by L. Penelope
He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, drawing comfort with every breath they shared so close together.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I’ve been worse.” He tried to inject lightness into his voice but failed. Guilt had nearly paralyzed him, and now grief threatened to finish the job.
“And you’ve been better?” She dipped her chin to meet his lowered gaze.
“Haven’t we all?” He stood on a tightrope with doom on one side and failure on the other, but in only a handful of days Jasminda had become the bar he gripped to balance him. Under his fingertips, her velvet skin soothed him. “How is your skin so soft?”
“It’s the balm.” She shrugged off his question, but he could not recall even the hands of the gently bred young ladies often trotted out before him being so smooth. How was it that a girl who worked a farm could have skin like this?
Her eyes narrowed, as if seeing inside him. “Something happened. Before we left the Citadel.” Her soft voice clung to him in places unused to such tenderness.
“You mean besides discovering that I’ve nearly singlehandedly brought down the Mantle myself?”
She squeezed his hand. “Unless you’ve developed a Song in the past day, you did not.”
“I led him to it. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not. And that’s not why we left the tent so quickly.”
He swallowed, closing his eyes. “My brother … is dead.” Saying the words aloud made them all the more real. Alariq was gone, and with him, Jack’s chance at a normal life.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jack.”
Her emotions showed on her face, but his were buried. He was not supposed to tell anyone yet, but he found himself opening up to Jasminda. “He was piloting his airship and ran into a thunderstorm. The craft crashed. He was thrown through the window.”
Imagining his elder brother broken in such a way was simply too much. He pushed the vivid images out of his mind. Jasminda stared, sorrow and pity in her eyes. He took a deep breath. “I haven’t told you all you need to know about me.”
His mouth opened, but no more words would come. Pain clawed at his heart.
“Will you tell me?” she asked.
He would have to. It would soon become unavoidable, but this day had already gone on for too long. “I want to, but let us wait until tomorrow, if that is all right. It is not something I want to think about now. Worries on top of worries.”
“Of course.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He had no wish to make her unhappy, however, his heart was too heavy for much more. “Was he your only family?”
The sole relative he still spoke to, if only occasionally. He shook his head. “My mother lives in Fremia now.” He didn’t mention her abandonment. He supposed Jasminda would find that out soon enough.
“Has she been told?”
“She’s in seclusion. But we are half brothers. Were … His mother is long passed. He and I were never close. We didn’t see eye to eye, but…”
“But he was kin.”
Jack nodded. “Kin. And now it falls to me.” He stroked each of her knuckles and massaged the delicate skin between her fingers.
“What falls to you?”
“I…” He dropped his head. Shook it. “It is late. You should rest.”
“Tomorrow, then.” Her hand slipped out of his. He wanted to grab it again, but he wasn’t being completely honest and perhaps didn’t deserve her touch.
He should leave, and yet sat firmly rooted in place. Was it only last night she had slept in his arms? Could he admit to her that he wanted to do so again?
Her voice shook when she spoke up. “Jack, what do you see when you look at me?”
He was tongue-tied. Beauty. Bravery. An intensity that took him by surprise, even when it shouldn’t. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Your men … they see me as the enemy. How is it you don’t?”
His back straightened. A haze of anger colored his vision. “You’re not the enemy. Did someone say something to you?” She grabbed his arm when he went to stand. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but it involved finding whomever had caused her pain and inflicting some of his own.
“No, no. Just … they think it.”
He froze. “Does Earthsong tell you that?”
She shook her head. “I can just tell.”
“You’re safe here, I promise.” He was responsible for this base and these men. He’d reiterated to them that if something happened to one of the refugees, it better be because one of the Lagrimari had caused some bodily harm, else a court-martial was in store. But he would protect Jasminda himself.
She smiled weakly and lay down on her cot looking over at him. Without consciously thinking about it, he slid onto the ground, stretching out beside her.
Jasminda shot up like a catapult. “You’re not going to sleep here, are you?”
“I made you a promise, and I plan to keep it.” He settled back, propping his head on his hands behind him. This was better. His muscles had balked at the idea of leaving her, but lying beside her on the unforgiving concrete floor was almost soothing.
“You don’t need to do that. You can’t sleep on the ground!”
“I’ve been doing it for the past few weeks. Another night won’t hurt anything.”
“But you have a whole set of rooms here. With comfortable beds, I’m sure.”
He held her gaze, willing her to feel his truth. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Besides, this is better than sleeping standing up, which I’ve done a time or two. I wouldn’t recommend it.” He grinned, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.
She lay back down, then shifted to her side, watching him. Though he could stare at her all night, he forced his eyes to close. There she was behind his eyelids; at least she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with him gaping at her openly.
Her steady breaths lulled him to the edge of sleep. Then she spoke. “You could probably fit on the cot.”
His eyes flew open. He waited half a moment to be sure she wasn’t joking. When she made no move to rescind the offer, he shot up so quickly she gasped in surprise. In a heartbeat, he was squeezed in behind her on the narrow cot. It was not much more pliant than the concrete had been, and yet the tension of the day flowed away completely as they lay on their sides, his body spooning hers. She shifted her hair out of the way, baring her neck to his gaze.
