‘Your Grace, wait.’
‘What is it?’
‘May I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘This morning, when you suggested that I should betray you, that I should allow you to confess to poisoning the king, and become Protector myself – what gave you the idea?’
Was it really only this morning? ‘Well …’ I tug on my earlobe, considering. ‘It seemed logical. Remember what you always say: the important thing is Atratys. Not me. Not any one person. And I think you would be a good Protector.’
‘That’s it? You’re sure that there was nothing else? No more … specific reason?’ His voice is calm, but his eyes are full of anxiety. It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, to reassure him. But I don’t want to keep another secret from him.
‘The potion that Siegfried has been giving me has –’ I sigh – ‘some unfortunate side effects. The first night that I took it – the night before I told you he had helped me transform – I found it impossible to rest. Eventually I went for a walk in the gardens.’ Lucien’s colour fades as the blood drains from his face. ‘I heard what you said to Turik, Lucien. The promise you made to him: that you would sacrifice me without a second thought.’
My clerk staggers to a chair and drops his head into his hands. ‘What must you think of me?’
I cross the room to stand next to him. ‘I think that you’re the most honourable man I’ve ever met. Honourable, and honest and … and brave.’ Lifting my hand, I brush my fingers across his raven hair.
‘But I wasn’t being honest. I was angry. Turik spoke of my feelings for you, and I wished to deny them. To convince him – and myself – that I did not care for you.’
His feelings for me? Something that isn’t nerves or fear flickers in the pit of my stomach. I take a deep breath to steady my voice.
‘Still, you were right, Lucien. My duty is to protect Atratys. If I were to fail in that duty, then I should be sacrificed. I would not deserve anything better. I understand, finally: what I want is really not important.’
He shudders, as if he’s under some great stress, and stands up. ‘I was wrong about one thing, Aderyn. When I told you not to trust anyone, that wasn’t right. Not entirely.’ Picking up his sword from where it’s hanging on the back of the chair, he draws it out of the scabbard. ‘You can trust me, Your Grace. Before, I promised to serve you. But now, I swear it.’
As I watch, he positions the blade across the centre of his left palm, grits his teeth –
‘Don’t –’ I place my hands flat on the sword. ‘Don’t, Lucien. I would not have you injure yourself. And I already trust you.’
In the silence, I can hear Lucien’s breathing. He puts the sword down and leans forward, lifting one hand to caress my cheek. I mirror his movement, staring up at the dark fire in his eyes, at the curve of his lips, enjoying the sensation of his skin beneath my palm. I scan his face greedily, studying every detail, as he twists the fingers of one hand through my long hair. Then his arms are around me, pulling me hard against him, and his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me, and I can feel my heart hammering so hard I think it might smash my ribcage.
‘Aderyn …’ His voice is husky, but I hear the question in it.
And perhaps he is right. Perhaps, given everything we’ve said to each other, this is not an appropriate relationship. Perhaps, given everything that is happening, this is not an appropriate time.
But I fear the time we have is running out.
‘I choose now, Lucien. And I choose you.’
He kisses my head, sighing into my hair. ‘Then, with your permission, Your Grace …’ He picks me up and carries me to the bed. I sit on the edge and watch as he bolts the door and snuffs out all but one candle, every nerve ending in my body singing with anticipation. He plucks, uncertain, at his shirt. ‘Shall I …?’
‘Yes. But let me help.’ I stand facing him. ‘I’ve already seen you naked, remember?’
It doesn’t take me long to pull Lucien’s shirt over his head, and then he removes what remains of his clothing. This time, I do not drop my gaze.
I help him unlace my gown – defying the shame that is always waiting for a chance to taunt me over the appearance of my scars – and slip it and my undergarment off my shoulders. The fabrics puddle at my feet; I step out of them and lie on the bed, and Lucien comes to lie next to me. For a moment he stares down at me; I can feel his body trembling.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You already know I want you.’ He brushes a hand across the curve of my hips. ‘But now – now I find I need you, Aderyn. Like I need water. Or air. I need you to be near me. And it scares me.’
