Finally he looked into her face again.
‘How?’ He knew his voice was shaking, and he tried to control it, but failed.
‘It’s a long story, but I promise, I’ll share every detail.’
Dion realized he was holding both her hands. His vision was shimmering, so that he had to blink to clear it.
‘King Dion,’ a male voice interrupted, and Dion reluctantly released Chloe’s hands to see a familiar figure standing a polite distance away. Clean-shaven, but with weathered, craggy skin, he was stocky and dressed in a leather breastplate, skirt of leather strips, and sandals. Dion recognized him immediately, despite the fact that he’d put on some weight.
Dion gathered himself, calming his breath, although his heart was still racing.
‘Amos,’ he said warmly. He walked forward and they embraced. ‘I haven’t seen you since . . .’ His eyes flicked to Chloe.
‘Since Lord Aristocles’ death,’ Amos said. ‘It has been a long time, I know. I’ve been away.’
Amos’s eyes were a little bleary, but his bearing was steady. The former captain of Phalesia’s guard glanced from face to face. ‘I know you two have a lot to catch up on.’ He gave Chloe the same inquiring look he’d once given Aristocles. ‘Chloe, if it suits you, I’ll return to the palace later?’
‘Amos,’ Dion protested. ‘You can’t leave. Go inside and find any of the stewards. Tell them I said to prepare rooms for you and Chloe. Have you eaten? Would you like some wine?’
‘Wine . . .’ Amos licked his lips. ‘No wine.’ He shook his head firmly. ‘But I’ll take water and food. Thank you.’
Giving a small bow, Amos headed inside, leaving Chloe and Dion standing alone together on the terrace.
He stared into her eyes. He looked down at her hand. She reached toward him, but then he suddenly remembered; seeing Chloe had driven out all knowledge of Isobel and his child.
‘Chloe . . .’ He had to explain. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘So did Amos, and everyone else, it seems. A man . . . He left that body on the road. He wanted everyone to think I was dead.’ She hesitated. ‘But why didn’t the eldren tell you I was alive? Perhaps Zachary, or Liana . . .’
Dion shook his head. ‘I haven’t spoken with any of the eldren in a long time.’ He told her about the Blackwell Mines. ‘Now Eiric thinks I betrayed him. I sent a messenger to invite the eldren to the’—he realized he’d been about to say ‘to the wedding’ and quickly recovered—‘to invite them to Xanthos. But I don’t expect to see them.’
Chloe was surprised. ‘But you and Eiric were friends.’
‘No longer. The eldren are sequestered in their homeland, spurning contact with humans once again.’ He wiped a hand over his face. ‘I have so much to talk to you about.’
He reached out and took her hand, standing close. He was aware of her warm body next to him. He couldn’t help contrasting her with Isobel. Isobel was attractive, bold, and sensual. But Chloe was more than beautiful; she was brave and intelligent, dedicated and somehow . . . real. He knew her family and she knew his. He’d sailed with her and fought with her, slept by her side and faced armies with her. The eldran part of him had known he loved her, and needed to protect her, forcing him to change his shape, before he’d even known it himself.
But that was all in the past now. He was going to be a father, and Isobel would be his wife.
‘Chloe . . . When we saw each other last . . . I was confused. You and my brother were betrothed . . . I felt I had to choose between being eldran or human, and Nikolas made me think I’d never be welcome in Xanthos again. But then I met some people, and they helped me realize that it was possible to be accepted. Your father . . . He invited me back with him . . . Then Nikolas died . . . I became king . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I was devastated when they told me you were dead.’
‘What are you trying to tell me?’
‘I . . .’ he stammered. ‘I’m . . . I’m getting married.’
‘Married?’ She drew back, stunned. ‘Who is she?’
‘Isobel, daughter of Lord Philippos. She’s from Phalesia.’
‘Philippos . . . the consul?’ Chloe was struggling to hold back tears.
‘Yes.’
She yanked her hand free, turning away.
‘I’m sorry,’ Dion said. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘Is she pretty?’
