Before Lynia could process that thought, Lial pulled back. The haunting blue of his eyes sucked her in, though she couldn’t begin to untangle the emotions surging within. Then he backed up another step and ran his hand through his fall of auburn hair, the motion breaking their shared gaze. That didn’t help her find the path—apparently, she couldn’t untangle her own feelings any better than she could his.
Lynia expected him to apologize; despite his gruffness, he wasn’t rude when it mattered. But he rarely lied, either, so she wasn’t entirely surprised when he spoke. “I should not have done that, but I cannot claim regret. I hope I didn’t cause you distress.”
“You would have known instantly if I had been unwilling, if that’s what concerns you.” Lynia twined her fingers together to stop their trembling. “Although I have to admit to confusion since you claimed to be leaving Braelyn to avoid such a possibility.”
His nostrils flared. “That was a perfect example of why I must leave. I didn’t have a plan, Lyni. My heart called, and I listened. It grows increasingly difficult to resist doing so.”
For two decades, Lynia had feared that she would never enjoy another kiss, any future moment ruined by comparisons with Telien, but she’d been wrong. She hadn’t thought about anyone but Lial when his lips had been on hers. Still, that was a long way from a relationship.
“I’m not certain how to move on,” Lynia tried to explain. “From Telien, that is. Most of the time, I don’t feel so raw, but then it hits and… I don’t know how to explain.”
“I comprehend this more than you realize.” Lial stared absently at the books on the table. “More than anyone realizes.”
Before Lynia could ask what he meant, Lial spun away and strode toward the door. “Wait!” she called.
He paused, half-turning to meet her gaze. “Yes?”
“I…” There was so much she could say, but none of the questions roaring in her mind felt right. Not without inviting further intimacy. “The books. The ones I handed you earlier. They’re medical texts written within the probable correct date range. I meant for you to take them with you.”
Lial blinked, but his expression was too closed to interpret as he returned to gather up the books he’d placed on the table. “Thank you.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Lynia sank into the nearest chair. He’d just hinted at a deep trauma—possibly even a broken bond—and she’d rattled off information about the research she’d found. Gods help her, but he always wrecked her equilibrium. Perhaps if this latest encounter hadn’t rattled her so deeply, she might have thought of a way to ask what he meant. Not that she should. It wouldn’t be right to question him about something like that while rejecting any chance at closeness.
Lynia drew in a shaky breath. She had a feeling sleep would be difficult to come by tonight.
Lyr settled deeper into his favorite seat by the window, one he’d taken to using when in the family room. His book sat forgotten in his lap, but he had a better source of amusement at the moment—Kai attempting to teach Arlyn to play the ehrehp. His daughter might be able to pull a bow string, but she hadn’t managed anything more than discordant groans from the stringed instrument.
“This is close enough to the harp that I shouldn’t be this bad,” Arlyn complained. “I could at least get a decent sound out of Mallory’s when she let me try.”
Kai smiled and lifted the ehrehp into his lap. “You’re plucking too harshly at the strings.”
Though Lyr’s friend-turned-bondson was no omree, he played a serviceable rendition of a popular tune. Arlyn scowled at Kai’s fingers so fiercely that Lyr couldn’t hold in the snort of laughter, which earned him a glare from his daughter. Ah, well. It might save the instrument—or Kai—from being incinerated by her gaze if nothing else.
“Shall I search for a music teacher, tieln?” Lyr asked.
She was in no way soothed by the fatherly endearment. “Don’t ‘beloved’ me when you’re over there laughing at this, and no, I don’t want lessons. The bards I met at the autumn festival were obnoxious. Ridiculously full of themselves, for the most part.”
Lyr grinned at the assessment, for she wasn’t wrong. Not that all of the omree were so difficult, but one in particular had been. “You mean Kerel Liere nai Ebaia? It’s only because she wanted to impress Ralan. Little did she know that severe formality is the worst way to do it.”
