The Pages of the Mind

by Jeffe Kennedy

  My feet ached from sitting up so long, swollen and hot. Figuring it would help my efforts to keep Nakoa away from me, I didn’t fight the tears that sprang up when they put new ointment on my feet. Inoa clucked in sympathy and petted my hand in comfort. Fervently I wished for some of the ice we stored in the cool depths of Ordnung, but that wouldn’t be possible.

  Still, I felt better with new ointment, a fresh, cool gown, and my feet propped up on several pillows. I refused the drowsy tea, not wanting to miss saying good-bye to my friends. Inoa gave me a stern look but set it next to the bed, then climbed in next to me. Settling herself in firmly as my jailor. Zynda kept her human form, saving her energy for an emergency, I suspected, and curled up in a chair while Jepp took first watch.

  It seemed silly, as I’d have no protection after tonight, but they insisted, promising to wake me before they left.

  I slept in fits, my mind racing. In my dreams, I awoke, dressed, and left with Jepp and Zynda for the ship. Sometimes we already stood on deck, making me wonder how I’d escaped. Other times I went out to the balcony, leapt off, and flew over the water. Over and over, I left my luxurious prison only to wake to find myself still in Nakoa’s bed, feet aching and body stiff from lying on my back.

  I thought I lay awake still, but Zynda woke me with a gentle touch, the room black with night, no torches lit. The gauzy curtains drawn around the bed while I slept caught a faint glint of moonlight, moving ghostly with a bit of welcome breeze off the water. Inoa breathed deeply in sleep, far on the other side of the big bed.

  “Is it dawn?” I whispered, feeling the bleak hopelessness of that darkness, an abandoned ghost, myself.

  “Not quite, but if we’re to be aboard to sail with the Hákyrling. . .”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s not too late,” Jepp said quietly from behind her, a deeper shadow. “You can still change your mind.”

  “And do what—gallop out of here on Zynda’s back? Have you lower me over the balcony with rope and hope no one sees?” I felt bleak enough that I considered those as options. If only I could shape-shift and fly away in truth. Inoa stirred, rolling over and blinking at us, then sat up and lit a candle. “There are no doubt guards outside the doors. No matter what, they’d simply pull me off the ship again.”

  “I meant that I can stay.” Jepp fingered her knives, even as Inoa got up and moved around the room, lighting torches and retrieving a gown for me. “I think I should.”

  “You can’t. We made a treaty to help the Dasnarians get home. Ursula needs that information. And I debated whether to tell you my suspicions—for that’s all they are; I have no proof—but I think Kral deliberately brought me here, as some sort of trade with the king.”

  Jepp looked simultaneously pissed and astonished. “How—”

  “I don’t know. See what you can dig out of him.”

  “Oh, I’ll be digging, all right.” Her grim smile nearly made me pity the man.

  As soon as Inoa had me dressed—and I strapped on the knife belt in response to Jepp’s significant glance—she opened the doors and Nakoa walked in, dressed in his exotic armor, as he’d worn the first day, and trailed by a dozen of his people. He eyed Jepp and Zynda warily, then gestured them to the door, his expression more stony than ever, if possible. Jepp glared back, spine stiff and fingers twitching for her knives.

  Zynda came over, sat on the side of the bed, and embraced me, her hair silky on my cheek. How she could smell of the flowers of Annfwn when she’d been so long away, I didn’t know. “I’ll be back, just as soon as I can. I promise,” she whispered. “I brought all your things from the ship. They’re beside the bed. Though all those heavy clothes won’t do you much good.”

  “Don’t come back if it’s a risk. I’ll be fine. I’m counting on you to persuade Ursula of that.”

  She nodded, eyes dark with misery. “I’ll do my best.”

  Jepp broke the stare-down with Nakoa and, pointedly turning her back on him, she bent over and hugged me hard, uncomfortably so after Zynda’s gentle embrace—nearly cracking my ribs. Despite the set of her chin, however, the look on her face showed how conflicted she felt. “You’re going to make me a promise,” she informed me, gripping my shoulders. “You are going to hold out, because you are strong and smart. The High Queen believes in you and now I know why. You promise me that I won’t have to face her and explain that because I abandoned you—” She broke off on something perilously close to a sob and looked away.