Her back sank into his chest. He squeezed her waist and exhaled, feeling content for the first time in many hours.
Suddenly, she stiffened. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” She pulled his arm tighter against her abdomen. His shoulders dropped; he splayed his hand out, feeling the rise and fall of her breath.
Her neck was so inviting, smooth, and fragrant, with her unique scent filling his nostrils. He couldn’t resist, his lips met her skin almost of their own accord. Jasminda shivered and pressed even closer to him, so he did it again, whispering his lips across her aromatic skin.
“Jack.” Her voice held a plea that zipped through him, heightening his attraction.
He kissed her again at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
“I haven’t ever … I mean, I want…” She was breathless and trembling.
“What do you want, Jasminda?” he asked, speaking against her neck. He had wanted to do this for so long, and she was soft and pliant in his arms.
He took a chance and nudged the fabric of her dress aside to press a kiss to her shoulder. “Tell me. I’ll give you anything I can.”
When his lips touched her, she gave a little moan, which made him never want to stop. But then she turned in his arms to face him. Her tears threatened to overflow, halting him.
“Some things are not for me.” She raised her gaze to meet his, sorrow evident, but no regret, to his relief. Her fingers hovered above his lips. He held his breath until they descended in a feather-light touch
, tracing his mouth. “You aren’t for me.”
“So why is it that I can’t stop thinking about you?”
She leaned even closer, until she was only a breath away, and then she kissed him.
Jack was drenched in sunshine and light, the gray day and dreary night burning away as he sank into her kiss. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her to him. When he prodded her in gently with his tongue, she opened, giving him entry.
He lost himself inside her mouth, her lips, the occasional, sensual clash of teeth. When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, he captured her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. He wanted to kiss her everywhere.
Their foreheads met. He stroked her cheek and slid an arm beneath her before rolling them so he was on his back with her on top of him. His hands rested on her lower back, just above the rise of her bottom. He went no lower, though, merely captured her lips in another scorching kiss.
She wiggled on top of him, brushing against his erection. A pulse shot through him, and he turned his head to the side to exhale the deep longing. “Please don’t move,” he begged.
Slowly, she rubbed her thigh against his hardness again. Any more of that and he could not guarantee his sanity would stay intact much longer. He flipped them over to hover atop her on shaky arms.
There was no shyness in her expression. She leaned up and kissed him, stroked from his jaw down his neck, to his chest. Her hand came to a stop at his belt. Jack swallowed.
When her hand moved lower, he grabbed it and placed it next to her head. Before she could tempt him with her other hand, he grabbed that as well. She was well and truly trapped now. He claimed another kiss before rising from the cot. He adjusted himself, though there would be no relief in that quarter tonight, and settled on the ground again.
Jasminda peered down at him, pouting. “You can come back. I’ll be good. I promise.”
“I don’t want to make you an oath breaker. And I will make no such promises.” He took deep, calming breaths, trying his best to ignore the pull of desire that would have him once again on top of her and far more. “Tonight, we should sleep. I do not want to do something that you will regret.”
“Would you regret it?”
He wanted to laugh but instead reached for her hand and drew it to his lips. “No. But it is not my virtue we are speaking of.” He kept her hand in his as he stretched out on the ground.
Jasminda was an innocent, of that he was certain. And though he wanted her beyond reason, it would not be right. Not here, not now. With so much about to change, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Not in any way.
He gripped her hand and enjoyed the play of her soft skin against his rougher hands. Sleeping on the ground was no hardship when he was near her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
One day, Eagle discovered a jewel nestled in the branches of a tree. She caught it and brought it to Shark.
Is this for me? Shark asked, beaming at so generous a gift.
Nay, it is mine, I only wanted to show you, Eagle replied, peeved at the assumption.
And so the first fissure was cast.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Yllis careens around the corner, nearly crashing into a servant. His dark eyes are stormy.
“Did you find him?” I ask, breathless.
He shakes his head. “What exactly did he say to you, Oola?”
I twist my fingers in frustration, recalling my brother’s words. “He wanted more, begged me for a little more power. When I refused, he got upset. Yllis, I’ve never seen him like this before. He was…”
Eero’s eyes had bugged out of his head. The veins in his forehead and neck had been so prominent, I thought he might burst.
His frustration and jealousy and anger ripped at me. Clawed me open. I knew then that his gift had been a terrible worst mistake. I could never give him any more of my Song.
My voice is a quiet hush. “He said that he would find a way to get more. That I could not stop him.”
Yllis wraps strong arms around me. I sob into his chest, feeling the weight of my failure drag me down. He calms me with tender, wordless sounds and his solid presence, but I feel selfish for relying upon him.
“You have not told anyone, have you?” I say into his chest.
“No, of course not. And none of the other Cantors know the spell nor have an interest in it.”
That, at least, is something. “But still, someone could discover it. Or craft a similar spell. Eero has a way of getting what he wants.” Or maybe that was just with me.
