by Zoe Chant
He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth—too level, too calm, conveying none of the delight and desire that filled him, down under his stony surface where he couldn’t seem to let it out.
“We’re delighted, of course,” Kai said after a little pause, his voice almost as level as Tristan’s. Kai had often done that, met him on his own ground in these things; it was how they had gotten to be friends to begin with.
Still, Tristan wished he could have said it right, and heard Kai say he was glad like he meant it.
After another second Signy burst out, like she’d been physically holding it back, “Tristan! Oh, I’m so glad!”
Tristan smiled a little then. “Thank you. But... Poppy doesn’t sense it, you see. And on top of everything else... I don’t want to rush her into any of it. If it were only the mission—”
“No, of course,” Kai said quickly. “You have to take things in their own time. And there’s still more than a week until the wedding.”
Tristan nodded. It seemed like no time at all, but he hadn’t even known Poppy an entire day yet. Surely in a week he could find the right way to tell her everything.
“And I don’t want to rush her into going anywhere with me, especially,” Tristan went on. “Because there was... a rather unpleasant scene this morning.”
Tristan explained the business with Daniel in as few words as he could manage, emphasizing through it all that Poppy had never been in danger. Even without Tristan’s intervention, she would have found a way to extricate herself.
“Still,” Signy said. “I know she’s probably been in situations like that so many times in the last year and we never knew a thing about it—but I’m so glad you were with her this time.”
Tristan swallowed hard. “Me too. And I mean to always be, from now on.”
There was a little pause—Tristan thought he could almost hear the silent communication between the pair on the other end—and then Kai said in a heavier tone, “Speaking as your Crown Prince, guardsman. You do recall your oaths. You require the king’s permission to lay down your service to the Royal Guard, and until you do, you cannot take a mate, or have any family.”
That rule had caused its share of grief for Kai and Signy before they had managed to obtain the king’s permission around the interference of Otto and his schemes.
Somehow Tristan didn’t think he and Poppy would face the same difficulties.
“Well,” Tristan said slowly. “I still haven’t completed my mission. Until Miss Zlotsky is returned to Valtyra, Your Highness, I am still required to proceed with my duties as a Royal Guard.”
“Very true,” Kai agreed, and then snorted, and Tristan could just picture his practiced straight face melting into a wide, bright grin. “I’ll speak to the king about that, if you’ll allow me to be your proxy? See if he can’t arrange something effective upon your arrival in Valtyra with Poppy?”
Tristan couldn’t help smiling, then, wide and obvious; it felt like being naked, and he was glad and sorry all at once that Kai couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Kai.”
“The least I owe you,” Kai said firmly.
“Just one other thing, Tristan,” Signy said. “Does Poppy... do you know if she even has her phone?”
Tristan closed his eyes again, thinking of what Poppy had told him the night before, thinking he knew nothing about her sister, about her sisterly jealousy all mixed up in love.
“She does have her phone,” Tristan said slowly. “I believe she... wanted some time to think about her plans. I hope to influence those, of course, but...”
Tristan couldn’t bring himself to say, She’s not in touch with you because she doesn’t want to be, but he knew Signy heard it, or something like it.
“Ah,” she said quietly, and then more brightly, “Well, I look forward to hearing from her when she has some exciting news about the wonderful guy she met.”
Tristan pictured the ways that could go and said, “Please... please tell me if she does, if it seems like she doesn’t know yet that you already know?”
Signy blew out a breath. “Oh dear. Yes, of course. Maybe...”
“Don’t second guess the man in the middle of things,” Kai said gently. “He’ll tell her when he can, and he won’t lie to his own mate if push comes to shove.”
Signy sighed. “Of course. Thank you for the news, Tristan, and I’m so happy for you both! I just... wish you were home, both of you.”
“As soon as we can,” Tristan promised.
When he had finished the call, he let himself wonder for a moment what home he and Poppy would really have in Valtyra. The Royal Guard had been all the home and family he’d had for all of his adult life; he had no intention of going back to the family he had renounced when he joined the Guard. They would never accept his human mate, and they would never forgive Tristan for leaving.
Would they live in the palace, by virtue of their closeness with the Crown Prince and Crown Princess? He was sure there would be plenty of work they could do, supporting Kai and Signy, but he doubted Poppy could be content for long in such a situation.
He thought longingly of that mountain lake from his dream, the curly-haired child holding Poppy’s hand. Was there such a place for them somewhere, something that would be theirs in their own right?
Then he shook off those thoughts. It didn’t matter where they ended up, or if they never ended up anywhere and wandered forever. His home was with Poppy, and every moment he spent worrying about the future instead of trying out that bath with her was a moment wasted.
*~*~*
The bath turned out to be excellent, as was the bed when they tried it again.
By late afternoon it was impossible to avoid being aware that he was on vacation with Poppy. His mission, such as it was, consisted only of wooing his mate and returning with her to Valtyra sometime in the next week or so. Once that was completed, he would no longer be a Royal Guard at all, and all his days would be his to fill as he chose.