The door swung open. “You’ve got that right.”
It wasn’t fair, but Lyr couldn’t keep his smile from dropping as the man himself took the seat beside him. What was it now? Assassins? A punishing blizzard? An invasion force from another world? He struggled to keep his thoughts from his face, but Ralan’s upraised eyebrow told him he’d failed.
“I suspect I’m a happier man because of your strong mental shields,” Ralan said. “Relax. I’m not here to speak of doom. Though I suppose my gift does aid in scheming.”
Kai’s fingers went still with a jarring screech. “Scheming? Ah, hell.”
“In a good way.” Ralan flicked his hand toward Kai. “Leave if you want.”
Lyr relaxed at the mischievous glint in the prince’s eyes. This was not how Ralan acted when he was delivering a prophecy. “I assume this is an informal affair since you approached me here instead of my study.”
Ralan shrugged. “There’s a formal proposal involved, but we can worry about that later.”
Kai settled the ehrehp on its stand, but neither he nor Arlyn stood. It seemed they were curious to hear this, too. What had gotten into Ralan? First, he’d interfered with Lial and Lynia at dinner, and now this unusual interruption.
“Very well,” Lyr said. “On with it.”
“Despite what he may think, I like my cousin.” Ralan smirked. “Not that you should tell him I said so. Regardless, I have no desire to have him working at the new palace, and the outpost is not the best place for his particular skills. He would go mad from how quiet it is there, at least at the moment.”
Lyr grimaced at the blunt assessment, however accurate. “Without those two options, his choices will be far removed from here.”
“Thus my plan.” Ralan leaned forward. “One that isn’t entirely altruistic, I might add. Braelyn guards one of the main portals to the Veil and the new palace shields a direct gate to Earth not far away. It is time to consider constructing a healer’s enclave in case of trouble.”
Curious that Ralan should say so after Lial’s quip about being able to afford that very thing, but Lyr wasn’t going to ask if Ralan had gleaned the idea through the future strands. “Between Braelyn and the palace, you mean?”
“Yes.” The amusement drained from Ralan’s expression. “I knew one would probably be needed in several years for futures you don’t want to know about, but I have no certainty of the timing for those events as yet. There’s no reason we can’t go ahead and build it, though.”
“Wait.” Arlyn leaned forward. “What is a healer’s enclave?”
Ralan smiled. “You might consider it a kind of teaching hospital, except the healers live there. This wouldn’t be as large as the one at my father’s palace, but I think it would be a benefit to the area. I’ve been hoping I could get Lial to be the head healer of the enclave. Thanks to his stubbornness, the futures haven’t been favorable until now.”
Lyr’s heart pinched at the thought. “It is difficult to imagine Braelyn without him.”
“You wouldn’t be.” A satisfied gleam sparked in Ralan’s eyes. “Without him, that is. Being so close, he’ll never be able to resist butting in here, which will keep him in contact with Lynia. It’s an ideal situation. If he leads the enclave, Lial won’t be tending to a major estate by himself, so if he and Lynia do form a relationship, he won’t be stretched thin by work and family. If they don’t, he at least won’t be so stressed. Not that we could ever remove him from such stress without this kind of scheme.”
Arlyn frowned. “What part of all this is a scheme? It seems fairly straightforward to me.”<
br />
“The part where we don’t tell Lial,” Ralan replied. “I plan to stall for time when he asks me about a position at the palace, and I’ll see if Dria will do the same if he asks about the outpost. He already knows we can’t do anything until we see what happens with this mystery illness. If he and Lynia fail to stop it… Well, I choose to remain optimistic.”
Lyr couldn’t help but notice that Ralan didn’t look particularly optimistic. “Should I ask—”
“No,” Ralan interrupted. “I know you want to be prepared as Myern, but you don’t need any details for that. Trust me. In case of failure, be ready to set up quarantine areas like the one Lial used to help the energy-poisoned Neorans, and give Lial and Lynia what they need when they request it.”