‘Don’t be afraid.’ I draw him closer. ‘I’m never going to hurt you.’ With that, we both lose control. And amidst hungry kisses and tangled limbs and blissful yielding, all the fear and horror and tension of the last few weeks are lost as well.
Afterwards, we lie together in his bed, our legs warm beneath the bedclothes. Lucien’s skin is gilded by candlelight, and I run my fingers across his chest and down his arm. ‘You’re beautiful, raven boy.’
‘Not as beautiful as you, my lady.’ He kisses his way down my throat to the dip between my collarbones, making me sigh with pleasure. ‘Should I tell you how long I’ve been dreaming about this day?’
‘I thought you hated me, when we first came here.’
‘I wanted to hate you. It was childish. I wanted someone to blame for my father virtually abandoning us; someone alive, someone I could punish. But more than that, I thought that if I could make myself hate you, I would eventually stop wanting you.’
‘Why did you want to stop? Did you think I disliked you so much?’
‘I’d given you no reason to like me, and every reason to hate me. And you’re a Protector; I didn’t think that you would – that you should – ever consider taking me to your bed. But despite my efforts, my desire for you didn’t wane. It grew, and my temper grew worse to match. When I think of the things I’ve said to you …’ He closes his eyes, a tiny frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows.
‘Then don’t think of them. Though I can’t blame you for scolding me. I gave you plenty of reasons to.’ I turn around and snuggle against Lucien’s chest. ‘I like this. I like you holding me.’ His arm tightens around my waist. ‘My mother used to hug me, and I know Letya would hug me if she could. But my father … my father was not affectionate in that way. Six years it’s been, since my mother died. I’ve so missed the feeling of having another person’s arms around me.’
‘Then I shall keep holding you, as long as I can. For as long as you want.’ His lips brush the scars at the top of my shoulders. ‘Whatever else he’s done, I’m glad Siegfried killed the man who did this to you.’
‘Don’t remind me of it, Lucien, please.’ I shake my head, trying to dislodge the images that always seem to be waiting at the edge of my memory, ready to take centre stage if I ever allow them. ‘I’ve seen too much death. I don’t want to think about it ever again.’
‘Forgive me.’ He nibbles the edge of my ear, making me giggle. ‘Tell me what you’d like to think about.’
‘Let’s think about what we’re going to do when we get back to Atratys.’
‘Easy: I’ve already planned it. I want to take you to Hatchlands and show you my home. I want to show you the starflower wood, and the view across the lake and the gardens where my brother Zavier and I used to play. And then in the winter we can fly –’
He catches his breath.
I change position, so I can look at him. ‘I can’t shift my shape, Lucien. I can’t –’ A pang of grief catches me unexpectedly. ‘Right now, I still can’t get past the fear. I can’t find my way to the point of transformation. What if I never can?’
For a moment he gazes at me. ‘Then we will walk around the gardens of Hatchlands. Or you can teach me to ride.’ He kisses me gently, lingering over it. ‘We’ll find a way, Aderyn. Together.’
When I
wake, the candle on the bedside table has guttered out, and pale grey light is filtering round the edges of the shutters. Lucien is fast asleep still, lying on his back, one hand flung up above his head, the other resting on my hip. I slide away, wrap one of the blankets around my shoulders and pull the rest of the bedclothes up to cover him. There’s no clock in this room, but from the quality of the light it’s early morning; the sun hasn’t yet breached the horizon. I open one of the shutters a little. From here I can see down into the town. The streets are empty, but there are wisps of smoke rising from a few of the chimneys, and the smell of baking bread drifting through the open window makes my stomach growl. There’s a litter of papers and books scattered across the floor at my feet; the mess seems so much part of Lucien that it makes me smile. I pick up some sort of architectural drawing – plans for an extension at Hatchlands, by the looks of it – and try to imagine what the finished building will be like.
‘Aderyn?’
I go to sit on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
Lucien smiles. ‘I missed you. Come back to bed.’
‘It’s morning; I should go. The servants will be up and about soon.’