  I wrapped my fingers around her wrists. “I promise, Jepp. I’ll be fine. When we see each other again, we’ll drink your Branlian whiskey, you can tell me about your sexual adventures in Dasnaria, and I’ll give you back your mother’s knife belt.”

  She nodded, then cupped the back of my head and kissed me hard on the mouth, shocking me. Giving me something of her cocky grin, she patted my cheek. “If you manage to hold out against your dragon king, I’m definitely taking a shot at seducing you. Never could resist a challenge.”

  Behind her, Zynda shook her head, some of her misery abated by Jepp’s bravado. “Good-bye,” I told them. “Safe travels. My thoughts go with you.”

  They left, escorted out by Nakoa’s guards. He, however, remained behind, even as Inoa discreetly slipped out. I braced myself. Would he force himself on me after all, now that we were alone? I felt brittle, hollowed out, as if Jepp and Zynda had taken some of my strength with them. I didn’t know if I’d be able to muster the spirit to fight him off, my situation felt so hopeless. Nakoa moved toward me and my hand fell to the dagger Ursula had given me. He paused, stern face going troubled. Laying a hand over mine on the hilt, he touched my cheek, a fleeting, light caress. “No, Dafne.”

  “I’ll use it, if I have to,” I said, not caring if he understood me or not. Needing to say it aloud for myself, so I’d believe. “My High Queen and my friend gave this to me. I might not be a warrior, but she taught me how to use this. I won’t disappoint her by failing to.”

  He listened intently, then stroked my hand on the blade and let go. Holding out his arms, he said, “Open,” with a twitch of an amused smile. What went on in his head, behind that impenetrable face? Definitely a keen intellect, collaborating with me to find words we both understood, no matter how much we altered the meaning between us. As if we created our own intimate language.

  “Open,” I agreed, with a sigh, for my tattered emotions, fragile paranoia, and enforced vulnerability.

  He took the fresh garland from around his neck and replaced mine, setting the wilted one aside. “Mlai,” he whispered.

  I raised my arms in resignation, letting him lift me and carry me out of the room. He turned in a different direction than before, climbing a set of stairs that started straight, then began to spiral as they narrowed, ascending to a tower. Ironic if he took me to some prison cell.

  Instead we emerged onto an open veranda that provided the most astonishing view I’d yet seen. Glimmers of dawn showed all around the horizon, as if Glorianna’s sun might rise from any point at all, brightening the sky from gray to blue. The volcano loomed, a dark silhouette against the sky, the top broken now from the dragon’s emergence, like the curl of a broken lip. The harbor over the next ridge also showed clearly, with the Hákyrling rocking on the gentle swells, a few of her wine-dark sails going up, one by one. I imagined Jepp and Zynda somewhere under the dense foliage, making their way to it.

  A lookout bowed to Nakoa and discreetly left as the king strode up to the polished stone wall that bordered the veranda waist-high to him. I looked down as he lowered me. The drop was precipitous, a long way to the tiled roofs in the morning shadows below. Suddenly terrified he meant to pitch me off the tower, I clutched at him, fingers digging into his hard muscles and surprisingly soft skin. He gave me a long look that I couldn’t read and waited for me to let go.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, relaxing my grip. I’d left half-moon nail indentations, and, chagrined, I brushed them with my fingertips, as if I could smooth
them away. He said something in a soft tone and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Forgiven, I supposed. The inherent sweetness of the gesture moved me, smoothing away some of the rawness inside.

  Moving more slowly, Nakoa settled me on the broad ledge, with my feet dangling over. Standing behind me, he wrapped an arm securely around my waist, making it clear without words that the last thing he’d do was let me fall.

  We stayed there, without speaking, holding a vigil of sorts. It reminded me of observing the Feast of Moranu, waiting for the sun to rise and begin the new year. Only I’d never done so with a man holding me like this, solidly pressed against my back. I didn’t lean against him, but neither did I pull away. Not only because I didn’t want to fall. The still steadiness of Nakoa provided a kind of comfort that I didn’t care to examine too closely. Whether he’d brought me here to witness my ship’s departure as a way of demonstrating my final captivity or out of sympathy, it didn’t matter.

