He cast his gaze to the cards and again hummed, “Mm.”
I threw down the next, and seeing it, I was surprised he had two high cards come so swiftly, at the same time I was thinking what that card said was not all that card meant.
“The Moon,” he said.
“The Moon,” I confirmed. “Intuition. Magic. Womanhood. Power.”
His arms about me tightened as he remarked, “That one is not difficult to read.”
I would let him think that, for the now, even if I had a feeling it meant far more.
I threw down the next.
Goddess damn it.
“The Manticore,” he stated tonelessly.
He knew that one. He’d seen it before.
“War. Battle,” he went on.
He had a blasted good memory.
I turned and reminded his profile, “Also power. Victory.”
He too turned and looked into my eyes.
“The last one, Ellie.”
I was so certain this would go well. I felt it in my bones that morning after turning my own card.
It had to go well.
For things as they were in his realm could not get worse.
I turned the card.
And felt my heart leap.
“The Phoenix,” I whispered. I then aimed a big smile at him before I went on, “Renewal. Transformation. Rebirth.”
He looked from the cards to me and pointed out, “We do not know what that rebirth will be.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No, darling, we don’t.”
“We absolutely do.”
“Elena—”
I shifted in his lap, took hold of his head in both hands and pressed my lips hard to his.
When I felt his hands glide up my back to keep me close, and perhaps carry on with activities that could lead from a kiss, I disengaged and declared, “We will work. We will toil. We will reflect. We will fight. We will meet victory and be renewed.”
“Your unrelenting optimism is exhausting,” he muttered.
“Well then,” I began, twisting even farther in his lap and pressing my hands to his shoulders to take him down to his back, “if my prince is so fatigued, I shall be forced to do all the work.”
That earned me another grin along with an outright lie.
“It’s devastating to admit, but even just awake, I am remarkably weary.”
As he settled onto the pillows, and I straightened my frame atop him, I felt something not weary at all prodding my stomach.
“Perhaps I can energize you,” I whispered into his neck.
And then I trailed my mouth down, taking my time at his swelling chest, and his delicious stomach, until I found something more delectable between his legs.
I took my time with that too, and my efforts were rewarded.
I energized my prince.
So much, he did not take his time while taking me on my knees from behind, his hand over mine curled on the headboard.
His bed was most sturdy.
But it banged so mightily against the black stone wall, I feared it would crash right through it.
Energized, indeed.
To say the battle that opened the harbor and the subsequent one that ended the siege did not much affect the citizens of Sky Bay was an understatement.
However, the arrest of their king and one of his wives for crimes pertaining to violating a woman did.
I had learned since we arrived in the capital city of Airen why Cassius’s soldiers were lined along the avenue to the Citadel and not off fighting the besiegers.
They were posted thus to be poised to fight any disorder that might occur in the Bay. And as the city was well supplied as a matter of course, and it would take some months for a siege to have significant negative effects on its citizens, they’d been ordered to ignore what happened beyond it until Cassius arrived home.
He needed to hold his capital at all costs, he’d shared. Not only because its harbor was crucial, but also the message it would relay to his people if he could not even secure his home.
And his soldiers had been very busy doing this the four days since Gallienus and Horatia had been incarcerated in Slán Bailey, Airen’s largest prison which was situated on a small island just off the harbor.
In this time, I took great heart in noting the disorder that occurred was not only men acting out who were angered that their until-now steadfast position of power was being threatened (and there were many men who acted out as such, Slán Bailey was getting most crowded).
There were also men making clear they stood by their Prince Regent and celebrated the changes he was making. They demonstrated somewhat peaceably (these demonstrations being “somewhat,” for liquor on occasion turned the tide of these celebrations, and the men who disagreed with them did not mind doing it using the tactic of engaging in fisticuffs in the streets).
Indeed, Jasmine, Hera, Finnie, Circe and myself had watched from the ramparts just such a parade march up to the gate at the end of the avenue to the Citadel and it was a glad sight to see.
What was not glad was that there were very few women amongst them.
I told myself, it had not been a long time.
They would learn.
After toil, the Phoenix would rise.
And when she did, she would be free.
And as I rode at Cassius’s side that day, surprisingly where I was without having an argument with him to allow me to be there (indeed, he’d actually asked me to do so), I thought of the Phoenix and rebirth for this land and reminded myself staunchly (and unrelentingly optimistically) the cards foretold it so.
I knew my man was unnerved with me beside him, even if my warriors and his surrounded us closely, there were many of us, and all were heavily armed, including Cassius and myself.
I also knew my betrothed could not make the statement he wished to make by hiding me in his Citadel.
He needed me seen.
He needed me strong.
He needed my head held high.
And that was how I rode beside him, wearing full Nadirii regalia, including my royal headband.
There did not appear to be more women in the streets during this journey than there were the day I had arrived, and again no children, but if I caught any gazes, if they were not staring at me with hate, I smiled.
I counted, and by the time we made the wharf, seven men had smiled back.
All tentatively.
But it was something.
