“I don’t want anyone at my feet.”
“That’s where they went wrong.” He kissed me, a sweet brush of his lips. “We don’t have to decide now. I don’t mind waiting.”
“You never have minded that.” I smiled at him, heart bursting with love. “But I’ve had a little too much of it myself.”
“What about the line of succession?”
“Ami’s covered that twice over. And—” I took a deep breath, let it go. “I’m tired of making decisions based on the throne. I want you, all of you. Your child, too, should we be so blessed.”
“Essla,” he whispered, eyes full of deep emotion, saying my name with that reverence that undid me. “Are you sure?”
“Who knows what tomorrow may bring?” I answered.
“My love.” He kissed me long and deep and shifted back between my thighs. I lifted my hips and he sheathed himself in me, flesh to flesh, and we cried out as one at the sensation of joining. His big body contracted and shuddered, and he dropped his forehead against mine, breathing like a man fighting off a dozen attackers. “I’m not sure I can wait.”
“Don’t wait.” I clenched my muscles around him and his hips flexed in reflexive response. His hand next to my head fisted, his body strained, and he broke. Losing all control, he pumped in and out of me, hard, fast, with such intensity that the wave broke over me, sending me into another climax, pummeled nearly insensible by the glorious strength and beauty of my mercenary.
We drifted awhile. Both unable to move. Lying in the dappled shade, our bodies slicked together. Barely able to draw breath under his weight, I nevertheless reveled in it, in the sensation of all his hot male skin touching me everywhere, inside and out.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into the side of my throat. “I’m crushing you,” he murmured, but he didn’t move more than that.
“I like it.”
He laughed. “Only you.” Levering himself up onto an elbow, still joined to me, he studied my face. “Regrets?”
“Not a one. Except that we can’t do it again.”
“Can’t we?” He smiled, lips curving with smug, so-masculine pride, and moved inside me.
I gasped, my heart shuddering into life, the deep pleasure radiating out. He moved in me slowly this time, almost lazily, watching my face, changing the angle of his thrusts until he found the one that sent me into that helpless state of desire. Beyond worrying about it now, I clung to him, giving myself over to it and to him, until my vision blurred and I fell over the edge yet again.
Andi and Ami were waiting for me when we returned, the same determined look on both their faces.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered to Harlan.
“Maybe one day you’ll listen to me,” he replied under his breath. Then, louder: “I’ll get the horses ready. Shall I carry one of the babies, Princess Amelia?”
“Thank you. I finished knitting another carryall for Stella, so now we have one for each.”
“Since when do you knit that well?”
Ami widened her pretty violet eyes and fluttered her lashes, but the look in them had an edge. “I have acquired many new skills. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Neither of us is,” Andi inserted. “And the three of us are going to talk.”
I scowled at Harlan, a short distance away, the sense of well-being curdling in my gut. “What did the mercenary tell you?”
“What should he have told us?” Andi countered. “You keep your own counsel well, Ursula, but it’s time to share some of the burden. I have an idea what you think you were protecting us from.”
“What?” Ami demanded. “Nobody ever tells me anything.”
I folded my arms, daring Andi, who nodded, storm-cloud eyes darkening. “Uorsin brutalized her before all of court.”
“One blow doesn’t count as—”
“One that broke your nose and cracked your skull. But it wasn’t just once, was it? I’ve been thinking back over the years, all those times that you sported breaks and bruises. From training, you always claimed,” Andi continued.
“Uorsin?” Ami breathed his name, pure distress on her face. “Our father hurt you all those times?”
“Not all those times, no,” I snapped. I made myself meet Andi’s accusing stare. “Many of them were from opponents. That’s how you learn. That’s how you—”
“Grow strong,” Andi finished. “Learn to get back up. I remember him saying that to you all the time. What else?”
“There is nothing else. Is the interrogation over yet?”
“Not by a long shot,” Andi replied evenly, looking through me in her witchy way. “What else?”
