her. She unlaced his vest and helped him slip his shirt over his head. She touched his chest and shoulders and back and wrists, first with her fingers and next with her mouth, delicate butterfly kisses that seared his skin. She brought his hand up to the soft firmness of her breast.

Somehow he moved away enough to reach the hooks on her gown and undo them, one by one, all the way to her hips. He slid the dress off her; it fell to the floor in a soft rustle of silk that could have been the flames. He drew down her undergarments and felt her tremble when he ran his hands down the insides of her smooth thighs. She fumbled at his belt. Soon he too was naked, both of them glowing red-gold from the hot light. Shadows flickered across her perfect body. He took her breasts in his hands, and she pushed her hips against him, and he could have entered her then if he wanted to.

Instead he brought her down on the bed and kissed and touched her everywhere. Her response was sweet and far less timid than he would have expected from a virgin. And virgin she was, even had he not known he would have been able to tell from her little movements of surprise, her momentary uncertainties about how to shift her legs or arms, a tentativeness in how she touched him. She did not know yet what she liked any more than he did. He nibbled one of her nipples, kissed her hip, ran his fingers along the silky folds between her legs. He found the spot that made her shiver with pleasure, then saw the fear of it on her face, and came up to kiss her and comfort her, and slowly her hand came down to his thigh, and he pushed into her before either of them expected it, hard, drawing a short cry from her. Then her hips came up and thrust against him. Her eyes screwed up and her mouth opened in sudden ecstasy. She groaned, and he could contain himself no longer, and everything was white exploding light and then he was falling, falling.

When he came up she was lying on her side, propped on one arm, looking at him. Her hair was sweat-dampened and her skin glistened in the firelight.

“Are you back?” she asked.

“Did I hurt you?” he answered.

“Yes, but it was worth it. There wasn’t much blood.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried not to. It will be better next time.” He sat up and pulled her into a light embrace. “My lovely love, you honored me.”

“Was it—did you—?” She stopped.

“You are splendid,” he said simply. He kissed her shoulder, put his hands softly on her breasts, cupped them until her nipples hardened. He slid his palms down her sides to her hips, her buttocks, her thighs. “I want every inch of you.”

She kissed him and stayed in his arms a bit longer. Then she got up and began to pat herself dry with the edge of the sheet. There was determination in her movements.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I can’t spend the night, Corin,” she said, reaching for her undergarments. “If I leave now I can be in my bed at a time that is halfway decent. It’s not that late.”

“Stay,” he said, but weakly.

She didn’t deign to answer that. He got up and helped her dress,
brought her a damp cloth to wash her face. She dabbed at the roots of her hair as well and put her braid back up. He put on his own clothes. She took his hand. “When will I see you next?”

“Tomorrow morning, early? In the Sun Room? I won’t have time for anything else.”

They made the arrangements, and he assigned one of the guards to take her back through the private passages. He kissed her on the forehead in full view of them. “I love you,” he said, and let her go.

T
am arrived first, on time, and told one of the servants the prince was coming. That gained her a secluded table by a window and food almost immediately upon it. The table was set with the dragon plates. She realized now that whatever else they were, they were a shout of defiance to the Empire. Once she began to notice dragons, it seemed that they were everywhere. The bread was so fresh it was hot to the touch. The sun was bright, gold on the grass outside and the stone tiles within. It was a much more pleasant place than it had been when she was with Cina. She sipped her tea quietly, looking at the sunny courtyard.

She had always been rather scornful of people who let their lives fall to pieces because of a lover, but now she understood it better. It was hard to keep herself calm and within the limits of decorum even the next morning. He loved her. Last night she had made it into her room when it was still early enough for other women to be up; she had even played a short game of cards. No one knew except the guards that she had been in Corin’s bed that night. It was a tremendous, wonderful, splendid secret.

It, or some of it, was not a secret she could keep much longer—the ball that evening would ensure that—but she had to be calm and assured, not silly-giddy about it. She certainly had to behave properly as long as possible. She had not yet decided what to do about her sister-in-law, who would write to her brother immediately, and her brother would write her parents, and her father would come after her at once. He would not doubt her honor, he would simply think she was acting far beyond her place. It was ironic that Corin’s father was apparently far less concerned than her father would be. Of course if Corin abandoned her she might be ruined, whereas if she abandoned Corin it would leave no stain on him.

