A snapping twig caused her eardrums to pulse. Umbriel did not look down. She did not need to. Nicholai’s presence was easy to detect. Her heart warmed as she pictured him climbing the tree. An entertained smile stole over her face.
Nicholai was no climber. He tested each limb before chancing the risk of putting his full weight on it. Reddening leaves fell from their branches when he brushed up against them, floating to their deaths on the ground. His eyes widened as he nearly lost his footing, but a quick grab from his mechanical arm steadied him against the magnificent tree’s trunk.
“Heh,” Nicholai chuckled when he neared the Earth Mother, though he balanced on a limb several feet below her. “This is not as easy as I’m sure you made it look.”
Umbriel slid her hand over her lips to hide her amusement. She leaned over, fearing nothing, and peered down at him. “You’re doing quite well.”
“You know ...” Nicholai started, squinting his eyes as he looked up to locate another strong branch. He reached, seizing it, and pulled himself up farther, “ ...you don’t make it very easy to find you these days. Something on your mind?”
She watched him adjust, careful to be sure he found a comfortable standing position in the arms of the tree. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied with a soft smile. “Just ... reminiscing. About what Panagea used to be.”
“Oh?” Nicholai arched a brow, panting from the endeavor of climbing the giant tree. Steadying himself, he used one hand to wipe his forehead, the white material of his sleeves stained with sap from the ascent. “If it’s seclusion you seek, I could leave you to it. I was just ... you know ...”
Umbriel tilted her head. “Just, what?”
Nicholai stared at her. He grinned, reaching out with gentle fingers to remove a small twig that had gotten caught in her silver hair. “Just ... worried.”
Her stomach soared, though her face betrayed none of the storms inside her. “You’ve plenty to worry about without adding my well-being to the list, Nicholai.” Her expression molded into one of serenity. “I appreciate your concern, but I am all right.”
He stared at her, unconvinced. With the sun behind her, highlighting the edges of her frame, he felt the warmth of her tranquility fall over him. His heart quickened. It was subtle. It caught him off guard, as it always did. Nicholai laid a hand over his chest to steady it. “Then, perhaps you wouldn’t mind some company?”
Umbriel smiled. “I would not mind at all.”
“Thank the gods,” Nicholai retorted, a charming smirk crawling onto his face, “because I’m not so sure I can get down.”
Unable to contain her amusement, Umbriel laughed. She extended a hand. “Would you like some help getting into a more comfortable spot?”
“Well, it’ll sting my ego a little, but, yes,” he chuckled, accepting her hand.
She assisted, steadying him as he climbed to share the limb on which she sat. Umbriel scooted over, her legs dangling off the sides as Nicholai settled into position beside her. He kept a firm hand on the tree’s trunk for security, trying to summon a confident grin as he turned to her. “Promise you won’t spread it around that I can’t climb trees? I fear the public opinion of me is pretty divided already.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” she said, her pulse racing as his arm brushed against hers.
He smiled, gazing past her to take in the aerial view of his hometown. Nicholai witnessed much from his high position. He saw the whole of Nenada: the post, Rhirvin’s shop, countless markets and factories, Malcolm’s greenhouse ... all sights he became intimately familiar with in his twelve years as Southeastern’s Time Father.
When his eyes refocused on the woman who sat no more than a foot away from him, he paused. Nicholai had buried himself deeply in the resurrection of his peoples’ well-being over the last year. Until the moon replaced the sun in the sky, he battled to give them something better than their means allowed them. The war to bridge the gap in classes occupied his mind at all hours.
Staring at Umbriel now, though ... even with the promise of resistance on the horizon where Ganther was concerned ... he wondered if he’d been too consumed by his tasks. How did he miss the day those contemplative frown lines appeared between her brows? When was it that her calming aura harbored a detectable hint of wear?
Nicholai cleared his throat. She looked vulnerable. Unlike herself. His head tilted as he tried to find her eyes without falling from the tree. “Your secrets are safe with me, too, you know ... if you have any to tell, that is.”