He catches my hand in his. ‘Please? It’s early still. Don’t leave, not yet.’
‘And risk Turik finding me in your bed?’ I lean forward to kiss him. ‘Or even worse, Letya not finding me in mine, and setting the Dark Guards to search for me?’
Lucien groans and slips his arm around me, drawing me into a deeper kiss; desire surges through my core, but I pull away. ‘Lucien …’
‘I’m sorry.’ He sighs and releases me. ‘You’re right.’
‘Of course I am. And we have lots of other nights to look forward to.’
‘Tonight?’
I grin. ‘Only if you perform your other duties to my satisfaction, my lord. Remember, you have a tournament to escort me to.’
I get back to my room, discard my gown, put on my nightdress and get into bed. There doesn’t seem much point in trying to go back to sleep, so I read until Letya brings me in a cup of chocolate. She folds back the shutters and I glance out of the windows. A grey day; the tops of the mountains are veiled in cloud and the surface of the fjord is a sullen black.
Letya follows my gaze. ‘They say it should brighten up later. It’s meant to be good luck, for a bridesday to start in shadow and end in sunshine.’
I’ve heard the same grandmothers’ tale. I hope it’s true.
Lucien arrives as Letya is putting the final adjustments to my dress. While she’s in the room he is as formal as I’ve ever seen him – so formal it makes me giggle. Letya gives me a look. But as soon as we are alone he crushes me into his arms and kisses me as though we’ve been apart for weeks, rather than hours.
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too. But we’ll be late for the tournament if we don’t hurry. Will you pass me my cloak?’
‘Of course. Allow me.’ He places it around my shoulders and starts trying to fasten the clasp. ‘I’ve had a message from Nyssa’s mother, by the way. She said to tell you that Atratys will not be left without allies. That Lancorphys stands ready, if it comes to it.’
I put my hands over his, stilling them. ‘What do you mean? If it comes to what?’
‘War.’
Surely I misheard him. ‘What?’
‘War, Aderyn. Siegfried wants the crown, but I’m convinced he also wants direct control of every single dominion. You know he does. Surely you’re not prepared to hand him Atratys without a fight?’
‘Of course not. I just hadn’t … I hadn’t thought about it ending in war.’ Combating Siegfried through subterfuge – that’s what I’d imagined. We’ve had peace within Solanum since the War of the Raptors. What will it do to the kingdom, if that changes?
Disengaging his hands, Lucien tilts my chin upward and kisses me. ‘Can you survive without a servant for a couple of days?’
‘Of course. Why?’
‘Because –’ he steals another kiss – ‘I think we should leave the Citadel as soon as possible. Send Letya and Turik away first, then you. We ought to return to Atratys before Siegfried becomes king.’
‘The fact that he’s not king won’t stop him coming after us.’ I wonder if this is how my mother and father felt, planning their flight from the Citadel, away from my uncle. ‘And what about Aron and Odette? I won’t leave them, Lucien. I’m not going to run.’
He sighs and turns away, dragging his hands through his hair. ‘You’re right.’
‘We need to find a way to challenge the Decrees. To put Aron on the throne, despite the fact that he can’t fly. Or to put Odette on the throne unmarried.’ For a moment I laugh at myself: me, a newly anointed Protector, daring to act as kingmaker?
Someone has to do it.
Lucien is shaking his head. ‘Convocation will never agree. The Decrees are what they are, Aderyn.’
I hold out my hand to him as the bell sounds for us to make our way to the jousting field. ‘They are. But perhaps it’s time that changed.’
I’ve not been to this part of the Citadel complex before – jousts are for winter, in general. Lucien tells me that in other countries the nobility compete. But in Solanum the nobility watch, and place bets on their favourite – flightless – riders. Six shields are displayed on the wall by the entrance to the stadium: one for each dominion.
‘What are those things next to them?’
‘Broken lances,’ Lucien replies. ‘Wins per dominion for the last season.’
Olorys has by far the most. Atratys has none. ‘We don’t seem to be doing very well.’
