Emergence (Book 2)

by K. L. Schwengel

  She bent her head to kiss him. "Because I love you, fool."

  He tried to laugh and it turned into a cough that left him limp in her lap, his eyes squeezed shut. She looked up to find Ariadne standing beside the Emperor.

  "Tell him he has to stay," Ciara pleaded.

  "Like I'd listen to them."

  She looked down. Bolin's eyes were still closed, but his chest rose and fell in a deeper, easy rhythm. "Then you'll listen to me. I won't let you go. She's taken too many from me. She'll not have you as well."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Ciara found Bolin in the Grieving House. He sat on a low bench beside the stone table where Nialyne's shrouded body lay, his forearms resting on his knees, his head bowed. Early morning sunlight streamed in through a wall of painted glass, shattering the scene depicted on its surface into a blanket of soft colors. A soothing blend of cardamom and cedarwood incense drifted up from the wall sconces, its gentle smoke adding a slight haze to the room. Ciara hesitated in the doorway, afraid to break the quiet tableau.

  "It's all right, Ciara," Bolin said without looking up, the words raspy, as though coming through a raw throat.

  He didn't move when she slid onto the bench beside him. His eyes were open, fixed on the floor at his feet where bits of pastel light bathed the tiles. Ciara wished she had words for him, something to ease the grief radiating from him. But nothing came. She threaded her arm through the crook of his, wrapping her fingers around his forearm. He remained motionless for a time, then reached up to lay his hand across hers.

  "It shouldn't have come to her like this," he said, and anger made his voice crack. "Death should have taken her peacefully, within the Greensward, not leagues from her home at the hands of that witch." He sucked in an uneven breath and looked away. Ciara could see the side of his face, a bruise growing around a cut on his temple, his cheeks glistening damply. His jaw worked and his fingers curled tight around hers. His next words were little more than a harsh whisper, "Not for me."

  Ciara rolled her lips to contain a gasp at the pain in his voice, and rested her head against his shoulder. Goddess's blood, why couldn't she come up with words of comfort?

  "I told her to stay in the castle. Demanded it," he said. "But she wouldn't. She didn't understand I was only trying to protect her. At the end, I knew what she was doing, and I begged her not to, but she wouldn't listen. I couldn't stop her. I would have given anything to prevent this. It should have been me. Every time someone valued my life over their own, it should have been me."

  The scrape of shoes on the tile drew Ciara's gaze back toward the door. Danyer, the Emperor's aide, bowed his head respectfully. "My pardon, Lady. My Lord, His Majesty sends his apologies for this disturbance, but he requires your attendance."

  "Tell the Emperor--" Ciara began, but Bolin squeezed her hand, and gave a small shake of his head.

  "I'll be there shortly, Danyer."

  "Thank you, My Lord."

  Bolin closed his eyes and took a deep breath before standing. He left Ciara sitting on the bench and approached the table. He stood for a long moment, hands loose at his sides, head bowed, and a sag to his shoulders. Ciara longed to go to him but held her place. She had never felt so totally useless.

  Bolin's arm shook as he lifted a hand and rested it gently on the shrouded figure. His voice came to Ciara, low and rhythmic as he said something in Galysian, and though she didn't understand the words they still tore at her heart. When he turned to face her again the mask had returned, the dampness on his cheeks the only indication of the grief he locked somewhere inside.

  "I'm not sure how long I'll be with the Emperor," he said. "I'll have someone escort you to my rooms until we can find you more appropriate quarters. If you don't mind, that is. Anything you need can be brought to you there."

  Ciara would have done anything he asked at that moment without a word of argument. If there were any way to bring Nialyne back--but the past would always remain unchangeable, no matter how much they wished otherwise.

  "This wasn't your doing. You know that, right?" he said. "I won't have you taking it on yourself. Nor would Nialyne."

  "It's hard not to feel responsible," Ciara said.

  "If there is blame to be had it is mine." He looked past her, visibly fighting to maintain the facade he had constructed.

