Solace

by Bethany Adams

  “My room it is, then.”

  She settled her hand against his chest to push herself to her feet, but Lial surprised her by standing, still holding her in his arms. He shifted her weight and started around Eradisel’s massive trunk, and for a moment, she was too surprised to protest. Then she shoved at his chest.

  “What are you doing?” Lynia demanded. “I can walk.”

  Lial gave a quick grin. “Taking care of you while you’ll let me. It’s a rarity.”

  Though she huffed, Lynia dropped her head to his shoulder and did as he wanted—she let him. Not because she was weak. Really, it was the opposite. For so long, she’d felt too fragile to get close, too worried she would shatter at the slightest kind touch. It was no small part of why she’d been so annoyed by his fretting after her injury.

  Lial carried her through the entryway and up the spiral stairs to the family’s private chambers, no doubt giving the guards a week’s worth of gossip in the process. Fortunately, the upstairs hallway was empty and the other doors closed. She would rather not deal with teasing at the moment, no matter how well-intentioned.

  Once he’d pushed through her bedroom door and closed it behind them, Lial lowered her to her feet. “Thank you,” he murmured.

  Lynia smiled. “I’m the one who should say that.”

  “It’s always my pleasure to carry you,” Lial said. “But in this case, I am uncertain how far.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t suggesting we come up here for that.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” His lips pursed in a curious blend of amusement and exasperation, Lial gestured toward the chair beside her bed. “You only have two chairs up here, and they aren’t close to one another.”

  “Oh.” Lynia hadn’t been embarrassed when he’d held her while she wept, but this moment more than made up for the lack. “Umm.”

  Chuckling, Lial tapped his finger against her chin. “You needn’t fear, Lyni. I’m too tired to tease you. Truthfully, I’d be too tired to make love to you if that had been your intent.”

  Her body went hot from his words, and this time, it wasn’t a blush. But his comment also had her really seeing him for the first time since he’d found her, and alarm shoved away her desire. Gods, he looked awful. Dark circles hollowed his eyes, his shoulders slumped, and if she weren’t mistaken, he wavered on his feet slightly.

  “I can’t believe you carried me up the stairs in this condition,” she snapped, her brows lowering. “You look less able to walk than I am.”

  Lial shrugged. “It was worth it.”

  She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on. We can talk on my bed, and then you can nap. Lyr promised to wake me before the mission, so you can rest until then, too.”

  “I’m not sure…” Lial pulled his hand free as they reached the bed. “I did not intend…”

  Lynia pushed at his cloak until it dropped to the floor with a thud. “Can’t you be near a woman without ravishing her?”

  He scowled. “Of course I can.”

  “Good,” Lynia said, smiling sweetly. “And I promise to guard your virtue.”

  “That’s not a fear,” he grumbled.

  Lynia couldn’t help it—she laughed. Despite it all, the vexation and affront on his face were beyond amusing. “Lial. If I ever decide to share my body with you, it won’t be at a time like this. I’m being practical. Besides, we both need solace, not sex.”

  He sat on the edge of her bed and tugged off his boots. “Those can go together. But not tonight.”

  She nodded. “Not tonight.”

  As soon as Lial had settled against the pillows, Lynia took a bracing breath and stretched out beside him. Her bravado hadn’t been entirely feigned, but she didn’t give voice to her nervousness, either. Not that she was afraid Lial would take advantage of her. It was more what she sensed was coming.

  Lynia tucked her head against his shoulder and draped her arm over his waist. “Why would you have fallen for me at my worst? I don’t understand it.”

  He remained silent for a moment. “At first, it was…affinity, perhaps. I have felt that pain.”

  She tilted her head up enough to look at him, but his gaze was fixed on the ceiling. “You’ve never mentioned being bonded.”

  “I doubt many would remember,” Lial said tightly. “I do not speak of it. I didn’t even realize Ralan knew until recently.”