“I think we have created a monster,” Yllis says. He pulls back to look into my eyes. I can only agree.
Whatever happens next will be my fault. I crumple inside to consider it.
* * *
The vision was interrupted by the bleating of a horn as the base residents were called to the mess hall for breakfast. Jasminda tucked away the caldera and followed the blaring noise to the morning meal.
She hoped to see Jack again—he’d woken her with a kiss before disappearing back to his work—but as soon as the plates were cleared away, a line of soldiers led the refugees to a caravan of buses for the trip to Rosira.
Benn appeared and directed her to a special vehicle, a boxy, close-topped four-wheeler. He explained that for security purposes, Jack rode in an armored vehicle, which couldn’t legally transport civilians. Jasminda had wanted to share the long journey with him from the eastern border of Elsira to the capital city on the western coast, but it wasn’t to be. Instead she had to put up with a lonely trip, complete with a driver whose eyes would flick to the rearview mirror, shooting cold, suspicious glances at her. She didn’t waver, meeting his gaze each time until he looked away. He was no doubt wondering why he was chauffeuring around a Lagrimari-looking Elsiran girl.
The rain stopped as they drove west, and a tension she hadn’t realized she was holding released. She admired the rolling hills and dense forests of Elsira’s picture-perfect countryside. Night fell, and dusty, unpaved roads eventually gave way to wider, paved highways, illuminated by electric lights and full of vehicles of all shapes and sizes.
Jasminda sucked in a breath when she got her first glimpse of Rosira from the crest of a hill. The city swept up and away from the ocean like a gentle wave. Lights sparkled from thousands of houses, which from this distance gave the impression of being stacked on top of one another, but as they drew closer, were really etched in layers going up the steep hillside.
There were no skyscrapers or especially tall buildings like in the pictures she’d seen of the megacities of Yaly. The main industry here was commerce, and docks stretched the entire length of the coastline with an assortment of vessels anchored there like great beasts asleep in their pens.
She tested her connection to Earthsong, then dropped it, immediately overwhelmed by the dense press of so many energies. How could anyone use magic in a place so heavily populated? Did Lagrimar have cities, and if so, how were the residents able to cope?
Her vehicle traveled a serpentine path through the city. Jack had assured her he would find lodging for her, though he hadn’t mentioned where. She suspected the Sisterhood had a dormitory of some kind where she could stay. Surely women whose mission was to feed and care for the settlers would not view her as terribly as the soldiers had. She could only hope.
The steep road through the densely packed buildings turned back on itself several times, dizzying her. After half a dozen twists and turns, the truck approached a gilded gate guarded by soldiers wearing black uniforms with gold trim and fringed epaulets. The gates swung open, revealing a brightly lit, curving drive that ascended even higher.
The Royal Palace of Elsira loomed in front of them, white stones gleaming under the illumination of a shocking quantity of electric lights. The pictures in her textbooks did not do it justice. Columned porches ran along the first floor with a seemingly endless number of arched windows just beyond. Carved into the stone above each window were images of the Fo
unders, the magical Lord and Lady in various poses showing how they’d transformed Elsira.
Somewhere within this building lay the sleeping body of their descendant, the Queen Herself, protected by the Prince Regent who ruled in Her stead until She awoke and returned to power. Seeing it in person, Jasminda was transfixed. Though there was no longer any magic in Elsira, the palace seemed to give off its own energy and spoke to her in an unfamiliar way.
The driver exited the vehicle, and Jasminda remained, hoping that whatever business Jack had here would be quick. The trip had been exhausting, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into whatever bed she was assigned. The door she leaned against jerked open and there stood Jack, holding out his hand.
She stared at it uncomprehendingly. “Can I not wait here for you?”
“You would prefer to sleep in the truck?” The corner of his mouth quirked, shattering his grim expression.
She looked from him to the palace and back again. A knowing smile crept up Jack’s face.
“When you said you’d find lodging for me, I didn’t think … Jack, I can’t sleep in the palace.”
“Why ever not?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the truck.
“Because I’m a goat farmer. Palaces are for royalty. The Prince Regent cannot possibly allow someone like me here.”
“Trust me, it’s all right. Many officials and dignitaries live in the palace. A whole wing is devoted to ranking officers and their families. Honestly, it’s more like an inn than a proper palace these days.”
“But—”
“I’m well acquainted with whom the Prince Regent allows under his roof.” A flicker of pain crossed his face, and he took a deep breath. “Jasminda—”
“Commander!” an insistent voice bellowed from across the driveway.
“One moment, General,” Jack responded while his eyes pleaded with her. She accepted his offered palm, gripping it as she stepped from the vehicle and approached the palace.
A battalion of servants greeted them inside the entry. Jack announced her as an honored guest and conferred with a matronly woman who must have been in charge of things. Two maids whisked her away before she could even thank Jack or say good night, let alone find out what he had wanted to tell her. Hopefully it was whatever he’d said she needed to know about him. Her heart burned to know his secrets, even as part of her was glad she didn’t.