‘I suppose she is,’ he said slowly and then gave a slight smile. ‘But she’s nothing like you.’
She took a deep breath and then faced him again. Her eyes were red and her jaw tight; her posture was rigid.
‘May I ask you for a favor, King Dion?’
‘Chloe . . . please . . . You of all people are never allowed to call me that. Of course. Anything.’
‘I need to get to Phalesia.’
‘How soon?’
‘As quickly as possible.’
‘The tide turns in four hours. I’ll have a fast boat take you, and you’ll arrive with the dawn. You can sleep here until then.’
‘Thank you,’ she said formally. ‘I think I’ll rest now. I don’t expect to see you before I leave.’
‘Chloe, please . . .’
Dion’s eyes followed her as she walked inside.
Despite the sumptuous quarters she’d been given and the softest bed she’d had in months to sleep on, Chloe was wide awake.
She tossed and turned, thinking about Dion and hating the way she’d left things. Of course she wanted him to be happy. He’d no doubt known Isobel for a long time, and loved her deeply. He was a king, and a king needed a queen. Isobel’s father was an important landowner. Though Chloe didn’t remember anything about Lord Philippos’s daughter, she knew Dion well enough to know that he wouldn’t have agreed to marry her unless they shared a deep connection.
She tried her best not to be jealous, but thinking of him with another woman was gnawing at her, making it impossible for her to sleep. Finally she came to a decision. She didn’t know when she would see him again. She wanted to know about his new love. She couldn’t leave things like this between them.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, heralding a storm. She rolled out of bed and, wearing a thin linen shift, padded on bare feet out into the hallway, continuing on to the king’s bedchamber. She saw light peeking under the heavy curtains and peeled the cloth aside. Listening for the sounds of heavy breathing, she entered, peering ahead. But disappointment sank into her chest when she saw that the bedchamber was empty.
She glanced around with sudden curiosity. His personal quarters revealed so much about him. A burning oil lamp, rumpled linen, and empty bed immediately told her that, like her, he hadn’t been able to sleep. The heavy bureau standing against the wall was covered with valuable ceramics and golden statues, but it was all shoved to the side to give space for the model sailing boat someone had probably carved for him as a gift. His discarded clothing was bunched in the corner, making her smile; this was a palace that needed a woman’s guiding hand.
But her smile slowly fell. The Isobel she imagined was as captivating as the goddess Edra, and would be sharing this bed with the man she loved.
She turned to depart, knowing she was violating his privacy, but then she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Dion was bare-chested, wearing just a loose pair of trousers. He was standing on his bedroom balcony, high above the ground, and staring out into the night.
Chloe held her breath, starting for the exit when she heard his voice.
‘Chloe?’
She blushed as she turned to face him. With his flaxen hair, square jaw, and lightly stubbled chin, he was undeniably handsome. But it was his eyes that made her melt whenever he looked at her, particularly the way he was looking at her now. Her gaze drifted down his body. The ridges of his abdomen were clearly visible. He wasn’t tall, but he was several inches taller than her, and his shoulders were broad, his arms strong.
‘Can’t sleep either?’ he asked. He gave her a tender smile. ‘Come,
join me out here.’
She crossed the room, and soon they were standing together on the balcony as they looked out at the distant storm on the horizon.
‘I am happy for you,’ Chloe said. ‘It just came as a shock . . . Will you . . . ?’ She swallowed. ‘I want you to tell me about her. How did you meet? How long have you known each other?’
‘We met just over a month ago,’ he said. ‘My uncle introduced us, and we spent a few days together. The next time I saw her, we agreed to be married.’
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you love her?’
‘There’s something you need to know.’ He hesitated, turning to meet her eyes. ‘Isobel is with child.’
Realization dawned.
‘It’s a secret of course,’ he said. ‘And it will remain one. We were . . . together just once.’
‘You’re . . . ? Oh, Dion.’ She embraced him, but when she pulled away she knew that her eyes were glistening. ‘You’re going to be married, and a father. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you.’