“Isn’t that bad enough?” Ami protested, knotting her fingers together. “He never once struck me. As much as he raged and blustered, I never thought he would.”
“He wouldn’t have—because she made sure of it. Isn’t that right, Ursula?”
I stared her down, not answering. Not sure how to answer or to escape this line of questioning intact. The sun beat down, too hot, and sweat ran an icy trail down my spine.
“What else did he do to you?” Andi repeated the insistent question.
“What are you saying, Andi?” Ami had paled.
“Think about it. You heard some of the snide innuendos as well as I did.”
“That was just talk. No one really thought any of it was true.”
“Maybe we just didn’t want it to be true. Did he try to force you down that path?”
“Oh, Glorianna.” Ami’s face crumpled. “He didn’t.”
I couldn’t stand the expressions on their faces, the horror and pity. Dropping my head, I tried to breathe smoothly and opened my mouth to refute it, to tell them it wasn’t true. Or that it was, but that it hadn’t been the awful thing everyone seemed to think.
I couldn’t. Instead I looked at my bare feet, long and brown against the white sand, realizing the drops of water falling onto and around them were tears.
“I can’t talk about this,” I finally got out.
Ami put a slender arm around my waist, leaning into me, though I still had my arms tightly folded. She smelled of sunshine, roses, and baby milk. “You don’t have to, Essla.”
Andi slid in on the other side, embracing both of us, the toes of her riding boots shiny and new compared to Ami’s scuffed ones. “The last time we stood like this,” she said, “the last time before this that we all three were together, was right before I left Ordnung. You had blood on your boots and we said good-bye.”
“I remember,” I managed.
“You could have told us. You should have told us.”
“I didn’t want you to know. Couldn’t bear for anyone to know. I couldn’t stand for you two to be hurt or to think I wouldn’t be strong enough to protect you.”
Ami snorted in a most unmusical, unladylike way. “Says the most heroic woman alive.”
“What I want to know is,” Andi said slowly, “how can you not hate him?”
“Don’t you see? I couldn’t, or it would all be a lie. Everything I believed in and worked for. That our mother sacrificed.”
“I don’t think they’re the same thing, Essla,” Ami whispered.
“I know. I make no sense, even to myself. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.”
“I can understand that,” Andi said. “What I don’t understand is why you’d even consider turning more children over to him.”
“I wouldn’t.” I wiped my cheeks. “You never gave me a chance to answer, but I won’t ask either of you to go back to Ordnung. Would never force you.”
“But you’re going,” Ami said into the silence that fell.
“I have to. I can’t abandon our people. It’s my path.”
“That’s what we thought,” Andi answered.
“Which is why we’re going with you,” Ami added.
Surprised, I looked at them. No longer girls, indeed, but women. Queens in their own right.
“Don’t argue.” Andi lightly r
apped her knuckles against my temple. “And don’t be hardheaded. We’ll go together and set things to rights. Ordnung and the Twelve are as much our responsibility as yours. We’re meant to work together—see how the Star blazes?”
“I don’t know why it does now when it never did before.” I rubbed my thumb over the topaz, so hot it nearly burned.
“Because we’ve changed—we’re not who we were that day I fled Ordnung,” Andi said.
“I haven’t changed. A great deal has happened to you two, but I’m the same person I’ve always been.”
Ami laughed, that pure, sweet, delighted bell of a laugh that had been immortalized in more than one song, and Andi rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“Ursula.” Andi shook her head slowly, as if trying to order her thoughts. “You’re totally different. The sister I left behind never would have let me badger her into sharing her secret pain.”
“Or fall silly in love with a foreign mercenary,” Ami added with a sly smile.
“I’m not silly about it.”
“You get this kind of goofy smile on your face,” Andi said. “It’s sweet.”
“And you get all melty looking when he touches you.” Ami tugged a lock of my hair. “It’s nice to see. Especially . . . well, knowing now why you held yourself back from being courted.”