I could not think long on that, for ahead was Slán Bailey, and in the now, we needed to dismount and board an odd boat with a strange paddlewheel at the back. It was somewhat square and had a canopy in the middle to make an interior portion to keep rain or mist from your clothing.
And I did not want to enter it.
On my feet or on Diana’s back, I could do anything.
In a boat?
I hid my discomfiture at this and followed Cass’s lead.
When he walked directly to the uncovered bow of the boat, I went there with him.
Two other such boats filled with our guard would go with us, the rest of our guard remaining ashore.
But in our boat was Cass, me, Jazz, Hera, Mac, Ian and Nero.
I kept silent and stood next to Cassius as we broke away from the dock.
And I watched the daunting Bailey get closer as the men who labored at paddles that somehow rounded the wheel at the back propelled us.
Slán Bailey was close enough to reach by boat in a short period of time, but it was far enough away, in the unlikelihood a prisoner should escape, unless they were in the best of health, they would find it impossible to swim the distance to shore.
However, through the cold, choppy waters, even for the healthiest of prisoners, it would be a self-imposed death sentence.
It was, I could see, a pentagram of five towers connected by curtain walls. The entirety was built to the very edge of the ragged cliffs that made up the boundaries of the island. There was one ingress, thus, one
egress, the front gate with its dock below. One tower, the one at the back, was rather low, perhaps four stories. The one facing Sky Bay was very high, at least nine. The other three were six.
Long, thin, black pennants flew atop all of them.
Fortunately, we made the dock of Slán Bailey without incident.
Cass did not wait for all three boats to arrive.
He took my hand in his, lifted it to press to the side of his chest, and immediately led us up the pier, to the gate and through it.
A man not in the black leathers of the Airenzian army, but instead wearing black wool trousers tucked into black boots with a thick black wool sweater with a rolltop neck and epaulettes sewn at his shoulders greeted us.
As he got close, I saw he also had stitched over his left chest in black thread an insignia that looked like a window covered in crossed bars.
He bowed smartly and said, “Your Grace.” I watched him carefully and continued to do so as he straightened only to shift my way, bow again and repeat, “Your Grace.”
“My betrothed is not fond of bowing, Reginald,” Cass drawled.
The man lifted and grinned at Cassius.
I was surprised at this response, but I just kept watching.
“Of course,” he said and turned his grin to me. “A Nadirii at the Bailey, here to assist in questioning prisoners,” he stated openly gleeful. “My wife is currently at her window on the shore with a telescope, hoping to catch sight of this historical event across the water.”
“You should have allowed her to come to be a party to it,” I replied.
“Hells no,” he said on a whoosh of air, and I stiffened. “She’d be right in all my business. ‘Reginald, you must trim the fat on the meat you give your inmates. Fat is not healthy. They need lean meats.’ And ‘Reginald, just look at the state of these blankets. Bring them home in batches. I’ll gather my women and mend them.’” He looked to Cassius. “As if prisoners deserve decent blankets. Crikey.”
I turned astonished eyes over my shoulder to look at both Jazz and Hera.
Jazz was staring at Reginald with her lips parted in surprise.
Hera looked like she was about ready to laugh.
“Righty ho!” Reginald cried with more excitement than was healthy in this dismal place with its thick black walls that veritably wept moisture. “Let us get you about your business so you can get away from here and home. Which do you want first? Her honorable Horatia or the man who once was king.”
The man who once was king?
Well then, didn’t that have a lovely ring to it?
“Horatia,” Cassius told him.
“To the palace we go,” he stated cheerfully, faking a doffing of a hat he did not wear with a maneuver of his hand.
He then moved us into the dank confines beyond, tipping his head jauntily to guards along the way, all of whom bowed to Cassius and me, none of whom looked spiteful, though many looked speculative as they regarded me.
Reginald entered a doorway that was opened by a guard at the tallest tower (apparently, the “palace”) and up we went.
Up, up, up, past eight doors, before he called out on the final flight, “Oy, there! Open up. The Regent is here.”
Thus, at the top, we were able to move right through the door there that was manned by another guard wearing Reginald’s uniform.
“Best room of the lot, coziest,” Reginald declared on a tip of the chin at the guard tending the first door we came to, one I knew would have an unadulterated, and perhaps even stunning view of Sky Bay.
The door was opened to us, and as we entered (only Cass and I, due to the limited space), I was thrown by how tidy and well-appointed it was.
Everything was in blacks, grays and browns (as per usual in this land).
But there was a rather large bed with a fluffy mattress, puffy pillows and thick duvet over it, as well as several woolen throws and even a fur. An armchair with ottoman. A table with four chairs, as if awaiting a small dinner party or a game of chance. Thick rugs overlapping each other on the floors to keep draughts at bay. Lanterns all around to fight the gloom. And a roaring fire in a small fireplace, but one that heated the space relatively thoroughly.
And I was correct.
Upon turning my head from Horatia, who rose from the armchair after setting aside a book (setting it on top of a stack of others), I saw from one of the three albeit narrow windows (so narrow, it would be impossible for but the smallest of children to push through) the view was astounding.