At least one of Ralan’s motives for messing with Lial became clear—distraction. Lyr hadn’t seen the seer’s eyes so bleak since he’d had to confront his brother, Kien. In that moment, he knew without doubt that Ralan was correct. Lyr didn’t need to know the horrible possible futures that the prince foresaw.
“How do you sleep?” Arlyn murmured.
“There are nights when I don’t,” Ralan answered honestly. Despite his stark words, he smiled, even at a frowning Kai. “So. How about we try to ensure my stubborn cousin doesn’t lose his chance at happiness while we wait? I tried to recruit Cora, but she told me to mind my own business after my dinner interruption.”
Kai shook his head. “She’s probably right.”
Part of Lyr agreed. His mother and Lial were more than old enough to make up their own minds. At the same time, he understood all too well what was behind his mother’s reluctance. He’d felt the pain of losing a soulbond and then finding love again. Though he’d never completed the link with Arlyn’s mother, it was close enough.
More than anything, he wanted his mother to be happy.
“I will not lie if asked,” Lyr said. “But I see no harm in trying so long as there’s no coercion. The enclave is a good idea, and if Lial doesn’t want to lead it, we can always find someone else.”
Arlyn nodded. “You should have seen the way Lynia was staring at Lial right after he finished giving me a quick check up earlier, and yes, Kai, everything was fine. You know how Lial is.”
Ralan laughed, interrupting whatever Kai was about to say despite Arlyn’s reassurance. “We’ll plan a healer’s enclave and see what else we can manage.”
“Very well,” Lyr said.
Then Ralan stood, smirked again, and bid them farewell as quickly as he’d entered. Lyr stared after his friend even after the door had closed. Certainly an unusual conversation. “And I thought Arlyn’s attempts to play the ehrehp were…interesting.”
This time, his daughter chuckled. “Yeah, my notes weren’t as discordant as that. Ralan acting as a matchmaker while hoping to stop a plague… Who would have thought? You know there’s more to it than what he says, though.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Kai still frowned down at Arlyn. “Did Lial find anything—”
“Come on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can ask for all the details in our room. Even though the baby and I are fine. As I told you.”
Soon, Lyr was left alone with his circling thoughts, waiting to dump worry on his head once more. Though he wanted to lose himself in the latest tale by his favorite onraiee, he couldn’t focus on the book. He needed to begin planning, and not just for this new healer’s enclave. Ralan had said he would need isolation areas if his mother and Lial failed, but the time to prepare for that wouldn’t be after the failure.
The time to act was now.
Chapter 7
Only a couple of marks after Lial had managed to fall asleep, the unmistakable snap of ice pellets against his window woke him. He cracked one bleary eye open to check the water clock and scowled. Barely past dawn. The storm had hit earlier than anticipated, which meant no sleeping in for him. Once again, he would be working well before the morning meal arrived.
Lial untangled his legs from the twisted sheets and padded over to the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes along the way. The vision that greeted him was not pleasant. In the faint light of morning, wind whipped through the forest, shoving the few remaining leaves airborne to mingle with the driving rain of ice. The temperatures must have dropped more quickly than the weather mages had expected, which meant there would be a thick, solid coating of ice on everything.
Unfortunately, that translated to more injuries. Even the best-trained scouts sometimes slipped climbing trees coated with ice, especially when the ice was still too thin for spiked shoes and gloves to be effective. Not to mention the trainees. Quite a few of them came from other regions, sometimes areas without ice or snow at all. The first winter storm was always…an adjustment.
Lial chose a muddy brown tunic and pants from his wardrobe and shrugged into them at a healer’s speed. He’d ruined far too many clothes during his apprenticeship to waste time considering more than color, and he had a feeling he would need something that blended with both mud and blood. Slipping and sliding in the forest brought its fair share of both. In any case, he’d always found it more reassuring to the patient not to see their blood standing out in sharp relief on the healer’s clothing.
