I cringed when he said forced, since it was at the heart of my other big issue. “I…I can’t remember how we met,” I whispered. “I mean, I know it was during that dream in my car, but I only remember the end. I can’t remember our first kiss, or how you even got into my car. I’ve tried, believe me I’ve tried, but everything’s blank.” Micah’s frown deepened, whether because I was a horrible person for not remembering such a momentous occasion or because he couldn’t imagine how one kiss could possibly matter so much, I couldn’t tell. “I didn’t know I was a Dreamwalker then, and once I realized what was going on, we were pretty far along. I…” I sighed and plowed on, “I just wish I knew how the dream had started.”
I walked away from him, raking my hands through my hair. “I know. It shouldn’t matter. It was just one kiss.”
“It matters.”
I turned and saw Micah’s slumped shoulders, his dejected face. “It’s not your fault,” I said in a rush. “It’s mine, for not remembering. I’m sorry.”
Micah watched me for a moment, his face guarded, then he stepped forward, so close I could feel his breath. Close enough to kiss. “I’d watched you before that day,” Micah began, his soft voice sending chills down my spine. “I’d watched you many times, sunning yourself in your mechanical. But that day, the day we met, you were so beautiful, lying there in the sun…I hoped you wanted me, but I wasn’t sure.”
“You’re never unsure,” I whispered.
“On occasion, I am.” With a single long finger Micah stroked my jawline. “Despite my uncertainties, I had to kiss you. I needed to kiss you.” He pressed his lips to mine, softly, sweetly. “But once was not enough.” He kissed me again, lingering a bit. “Then, the most extraordinary thing happened.”
“W—what was that?” I stammered, my knees having gone wobbly from all this unexpected romance.
“You kissed me back.” He was right, I’d done just that, and I did it again, sliding my arms around his neck. Micah’s arms glided over my shoulders and down my back, stroking my mark, pressing me against him. And you know what? It didn’t matter that I couldn’t exactly remember our first kiss. Micah had given me a new memory, one just as precious.
“Our first kiss was nice,” I said, once we came up for air.
“Nice?” Micah repeated, his brows halfway up his forehead. “I’ll show you nice!”
“Will you?” I tried to slip out of his grasp and restart our game of chase, but Micah’s arms wouldn’t budge. Still, I struggled, and we ended up on the ground, laughing and wrestling and kissing. After we’d done that for a while, we sat against the oak tree, watching the clouds drift by.
“All of our days should be like this,” Micah murmured. “When I couldn’t find you…”
“I know. All I thought about was getting home to you. I just wanted you to find me.”
He hugged me a bit closer. “Instead, you found your way to me.”
“That I did.” I shifted, resting my cheek on Micah’s shoulder. For a silver elf, he was pretty comfortable.
“You know, it was kind of nice being in the Mundane world for so long. Well, except for the whole government-prisoner part,” I added. I leaned across Micah’s chest and traced little circles on the back of his hand. “I don’t think I’d realized how much I missed my old life.”
“Would you prefer to spend your life there?” Micah whispered.
“You’d come with me?” I looked up in time to catch the emotions skating across Micah’s face, despair and resignation giving way to relief. Then I realized that what he’d really asked me was if I’d wanted to live in the Mundane world without him.
Never, not in a million years.
“Hey,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m the insecure one, remember?” I rubbed my cheek against his neck. “You’re the strong, silent type.”
He kissed my hair. “Thank you for reminding me.” Micah tugged my arm into his lap and pushed up my sleeve, then placed his wrist next to mine. The copper mark that swirled around his arm matched the silver mark on mine, curve for curve. “It still awes me that you did such a thing,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t leave you,” I said, tracing the copper on his wrist. “You wouldn’t have left me.”