  Much as it grieved me to watch, I wanted to see them go.

  Slowly, the Hákyrling moved out of the harbor, passing between the enormous guardian dragons like a mouse creeping between two sleeping cats. Just beyond, the ship seemed to pause and her sails rose with the sunlight, blazing bright red with rosy dawn. They billowed, catching a wind I couldn’t feel, and she seemed to leap ahead. Then sailed out of sight around the curve of the island.

  Leaving me utterly alone.

  The bright day blurred and I realized I wept in a steady stream, my face wet with it. Nakoa, the king of patience, made no move to go, so I tried to wait it out without wiping my tears away, unwilling for him to see me so wrecked. Despite his gentle reassurances, I wouldn’t deceive myself that he was my friend or ally. We played a game of strategy, and if I’d learned anything from Ursula, it was to keep a brave face and never let your enemies see you flinch. Unfortunately, she hadn’t taught me how to do that.

  Nakoa let out a long breath and turned to seat himself beside me, facing the opposite direction, switching arms to keep one securely around my waist. I turned my face away. Then gave it up, scrubbed at my cheeks, and made myself look at him. In the bright morning, his black eyes showed lighter, like thinner slices of obsidian that might let light through if I held them up to the sun, the pupils distinct windows. He studied my face in turn, seeming to be deep in thought. Lifting his other hand, he brushed a finger under my eye, tracing the still damp skin there, metaphorically wiping away my tears.

  “Sorry,” he said, mimicking my Common Tongue word. He touched one of the marks on his chest, where I’d broken the skin enough to draw a bit of blood, then the healing wound on his throat, tapped me softly over my heart, then brushed away the imaginary tear again. “Sorry,” he repeated, his tonality giving it the lift of a question.

  I nodded. “Yes. Sorry.”

  Holding my gaze, he bent his head and pressed another kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger this time, cool against my brow. I might be a bit feverish from my injuries, which would help explain how fragile I felt. Nakoa moved, pressing another kiss to my cheekbone, just under the corner of my eye. With a finger under my chin, he turned my face and did the same to my other cheek. The sensation fluttered through me, warm sun on a winter’s day, cool water running over dark stone, salving my thirst. For once the memory didn’t feel quite so edged. I let my lids close, savoring the relief from fear, if only for the moment.

  Nakoa kissed my eyelids, light as butterfly wings, lifted my chin, and, after a pause, brushed my lips with his. There and gone. Then again.

  I likely should have stopped him already, but Jepp’s warnings, my resolve, all seemed centuries old instead of hours. I was lonely and the kisses filled me with a golden comfort. While they lasted, I didn’t feel hollow and abandoned, but . . . cherished. No one had ever touched me this way, and it felt like the thing I’d longed for, waited for. One part of me stood back and knew it wasn’t, that it was all an illusion. Still, I’d made the hard choice, and indulging in Nakoa’s physical presence seemed like the one bright spot.

  Kisses didn’t seal marriages. But they did feed me in a way I desperately needed at that moment.

  His lips moved over mine with warm insistence, deepening the kiss, and I parted mine, allowing the flavor of him in. Desire rose in lazy, lapping waves. Not the volcanic, hard and desperate passion of our kiss on the mountain. No echo of a third heartbeat this time. Just Nakoa and me. The language of the body is one I know and communicate in very well. Nakoa would be like Jepp that way, knowing how bodies spoke to each other. His tongue touched mine, an intimate caress, and his hand trailed over my throat and down my back, petting me with long brushes, soothing and arousing at once.

  I lifted my fingers to his cheek. He made an approving sound against my mouth and leaned into my touch. Encouraged, I threaded my fingers through the curls at his temple, imagining that the white locks felt different than the black, somehow more like coils of banked lightning. He echoed the gesture, touching my temple and then running his fingers through my hair, kissing me all the while, coming back to my temple when he reached the ends, combing through over and over.

  Drowning in it, I let go, feeling only the warmth of his kisses and caresses, letting the fear and worry disperse. I leaned against him, his hot skin burning now, and reveled in simply being held.

  Then I made myself stop.