  Ciara stood and laid a hand on his arm, drawing his look. "I'll make you a bargain. I won't take it all on myself if you do the same. Nialyne wouldn't want either of us blaming ourselves."

  Bolin dipped his head. "I'll try. That's the best I can offer."

  ***

  The Emperor stood before the window, and Bolin stared at his back and waited. When Dain finally turned and Bolin read the expression he wore, he held up a hand.

  "Don't." It had taken him the entire walk from the Grieving House to Dain's office to gain some semblance of control over his cascading emotions. Dain's sympathy would undo the wall Bolin had built as effectively as a battering ram against a rotted door.

  The Emperor nodded, and gestured to a chair. "Sit." He took his own and leaned his elbows on his desk, fingers interlaced. "We need to discuss some things. Are you up to it?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Of course you are."

  Bolin raised a brow at Dain's tone. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning even if you weren't you wouldn't admit it. Quite frankly, you look like hell. Did you get any sleep?"

  "I don't think that's really what you asked me here to discuss."

  "It's not," Dain said. "But I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to express concern for a friend."

  Bolin dragged a hand across his face. "I'm sorry. No, I haven't slept, and although I appreciate your concern, I would rather stick to the real reason I'm here."

  "All right. Any idea where we're likely to find Donovan?"

  "We?"

  "You're not going after him alone," Dain said, his tone suggesting he expected an argument.

  The sarcastic retort forming died before it reached Bolin's lips. In light of everything, it seemed trivial. "The Nethers has always been his home. My guess is he'd go back there first. Especially if he's been weakened."

  "All the more reason to move on him as soon as we can."

  "I will be returning Nialyne to Galys Auld," Bolin said. His loss betrayed him, and he looked away, struggling to maintain his composure. "If you don't intend to have me executed for attacking you on the wall, I'll search for Donovan when I return. By your leave, of course."

  Bolin couldn't meet Dain's gaze. The arms had closed around his chest again, squeezing until he could barely breathe. He shoved out of the chair and walked to the sideboard on the pretense of getting a drink. Once there he rested his palms against the smooth surface and fought for calm, the tremor in his hands working up his arms.

  "Nialyne will be given a full Imperial escort," Dain said. "As is befitting someone of her station. Bolin--"

  "Damn the unholies, Dain, don't." Bolin didn't turn. He concentrated on working his way back from the edge of a huge, gaping hole he had no desire to touch. "I'm hanging by a thread here. Please. Just let it be."

  A knock on the door preceded Danyer's voice. "Commander Garek, as you requested, Your Majesty."

  The scuff of boot heels on tile announced Garek's arrival. The steps hesitated. "Would you rather I come back?"

  "No," Bolin said, before Dain could reply. He straightened, and managed to pour three drinks without spilling a drop. No small feat given the shaking of his hands. He passed the drinks around and reclaimed his chair. "How's Berk?"

  Garek sat beside him. He exchanged a quick look with Dain before answering Bolin's question. "He attacked you with the intention of gutting you. At the moment he's making his peace with the likelihood of being executed. I assume that's why I'm here?"

  "If he's to be executed then two blades will need to drop that day," Bolin said. "Berk wasn't acting of his own volition. I was."

  "And...I missed something," Garek said, his brow furrowed.<
br />
  "I threatened to kill Dain if he didn't get out of my way."

  "You've done that before."

  "This time he meant it," Dain said.

  "Ah." Garek downed his drink and went to refill the glass. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened up there, but I know Berk. He's a good man. He'd sooner fall on his own blade than go against either of you. He's got no idea why he did it, can't seem to remember a whole chunk of what went on up there, or for a space before. You know Berk's father, both of you. You know the cloth he's cut from. The lad's proven himself time and again. He knows the law, same as I do, and he'd go to the block without a fight if that's what it comes to. But so we're clear, I won't let him."

  Dain frowned. "So I'll need three blades?"

  "Likely four," Garek said. "I doubt Sully will stand for it either. In fact, if it looks like it's going that way, I'm to request an audience with you on the Lieutenant's behalf."