He pulled me against him then, holding me so tightly I could hardly breathe. It struck me then—I’d been right, in a way, while I was mulling over Micah in front of that campfire. My unexpected stint in the Mundane realm had really made Micah think I was unsatisfied with him? Looking back, it made sense. I mean, once Dad returned, he’d started trying to get me to consider dating the only Mundane man that had ever hit on me in front of Micah, and right after that I disappeared for days on end. Not that anything would ever happen between me and Jerome, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Micah’s new wife seemed like she was slipping away not only from him, but from his world, too.
And now, Dad had dropped the bomb that he wanted all of us to move back to the Mundane realm.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” I shifted so I could see Micah’s eyes. He’d let his hair fall over his brow, so I pushed the superfine strands off his forehead. “I belong with you.”
Micah smiled. “You’re right. You do.” He stood, and pulled me up alongside him. “Come, wife. Let me take you inside.”
“Whatever for?” I asked, batting my eyelashes. Micah murmured something rather ungentlemanly in my ear—I didn’t even think he knew those sorts of words. Not that I had any problem with putting those words into action, not in the slightest.
Laughing, we walked through the manor’s front door and right into the middle of a truly epic screaming match between Mom, Dad, and Sadie.
“We need to start using the kitchen entrance,” I muttered. Micah squeezed my hand, and then, like a brave knight of old, stepped into the thick of the battle.
“Please,” he said, putting himself between Sadie and Dad. “Shouting rarely accomplishes anything.”
“He won’t listen!” Sadie shrieked. “I am not anyone’s leader! Of anything! Ever!”
“Sadie!” Dad bellowed. “You are a Corbeau! We do not avoid our duties!”
“This is not my duty,” Sadie retorted.
“She’s my daughter, too,” Mom seethed. “How would you like it if I took her to the brugh and installed her as my scribe?”
“Please!” Micah shouted. “Perhaps we should take a moment to think before things are said that we all regret.”
“Perhaps you should stay out of our family discussions,” Dad said.
I’d had enough. “What is wrong with you?” I demanded, shoving myself in front of Micah and glaring up at my father. “Micah is our family!”
“He’s not a Corbeau,” Dad sneered.
“Yeah, well, neither am I.” I glanced toward Micah—his lips were pressed into a bloodless line, and his eyes were practically red with fury. “Go for a walk.”
He blinked. “Whatever for?”
“Because the last time you looked that angry, you wadded up iron warriors like tinfoil and threw them at Ferra’s castle.” Micah nodded, because wives are smart and you should listen to them, and then he walked outside without another word. Once he was gone, I said to Dad, “Why do you hate my husband?”
At least he had the decency to look offended. “I do not hate Micah.”
“But, you don’t like that I’m married to him.” I crossed my arms over my chest and moved closer to Mom, channeling her bad-assedness. “Is it because he’s an elf?”
“No!” Dad rubbed his forehead and continued, “No. Not at all. I just…” He wandered toward a window, content to stare at the landscape while Mom, Sadie, and I glared daggers into his back. It was then that I noticed Max was conspicuously absent. It wasn’t like him to miss out on a shouting match. Then again, Max had never disagreed with a single thing Dad had said, no matter how outrageous.
“My entire life, I’ve had a vision of what our family would be like,” Dad said at last.
“My wife and children would stand by my side, and we would end the Peacekeepers’ reign of tyranny once and for all. In my vision, we would do good things.”
“We will always support you,” I said softly, “but you need to support us, too.” Dad nodded, but he didn’t say anything. “What is it about Jerome? Why did you send him after me?”
Dad opened his mouth, then shut it. After a few moments’ thought, he replied, “Firstly, he’s a good man. Secondly, we could exploit his Peacekeeper connections to learn vital information. Thirdly, joining the families of the current Metal Inheritor and the prior Air Inheritor would be a smart political move.”
“Joining the families?” I repeated. “As in, allies?”
“More than just allies,” Dad clarified. “Marriage.”