He reached out to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Now, tell me your story. You’ve changed. There’s something different about you.’
The wind was cool, and Chloe shivered.
‘You’re cold,’ he said. Without another word, he came closer and put an arm around her, standing so that half his bare chest was pressed to her back, with their heads close together.
As the clouds parted and revealed a crescent moon, Chloe told Dion everything – about Vikram and her awakening, about the rebirth of Sindara and her trials at Athos.
‘The Oracle said I would have a chance to end a grave threat. But’—she turned her head so she could look at his face—‘I didn’t learn everything the magi had to teach. For now, I just want to see my sister. I had a terrible vision when I was at Athos.’
His gentle brown eyes were concerned. ‘What vision?’
‘A scene of blood and death . . . In the temple . . .’ She took a deep breath, shaking her head. ‘It could be nothing.’
‘That’s why you’re so anxious to get to Phalesia,’ he said softly.
She nodded.
They were both silent for a time, bodies close together, taking warmth from each other. She remembered the time they’d kissed, swimming in the pool, out in the Wilds. As her pulse began to race, she realized her chest was heaving. She knew that if he tried to kiss her she would have to turn him away, but she didn’t know if she would have the strength.
‘Chloe . . . I know we said that we can be friends.’ He sighed. ‘But when I’m married, everything is going to change. We will never be able to share a moment like this again.’
She turned in his arms, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He was too honor-bound to do more than hold her, she knew then.
‘The Oracle . . . You said she helped Marrix destroy Aleuthea because of an artifact?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘There’s something I have to show you.’
He led Chloe by the hand, taking her to the banqueting hall and showing her the painting.
‘It’s Aleuthean. Do you know what it means?’
Chloe sat on the floor in front of it and Dion sat beside her. She furrowed her brow as she examined the painting.
‘Do you see the magus on the hill, standing near the glowing arch? He’s holding a wind staff, like mine—’
‘Yours?’ Dion interrupted.
She nodded absently. ‘There are four powers, linked to the four metals. Some magi are better at controlling particular materia than others.’
‘What about the dragons?’
She shook her head, perplexed. ‘I don’t know what the red color means. But the artifact . . .’ She pointed to the glowing arch. ‘Perhaps this is it.’
24
Sophia lifted the ewer when the high priestess nodded to her.
Deep in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Aeris, Isobel was on her knees, hunched over a basin. The future queen of Xanthos was wearing a crimson chiton and her gold necklace glowed in the candlelight. It was deepest night and the temple was deserted, for these rituals were sacred, and with just five days until the wedding, the blessings of all the gods and goddesses must be asked for and obtained.
A circle of six young acolytes, girls new to the temple, stood facing Isobel, all holding candles. Lord Philippos, clad in a white tunic, hovered near his daughter with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the high priestess, ready to be called upon. The scent of sandalwood and lavender oil dominated the area, which was sectioned off from the main temple by a framework of latticed screens.
Taking the ewer from Sophia, the high priestess lifted it above the basin and poured the holy water over Isobel’s head.
‘We pray for Aeris to bless your body, mind, and soul.’
‘The goddess hears our prayers,’ the acolytes said in unison.
‘Isobel, daughter of Philippos, son of Paolos, I invoke the goddess Aeris’s blessings upon you,’ High Priestess Marina intoned. ‘I invoke the goddess’s blessings for health and vitality, for the strong children you will bear, for the wisdom you will share with your husband.’
The high priestess, tall and commanding in her ceremonial robe of pale blue trimmed with gold, turned and nodded at Isobel’s father.
‘Lord Philippos. Approach your daughter.’
Lord Philippos took a deep breath and stepped forward to play his part. His penetrating eyes were uncharacteristically wide and uncertain.
‘Philippos, son of Paolos, the goddess wishes to know that you give your daughter freely to King Dion of Xanthos.’
Philippos nodded. ‘I do.’
Sophia reached for a towel and dried Isobel’s hair.