Umbriel faced him. She smiled. The way the last remnants of sunlight caught the concern in his sapphire eyes melted her. “I ...” Her words died away, falling out of the tree with the rusty leaves. She did not wish to burden him. To add to his pile. But when she soaked in the genuine concern of his statement, Umbriel found herself unable to deny him. “I ... am, perhaps, a little worried.”
A brow arched on Nicholai’s face. Her words were so soft, he leaned closer to allow himself the benefit of hearing her better. “Can I ask why?”
Her lips pinched together as she surveyed his expression. When it became too difficult to look at him, Umbriel turned. “I fear I have put the past up on a pedestal, Nicholai. I thought I could return Panagea to the same greatness she boasted before. She was wounded, and through bitter, cruel means, the gods I wished to return have restored her to her former self, but ...” She gazed out at the houses below, watching as candle lights flickered in open windows and the lamplighters of Southeastern took to the streets. “I never stopped to consider that may not be what the people wanted.”
Nicholai blinked. “Well, I don’t think anybody wanted a mass genocide of the human race. But that was nobody’s fault, Umbriel.”
She tried to smile at his lighthearted banter but found herself unable. “When the world was full of legends ... full of magic ...” She inhaled, her chest puffing out before her as she gleaned into the past, “it brought such a comfort. There was a time when the unknown was a wonderful, enchanting experience. But the people of today have been conditioned to fear such things. The unknown. They want a world they understand. A world that makes sense. A world absent of gods and goddesses, of myths and legends. They want their world to act like a machine, predictable and steadfast.” Her words fell away from her and she raised a lone shoulder in a shrug. “I tried to turn them into something they’re not.”
The Southeastern Time Father studied her face. “You tried to give them something better. There’s certainly no shame in that.”
“No. You’re trying to give them something better. Education. Resources. Modern corrections to their current problems.” She shook her head. “I tried to give them nostalgia ... but if I’m the only one who carries the pleasant memories, how can I expect them to embrace it with me?” Umbriel shifted, looking back at Nicholai with a sad smile. “You were right. A year ago, outside the post, you told me the world had changed from what it was when I last walked here. I didn’t want to believe you. But you were right.”
The two sat together, up in the tree. Nicholai searched her face, trying to dig up words that formed some semblance of comfort. Umbriel had always been there to pull him from his darkest places. He could not leave her to the shadowed place she sat. “The world changes all the time, Umbriel. Every day, it moves closer to something completely different than it knew before.” He lifted an unsteady hand from the trunk, and while he feared losing his balance and stability, he rested it on her shoulder. “Could you imagine if any of us were the same as we were years ago? Me, freezing the lives of an entire division’s worth of people, because I was too terrified to face the reality that—that Lilac, was ...” He couldn’t say it. Nicholai sighed and shook his head. “I’m just saying ... it never hurts to revisit the past now and again ... but if we lived there all the time, we’d never take the opportunities we need to ensure a better future.”
Her eyes closed the moment the warmth of his palm pressed into her shoulder. Umbriel’s fingers dug into the r
ough bark of the tree limb beneath her, a slow smile sweeping over her lips. “When did you grow to be so wise, Nicholai?”
“Well,” he chuckled, sliding his hand off her shoulder, “I had a good teacher.”
Umbriel glanced at him, genuine in her contentment. In the presence of the common man, she found herself slipping from her enlightened state. Tumbling from the good graces of mental fortitude alarmed the Earth Mother, but she found much of her teachings embedded themselves into Nicholai’s spirit. She delighted in the small relief that brought her.
It took a moment for Nicholai to realize they had locked into extended eye contact. The stillness surrounding them only emphasized the situation, but the longer he stared at her, the more the environment faded away. His lips parted unconsciously as heat rose up through his veins. He thought he was going to say something, but his brain emptied itself of all thought.