“Does Harlan know?” Andi asked pointedly.
“Yes, he does.” Ami nodded speculatively. “That’s what you were talking about when you were delirious from blood loss, why he says he’ll kill Uorsin if you don’t.”
“And you said, ‘Good’—I haven’t forgotten,” I answered her.
“Did you?” Andi cocked her head at Ami. “I know why I want him gone from the world—even before I knew this—but I thought you still held him in high regard.”
Ami shrugged. “Glorianna wills it. And don’t roll your eyes at me. You either, Ursula. Not until you spend time praying to Moranu and Danu about it. See what they say.”
“The goddesses don’t talk to us,” I teased her, enjoying the spark of indignation in her eyes, of feeling somewhat on level ground again.
“Yes, they do,” she replied primly. “You just don’t listen.”
Because Ami was looking at me, Andi took the opportunity to roll her eyes again, then pasted on an attentive smile when Ami snapped her head around to glare. “Fine. Laugh, both of you. You’ll see.”
Andi reached out and took my hand, squeezed it. “Are we good?”
“Yes.” I took Ami’s hand, too, and we all linked up. A memory came back, unbidden, of the three of us when I turned sixteen, all decked out in our party dresses, standing in a circle like this and promising to all live together in Ordnung forever. A good memory, full of more youthful naïveté than I remembered having. “We’re good.”
38
The Tala celebrated our return in grand style, something that seemed to surprise both Rayfe and Andi.
Perhaps Zynda had the right of it—that many had waited on the outcome of that particular power struggle, uncertain who would survive to lead, where their loyalties should lie. Now they turned out in jubilant numbers, cheering on Rayfe and Andi as if they’d won a tournament. Which, I supposed, they had in a way.
Never mind that members of this particular community had a tendency to spontaneously shift into some cavorting animal or another to express their joy. Or that one of the trainers created a dazzling array of staymachs that circled in the air, shifting in rainbows of color, rippling through various patterns that exploded in ever-growing circles.
Dafne met us at the palace—as the Common-Tongue-speaking Tala persisted in referring to Rayfe and Andi’s home, either through misunderstanding of the word or to impress their foreign visitors with its importance—dressed in Tala fashion and looking radiantly happy to see us. She practically tore Stella away from Ash, weeping freely over the girl’s dark curls.
She glanced up at me, cinnamon brown eyes glistening, and nodded a little, making me think she recalled that stormy night we’d buried what we’d thought was Stella’s dead body. A dark moment that neither of us expected to lead to this one.
We all bathed and changed into festive Tala outfits, whiling away the afternoon and evening on a balcony just above street level in front of the palace. It allowed us to sit in the sun, drink wine, and nibble on the various sweet and savory offerings brought by the unending parade of people and animals who strolled past. Some played music, told stories—the latter largely lost on most of us, though Dafne could already translate a surprising amount of the gist—or presented Rayfe and Andi with lovely bits of art and jewelry. Many, Zynda explained, sought to remind Andi of various family still stranded outside the barrier, and the gifts were bestowed in hope of encouraging her assistance.
“It’s good to see the three of you together again,” Dafne commented, as Ami, Andi, and I laughed at some joke. “I hear they plan to return to Ordnung with you.”
“And you, librarian? Do you plan to return with us or stay here?”
She seemed vaguely surprised. “I assumed I’d go with you. Had you another plan?”
“I think the reasons for getting you out of Ordnung still apply to keeping you out of it. You’re safer here.”
“But not most useful.”
“I don’t know that’s true. Having you learn the Tala language and study the texts here could be most useful in the long run. No matter who inherits the High Throne, he or she would benefit from your knowledge. And it might be best to let the dust settle until that time.” I felt that, at least with Dafne, I did not need to spell out all that might occur. “Astar and Stella will remain here for the time being,” I added. “Until we have things stabilized and the Twelve at real peace again. I’d like to appoint you regent for them, should it come to that.”