  I pressed a hand to his chest and levered myself away, expecting him to press me or give me one of those thunderous frowns. But he looked serene. Very nearly happy, his full mouth curving in a sensual smile, gaze slumberous. He took my hand from his chest and turned it over, pressing a formal kiss to my wrist. “Dafne mlai.”

  “Nakoa.”

  His smile widened. “Ae.”

  The word for “yes,” most likely. Daunting how much it sounded like no. A slight difference in the vowel tone, a bigger change in pitch. One I’d have to be careful to get right. Pulling my hand from his, I tried it out, pointing my thumb up, “Ae,” then down “Ayh.”

  He tapped my temple and nodded. Absurdly I flushed with pleasure. Or the residual heat of those kisses. Nakoa tipped his head toward the stairs and asked a question.

  “Yes,” I told him in his tongue, and he lifted me. It would be really good when I could walk again, but for the moment, I enjoyed our temporary truce and relaxed in his arms, even resting my cheek against the bulge of his tattooed chest muscles. I realized I did recognize his scent, something like warm earth and banked coals, distinctly him.

  Inoa waited for us in his rooms, anxiety and hope both in her wide eyes. She had the bed turned down for me, a sleeping gown laid out, ointments ready and tea brewing. The sleepy tea, by the smell of it. A wave of exhaustion crashed over me, as if I’d already drunk the potion. I didn’t regret refusing it the evening before, but the fitful night, on top of the worry and tension, fatigue from my now throbbingly tender feet, and the hangover of Nakoa’s drugging kisses all robbed me of the ability to think.

  Obediently, I took the cup from Inoa and drank it down, vaguely aware of her and Nakoa conversing quietly. She wasn’t scolding him for once and they were probably discussing me, but I couldn’t focus enough to listen for words I knew. I turned my face away from them and stared out the deceptively open windows. A colorfully winged bird flew past, taunting me with its freedom. Tears leaked out of my eyes and I let them.

  And fell asleep before Inoa even had the bandages off.

  Evening had descended when I rose from the deep dregs of the sleep. And, thank the Three, I was alone. I hadn’t been fully alone in weeks. Not since we’d left Ordnung. A strange experience for me, as in the past I’d spent entire days seeing people only glancingly and sometimes speaking to no one at all.

  I supposed it spoke to their confidence that I could not escape the island. My prison had expanded, but I wouldn’t forget that it was one. Uorsin had done that, early on, giving the conquered kingdoms unasked-for bounties and luxuries the people hadn’t known, lulling them into believing they we
re better off under his rule. Arguably they were. As long as they tithed appropriately and did as they were told.

  Not something I’d ever been good at, though I’d faked it well enough.

  Inoa had left my feet bare this time—probably a good sign—and the cooler sunset breeze from the balconies brushed against the sensitive soles. Nakoa’s rooms, and probably the whole palace, evinced ingenious design with the way the openings facilitated cross breezes. The only time it grew unbearably warm seemed to be midafternoon. Probably no one stayed inside then, but instead moved to one of the cooler open courtyards or outdoor rooms.

  Taking advantage of my unexpected privacy, I brought up my foot so I could see. Goddesses—no wonder they hurt so cursed much. Jepp and Zynda had been generous in their descriptions, protecting me, as always. I didn’t much like being the person who couldn’t be told the truth. Scabbed over, yes, but also looking like one of the animals the Hawks had brought down and skinned for roasting during our travels. Tentative, I poked at it, feeling the pressure but nothing else. Numbed by the ointment, then. Checking the other foot, I found it in the same condition.

  If I could have, I’d have told Jepp exactly what I thought of her comforting lies. No wonder she’d been so concerned about getting me to the ship, however.

  The ever-thoughtful Inoa had left my journal, ink, and food by the bed, so I ate and worked on recording all that had occurred and my speculations about Nakoa and his agenda. I also added to my growing dictionary of Nahanaun. An advantage of not being a warrior—I didn’t have to have working feet to do what I did best. I might not be able to challenge Nakoa to a duel for my freedom, but I could think my way out of this situation.

  He’d recognized something about me from that first moment. It had been important that my bare feet touch the soil of the island. I hadn’t imagined that instant shock at contact, the way the dizzying magic swirled through me, nor that sense of connection to the dragon. Something of that ritual had both released the dragon, then quieted the volcano. Or vice versa.