The night before last, when Corin stood defiantly on the steps, she had known something was wrong before he swore at her. She said to one of the guards,
He’s not drunk. I can’t persuade him to come.
She had no
confidence that the man would do anything, especially not when she looked like a farmwife, but he had said,
I’ll get him, my lady
, startling her. Then Corin struck the man and knocked him down with a crack on the head that could be heard from where she stood, and the guards looked at one another, and someone said,
Fetch his captain
, and she realized it was herself. Her heart was full of dread. The man who came was the same one who had escorted her to Corin’s side earlier that evening, and from the Terrace Room the night before, and she was chilled to realize it had been no mere soldier he had asked to do it. The captain, Bron his name was, went down to speak to the prince but got no more response than anyone else had. He came back and drew her aside.
If he won’t speak to me and he won’t speak to you, my lady, then we have two choices besides force: leave him there or wake the king.
He was looking at her, waiting for her answer. The doctor was in a corner, tending the injured man. Corin stared outward like a statue. He couldn’t be left there, he couldn’t.
Then get the king
, she said, looking anxiously for a cloak to cover her muddy skirt while her stomach went painfully tight.

Some time later, Bron came back with Aram in his wake and a black dog following. Tam hoped desperately Bron had already explained things to him. The king went straight down the steps to look at his son. He got nothing from Corin either. The dog stayed at the top, its ears laid back, its tail swishing. Occasionally it whined. Its hackles were up partway. Aram watched Corin for a while.

Finally he came up and walked directly to her. The dog was at his side but no longer fierce. The king was dressed plainly and did not seem to have been rudely roused from sleep. That other Tam she didn’t know curtsied and said,
Your Majesty.
He looked at her. It was Corin’s face and not Corin’s face, older, darker, a different shape to the eyes and chin, but that same intensity of expression. He said, rather more gently than she thought he would,
What did he do to himself at the fair?
She answered, without thinking,
He saw a dragon in a mirror, my lord
. With that unchanging gaze Aram said,
Did you?
She could only manage a
Yes
. Not accusingly, he said,
Why have you stayed?
and she said,
What should I do, crawl into a corner and cry? I won’t abandon him
. Then she remembered she was speaking to the king, but it was too late to take back the words. Before she could apologize, back away, he smiled a little and said,
It’s hardly abandonment to leave him to his men
. She said,
If they push or pull him too hard, something will break, my lord.
He put his hands on her shoulders.
What do you suggest we do about him?
he asked. The dog nuzzled at her hand with its warm wet nose. Its approval mattered. She remembered her father standing over men writhing in pain, women in agony with labor, and said,
Vitriol ether and a few drops of camphor
. It could hardly be the answer the king anticipated. Aram looked at her for another long moment and said,
He’s going to need you
. Then he went to speak with the doctor.

The doctor glanced up at her. She remembered him speaking to her after Cade died. What might he be thinking now, to see her with the prince?

She watched nervously as one of the guards went down to drug Corin. No one interfered when she followed them into the guardroom. They slung him on the low bed. There was no chair, so she knelt beside him, arms on the bed. Tiredness began crawling over her. She did not know how long she had been doing this, watching, waiting for the drugged sleep to turn into ordinary rest, when she was tapped on the shoulder. She looked up and saw Aram offering her a cup of tea. By then she was too weary to react.
Don’t let yourself get stiff
, he said. He gestured toward the bench.
Come sit here. I don’t expect you’ll go to bed if even I tell you to, will you?

She said,
Someone has to watch, my lord. Until the drug runs out.
She was too tired to realize he had probably already heard it from the doctor.
Why?
he asked, and she said,
In case it was too much. It might stop his heart.
She remembered her father saying those very words to her in his surgery. Aram said,
There is nothing anyone can do about a stopped heart,
and she said,
If you watch you can make sure it doesn’t stop. There are signs. Blue lips, slow pulse, cold hands.
It made her think to check Corin’s pulse, which she did. Steady and strong. It was hard to put his hand down again.

Something was in the cup besides tea. Not enough to go to her head, but enough to make her muscles loosen and some of her anxiousness retreat. Aram sat beside her and asked her a few questions, then slipped into silence. Finally Corin inhaled deeply, stirred, turned from his back to his side, and she knew he was in normal sleep. She put the empty teacup down. Her arms and hands were shaking. Aram stood up. She rose quickly, but not before he could take her hands and help her.
He’s fine. You’ve done very well. Now go to bed. Do you want to be told when he wakes up?
She nodded. He put his hand under her elbow and escorted her out. A guard drew the thick curtain closed behind them. Quite
unexpectedly the king asked,
How did you meet him?
and her imp got hold of her.
It reflects rather badly on him, my lord, I think you had better get him to tell you. I want him to still like me.
Then she began the all-too-familiar clap of hand over mouth, but he laughed and sent her off with a light push on the back. A soldier walked with her all the way to her room.