She choked on her wine, Ash leaning forward to helpfully thump her back, while Ami looked amused. Dafne threw her a look. “You knew about this plan?”
“We discussed it, yes. You’re the logical choice,” Ami replied.
“I’m a refugee orphan with no relation to the royal family,” Dafne protested. “No noble blood that’s officially recognized any longer. I can’t be regent.”
“The High King himself was once upon a time an upstart sailor and soldier from Elcinea. These things can be overcome,” I pointed out. “And you’ve served as companion and faithful friend to all three of us. You offered to serve as my councilor. You’re practically a half-sister. Who better to be regent? If somehow all three of us don’t survive this—”
“Which doesn’t bear considering,” Rayfe growled, though Andi put a soothing hand on him.
“It’s better to cover contingencies,” Ash said. “Pretending disaster can’t occur only invites the worst.”
“And to have backup plans to the backup plans,” Harlan agreed, as unshakable as ever.
“How would I possibly enforce it?” Dafne demanded. “I’m no warrior. I’d have no legal claim.”
“Leave the legal claim to me,” I told her. “I’ll see that it’s drawn up properly and distributed to the Twelve. Political order must be served, first and foremost. I care not if the High Throne moves to Avonlidgh”—I nodded to Ami—“but I won’t see Erich or the others tear peace apart in their quest for power. As for assistance, you’ll have the Tala at your back, which is not inconsiderable.”
“My service would be yours, by extension.” Harlan gave her a grave half bow from his chair, before settling his hand on my back again.
“And mine.” Ash raised a crooked eyebrow at Rayfe, who still brooded. “Come, now, King Rayfe. Surely even you see that it’s meet Salena’s grandchildren should hold the throne she sacrificed so much to secure.”
Rayfe’s midnight blue eyes glittered and he shook his head. “I care nothing for the Twelve. If I thought it would work, I’d lock my queen up and prevent her from going.”
“But you won’t”—Andi glared at him—“as we’ve been through this.”
; “Annfwn needs you.”
“So do my sisters. And Annfwn has Stella. Don’t fight me on this, Rayfe.”
“No.” He sighed heavily, wound a lock of her hair around his fingers, and pulled her in for a kiss that heated rapidly, until he broke it abruptly. “I won’t. Though you owe me.”
She smiled, lazy and feline with it, and tugged him to his feet. “I’d better start on that debt, then.”
“Best to live in the moment,” Ami agreed, giving Ash a questioning glance and blushing prettily at whatever she saw in his eyes.
“I’ll look in on the babies,” Dafne muttered. “Sounds like I might as well get used to it.”
“You don’t have to take the job.” I cocked my head, studying her face. “It would be a great responsibility and not one you’re required to shoulder. You could go enjoy your life for a change. Travel. See the Twelve and beyond.”
“You’re not required to shoulder yours either.” Dafne raised her brows at me. “None of you are.”
“That’s not true. Ami and Andi arguably don’t have to go back, but it’s long been my duty to see that the High Throne is secure. If not for the sake of the peace and prosperity of the Twelve, then as part of a sacred legacy from my mother.”
Her bland look told me she’d noted that I’d omitted duty to Uorsin but that she would not comment there. She’d make an excellent councilor and an even better regent. “Do you ever think it’s unfair—to saddle Astar and Stella with this onus, just as your parents did to you?”
“I think that not much of what we face in life is fair. I used to think of it that way sometimes, that Salena’s scheming had forced us down particular paths. Now I think it’s more that she trusted us to see through what she could not. Faith in the daughters she invested everything in. A different kind of loyalty.” I smiled over my shoulder at Harlan. “Perhaps that my sons and daughters will also want to carry forward.”
Harlan leaned forward and placed a kiss on my bare shoulder, where the filmy Tala gown fell away, kindling fire in my blood. Dafne looked thoughtful. Seemed about to say something and tucked it away.
The Twelve Kingdoms Page 37