Paths of Alir (A Pattern of Shadow & Light Book 3)

by Melissa McPhail

Tanis cast her the quirk of a grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness.”

  “Will you spend the day with me?”

  The moment the invitation left her lips, Nadia looked as startled as Tanis felt. He blinked as he held her gaze…but then he smiled. Why not? He had nowhere he had to be, and somewhere he very much did not want to be, and it certainly provided an indisputable excuse for denying N’abranaacht’s expected summons.

  Tanis stood and gave a little bow. “It would be my pleasure, princess.”

  She eyed him quietly. After a moment, he felt her mental presence open to him, a clear—and surprising—invitation. He replied in kind, not merely to be polite but because he wanted to.

  He’d known so few truthreaders, and none of them female save for what memories he had of his mother. He found Nadia’s mental presence alluring, and every time she smiled he felt an odd sense of pride. As his eyes explored her face, observing the curve of her lips beneath her veil, he chastised himself for the thoughts that came into his head.

  These he very much kept to himself.

  Nadia stood and motioned to the path. “Shall we?”

  He came to her side. It surprised him to realize he stood taller than her. “And where would you go, Your Highness?”

  “I think you should call me Nadia.” Her colorless eyes found his and shied demurely away again as they started off together.

  Tanis wasn’t sure how to interpret the meaning in her gaze. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, princess.”

  She laughed. “You’ll share the intimacy of my mind but not speak my name? We’re practically holding hands, Lord Adonnai.”

  Tanis glanced uncertainly at her. “I’m no lord.”

  “My father says the zanthyr named you heir to those lands. That makes you a peer of the imperial court.”

  She’d spoken so nonchalantly, yet the words hit Tanis like the bolts of a crossbow, each one right into his chest. He couldn’t help wondering who the High Lord thought owned those lands. “Fine,” he managed, looking away with a swallow. “I’ll call you Nadia if you promise never to call me…that… again.”

  As they rounded the fountain, the Praetorians clanged to immediate attention, heels snapping and vambraces clapping across their chests with smart precision. Tanis eyed them nervously.

  Nadia noted his reaction and placed a hand on his arm. “They would as soon harm my own person. You’re under the High Lord’s protection, remember?”

  The Praetorians surrounded them as they ascended the steps—to the immediate hum of gossip from the crowd of onlookers. Tanis thought he recognized some of the faces as having been standing there as he’d entered the garden, and he marveled with some asperity that so many people had nowhere else to be. Fortunately, there seemed to be few frites among the assembly, which meant they had at least a few minutes before the entire campus knew the Princess Nadia had invited him to walk with her.

  On the bright side, N’abranaacht would likely find out the same way.

  “I thought we might tour the Grand Passáge before luncheon,” she told him brightly. “I got the idea you’d never received a formal tour. You did say you’d put yourself at my disposal to discuss art at any time.”

  Tanis gave her a look. “I’m not sure those were my exact words.”

  Her colorless eyes danced beneath her veil. “Close enough.”

  For all that walking with the imperial princess garnered an uncomfortable surfeit of attention, Nadia proved knowledgeable about the plethora of art adorning the Sormitáge halls, and she provided an intriguing explanation of the incredible paintings above them.

  Her tale of the Lord of the Forest and his love affair with the Lady of the Rivers, one of Agasan’s oldest and most enduring legends, reminded him of a Kandori story Farshideh had told him about Naiadithine, Goddess of Water, and her lover Napaealath, God of Stone. Tanis remembered hearing the story as a child and finding certain moments within the tale when Farshideh’s words seemed so clear, so perfectly right. Now he knew that experience as the resonance of truth. He found it wondrous that two diverse cultures could have such similar legends, and that the truth would chime so richly in both of them.

  They took luncheon together in the walled garden of one of the residences reserved for the imperial family, a five-minute walk from the main administrative complex. Tanis felt relieved to be somewhere without a thousand curious eyes watching and interpreting his every move, doubtless reading into each raised eyebrow, smile or scratch of the nose. Even the Praetorians left them alone, which Tanis found surprising. Highborn ladies in Dannym were never without a chaperone, and certainly not while in the company of a young man such as himself. Well…none except Her Grace.