“You are keeping well?” Cassius asked.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she spat.
“No need to answer that, I see you are,” he muttered.
And she was.
She did not look sallow or unwashed.
In fact, her hairstyle was lovely, her clothing clean, and although she did not have the yards of chains at her neck and wrists she normally wore, and no paint on her face (which I thought made her far more attractive), she looked positively robust.
It had not been long she had been there, but still.
“I come to make you an offer,” Cassius told her.
“You have nothing I desire,” she returned.
“Not even your freedom?” he queried.
She glared at him.
“It would help greatly if all three of my father’s wives were to share openly about their treatment at his hands—” Cassius began.
“That is not happening,” she snapped.
“Is it simply that you feel you did not suffer at his hands? Or that you would not be willing to attest to what you knew about what the others endured?” Cassius asked.
“Your father, my husband, my king was always most kind to me. To all of us,” she declared.
And at that, I jumped, for Cassius let out a bark of genuinely amused laughter.
I studied him closely, wondering if strain was perhaps having an effect, but as his laughter waned, he said to Horatia, “That was most amusing.”
“I wasn’t being funny.”
“You do know I saw with my own eyes Gallienus not being most kind at all,” he reminded her.
“What happens in a man’s bedchamber—” she started.
“Enough,” he interrupted, then regarded her before musing, “I don’t understand it. Do you have some sort of madness?”
“No,” I answered for her. “She had status, she had power, and she used it, did you not?”
“I am a woman, and I—”
“Saved yourself by offering them up,” I surmised. “You cowed them so that he could truly cow them, and at their expense, you thrived. Not queen of a land. Not partner to a king. But queen of your little dominion. In order that you would not face it, you made it so he turned to them.”
“It is their duty to their lord and king,” she retorted, finishing snidely, “And husband.”
“And it was yours as well, was it not?” I asked.
She sniffed. “He would use me.”
“Would he?”
“Of course, I am his wife.”
“We have kindly not discussed this with Domitia. She needs some time to heal,” I shared. “Cornelia is quite closed off. She needs some time to learn to trust. But when the time comes that they feel safe to chat, what will they tell us?”
“I couldn’t begin to imagine,” she replied.
I took a step toward her. “You do know, it is understandable…not acceptable, but in your world and how you had no choice but to exist in it, it is understandable that you would seek to protect yourself. However, now you have other protections, and I encourage you to use them.”
“You think the Regent will prevail,” she said with no small amount of disgust.
“I know he will,” I told her.
“Then it is you who will see precisely what it is like to exist in this world if he does not spirit you from it when he fails,” she spat. “Until then, you cannot stand there and judge me. You have no idea.”
“I have more idea than you can imag
ine,” I retorted.
I immediately pulled back when her face twisted in wrath.
And pain.
“I had a love,” she bit out. “A gentle man who was gentle to me and he loved me.” She leaned my way so threateningly, Cassius moved partially in front of me. “Loved me,” she hissed. “But then, I caught the eye of the king.”
Oh no.
“He petitioned, my Coram did,” she went on angrily. “He petitioned the king to release me so he could have my hand. There is one thing I’m sure you know, my Princess Regent. You know what the king’s answer was to that.”
“Horatia,” I whispered, stunned at hearing this news and hating the hearing of it.
“And my king,” she threw her hands to the sides and continued to glare at me, “oh, how delighted he was with his new acquisition. Yes, he was.” Her expression became a sneer. “He simply could not get enough of me.”
I felt cold overtake me.
“So yes, absolutely, when Cornelia came along, I saw an opportunity,” she shared. “And yes, when she was there, I knew I would finally have some relief. So yes, absolutely yes, my Princess Regent, I contrived to offer her up. I contrived so he would turn to her and not to me. I schemed to keep her his favorite and bow her to my whim, for I had few whims available to me. And when Domitia arrived, I did the same. And I’d do it again. Make no mistake, I feel no remorse. I’d do it again and again and again.”
“You were correct,” I said carefully. “I do not understand your world.”
“You still judge,” she retorted snidely.
“I don’t,” I said softly.
It was as if she didn’t hear me when she carried on, “Living in your homes in the trees, free from tyranny. You have no idea how it feels to wake in the morning every morning and know there is no goodness to be had that day, as there was none the day before, and there will be none the day after, and yet you wake, but you wish you did not.”
I decided, belatedly, to stop speaking.
Though I did it knowing my heart was bleeding.
“Will you speak to his treatment of you and the others?” Cassius asked, his voice reserved.
“No, I will not,” she returned.
“It is not on deaf ears your words have fallen,” Cassius told her. “But you will face tribunal yourself, Horatia, if you do not agree. In what you have shared, I hope you understand that all who aid this kind of behavior must learn not to do as such.” Cassius warned. “I lament that was the life you led. But I can do naught about the past. Only your future. And your future includes a long time in this room, Horatia, if you do not agree to speak to his treatment of his wives.”
The Dawn of the End (The Rising Book 3) Page 27