“What you really need,” Poppy informed him, looking him up and down when he had dressed so that they could go in search of a meal together. “Is casual clothes. I mean, I love the suits, but I cannot keep up with that style, and we’re going to look like you’re my bodyguard or something if we walk around with you dressed like that and me all backpack chic.”
Shopping with Poppy turned out to be not unlike being outfitted by palace staff. Poppy was happy to select things for him and order him to try them on. Her method of checking fit was rather more... hands-on and thorough than any of the ladies at the palace had ever been, though.
None of them had ever looked at him the way Poppy did when he was finally wearing sufficiently tight jeans and a shirt that set off his coloring in a way she liked, either. They were required to retire back to the hotel with their purchases, and wound up ordering in room service for supper.
Eventually.
*~*~*
Later that evening, after Tristan had left Poppy alone for five whole minutes to visit the bathroom, he came back to find her curled up in bed and frowning intently at her phone. It wasn’t the one she’d surrendered at the airport—this one was in a hard black case that looked as if it could protect the device from just about anything.
Poppy was frowning intently into it, tapping and swiping at her screen with quick movements. Not the staccato of typing, as if she were messaging someone; she seemed to be looking for something.
“Poppy?”
She looked up at him and for just a second he could have sworn he saw a flash of guilt on her face before she smiled. “Sorry, just—I mean, I would love to hang out in bed forever, but... you have work to do, don’t you? I was just looking up stuff to do so I could get out of your hair tomorrow. I was thinking about hitting some museums.”
“Oh.” Tristan came over to the bed, wondering how much he could confess—he couldn’t just blurt out everything now, at the end of the day that had begun with Daniel trying to lure her off to Istanbul. But he had to tell he
r something, and he couldn’t, must not, lie.
“Well, if you want some time to yourself, of course,” Tristan said. “But I’m actually at a bit of a loose end. The mission I’m on is actually mostly resolved already, things happened much more quickly than anyone expected. Peter has taken on a lot of what’s left.” This was true; Peter had been liaising with the local law enforcement to make sure that Daniel was put away, and that Poppy wouldn’t be troubled further.
“I’ve been granted some time to stay in London,” Tristan went on, sitting down on the bed by Poppy, watching for her reaction. “I’m responsible for supervising Peter, to some extent, but I don’t want to hover over him. So... I could accompany you, if you wished? I’ve never really traveled when I wasn’t working. It might be nice to be a tourist. And I have the clothes for it now.”
Poppy grinned. “Well, we can’t let those jeans go to waste, that’s for sure.”
But a little frown crossed her face as she looked down at her phone again, though it vanished as soon as she returned her attention to him.
Tristan didn’t press her on it, but he resolved not to push too much, if she expressed another wish to spend time alone. She didn’t know she was his mate; she wouldn’t feel the same pull he felt, the urge to be near her every moment. He had to let her have her space, or he would scare her away every bit as much if he simply blurted out the truth.
He didn’t get much closer to figuring out how to tell her in the days that followed. They walked miles through Hyde Park and around the streets of London. Poppy told Tristan stories of her travels, both recently and as a child with her family. Tristan told her a little, too, about growing up in an isolated mountain village, about moving to the city as a young man, and some of the training he had gone through when he joined the Royal Guard.
He had to tell her, and soon. She was his mate, and he loved her, and he wanted her to understand what that meant. But when they were together he felt as if they already understood each other so well—Poppy never looked puzzled or hurt by his lack of expression, his inability to find the words for how he felt. She didn’t try to match him, either; she just laughed and kissed him and it was if she already knew him, already saw all the things he was hiding.
She made it easy to forget that he had secrets, and he forgot that there were things he didn’t know about her, too.
He woke up one night to her tossing and turning in the throes of a nightmare, whispering frantically, “I will, I’m trying, I promise! I just don’t know where it is, just tell me where to go—”
He had already drawn her into his arms, was already murmuring soothing words to her, when he realized that she had been speaking Valtyran.
*~*~*
Chapter 10 - Poppy
Poppy woke up to Tristan holding her close and asking urgently, “Can you hear me? Poppy?”
She nodded, reaching up to touch his face, the dream already fading. “Yes, yes.”
Tristan’s grip loosened, a strange expression—a strangely obvious expression—crossing his face, and she wondered if she had answered wrong somehow. Had he asked if she could hear him, or was it can you understand me? Or...
“Poppy,” he said quietly, and then something slow and soft in what must be his native language. She could tell it was a question—the same question he had just asked?
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t know that one.”
He stared at her for a moment longer, brushing her hair back, and then he said, “Poppy, what were you dreaming about? You sounded frantic.”
Poppy closed her eyes and cuddled closer to him, hiding her face.
The dreams of the tiger were getting intense and scary; she hadn’t even unwrapped the statue to peek at it all day today, after last night’s dreams, but tonight’s had been worse, or at least... more.