Mom snorted and muttered something about politics being the death of us all. I heard movement near the front door and saw that Micah had left it open. No one was standing there, so I assumed it had been a silverkin and turned back to Dad. “While these are all solid reasons,” I allowed, “the fact remains that I am married to Micah. To Micah! You need to drop this fantasy about Jerome.”
Dad shrugged. “I had so many dreams for you.” He looked to Sadie. “You, too. I wanted us to lead the resistance together. You would be an excellent leader, of that I’m sure.”
Sadie stared at him, her mouth a slash across her face. “You know nothing about me,” she whispered, before retreating toward her library. Mom gave Dad a long, sad look, then she went upstairs.
“You should apologize to Micah,” I said as I also left the atrium. “Being that he’s the only son-in-law you have.”
Dad started to say something, but I didn’t stay to hear it. What I needed right now was a drink—preferably something cold and eye-wateringly alcoholic—some aspirin, and a nap. Arguing with Dad was just exhausting, and the combination of my throbbing head and leftover bruises wasn’t helping matters.
On my way to the kitchen, I found Sadie curled up on the couch. “You okay?”
“How could I be okay?” She raised her head, face streaked with tears. “My entire life, I’ve waited to have my father back. Now he’s here, and he doesn’t care anything about me.”
“That’s not true,” I said, sitting beside her. “You know he loves you.”
“He loves the idea of me,” Sadie spat. “He loves having a powerful daughter, one who can be a symbol for his cause. He has no idea who I really am.”
I didn’t say anything—I mean, what could I have really offered? Sadie was right. Dad had been gone for so long, and he was now so focused on the resistance that he didn’t know any of us. What was worse was that he didn’t seem to care.
So I sat with my sister, hoping that my presence comforted her at least a little bit. After a while, the silverkin brought us something to eat and the magazines I’d picked up a few weeks ago at the Promenade Market. I figured I’d spend some quality time with Sadie until Micah got back from his walk. I couldn’t wait to see him, go up to our rooms, and put this day behind us.
25
“He is trying to take you away from me.”
“Wha—” I blinked, bleary-eyed, and assessed my surroundings. My physical body was once again sleeping on the couch with Sadie—we must have been sleeping for a while, since someone had been thoughtful enough to tuck some blankets around us. Micah’s body was sprawled in the chair opposite from the couch while his dreamself prowled back and forth before the hearth.
Which meant that Micah was angry—no, furious—enough about something to barge into my dream and yell about it.
“Micah,” I said, but he ignored me and went on nattering away. “Hey!” I said louder. At least he stopped moving. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father. Baudoin.” Micah halted and scrubbed his face with his hands, then he crouched before me. “My Sara, it pains me to say this, but I must. Your father wants us apart.”
“He doesn’t,” I said automatically, then I remembered the movement I’d caught near the front door. I guess someone had been there after all. “You heard what he said?” I asked, my hand finding its way inside Micah’s.
“I did.” Micah caressed my cheek, his eyes wide. “Sara, you must tell me if you share his sentiment. If you do not wish to be bound to me, I will release you.”
“Release me?” I squeaked. I knew what Micah meant—as long as our marriage remained unconsummated, either one of us could walk away. Only I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” he murmured, now raining kisses onto my face, neck, hands. “I will hold you to me until the end of time, if only you wish it. I will never let you go. Never…”
I started awake, the sensation of Micah’s lips somehow imprinted on my wakeful skin. He still slept fitfully in the chair across from us, his brows drawn together. Slowly, so as not to wake my sister, I extricated myself from the blankets and settled myself on Micah’s lap.
I took a moment to appreciate his sleeping face, his delicate silver brows a pleasing contrast to his caramel skin, before I started raining kisses upon his skin in much the same way his dreamself had done to me. It didn’t take long to rouse him, not that it mattered. I could have kissed him forever.
“And I will never let you go,” I said, staring into his silver eyes. “I don’t care who thinks what about it. You’re mine. End of story.”
Micah put his hands on the back of my neck and slid his fingers into my hair. “But what of your father?”