  Lynia ran her hand soothingly along his waist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I’m not sure why, but I want to,” Lial replied, finally glancing at her. “Or perhaps I do know.”

  Swallowing hard, she rested her cheek against his chest once more. Was she ready to hear this? She’d once told him that their lack of sharing troubles made a relationship impossible. With his words, there would be one more obstacle to that removed. Could she let herself go wherever that led them?

  Love frees.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Lynia whispered.

  “Ready” wasn’t precisely apt, but it was the closest he was likely to get. In a way, his exhaustion helped, for it echoed the weight that always burdened him at the thought of his lost soulbond. But perhaps releasing the words aloud would free him, if only a little.

  “Her name was Aralee,” Lial began, closing his eyes. “We met at court when her parents brought her on her twentieth birthday. I was only nineteen myself.”

  Lynia’s hand stilled against his side. “So young.”

  “One thousand, four hundred and sixty-one years ago last spring.” He sighed. “These days, I can barely remember what she looked like. A flash of her smile or the glint of light on her dark hair. She deserves better, but time passes as it will.”

  Lial could practically feel Lynia’s curiosity, but she didn’t ask what happened. For that, he was grateful. It was difficult enough to pry each word from the vault of his heart. “Her family was from a distant branch far down the Rieren line. Barely nobility. The king is my mother’s uncle, so I’d grown up at court. I understood it far too well.”

  “Some there can be cruel,” Lynia said softly. “I did not enjoy my visits to court with Telien.”

  “Yes. But other nobles weren’t precisely the problem.” Lial curled his fingers in Lynia’s hair where it tangled against her back. “She and her family were there for months before Aralee and I bonded, but we did so in secret. See, Aralee had great potential as a sculptor. She’d already learned to imbue wards into her creations despite her lack of formal training. Her parents hoped to apprentice her to one of the king’s own artisans and from there raise the status of the whole family. At first, they were overjoyed to learn that Aralee and I were potential soulbonded. It was widely believed that I would become the primary palace healer after my training, and they saw that as yet another favorable connection at court.”

  “What about your family?” Lynia shifted against him. “If you ended up bonding in secret, I imagine they objected?”

  His lips curved into a self-deprecating smile. “Oh, yes. Not to Aralee herself. I was…not the best student. I did want to be a healer, but I wasn’t in any rush, being only nineteen. Despite the strength of my gift, my skills and knowledge were only average. It was my power and family connections alone that had many believing I would someday rise to primary healer. However, when Aralee arrived, my interest in studying lessened to nearly nothing. My parents urged me not to start the bonding process until Aralee and I had both completed our training.”

  “That isn’t uncommon,” Lynia pointed out. “Telien and I didn’t bond for a couple of years, and we were not so young.”

  “Yes, well, if you think I am difficult to dissuade now when I’m certain I’m right, imagine me with the brashness of youth.” The smile slipped from his face. “I wish I’d heeded my parents’ advice, but not because of my social status. It might have saved us much grief had we not been so hasty.”

  He felt Lynia’s gaze on him like a caress. “You don’t know that.”

  “Perhaps not for certain,
but I can imagine,” Lial said, meeting her eyes. “When Aralee’s parents learned that mine objected, they began to put a great deal of pressure on us both. They knew very well how precarious my position was. Born to the royal family, but not close enough for a chance to inherit the throne. I would either find a role at the palace or join one of the lower branches. Many of my cousins chose to renounce their royal titles and become part of the House they married or bonded into.”

  Lial paused as the remembered ache echoed through him. “I began to lean toward doing the latter. In spite of my parents’ hopes for me, I had no desire to be the palace healer. I lacked the patience for life at court. Aralee felt much the same about her own training. She wanted to find someone closer to her home to apprentice with, not suffer through court intrigue. So a few weeks after we’d bonded, she told her parents that she and I would return to their estate. Only…her father refused to allow me to join their House. I would have to remain at court or find some other House to take me in.”

  “Drec,” Lynia muttered.