  Nadia caught him wondering at their lack of a chaperone as they were sitting down to eat. The table was draped in fine linen and covered with mouth-watering delights, but Tanis stood staring at the departing line of servants wearing a faintly dismayed expression.

  Nadia laughed at him. “Just what do you think is going to happen, Tanis?” She swept her silk skirts beneath her and settled into her chair.

  He turned her a suspicious look, for he’d caught a hint of deviousness breezing through the part of their minds they now openly shared.

  “Something perhaps like…this?” and she drew back her veil. Crystalline eyes gazed at him, framed by dark lashes and eyebrows that angled upwards. Nadia had a fey look about her, reminiscent of Alorin’s most ancient races, those which the van Gelderan line was said to be descended from.

  Nadia settled an elbow on the table and rested her chin on the back of her hand, fingers draped delicately. “Tanis, I do believe you’re staring.”

  Abruptly he cleared his throat and took his seat. “Forgive me, princess.”

  “Very well, Lord Adonnai.”

  He glared at her, and she laughed. “Eat something, please.” She motioned to the plates of food. “I hear the menu at Chresten leaves much to be desired.”

  Tanis arched a brow. “How did you know I live at Chresten Hall?”

  She dismissed his suspicious tone. “Most Postulants do.”

  Tanis helped himself to several dishes and then sat back in his chair to look at her. She was still regarding him with chin on hand and a secretive little smile hinting on her lips. “Nadia,” he said, holding her gaze, “are you flirting with me?”

  Abruptly she straightened and the smile vanished, replaced by prim indifference. “Of course not.”

  Now it was his turn to smile at her, deliberately dubious.

  She helped herself to some fruit from a large platter. “What were your thoughts on what we saw in the Grand Passáge?” she asked coolly.

  “Ah…” Tanis took a bite of something on his plate, but his eyes remained on the princess. “So we’re swimming back to safer waters, then?”

  Her gaze flashed to his. “What were you expecting?”

  “We practically held hands the whole way here, Nadia. You’ve unveiled your face to me. I suppose I expected something…” he paused, pursed his lips in thought, “I don’t know…catastrophic.”

  Her eyes softened. “I see you’ve heard those rumors, then.”

  He shrugged indifferently.

  Nadia plucked a grape. “Some are inconvenient.” She placed the fruit in her mouth and chewed slowly. Then she looked up at him under her lashes, suddenly impish. “Some are expedient.”

  “I gather you know what they say about me, too.” Though he was quite enjoying her company, he’d not forgotten she’d sought him out for a reason, and he suspected it had nothing to do with what the High Lord may or may not have said about him.

  Her gaze clouded, and he knew he’d hit the mark. She looked away, and then her eyes flashed back to his, suddenly intent. “Are you a spy?”

  Tanis crossed his arms. “Are you a siren?”

  Nadia arched brows in surprise. Then she burst out laughing. When she’d recovered, she gave him a look of open affection. “Very well. So tell me, Lord Adonnai,
are you working for the High Lord in any capacity?”

  “No more than you are, princess.”

  She fell back against her chair and gazed wordlessly at him.

  Tanis leaned forward and rested forearms on the table, returning her gaze intently. After a moment, her mind brushed his again, a tentative advance. His smile broadened, and he let her take a deep draught of his thoughts in reply. Her eyes widened, but he felt her drinking in the energy of his mind all the same, and he watched appreciatively as her cheeks turned rosy and her eyes became soft.

  “Tanis,” she said almost breathlessly, “…are you flirting with me?”

  “Without question, Nadia.”

  She exhaled a little laugh and cast her gaze away, but her enduring smile belied her, and she didn’t withdraw from his mind. Soon her eyes sought his again. He felt her touch in a mental caress like the nudging of a purring cat, making him want to rub against her in return.

  “Perhaps we should stop,” she whispered, blushing furiously.