‘We don’t enter. Your father stopped taking part after your mother died.’
Inside the stadium, the stands are divided – as usual – by rank. Lucien has to go higher up. I have a place reserved with my cousins and the other Protectors and heirs. There is no sign of the queen, but Siegfried invites me to stand next to him. I smile at him, all the better to conceal the hatred in my heart.
‘Your first tournament, I believe?’
He doesn’t seem any different to the last time we spoke, three days ago, when he surprised me trying to search his rooms.
‘Yes. Olorys is the favourite, I imagine.’
‘I expect so.’ He winks at me. ‘The House of Cygnus Olorys doesn’t play to lose.’
The joust itself is noisy, fast and brutal. Each dominion (apart from Atratys) has entered five flightless riders, who will gradually be eliminated through either the complex system of scoring or because they are killed or so severely injured that they can no longer compete. Still, most of the people around me seem to be enjoying the spectacle. The thunder of the horses’ hoofs, the clash of lance on shield and armour, and the cries of the injured blend with the ebbing and flowing clamour of the crowd. Odette, as is the custom, has presented a favour to the captain representing her betrothed’s dominion. Yet she seems to take no pleasure from the seemingly unstoppable progress of the Oloryan riders.
The joust lasts a couple of hours. I decide that after I’ve spoken with Aron I’m going to go to the library and actually find a copy of these damn Decrees that everyone keeps quoting at me. And then I’m going to go and see Arden of Dacia.
Lucien meets me at the gates to the stadium and offers me his arm. He smiles, but the lines of exhaustion in his face worry me. I can’t ask him to fly back to Merl today.
‘Perhaps you should take a nap this afternoon.’
‘Two questions, Your Grace.’ He nods his head to another courtier, then leans closer to murmur to me. ‘First, is it your bed you’re offering? Second, are you going to be in it?’
My shocked laughter draws a disapproving glance from an elderly noblewoman nearby.
‘I feel that would be counter-productive, my lord. Besides, I am very busy this afternoon. Far too busy and important to be helping you rest.’
This time Lucien laughs. ‘Perhaps you’re right. But as your clerk I f
eel that I should be assisting you, Your Grace. I can sleep later.’
With Lucien next to me, Siegfried seems a monster more of shadows than of flesh and blood. We return to our conversation of last night, and are still planning what we’re going to do once we’ve returned to Atratys when we reach the corridor where my apartment is.
There are Dark Guards waiting outside my door. My hand tightens on Lucien’s arm as one of the guards bows.
‘Your Grace.’
‘What are you doing here? Do you have news from Atratys?’
‘No, Your Grace. We are here for Lord Rookwood.’
Lucien steps forward. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘You are to come with us, my lord.’
‘For what reason?’
The guard glances at me, though with his face covered I can’t tell whether he is nervous or irritated at my presence. ‘You’re under arrest, my lord.’ He gestures to one of the other guards who approaches with a pair of manacles.
I throw up my hand. ‘No closer! Under whose order are you acting? And on what charges?’
‘By order of the queen. Lord Rookwood is charged with high treason, and with the murder of the king.’ He puts his right hand meaningfully on the shaft of the axe hanging from his belt. ‘Please step aside, Your Grace.’
The king is dead, then. More guards press forward. I try to stop them, struggling for breath, but Lucien holds me back.
‘Don’t, Aderyn! Don’t give them an excuse to arrest you too.’ He gasps and flinches as his hands are manacled behind his back. ‘Tell my father –’
‘Lucien …’
The guards pull him round, so he’s facing away from me, and begin to march him away.
My knees give way and I sink to the ground. ‘Lucien!’
There’s no reply.
Sixteen
The flagstones beneath my knees are hard and cold. Still, I don’t move. Two gawking housemaids hurry by with arms full of bedlinen, but neither of them dares to approach me. I remember Siegfried’s words at the tournament: The House of Cygnus Olorys doesn’t play to lose. And I know now that he and the queen did see me the other day. That together they have acted to take Lucien – my adviser, my lover – away from me.
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