The tiger never did anything to her in the dreams. It was just there, and it needed her, and she knew she had to do something, she had to get the tiger home, but she didn’t know where that was. She hadn’t been able to find anything online, or in any of the museums she’d visited, that looked anything like the carvings hidden in her pack.
She could almost hear the tiger growling, even now. It was getting impatient with her—or she was going completely crazy. And now Tristan was asking her a direct question, and God knew what she had said in her sleep.
She didn’t want to lie to him. She should have told him days ago about the statues. She kept waiting for someone to show up and ask her about them, but it seemed that somehow no one had noticed what she did at the airport.
How could she tell Tristan she’d stolen the contraband Daniel had tried to make her smuggle for him? How could she tell him the contraband was an ancient mystical tiger carving and its friends, and they needed her?
Unfortunately, that made it difficult to think of what to say to Tristan now. She was still so shaken from the dream, tired and worried and she could still hear the tiger growling.
“It’s just... something I have to do.” Poppy whispered finally. “In the dream, there’s... there’s something I have to do, but I don’t know how to do it.”
“Who tells you that you have to do it, in the dream?” Tristan asked quietly. “It seemed like you were trying to explain to someone, or arguing with them.”
“It was just a dream,” Poppy said, but she almost choked on the lie, and she could have sworn the tiger growled louder. She could almost hear words in it. Do not deny us. Take us home.
“Poppy, if there’s something you have to do,” Tristan said softly. “I only want to help. If you tell me about it, maybe I can help.”
Poppy breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. She couldn’t think of any words to say that weren’t a lie, that wouldn’t make the tiger angry. More angry.
There was only one thing that she could say that was true, one thing she’d been holding back and needed Tristan to know right now.
“I love you,” she whispered, and it came out strangled, like she was scared, when it was the one thing about all this that she was sure of. The one thing she relied on.
She had known from the moment they met that she felt something about him that she hadn’t ever felt about anyone else. The last few days had only made it clearer.
Traveling with someone, being in a strange place with them, showed you a lot about who they really were. She didn’t need to know Tristan’s last name; she’d already watched him cope with being made to try on clothes and inexplicable Tube station closures and Poppy’s unexplained obsession with the archaeology section of every museum in London over the last few days.
She knew him. She knew what they had. She loved Tristan so much, and she couldn’t bear to lose him to what she’d done, or whatever was wrong with her.
Tristan pushed her back enough that he could look into her eyes, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. He studied her for a long, still moment in the early light, and then he said, “I love you, Poppy. And I won’t stop loving you, or wanting to protect you.”
Poppy put her hands over her face, feeling an echo of the shakiness she had felt that night outside the club, and at the airport after Daniel was arrested the adrenaline hitting her after the danger was over. She hadn’t known Tristan long, but she knew that he meant what he said. He knew that he was serious about her, serious about this. When Tristan said I won’t stop loving you, that was a promise she could trust.
And she had to trust someone, because she was getting absolutely nowhere on her own.
“I did something,” she whispered. “That day at the airport, I... I did something and I didn’t tell the police. And I didn’t tell you. And I—I don’t want to get you into trouble with the embassy and everyone, but I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me, Poppy.” Tristan pulled her closer again. “I’ll listen. I’ll help if I can. We can solve this.”
“I...” Poppy could think of words. “I took something. Daniel was trying to smuggle them, I think, that’s why he wanted m
e or Sasha to go with him. The pink bag, you remember?”
Tristan squeezed her tight and nodded against her hair.
Poppy opened her mouth to try to describe what was inside, but no words came, or... strange words wanted to come, pushing her mouth into shapes she didn’t recognize.
“It’s easier if I show you,” Poppy said finally, pushing against Tristan’s grip. Tristan let her go, only keeping hold of her hand, and let her lead him out of bed. He turned on the bedside lamp and followed her to her hiking pack, brought out of the bathroom now and set tidily on a luggage stand beside his suitcase.
Poppy knelt, and Tristan knelt beside her. Poppy was dimly aware that they were naked, and wondered if they shouldn’t be—but then, the tiger was naked too, wasn’t he?
“Okay,” Poppy said, half to herself and reached into the pack. She didn’t have to look to know when she touched the scarf-wrapped shape of the tiger; she could feel it.
Tristan would understand, anyway, once she showed him. He would know they were important, just like she had known. It had to be obvious, didn’t it? Daniel had known they were valuable.
Poppy’s hands moved quickly, almost outside her conscious control, as she pulled out and unwrapped the tiger. Now that she was so close, she couldn’t wait to see it again, to feel the presence of the tiger, to maybe really understand it instead of just hearing that growl echoing around in her head. As she had before, she peeled the paper back, not touching it with her bare hands.
The tiger seemed to glow with its own light, the amber holding some memory of sunlight. Poppy felt more strongly than ever the urge to touch, and the urge to bow down before this powerful presence.
Tristan made a strange, choked-off noise, and Poppy frowned at the realization that he was gripping both of her hands, holding them away from touching the tiger. She raised her head to look at him, and he was looking at the statue instead.
“See?” Poppy said. “Do you understand, now?”