  “Perhaps we should.” He didn’t look away.

  If anything, her mental touch became stronger, a silent plea to listen not to her words but to the amazing and wonderful feelings crashing on the shores of his mind. He replied with a mental sigh of wondrous contentment.

  “By the Lady,” she whispered, her eyes glossy and skin flushed. “This is so…nice. I’ve never—”

  “Neither have I.”

  Tanis’s heart was thrumming in his chest, and the rush of blood through his veins was causing an acute ache in every part of him. He could barely imagine the sensation of kissing Nadia when just touching her mind felt so heady. Self control—and a wide table—kept him rooted to his seat. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he drew his mind back from hers and exhaled explosively.

  She gave a little sigh. The touch of her mind lingered longer, hovering at the edge of his. They were back to safely holding hands, but this time her mental fingers were well entwined with his own, and she seemed disinclined to let go. Which suited him fine.

  Nadia dropped her eyes back to her plate. From their sharing of thoughts, he knew she felt as he did, that food was not the sustenance they desired.

  After a lengthy silence in which they both eased their breath and recovered some semblance of decorous comportment, the princess murmured, “You seem so much older than your years.” She glanced up under her lashes again. Her cheeks maintained their rosy hue. Likewise her lips, which had become deliciously flushed. He wanted to kiss them. Dangerous thoughts.

  Tanis forced himself to eat something just to divert his attention from Nadia’s mouth. “The zanthyr says knowledge ages you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, furrowing her brow slightly, “but it’s not just that. You’re… well, you’re…” Her eyes swept him appreciatively, as if she couldn’t help herself, and then she cast a blushing smile off into the gardens.

  He frowned down at his body and tried to see himself through her eyes. His shoulders had broadened during his months of training with the zanthyr, and his chest and arms cut a muscular edge. Certainly he’d grown taller in recent months as well. He might be as tall as Prince Ean by now. He knew his jaw had become more defined, and he often saw angular shadows beneath his cheekbones when he looked in the mirror.

  He’d never wondered if girls thought of him as good-looking—flirting with girls fell somewhat low on his list of priorities—but he supposed they might. Nadia certainly seemed to, anyway, if told from the look in her eyes. It made him both a little uncomfortable and oddly proud at the same time.

  In this wise, the day passed blissfully. They finished their meal—surprisingly finding an appetite for food—and then strolled the grounds together, talking and sharing, laughing often. Nadia had a quick wit, and her strength of spirit reminded him fondly and with a touch of sadness of his Lady Alyneri.

  The princess shared stories of her upbringing and told him about her mother’s love affair with her Protector, who became the High Lord and her Consort when Valentina claimed the imperial throne; Tanis told her of his travels with Prince Ean and spoke at length about the zanthyr. But no matter how deep the secrets revealed, no words could approach the intimacy they shared through their gentle and constant touching of minds.

  When at last a Praetorian appeared, looking slightly embarrassed at the interruption, and told the princess it was time to return to the palace, Nadia exhaled a wistful sigh and nodded regretfully. Only then did Tanis realize the sun had fallen behind the trees and the day was almost done.

  Nadia turned back to him, and he felt the heat of her closeness. They’d stopped just inches apart, close enough that Tanis might have kissed her by simply leaning his head—and desperately wanted to, but he couldn’t presume. Everything within him was clenched tightly. The sensation thrilled him.

  She searched his gaze with her own, and he heard her sharing the thought with him, I don’t want to say goodbye.

  He smiled. Then don’t.

  She turned a desperate look toward the waiting Praetorian. I…must.

  Nadia… Even as his next thought occurred to him, Tanis knew the imprudence of it. It was daring, to be certain, and bold—very bold. Yet it was but a simple working and one that could be easily removed.

  Though he saw nothing but audacity in proposing it to her, he couldn’t help himself now that he’d thought of it. He let the idea unfold in his mind then, and as soon as it had fully blossomed to her understanding, Nadia’s eyes widened.

