Solace Arisen (15 page)

Her thanks to the innkeeper, given in Gherian, recalled Degarius. At her gentle smile, the innkeeper’s fleshy neck turned redder at the collar. “The drinks weren’t for my benefit,” he said as soon as the innkeeper left.

“You’ll like it.”

Degarius tilted his cup. The liquid left a thin, glossy film behind. Its heat was just spreading down his throat when four swaggering bluecoats came in—a captain and his three lieutenants. By their exaggerated gestures and loud voices, they’d succeeded in finding drinks, ample drinks, somewhere. There was no place for them other than at their table. Damn. He thought about getting up and leaving, but that’d bring more questions than it avoided. Sure enough, the serving girl was bringing them their way. Degarius glanced to their insignias. None of them was in regiments he’d met. Good. He stood to acknowledge them. They all bowed to Miss Nazar before sitting.

The captain, who had one sunken, closed eye, came beside Degarius and asked, “Cabinetman?”

“Yes,” Degarius said and tried to disguise his dismay at being mistaken twice in one day for one of the soft-armed, paunchy-stomached breed of men who served as bureaucrats. He nodded to Miss Nazar. “She wants to attend the Solemnity.”

The Gherian leaned to Degarius. His breath, reeking to Zadora of beer, was hot in Degarius’s ear. “Ah, the Solemnity. Our Alenius has a big surprise planned for sunset. I can’t wait until the Sarapostans see it.”

The taste of the liquor went sour in Degarius’s mouth. “What kind of big surprise?”

The captain seemed not to hear, and Degarius understood why. His beer-glazed single eye was narrowed on Miss Nazar, and he was stroking his straw-colored mustache. The bastard was undressing Ari with his eye. Degarius made a fist under the table, but forced himself to be calm. The captain might have information. “I’ve heard rumors about this surprise. It’s in the Forbidden Fortress?”

The Gherian puffed his chest. “I’ve been to the Forbidden Fortress. Received my captaincy from the sovereign himself. I’ve seen what’s in his private garden. Didn’t get into the atrium. He has that shut up tighter...” The serving girl put a dish of stew before the Gherian. He speared a piece of mutton, and as if he’d completely forgotten his previous train of thought, said, “A fellow like you could get a good commission, have his own regiment. But I suppose not everyone hears the call to duty. You cabinetmen must tend to your own riches.”

“One of my ears is half-deaf, but I hear the call of duty.” Degarius raised his glasses off his nose. “Alenius, however, doesn’t want blind men leading his troops.”

The captain laughed. “I had but one eye when I was made captain. You’ve got two and aren’t blind enough to take an ugly wife.” He was looking at Miss Nazar again with an unmistakable glint in his eye—-and she’d seen it. Her cheeks flamed, and she was looking at her plate to avoid the Gherian captain’s scrutiny. The captain rapped once on the table to get her attention and asked, “Do you play cards?”

She put her fork down. “I don’t speak much Gherian.”

“Why doesn’t she speak Gherian?” he asked Degarius. “Is she a southerner?”

Degarius nodded. “I’m from the borderlands.”

“Then you better watch your wife. Heathens are heathens, you know. Does she cheat at cards?” The Gherian reached into his coat, pulled out a deck of cards, and arched his brows at Arvana. Because of his missing eye, the action looked particularly grotesque.

Degarius bristled, but said coolly, “My
wife
doesn’t play cards.” The old, stout innkeeper’s admiration was one thing. To him she was a rich guest. He’d charge them a small fortune for the drinks. This captain’s was another, and Degarius had had enough of it. He downed the last of the liquor, stood and said, “If you’ll pardon us.”

Without hesitation, Miss Nazar rose from the table. How beautiful she was. The noble way she held her chin seemed meant to tell the Gherian that he was a sorry second to the man she was with. He laced his arm around her waist and raised his free hand to the soldiers. “Good luck on the campaign.”

“Leave your wife upstairs and play a round of Waero,” the captain called to cover his defeat.

As she walked, her hip swayed under Degarius’s firmly placed hand. Feeling in sudden generous humor, he called back, “Only when I have coin to lose.”

When out of the dining room, Miss Nazar said, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish your dinner. Thank you. I’m not used to that kind of...men never...” She touched the low-cut neck of the gown and Degarius’s gaze went there. A bewildering mix of understanding and desire made his head swim, but then she twisted free of his hand. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. They can’t see us.”

Arvana waited behind Degarius as he unlocked the room. The ribbon on his ponytail was coming untied. His broad shoulders hunched so he could get nearer the keyhole. Why couldn’t he have said one kind word when she told him he didn’t have to pretend anymore? She had given him the chance. But he’d said nothing, just asked the innkeeper for the room key. What had she expected?

The door opened and she followed him in. The room was clean but small and sparsely furnished with a bed, washstand, and a bench before the lit fireplace, which Degarius went straight away to stoke. Their trunk, sitting under the window, had been delivered. Arvana uncrossed her arms. It was austere, but cozy. Maybe she could sleep tonight, on the eve of going to the Forbidden Fortress. It felt like the one safe place in Gheria, safe from the leering soldier, the impending war, the draeden and The Scyon.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Degarius said.

She didn’t argue, though after the moons of sleeping on the ground it wouldn’t have bothered her to take the floor. “Do you need anything out of the trunk?” she asked as she opened it.

“My toothbrush.”

She searched through Mrs. Karlkin’s packing and the leather riding breeches they’d brought just in case they’d be taking the horses back from the Forbidden Fortress. She found his nightshirt, the toothbrushes, and a nightgown, yet another of Lina’s old things, yellowed and trimmed with fussy, itchy-feeling lace. “Do you want your nightshirt?”