  Lial released a bitter huff of laughter. “And you haven’t heard the worst of it. Her father told Aralee that my parents threatened to see me exiled if I refused to use my gift in service to the king. In fairness, I had my share of arguments with them, but neither my mother nor my father would have said such a thing. Aralee knew there’d been disagreements, so she believed the lie.”

  Silence fell heavy around them as he sought the strength to finish the tale. Nervously, he twisted a strand of Lynia’s hair around his finger, then let it unravel. He’d repeated the action three times before he felt her hand against his cheek.

  “You can stop here if you need to,” Lynia said.

  “Though I appreciate the kindness, you deserve to hear the rest.” Lial took a deep breath. He might as well begin—delaying the healing spell never cured the wound. “You’ve been to the palace, so you’re aware of how hard it is to find privacy. But there was a little grove I’d discovered a few years before. Our favorite spot. It had a tiny waterfall that shielded an entrance to one of the many cave systems in that part of the mountains. That’s where I found her.”

  Only once since that day had Lial forced himself to slip down the path to the grove. He’d sat beside the small pond beneath the waterfall and tried to imprint every happy memory he could into his mind. It hadn’t worked—after so long, it was all a blur of color and laughter.

  He couldn’t imagine ever going back.

  “What happened?” Lynia whispered.

  “Nothing good.” Lial’s hand fisted gently in Lynia’s hair, the strands grounding him amidst the pain. “She’d waited until I was training to confront her father about our relationship again. In fact, her pain drew me from a healing trance. I followed her only moments after, but it took time to discern exactly where she’d gone. When I reached the grove, she was half dead already.”

  That wretched discovery he couldn’t forget, no matter how much he tried.

  Lynia gasped. “Did her parents…?”

  “They didn’t kill her.” His jaw clenched. “At least not directly. Her father held firm to his lies, and her mother reinforced them. Aralee believed our bond would see me exiled unless I chose a miserable life at court, a place she hated, too. We’d heard that broken bonds were painful, but in her note, she said…She assumed I would recover rapidly and then escape the pressures of our families. Believing she brought me nothing but misery, she downed an entire vial of deonel she’d pilfered from one of the healers.”

  Lynia’s hair tugged from his grip as she lifted up to her elbow. “What? That herb is poisonous. Why would anyone make such a tincture? That certainly wasn’t in the book you use.”

  “For good reason,” he snapped, only to wince. “Sorry, Lyni. It isn’t your fault. I did exclude the deonel tincture in that book. In miniscule doses, it eases muscle aches. An entire vial leads to organ failure and rapid death unless treated immediately with the antidote. But I knew little about herb work then. It wasn’t a popular field of study, and as I said, I wasn’t particularly studious.”

  “You’re certain she drank the potion voluntarily?” Lynia asked, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I can’t imagine doing such a thing while bonded. To risk the other half of your soul like that… Gods, that’s horrible.”

  “I’m certain. She whispered into my mind just before she…” Lial swallowed against the lump in his throat, and his eyes pinched closed. “I tried to save her. I thought my magic would be enough, but I was wrong. If I’d been more adept, I would’ve known to pull some of the nesel growing beside the river to feed her. It would have helped long enough for one of the palace healers to reach us with the antidote.”

  Aralee’s whispered apology had wrecked him even as the echo of the poison had scoured his own veins along with hers. He tried to give voice to that mark of time—the desperation, the failure, the pleading and tears, all consumed in the end by the agony of the severed bond—but it was impossible.

  “The pain of her death… Well, you know. Weeks later when I finally emerged from my insensible state, I vowed to learn all the healing techniques I could, even methods others ignored. Especially herb work. But I couldn’t remain at court after that. Though my parents weren’t precisely to blame, our relationship never quite recovered. I renounced my royal title and found an apprenticeship at a lower estate. My cousin Kehda is the one who kept me from madness after the bond was broken, and she more than deserves to be the palace healer. She’s training my younger sister now, in fact, but I can’t tolerate being at the palace long enough to get to know her as well as I would like. Our family has never been the same.”