It was the longest exchange they’d shared in some time. Nicholai kept busy enacting new changes for Southeastern. The man was drowning in political appearances and duties daily. But here he was now ... with her ...
Umbriel felt the familiar charge of electricity through her torso. The sentiment was nothing new for her. She had carried her feelings for Nicholai for almost several years now. For the first time, however, she dared to think she saw the same spark in Nicholai.
He realized suddenly how close she was. He could reach out at any moment, and with very little effort, her cheek could be in his palm. How would she respond, if he pulled her just a little closer ...?
Nicholai’s heart accelerated. He forcibly declared in his head, countless times over, that they were nothing more than companions, but the once loud mental shout sounded like more of a whisper in recent days. A euphoria existed when he looked at her. One he hadn’t experienced for a long time.
The connection grew more tangible the longer the pair lingered in their positions. Umbriel’s eyes fell shamelessly to his lips and hers parted a fraction of an inch. For two years, she’d loved him in silence. He was married to his grief and she understood the sense in that. But Umbriel could not stop her hand from edging closer to his until her fingertips touched his skin.
It was so subtle. So soft. Yet, her contact suddenly electrified him. Nicholai was not naïve to Umbriel’s allure. Her kindness, her intelligence, her undeniable physical beauty. He found himself leaning forward. She was close enough that he felt the heat of her breath on him. His body flooded with a torrent of longing that pushed him closer, and closer still ...
Then, when he hovered several inches from the waiting warmth of her lips, the longing turned to guilt.
It hit harder than it had any moment prior. It nearly made him wince. Remorse attacked him, and the Time Father drew his head away with a start. His eyes darted as he reached back to find a branch to hold onto.
He found none.
With a panicked jolt, he almost fell back. Umbriel reached out and seized his vest, pulling him back toward her. His palms flew in front and grabbed onto the stability of the limb supporting them. When Nicholai looked up, he found himself nose to nose with Umbriel once more.
He stared at her, unable to do anything more than blink. Umbriel stared back, catching the flashes of guilt hiding between short bursts of yearning. For each second of lust he allowed himself to feel, more guilt poured in. The Earth Mother eased her grip on his vest. Though her body and soul wished to taste the Time Father’s touch, she could not allow him to do anything he might regret. Lilac’s ghost paralyzed his heart. Umbriel forced a small smile, hoping to banish any lingering feelings of inelegance Nicholai clung to. “I’m sure you have another busy day tomorrow,” she said, offering him a lifeline to exit their awkward situation with grace. “Would you like to go home?”
His chest sank into a hollow emptiness. Nicholai bit his tongue. He had stumbled too far into his consciousness to allow himself to delight in the touch of another woman. Though two years had passed since Lilac’s death, he still felt her. It made it difficult to move on. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. With a still-thundering heart, he nodded, finding sense in her statement. “Yes, I ... I suppose we should go home.”
Chapter Twelve
Home. He was finally here.
Events in Odelusk went as well as Bartholomew could have hoped. The message he carried with him spread, for better or worse. His efforts invited resistance in certain social circles, but it was to be expected. The subject matter was not one most residents of Panagea met with glee. That he managed to return home without enduring any violent retaliation from Odelusk’s people was a reward that made him breathe easier.
Seacaster welcomed him back without extravagant celebration. Bartholomew’s shoulders relaxed at the knowledge. With luck, the citizens' lack of regard was an indication they didn’t even realize he’d been absent.
Though surrounded by exquisite footwear donated by local shoemakers, his soles ached. Every muscle fiber that ran through his legs and thighs pulsed with an unrelenting desire to sit. His body begged him. Pleaded. But as Bartholomew climbed each step leading to the front doors of his superfluous mansion, he ignored the requests that stemmed from his flesh.
He could not rest. There was simply too much to do. While he was grateful to have spread his efforts well beyond Seacaster, he hoped his long absence did not dwindle the peoples’ enthusiasm in his home town. He put too much effort in to let it fall to the wayside here.