It was obvious now that Aram had known why she stayed but wanted to see what she said. He had no doubt judged her quickly and accurately. That was his business. Afterward he would have found out everything about her. And he had approved, even liked her.

Although perhaps the only thing that mattered to him was that she had seen the dragon too. She felt suddenly like a child, standing on tiptoes to peer over a wall and watch things she did not understand. Aram must know a thousand things that she did not. She buttered a slice of bread and nearly tore it with nervousness before she could calm herself again.

When Corin finally came in she could tell at once; the conversations at the other tables went quiet for a breath. She was glad she did not know anyone.

She rose politely, doing her best to pretend no one was watching. Equally politely, he kissed her hand. “My lady,” he said, a touch of playfulness in his eyes.

“My lord,” she said, bobbing her head, and they looked conspiratorially at each other as they sat. It was probably obvious to everyone that it was a sham.

For a few moments they ate without speaking, just looking at each other. The cheese was salty and hard, the red grapes were sweet and firm. Tam broke the silence by saying, “What have you got to do today?”

“More of the same as yesterday,” he answered. He impaled a slice of pear with his fork. “Coaxing and convincing. Unfortunately I have to do it to people besides you.” He was dressed more formally than she had usually seen him, with a closed-collared shirt and a jacket over it. It suited him but made her less confident of her place. Which was not what she wanted at the moment.

“There will be plenty of pretty women at the ball who would like it,” she said.

“Damn the ball!” he said, and she laughed, then looked around to see if it had been heard.

“Should I plan to just stay in my room and lacquer my fingernails instead?” she asked.

“Of course not. I promised to bring you and I will. Besides, my mother would kill me if I didn’t open it for her. I told her to find me a suitable partner, I don’t want to be bothered with looking. I’m sorry it can’t be you.”

“I’m not,” Tam said fervently. She was glad she didn’t have to persuade him of that. “All those people staring, waiting for one missed step and wondering if there’s any significance to your choice.”

“That’s going to happen anyway.”

“Not the same as it would for the first dance.”

“Why ever do they care so much?”

“Don’t be an innocent,” she said, keeping her voice low. It would hardly do to chide him in public. “You know perfectly well that women want power as much as men, and that is what a ball is about. It’s going to be guessed at all day.”

He put his hand over hers. When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were more green than blue today. “Don’t ever stop telling me what you think,” he said. At first she thought he was teasing her, then realized he was serious. “Not enough people do,” he said. “They tell me what they think I think, which is downright useless. And half the time insulting.”

It was hard, looking at him, not to think of the ways he had touched her the night before, the way his body had felt against hers. It would be so easy to let everything else go. She refilled her teacup. It was black tea tinged with jasmine, something that was supposed to be a favored drink of Mycene. She had added the herbs she needed, not without a sharp pang of regret.

“I’m afraid I have nothing to do myself,” she said.

“Perhaps you should come and watch the court.”

“I can’t imagine anything more dull.”

“Come now, Tam, don’t you want to see me in all my glory?”

She made a face at him. “I can wait until the ball for that.”

“Oh, we’re back to the ball, are we. What about you? Have you a gaudy enough gown?”

“Every fashionable woman travels with at least three ball gowns, even if she is going to spend the night in a smithy,” she said. Then, running over in her mind the gown she intended to wear, she saw a problem. “I’ll need help dressing.”

“I can take care of that,” he said, grinning.

“Behave yourself, my lord. But truly, can you find a maid? Otherwise I will have to ask Cina, and whoever she sends will ask all sorts of questions I don’t want to answer. It’ll be no use telling her it’s not her affair; it’s a bad idea to have someone do your hair if she’s angry with you.”

He touched his chin. “Like being shaved by a barber with a grudge. Yes, I can see that. Dear heart, you can have an entire bevy of household servants if you want.”

“One maid will do.”

“Then you shall have it.” He hesitated. “You realize this means I will be talking to my mother, don’t you? You can’t put off meeting her much longer.”

Her appetite vanished. It was worse than meeting the king. But there didn’t seem much of an alternative. “Why would she want that? I haven’t any political value.” She knew she was being disingenuous, but it was easier than truth.

“Certainly you do,” he said. “But that’s not what she would be interested in this time. She wants to see you because I love you, that’s all. What about Cina? Will she make trouble for you?”

She hadn’t wanted to think about that either, and certainly not to inflict it upon Corin. Reluctantly, she said, “I don’t know what to do about her; when she finds out about you she will bring my father upon me like a fury.”

“I thought he was a reasonable man.”

“He is. And he expects me to be reasonable too. And that does not include falling in love with the one man in the kingdom I can’t marry.”