  Dain tapped the tips of his thumbs against one another. His eyes flicked from Garek to Bolin and rested there long enough to become bothersome.

  "What is it you're trying to decide?" Bolin asked. "Whether you're going to schedule a festival to go along with the executions, or whether I'm stable enough at the moment to deal with whatever else is on your mind?"

  "The second," Dain said. "I already decided there won't be a festival."

  Bolin rubbed his jaw. The Emperor's lack of faith should have bothered him, but he couldn't find enough energy to dredge up the emotion. Grounds enough for suspicion, he supposed. He leaned his head against the chair back and closed his eyes. He ached, body and soul, at a level he never had before. Beneath it nestled the anger: at Nialyne for sacrificing herself, at himself for not being able to stop her. Mostly at the Goddess for allowing it. And that last one had begun to border on loathing. He often questioned the Goddess's plans, and the reasons behind her actions. He had never questioned his blind devotion to her until now.

  "Bolin?"

  He opened his eyes only wide enough to see Dain through the haze of his lashes. "I need some time."

  ***

  Ciara had no desire to wake up. She nestled deeper into a cloud of warm comfort that, oddly enough, smelled of… She inhaled. Bolin?

  Ciara bolted upright, the blanket sliding down to her waist. Last thing she remembered, she'd been lounging on the settee in Bolin's study, browsing through a book on the lore of Ralaquin, who she had never heard of before, but who had apparently been quite the powerful mage. When she had fallen asleep, and how she had gotten into his bed--she looked down, breathing a sigh of relief to see she still wore the dress she'd had on the day before. Regret snuck up on the heels of it. Waking up in Bolin's bed would have been far better in his arms.

  "Like that will ever happen," she said, and slid out from beneath the covers, her bare feet sinking into the thick fur covering the floor. She imagined it a welcome thing come winter.

  That Bolin had chosen rooms at the top of the northern tower, far removed from everyone else, didn't surprise Ciara. The fact they were something other than sparsely decorated, however, did. She hadn't thought Bolin would have anything on his walls save weapons, or possibly a stag's head. Though an assortment of swords, daggers, and even two hand axes hung from pegs beside the open arch leading down three steps to the study, the other walls boasted rich tapestries with not a stuffed head among them. Another tapestry had been pulled back from the balcony to let in the early morning breeze. To its right, above the fireplace, hung an artist's rendering of what had to be the Greensward. Ciara knew of no other forest so lush and vibrant, and as she studied it she could almost feel the gentle breeze bursting with the scent of fresh, spring greens. Flanking it, one on either side, were oil lanterns engraved with an intricate pattern of intertwined knots.

  Ciara trailed her hand across the rich, dark wood of one of the bedposts as she made her way around it. Even they were works of art, carved with the same tangle of intricate knots and animal shapes as the lanterns. Two padded leather chairs sat before the fireplace, a low table between them. A sideboard and wardrobe that matched the bed occupied another wall.

  With its curved stone walls and high beamed ceiling, the room could have seemed as cold and hard as Bolin often did. Instead, it gave the impression of warmth and comfort. Ciara bit her lower lip, and brushed at the single tear that spilled across her cheek. It felt like home.

  "M'lady?" A voice drifted in from the study, followed by a young girl who bobbed a curtsy half-way up the steps as her eyes landed on Ciara and then drifted to the floor. She carried an armful of clothing. "Your pardon, m'lady, the Lord General has sent these for you and asked if you would meet him in the stable yard once you've changed."

  She scurried in to deposit the clothing on a chest at the foot of the bed, setting Ciara's worn boots on the floor beside it.

  "Shall I help you change, m'lady?"

  Ciara shook her head. "No. Thank you. I'll be fine." The girl curtsied again, but Ciara called her back before she could leave. "Would you wait for me? I'm not sure how to get to the stable yard from here."

  "Of course, m'lady." She looked around, then sat on the top step to wait, her back to Ciara.