The scholar’s hand lingered on the door’s handle for longer than it should have. Bartholomew inhaled through his nose, slow to fill his lungs before he convinced his weak arms to open the door. The sun fell from the top of its pedestal behind him. It caused his shadow to spill over the smooth floor of his home’s interior. Almost time for the lamplighters to hit Seacaster’s streets and bring light to a darkening city.
Almost time to lead the evening assembly, as well.
A smile slid onto his face as he walked farther inside. The place was immaculate. It was the home’s spotlessness that allowed him to feel Kal’s presence even before he saw him.
The sound of hurried feet descending the staircase to his right caused Bartholomew to turn. He spied his ambassador, stunning in his pressed suit. Joy overpowered the look of fatigue Kal Rovanas wore on his face as he jumped from the last step. After crossing the floor, his arms wrapped around Bartholomew without delay, pulling the scholar into a tight embrace.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Kal said into Bartholomew’s ear before he pulled back to admire his face. “How did things go in Odelusk?”
Bartholomew’s eyes softened as he examined Kal. His heart swelled into his throat at the sight of the man. Weariness hung from his ambassador. Rings of darkness circled the eye sockets of Kal’s otherwise immaculate skin. Aside from the yawn Bartholomew caught him suppressing, his body language seemed muted. The margin in which Kal allowed these visible signs of fatigue to show was small. It made the Time Father smile. “Some were receptive to the message. I’d guess about half,” he replied, continuing to survey the man he adored, as he held his hands around his forearms. “Pardon my saying so, but you look exhausted, Kal.”
An amused laugh fell from the ambassador’s mouth as he nodded his agreement. “I’m sure I look a sight,” he said, straightening his spine and adjusting his tie. “I’ve taken to running the evening assemblies in Seacaster during your absence. And the morning assemblies. I didn’t want the enthusiasm to slip. I’ve also been overseeing the shipment of the copper ...” He paused, a small frown falling over him. “ ...which encountered some bumps along the way as far as timely deliveries were concerned. Certain train lines under construction and all that. But I rerouted it, and it should arrive in several days.”
Bartholomew blinked, beaming at Kal’s confession. He parted his lips to speak but found an absence of words in his typically overflowing vocabulary. A euphoria invaded him as he slid his hands down Kal’s arms and weaved their fingers together. “You really didn’t need to do all t
hat for me.”
Kal grinned. Charm fell from the man in waves as he kept his gaze on Bartholomew. “I would do it all again and more.”
His smile was infectious. The Southern Time Father felt his lethargy from the long journey home melt away under the warmth of Kal’s affection. “I don’t know that I deserve you.”
“You deserve all that I am,” Kal retorted, bringing a hand to the side of Bartholomew’s face. “And I will give you nothing less.”
The scholar leaned into his touch, a smile ever-present. Kal had an alluring way of inoculating him with the giddiness only felt by naïve lovers. Bartholomew hadn’t touched that feeling since he was a young man, barely seventeen years of age, when he experienced his first kiss. Before he forced himself to return to productivity, he inhaled, drawing in the scent of the cologne Kal dabbed onto his wrists each morning. “And where are you going?” he asked, reaching out to sweep the shoulders of Kal’s suit, “looking as sharp as you do?”
Kal’s grin broadened. A look of pride mixed in with it, as he stood taller, striking a playful, commanding pose. “The evening assembly begins soon. I like to arrive early to invigorate the crowd.”
“Crowd?” Bartholomew arched a surprised brow.
“Oh, yes,” Kal radiated, a clenched fist over his heart as if its placement contained his excitement. “The movement has only grown in your absence.”
The scholar’s eyes widened. There had been a few hundred who gathered at the assemblies before he left. It took a year to grow such an audience. “By how much?” he asked, unable to stifle his curiosity.
A sly smile split into the sides of Kal’s cheeks. He grabbed Bartholomew by the shoulders and leaned forward. “You laid a wonderful foundation for me to build on in your short absence. Things must have grown by a hundred people or more since you left.”
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 101