Before he descended the stairs, he gathered the notes he’d made during the deep marks of the night when he’d been unable to sleep. He hadn’t examined all of the books Lynia had given him, but he’d made a good start. He’d already written down some of his conclusions as well as a few additional resources the books had referenced.
If he hurried, he could slip into the library and leave his observations beside Lynia’s research for her to examine later while he was swamped with injuries to treat. He scribbled out a quick comment to that effect on the top of the first page, slipped the bundle into a waterproof envelope, and rushed out of the healer’s tower like the storm itself.
The path to the estate was already beginning to freeze over, so Lial slowed his steps once he left the grass. Hopefully, the mages had finished augmenting the protective spells on the cliff walls yesterday. The icy rain was falling fast enough to flood the stream, and the rocks had been weakened by the last storm. He had enough problems already—an avalanche was one more disaster than he wanted to deal with at the moment.
With luck, the weather’s ferocity would keep most inside, so Lial would only have to worry about the sonal out guarding the estate. Fortunately, he hadn’t received any urgent mental calls by the time he pushed through the entrance closest to the library. Lynia rarely worked before the morning meal, so he could complete the errand quickly and be back to his tower before he was needed.
Except for one miscalculation—these weren’t usual times, and Lynia wasn’t sticking to routine. Lial sensed her presence before he opened the door, and he cursed to himself as he entered the library. He didn’t have time for her to take him to task for kissing her, and the restless, heated marks he’d spent trying to sleep hadn’t given him the best disposition even without the storm. He wouldn’t be able to apologize regardless, for he still didn’t regret his actions.
Everything he loved might turn to ash, but at least he would know the taste of her lips.
Lynia glanced up from her book in surprise as he approached. “Lial.”
The sleepy rasp of her voice had him shoving down thoughts better left alone.
“I didn’t think you would be up yet.” His fingers tightened around the envelope until the paper crinkled its protest. “The ice arrived early, so I thought I would leave my notes for you to examine. If you need the books themselves, you have leave to retrieve them from my room while I’m working. I’ll be waist-deep in bruised arses and twisted ankles, most of which could be resolved with simple rest. I’ll be lucky if there’s nothing more dire.”
She chuckled softly. “That’s quite the mental image.”
“I suppose it is,” Lial said, a reluctant smile crossing his lips. Then he held out the envelope. “Here. I’ve added some references th
at might be worth pursuing, but I don’t know if we have them in our library. I’ll fit in what research I can amidst the chaos. I hope you realize I’m not trying to shirk our task.”
Lynia took the packet from his hands and set it aside without taking her gaze from his. “Caring for current injuries is important, too. Accidents don’t stop when we wish it.”
His fingers itched to trace along the frown marring her brow, but he didn’t dare go that far. He might have no remorse for the kiss, but he had no illusions about it, either. “Would that I could halt it all. But alas.”
“We should…” Her throat worked, her expression turning hesitant. “I suppose we should talk about earlier. What happened before you left.”
It was his turn to frown. “Before I left? Have you been here all night?”
“Yes, and no lectures,” Lynia said. “My back feels fine. I’m well. You’ll not annoy me out of discussing this.”
That hadn’t been his intention, but it would have been an admirable result. “For once, I wasn’t thinking about your back. It’s never good to drain your energy in a crisis, but you know that limit well enough. Better than Kai or Lyr, that’s for certain.”
“Or you.” She lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t refute her. No point in arguing when she was correct. “Now, about last night—”
“I told you I had no regret.” Lial straightened his spine. “I still don’t. I expect nothing beyond that moment.”
Lynia stood, her hands rubbing absently at her lower back as she stared at him. It took everything in him not to scan her with his magic and then to take away the ache she barely seemed to notice. But if he said anything about her injury now, he would be the one needing a healer.
“What were you hinting at when you said you understood?” she surprised him by asking. “About my struggle to move on, that is.”
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