‘The goddess acknowledges the bond between father and daughter. Isobel, your mother in heaven gives her blessing.’
Sophia was close enough to Isobel to hear her breath catch at the mention of her mother.
‘Philippos,’ the high priestess instructed. ‘Take this incense. Circle your daughter three times and repeat after me.’
As Philippos reached for the clay pot holding the stick of smoking incense, Sophia heard low male voices, echoing throughout the cavernous temple.
She frowned. Whoever it was, they should know better than to disturb a holy ritual in the temple’s inner sanctum. Why hadn’t the men of the city guard turned them away? Perhaps something urgent required Philippos’s attention? But what could be so important?
The gruff murmurs became louder. Boot heels rang out on the stone. Sophia was puzzled, and then worried; whoever these men were, their speech was accented and unfamiliar.
Leaving the high priestess holding the incense, Philippos turned and peered through the latticed screen. The high priestess cleared her throat, lifting the incense pointedly for Isobel’s father to take.
The shuffles and footsteps broke the stillness of the night, despite the fact that the men approaching were obviously trying to stay quiet. Someone coughed. Metal clanged against metal. Isobel climbed to her feet, and the high priestess turned also. Sophia exchanged frightened glances with Isobel.
Sophia began to discern silhouettes. Initially they were dark shadows, but then they became clearer. Pale-faced men in black cloaks were creeping steadily forward, surrounding the inner sanctum.
‘Father?’ Isobel said in a tight voice.
Sophia glanced at High Priestess Marina, but even she looked afraid. The strangers were encircling the area, blocking off every exit. Terror stabbed into Sophia’s chest when she saw that the cloaked men were holding drawn swords.
‘Who goes there?’ Lord Philippos called out.
Panic struck Sophia like a nail through the heart. Where were the guards?
A short, solitary figure walked up to the screen. His back was bent and his shoulders were oddly high. Bushy, black hair crowned his scalp, and his eyes were dark and fierce. Glaring at the people on the other side, he lifted his leg and smashed his boot against the lattice.
&
nbsp; The entire screen came crashing down with a resounding clatter of falling wood.
Isobel screamed.
Kyphos first checked that his men had blocked every exit before kicking down the screen. He swiftly scanned the people on the other side, instantly dismissing the circle of young acolytes, and the high priestess and her assistant. His gaze alighted on the king of Xanthos’s blonde-haired bride, an attractive, slender woman in a crimson garment. She was clutching the well-dressed lord who was the only male present, and he knew she must be Isobel.
Kyphos nodded in satisfaction. It was just as the man Nilus had said he would arrange: there were no guards, and the area around the temple was deserted at this time of night.
He glanced at his men. Swords drawn, they hugged the shadows, waiting for his command. He once more appraised the priestess, her assistant, the young bride, and her father. Staring out at him, their eyes were wide with horror. The six acolytes looked anxious and confused. Isobel was trembling with fear as she clutched her father’s arm, while the olive-skinned high priestess’s chest heaved; she looked as if she knew what was coming. Her assistant, a dark-haired girl of twelve or thirteen, had a defiant expression, but her eyes were afraid.
The consul in the white tunic swallowed. He finally broke the silence. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’
Kyphos’s boots crunched down on the fallen lattice as he approached Isobel and her father. He brought a yelp out of the six acolytes when he glared at them.
‘Go,’ he grunted. ‘Get out.’
Shrieking, the young girls all fled, and Kyphos called out to his men. ‘Let them pass!’
Soon the acolytes were gone, and Kyphos continued to advance, staring at each of the four remaining people in turn. Two of his warriors joined him, swords held out in front of them. Lord Philippos whirled, turning to check every exit, but they were all blocked. His face was white when he touched his hip, realizing there was no sword by his side. ‘Guards!’ he cried. He shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Guards!’
There were just a few oil lamps burning, casting wan light on the area. Kyphos reached Isobel, bringing his face further into the light, while the two flanking swordsmen spread out at his sides.
Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3) Page 16