  The clothes weren't Ciara's but were similar to what she had worn out of Galys Auld, comfortable, loose pants, and a thigh length tunic of deep russet with a wide leather belt. She tugged on her boots. They'd been polished, and new leather laces replaced the frayed, knotted ones, which proved to be a good thing because the pants were too long, forcing Ciara to roll them to her calf and secure them with the lace. She looked around for a hairbrush but had to settle for using her fingers, tugging through the snarls to wind her hair back into its customary tangle of a braid.

  The girl glanced over her shoulder. "All finished, m'lady?" She collected Ciara's dress and undershift from the floor. "We'll see these cleaned and mended. Although I'm sure his lordship will see you've plenty much nicer than this. And we'll see you get a decent mirror and whatever else you need up here."

  "Oh, I don't think I'll be staying," Ciara said.

  The girl's brows rose. "Oh. I thought--" She shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind me. I don't always hear things right. Mum says I should either listen more careful or just not listen at all and save everyone the bother."

  She headed from the room, Ciara trailing behind.

  "I'll see you to the yard, m'lady."

  ***

  Bolin looked up from checking Sandeen's girth as Ciara approached, and his eyes swept over her in silent appraisal. "You slept well?"

  Ciara nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take your bed."

  "I put you there," he said. "I thought you'd be more comfortable than on the settee."

  "Oh. Thank you." Though I'd have been more comfortable with you there. "Are you going somewhere?"

  "We are. If you'll join me that is?" he said. "I want to show you something."

  "Do you think it's wise?"

  "As in 'do I think we'll be safe'? Aye. But if you'd prefer I can arrange an escort as well."

  "No. I just--" Her glance strayed toward the wall. She couldn't see the spot from where they stood, but the images were all there, burned into her mind, too fresh to get close to.

  Bolin laid a hand on her arm. "He's nowhere near. We'd know if he was."

  "I know."

  "I won't force you to go if you'd rather not."

  Something in his tone tugged at her heart. Disappointment, sadness? She forced a smile. "No, it will be nice to get out."

  He studied her for a moment, his expression giving nothing away, then gestured toward a beautiful bay mare that bore a striking resemblance to Sandeen in all but size and color. Bolin gave her a leg up before mounting the waiting stallion, and Ciara frowned at the obvious stiffness in his moves.

  "Are you all right?"

  He glanced over at her and opened his mouth, then appeared to reconsider his answer. "Bruised and battered. Nothing worse."

  "You haven't slept much
, have you?"

  "No."

  He turned Sandeen toward the gate and Ciara followed him through. They headed toward the river, for a while following the road as it turned northward and plunged beneath the trees. As it started to move away from the banks of the Rynwall, Bolin turned onto a narrow track that looked to be no more than a game trail. It twisted back on itself as it began to climb upwards. A dull roar that had been tickling at Ciara's ears became the sound of rushing water as the horses surged up and over the crest of a broad, flat outcropping.

  Ciara gasped when her eyes landed on the cascading falls, the sunlight glittering from the spray like drops of silver. "It's beautiful."

  Bolin dismounted and left Sandeen to graze the short grass, holding Ciara's horse while she swung down to join him. He took her hand and angled his head toward a rough set of stairs carved into the stone to their left. "The view's better from up there."

  The climb left Ciara short of breath, and the view at the top stole the rest of it. They stood on a finger of stone suspended above the falls, the water's song muted by the height. Behind them, the tops of soaring pines obscured their view, but in front of them the land spread out in all directions, giving a clear view of the river as it twisted through the trees. The breeze that pushed around them, tugging Ciara's hair from its braid, brought with it the musty smell of the raging water and the sweet scent of the forest around them.

  "At sunrise the falls shine like molten gold," Bolin said from beside her, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear it. "And under the full moon it's as soft as spun silver."

  "Do you come here a lot?"

  A flicker of sadness crossed his face. "Not often enough."

  Ciara bit the inside of her cheek. "I get the feeling you didn't bring me here just for the view."

  Bolin shook his head, still looking down at the river. "We'll be leaving for the Greensward tomorrow. Nialyne will be returned to her home with a full Imperial escort, including the Emperor. I'd…you're welcome to come, if you feel up to it."