  At the feel of Lynia’s lips against his cheek, his eyes popped open. What would he see when he looked at her? Pity? Disgust? The soft kiss didn’t imply the latter, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. However, when he dared to meet her gaze, he found only commiseration.

  “You’re not to blame,” she said softly, her fingers tracing away the tears he hadn’t noticed shedding. “You couldn’t have anticipated Aralee’s actions.”

  “I know. And yet…” Lial shook his head. “Aralee might be alive if I’d been a better student. That thought drove me to pursue a variety of apprenticeships during my training and challenging places to work after that.”

  Lynia’s lips thinned into a line. “You were nineteen. Younger than Maddy, who you’ve just started teaching.”

  “I didn’t say I could have saved her alone.” Lial huffed. “But it’s difficult not to consider what might have happened had I bothered to read my text on toxins and their treatments. I have worked to avoid such lapses ever since.”

  Even as he protested, something released inside of him. He relaxed into the mattress as a measure of pain and tension eased its weight from his heart. The sadness wasn’t gone, but the grief had lessened in the sharing.

  Lynia propped her forearms on his chest, and the way she studied him made him want to squirm. “So that’s it.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why you worry over us all so excessively and why you pour so much of yourself into healing, no matter the cost.” Her smile was soft and almost sad. “I suppose I’ll have to stop hassling you so much for going to extremes.”

  He dared to settle his hands gently around her waist. “I do not. I am merely…thorough.”

  Her brows lifted. “As you say.”

  “I have few complaints these days,” Lial quipped. But the circles under her eyes had him frowning. “You need more sleep.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Lynia said, averting her gaze.

  “I should leave.”

  “No.” Her sigh warmed the fabric of his shirt. “It isn’t you. I…dreamed of Telien. That’s why I was so upset.”

  His heart slammed hard, though he had no right to be bothered by her confession. Especially not after his own. “A bad one, I assume.”

  Lynia slid back over to nestle against his shoulder. “He was upset with me for h
olding him back when he would rather move on.”

  He’d counted Telien as a friend, but Lial had the sudden, uncomfortable urge to throttle a dead man. “That’s—”

  “There’s truth to it,” she interrupted. “Whether it was his spirit or my imagination. When you found me downstairs, I was thinking about how it’s time to release the past, and though my tears were part pain, they were also part relief. Your consolation helped immensely. Thank you.”

  A tendril of peace curled through him. With Lynia warm against his side, both of their pain now lessened, his eyelids grew heavy, and he let his eyes close. Either her bed was nicer than his, or his reserves had finally given out, for it took great effort to speak.

  “Lyni?”

  “Yes?”

  “How long can we sleep?”

  Her arm settled against his waist. “Two or three marks, I think.”

  “Good.”

  And for the first time in ages, Lial drifted to sleep with a smile.

  Chapter 18

  As he’d promised, Lyr knocked on his mother’s door on the way to meet the guards he’d picked to accompany Meli and him on their mission. He hated to wake her, but he understood why she wouldn’t want to be asleep during the dangerous task. Fortunately, she was a light sleeper, so it shouldn’t take long. He exchanged a smile with Meli and waited patiently.

  When he heard no noise on the other side, he lifted his hand to knock again, but the door opened abruptly. Lyr could only stare at the sight of his mother. Her hair was a tousled mess around her wrinkled sleeping gown—both an oddity. At the least, she usually grabbed a robe on her way to the door, but her hair was typically braided, too.

  Perhaps the most perplexing, though, was when she lifted her fingers to her lips and made a shushing noise. “Don’t wake him.”

  Lyr blinked. “Wake who?”

  Lynia gestured toward the room behind her, and Lyr glanced over her shoulder with a frown. Is she imagining things? Of course, his eyes answered the question before his brain processed what he saw. No, she wasn’t, unless he was also hallucinating Lial’s presence in her bed.