“I’ll sleep in these,” he said of the breeches he was wearing. “I have another pair, right?”

“Yes.” The simple word
yes
felt odd as she spoke it. They were speaking about the mundane things of a life spent together. She unfolded her nightgown and held the shoulders to hers. “Do you mind?”

“Oh. While you change, I’ll get water.” He took the pitcher and left the room.

Arvana tossed the nightgown on the bed and reached to the back of her neck to remove the necklace. Ugh. She pried at the clasp every different way, but it didn’t release. If she pulled any harder, it might break. Why had he burdened her with this thing? He was going to have to take it off. If he broke it, it wouldn’t be her fault.

Wrenching her elbow behind her back, she started to unbutton the dress. She managed the bottom buttons and the top three, but no matter how she strained her shoulders, she couldn’t reach the ones in the middle. When Mrs. Karlkin had helped her into it, she hadn’t thought of the trouble it’d be to take off. What a stupid way to fashion a garment. She hated Lina’s dresses. Hated that they seemed to give the Gheria permission to leer at her. Hated that she couldn’t take them off herself. She sank on the bench in front of the fire.

Degarius knocked on the door before entering. Well, he wasn’t going to catch her in any state of undress. Not with three stubborn buttons in the middle of her back. She rose and crossed her arms. “I can’t get off this ridiculous dress. Or the necklace. The clasp is stuck.”

He sat the pitcher down and said, “Turn around.”

She pulled her hair to one side so he could see the necklace’s clasp.

“I need more light. Turn sideways to the fire,” he said.

The clasp clicked open. His fingers and the necklace lifted away from her skin. His arms reached around her and he held the necklace in front of her to take. It had been a weight around her neck and heart all day. Her stomach went hollow at having to accept it again, and this time from his hands. “Your father said it was your mother’s,” she blurted. “I don’t want to be responsible for it. It must mean a great deal to you. You brought it as a keepsake, but I can’t bear the thought that if something happens to it, it’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

She couldn’t face him. “You brought it as a keepsake of something good in your life, of your mother. I don’t know. A reminder that there are things worth fighting for.”

He laughed uneasily. “Don’t you know what a gift is?”

Not this argument again. “Most people don’t give gifts via their housekeeper who’s told to say ‘Here, you need this to look proper.’”

He said nothing.

“I don’t want to be the caretaker of anything else.” Why was every burden thrust on her? His medal. The Blue Eye. Her father in his last, unbearable days. His mother’s engagement jewels. She wanted to throw the damn necklace against the wall. Who cared how expensive it was or what it meant to him? It was nothing to her. She spun around and grasping the necklace in her fist, struck it to his chest. “Take it back.” His hand flew to hers. She wanted to pull away, fling the necklace to the floor, but he pressed her fist harder into his chest. “I don’t want it.”

“All of this is my family’s fault. I wanted to make it up to you somehow.”

“I never blamed
you
,” she said and darted a spiteful look to him, but he wore a look she’d never seen on his face before. The penitence in his eyes took her breath and anger away.

“I had to do this the only way I could,” he said.

“I never blamed you.”

“I know. It is a gift. Please keep it.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re not a Solacian anymore.”

She dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. She wasn’t a Solacian anymore. “I don’t know what I am.”

“Ari.” His fingertips lighted on her brow and traced down over her temple.

She opened her eyes. His face was so close. Though he’d said he gave the necklace and ring to her in compensation for her having to deal with the aftermath of Lina’s choices, his touch and his eyes said otherwise. His thumb grazed across her bottom lip, a whisper of a touch, but her heart raced. Her eyelids drifted shut, and she leaned forward to meet his mouth, and after one tentative brush of their lips, it was as if a rainstorm opened up inside her. She couldn’t be tender. A downpour couldn’t be a shower. She kissed him hard, tasted the liquor that was still on his tongue.

He pushed her hand still holding the necklace from his chest and drew her body full into his. His hands swept inside the unbuttoned top of the back of her dress, almost tearing at the thin fabric of her chemise. He kissed into the deep recess between her jaw and neck while his hands moved down her body to her hips.

Then, in a motion of pure grace, he dropped to his knees before her. He took the necklace from her hand, put it on the bench, and gazed up at her with a look that made her ache with emptiness. She reached to the bodice of the dress and pulled out the relic and took if off. That wasn’t her burden now, either.

She lifted his glasses from his face. Would his eyes never cease to startle her? She bent to put the glasses and relic on the bed.

His arms encircled her waist and his forearms reached up her back. Gathering her to him, he buried his face in her body. His chest heaved with hard breaths against her.

Arvana pulled the already loose binding from his ponytail and ran her fingers through his hair, warm and soft next to his scalp, deliciously cool at the ends. How wonderful his face felt, the day-grown stubble rough in one direction, smooth in the other. She ran her forefinger over the ridges of his bottom teeth. Everything, she wanted to know everything about him.

Like the wind takes a leaf and floats it to the ground, she felt as if something outside of her own force eased her to her knees. Her hands were on his shoulders, so wide and powerful. After slipping her fingers under his jacket, she kneaded the thick muscles at the sides of his neck until his head lolled back and he exhaled a long sigh. She took the jacket’s lapels, opened them wide, and eased them over his shoulders. He shook his arms from the sleeves and sloughed the jacket behind him. She pulled the ribbon closing the collar of his blouse, and, looking into his eyes, gave a silent command he obeyed in one swift motion—he untucked his blouse from his trousers and billowed it over his head. He wasn’t embarrassed or self-conscious. Why should he be? He’d worked long and endured much to be strong. The firelight glowed on the swells of his muscles. Arms hanging to his sides, he became still, allowed her eyes to linger on the scar across his chest, then her finger to trace its length. His body was a book of stories, but it wasn’t time to hear them now.