“What of him?” My voice caught at the last, but I soldiered on. “He’s been gone for most of my life. He wasn’t there when I was growing up, wasn’t…” I reflexively wiped my nose, not that I was crying. “My point is, he doesn’t really know me very well. So he’ll just have to get to know the both of us, together.”
Then I kissed Micah before he could protest, thus ending anything he could say about needing a father’s approval. Because he didn’t need anyone’s approval, and neither did I.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said between kisses. I glanced at the window: dawn was just breaking over the horizon.
At that, Micah balled his hands into fists. “We must appear at the Golden Court this morning,” he said. “If we do not, Oriana may formally accuse us of treason.”
“Oh. Well, then.” I mustered my coyest glance. “Let’s get this appearance over with. I have business with my husband.”
At that, Micah smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes. “My Sara, I couldn’t agree more.”
26
Micah and I didn’t even bother to change before we left for the Golden Court. I just brushed my hair and pulled on a hoodie, not even taking the time to apply some makeup to conceal the remains of my recent injuries. While my copper had taken care of the cuts that had scored my cheek, Micah hadn’t gotten around to helping me with the bruises. As it turned out, Micah approved of me looking like a punching bag.
“While it pains me to see you so,” he murmured, lightly touching my mottled cheek, “it will reinforce my claim that you were abducted.”
“Would anyone really think you made that up?”
Micah snorted. “The problem is our queen tends to react before she thinks.”
He had a point there. “What we really need to do is create a diversion, so that she stops looking our way,” I said.
Micah smiled and pulled me close. “An excellent notion, love.” Then he kissed me, rather awesomely, and we left the Whispering Dell to meet with our lunatic queen.
The Golden Court was welcoming, as always, with its attentive footmen and smiling servant girls. By now, I suspected that they had been drugged with something that made them unable to do anything but smile and bow. And genuflect—can’t forget the genuflecting.
Anyway, we were led with alacrity (side note: I have been hanging around Sadie way too much if I’m using words like genuflect and alacrity) to Oriana’s receiving chamber. The throne was, notably, empty.
“Our queen s
hall join you shortly,” we were assured by one of Oriana’s tulip-skirted maidens. Once we were seated, she skittered out of the room, and we waited.
And waited.
At one point, I dozed off against Micah’s shoulder. He woke me, admonished me for having the audacity to fall asleep while waiting for our queen’s arrival, and proceeded to fall asleep himself. He’s cute when he drools.
Once I’d roused him, I asked him what could be taking Oriana so long. “We did arrive quite early,” Micah replied, surreptitiously wiping his chin. “Perhaps our queen had a late night.”
“Perhaps our queen wants to watch us squirm,” I muttered. Before Micah could defend her, Oriana herself appeared. Her new companion, Ayla, the Inheritor of Fire, was right behind her.
“Lord Silverstrand,” Oriana intoned as one of the tulip-skirted girls led her to her throne, while Ayla claimed an ornate seat to the throne’s left. I was beginning to wonder if Oriana could manage to feed and groom herself without assistance. “Lady Silverstrand,” she added, mostly as an afterthought.
“My queen,” Micah said, bowing low. I wasn’t going to bother with bowing, but Micah pulled me into a half-assed curtsey. He had always been much more polite than me.
“Thank you for allowing us a brief respite before we attended you,” Micah continued, once we’d straightened. “My wife and I both appreciate your generosity. Her captivity was quite an ordeal for all of us.”
Oriana stared at me, so I stared back until Micah pinched me. Oh, yes, I should probably speak. “We all appreciate your patience,” I said. “During our capture—”
“Was your sister captured?” Oriana demanded.
“Yes.” After another pinch from Micah, I added, “My lady.”
“Did she also escape?”
“Um, yes.”
Oriana leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “Why is she not here now?”
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, wondering if I should begin with the fight Sadie had with Dad or the fact that Micah and I hadn’t woken her before we left.
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