  “Really?” She retreated from the intimacy of their common mind to challenge his resolve. “Tanis…” her gaze searched his with wonder and surprise. “It’s such an intimate connection. You wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings…”

  I don’t want to hide from you. This simple truth yet held a profound significance to Tanis. Nadia made him bold. She brought out a side of himself he’d never known. He’d only just met her, yet she made him feel older, prouder, powerful in a way he hadn’t imagined. Protective even, like the zanthyr, and he…liked finding these traits in himself.

  Tanis daringly took up Nadia’s hand. After sharing so much from mind to mind, that simple physical contact felt electrifying. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, he let his smile become suggestive, enough that he saw her blush beneath it, and he placed into the shared space of their minds, It would be as we are now. I would be at your beck and call…just a thought away.

  She caught her breath. He sensed anticipation fluttering within her; butterflies of apprehension and excitement. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gazed up at him, her eyes so lovely framed by her dark lashes. But…are you certain?

  He rolled his eyes. “Have you not seduced me all afternoon?”

  “Me?” she gasped incredulously. Then she laughed, both in rejection and acceptance of this truth, her eyes dancing.

  “Come then.” He extended his hand towards her.

  She drew back. “You want me to do it?”

  “You’re the ringed truthreader here.”

  Nadia arched a brow. “Any fourth-strander wearing a Postulant’s ring should equally possess the skill to create a bond with another. You do it.”

  He gave her a look. “You want me to work a fourth-strand bonding pattern on you—the Empress’s heir.” Tanis grunted and shook his head. “I can only imagine what the High Lord would make of that. Do you want me beheaded?”

  She lifted her chin, and her eyes sparkled with challenge.

  His gaze darkened. Then he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her palm—already having formed his intent—and in a breath it was done.

  A bond was the lightest of patterns in the Binding classification. It forged a feather-light connection, like tacking two pieces of cloth together with honey; whereas bindings—such as what the zanthyr had done when he bound himself to Tanis—would be more akin to unthreading and re-weaving the two pieces as one.

  Bonds were simply forged and easily broken. The Empire used them readily among the Imperial Ad
eptus to assist in coordination among the ranks during battle, and Nadia had told Tanis that all of her Praetorians were bonded—so in a sense she’d put the idea into his head to begin with.

  Tanis felt the pattern settling like gossamer around their minds, wakening a unique awareness of her, an essence that was vitally and singularly Nadia. He sensed her now, and the feeling made him imagine them lying together beneath the sun bathed in the other’s closeness.

  Nadia’s lips spread in a slow smile. “My…that was expertly done.”

  Tanis tested their connection by thinking, Nothing less than perfection for you, princess.

  Her eyes glowed with pleasure, and her vibrant emotion rebounded back to him so readily that they both burst into laughter at the same moment.

  It had been expertly done, just as Tanis’s mother had taught him. If he’d added a few extra layers to the working that they might feel more of each other than most bonds allowed, it was only because he thought Nadia would’ve wanted to experience that deeper connection too.

  Nearby, the Praetorian cleared his throat.

  Nadia turned the soldier an apologetic smile and stepped back a discreet distance from Tanis, but her eyes continued their bright dance as the two of them turned and headed off.

  They parted ways in a piazza. Tanis stood by while Nadia departed, veiled once more, seeming an angelic apparition among her silver-plated protectors, a wisp of cloud surrounded by stars.

  One day that will be me at your side, he thought, forgetting she could hear him. Her laughter floated musically on the actual wind, heard by his naked ears, and he suppressed a grimace of embarrassment lest all the gossips watching them note it.

  Oh, it was very sweet, she returned, and he could tell she was still smiling.

  Tanis watched her go with a neutral gaze, but inside he felt warm and excited and outrageously thrilled. He couldn’t believe he was actually courting the heir to Agasan’s imperial throne. And though he imagined it would likely end badly, he felt surprisingly unrepentant and not the least bit afraid.

  Farewell, princess.

  Lord Adonnai, she returned with an adorably prim edge to her tone that was wonderful for the fact he could perceive it. Dare not stray too far. I may need to call upon you at a moment’s notice.