City in Ruins

by R. K. Ryals

  I was on the main deck despite the downpour when I saw the vision of a woman wavering over the ocean. She stood in the air, hovering. Her figure was bent, her piercing eyes watching me. Unlike Escreet and Silveet, this woman wasn’t young and beautiful. She was old. A veil of straggly white hair hung in knotted strings around her shoulders. Her eyes were green and ringed in fire.

  She crooked her finger at me. “For Medeisia,” she called, her echoing voice as eerie as the rest of her. “Call on me when the time comes. You know my name. If you refuse to say it, then I cannot help you.”

  Her words still echoing, she disappeared, leaving behind a gray ocean and an unfurling uneasiness in the pit of my stomach.

  “Be a dragon,” I reminded myself.

  For Medeisia, and if I was being honest, partly for myself.

  Chapter 16

  With night came the fear, my pulse jumping in my neck. My stomach churned, my breathing rushed.

  Cloaked in Reenah’s blue robe, I made my way to the quarterdeck, the rain from earlier still falling from the sky, an ever-changing flood of water. From a trickle to a downpour and back again. The wind pushed it sideways, making it hard to escape the barrage no matter where you were on the ship. It soaked me to the skin.

  Because of the deluge, there were no lanterns lit along the walkways, and I stumbled as I moved, my fingers dragging against the ship, my untethered hair plastered to my face despite the robe’s cover.

  “Give me strength,” I begged the gods.

  My feet paused before a doorway, and I hesitated. Rain pressed against me, urging me forward, my clothes clinging to my flesh.

  My hand rose.

  The door swung open before I had a chance to knock, Prince Cadeyrn’s figure filling the opening. He was naked from the waist up, his breeches the only thing covering him. Even his feet were bare. His face was weary, and I knew he’d been working the past day with his men in the rain, his damp hair a sign he’d left them only recently.

  Cadeyrn’s brows furrowed, his gaze dropping to my blue-hooded figure. “I should be asking my consort why she feels the need to come to my chamber at this hour, but I’m not going to insult you or me by pretending you’re Reenah.”

  He stepped back, and I ducked into the cabin. Cadeyrn’s gaze swept the deck before he closed the door behind him.

  Drawing back my hood, I gazed at the room. The Captain’s quarters were bigger than those on the middle deck. A neatly made bed was tucked into the corner, a trunk pushed against the wall next to it. There was a desk on the opposite side of the room, the surface littered in parchment. An astrolabe and a map rested amongst them. Lanterns burned around the room.

  Water dripped from my clothes, pooling at my feet.

  Cadeyrn’s gaze found my face, his eyes traveling my figure to the floor. “Why did you come, Stone? Why would you risk it?”

  Swallowing hard, I answered, “Anyone who saw me would have thought you called on your consort.”

  “Stone,” he sighed. “I haven’t called on her for a long time.”

  “Because of Catriona?” I dared ask.

  His gaze bored into mine. “No.”

  My chest heaved, my hands fisted against my stomach. “It could only do Reenah good if your people thought you called on her.”

  Rather than argue, Cadeyrn stepped toward me. “Why have you come?”

  “I know a way to help Medeisia,” I whispered.

  The prince froze, his gaze searching my eyes. I knew what he saw in my face, but I didn’t flinch.

  “Aean Brirg,” he said hoarsely.

  My stomach a fluttering mess, I undid the robe at my neck, the heavy wet fabric falling with a splat to the floor. My fingers went to the laces on my tunic.

  “Stone,” Cadeyrn said, more firmly.

  I glanced at him, my cheeks flushed even though the rain’s chill had seeped to my bones. Tears threatened. I didn’t know if it was because I feared rejection or because I was being forced to use him the same way other kingdoms had, the same way Henderonia and Greemallia had used him with Catriona and Gabriella, as if he were a stud horse.

  My voice shook when I answered him. “Medeisia needs an heir, Cadeyrn. It needs an heir with Hedron’s bloodline, an heir born to a Medeisian mother. This won’t fix everything. Not the issues with New Hope or the problems in Sadeemia, but it’s a start.”

  Cadeyrn swept his hand through his hair, leaving it tousled, the muscles in his back bunching as he moved past me to lean against his desk, his palms flat against the surface.

  “Do you know what you’re asking?” he inquired.

  “I do.”

  His grip tightened on the desk. “How much thought have you given this, Aean Brirg? You’d risk your life to have a Medeisian heir? Have you thought about what this would mean for you? For our son or daughter? It would be an illegitimate claim to the throne.”

  My gaze fell to the floor, a shiver running up my spine at the words our son or daughter.

  “Only if you don’t claim him or her,” I pointed out.

  Cadeyrn laughed, the sound short. “God, Stone! I’m married into the Henderonian monarchy! How much do you expect from me? You know more than anyone what it’s like to be born illegitimate. You’d do that to a child?”

  My heart sank, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Would you? For Sadeemia?” I asked. “This is a chess game, Your Majesty. We’re all pieces in a very large, very complicated game, and I’m all out of moves.”

  Cadeyrn threw me a glance, but didn’t turn to face me. “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

  My chest burned, full of loud, angry sobs in danger of escaping. I was a walking dead woman who’d loved two men in her life. It was pointless to pretend otherwise. With Kye, it had been a sweet, carefree kind of love full of hope with a sad start but a passionate ending. I’d fallen for him hard and fast. With Cadeyrn, it had come on more slowly, a sneaking kind of love born from grief. We’d shared a great friendship full of understanding, the transformation to something deeper so slow and unexpected that I’m not sure when it changed. But the pain of heartache was there.

  “Why are you crying, Aean Brirg?” Cadeyrn repeated.

  His muscles were taut, the strain in them obvious.

  My tears fell harder. “Because I’m not sure what hurts worse,” I answered. “Asking you to do this or losing whatever respect you had for me.”

  Silence.

  Papers shifted on the desk as Cadeyrn moved. My eyes found the floor. Lantern light glinted off of the water at my feet, surrounding me in bright, rainy tears.

  “Have your gods agreed to this?” Cadeyrn asked. I nodded. “And Lochlen?”

  “He’d understand,” I answered. “I’m being a dragon after all. Dragons live to survive.”

  Bare feet suddenly pressed against my boots on the floor, a hand finding my chin, lifting it.

  “You’re cold,” Cadeyrn murmured. He stared at me, his eyes roaming my face. “Tell me, Aean Brirg, why are you crying?”

  A sob escaped me. “Because I love you!” I blurted. “I love you! I love my country, and I love the dragons. I’m crying because there’s no way to love all of that without losing something.”

  Cadeyrn exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath. He had the ability to discern truth from lie, and I knew by the way he looked at me that he heard the honesty in my voice.

  His grip tightened on my chin, and my eyes fell closed, the movement pressing more tears onto my cheeks.

  “Little bird,” Cadeyrn sighed, his fingers releasing my face to slide up my cheek. He leaned forward, his lips pressing against my forehead before moving to the tip of my nose. “Checkmate.”

  The word was replaced by his lips on mine, his skin warm against my chilled flesh, and I sank into his touch. It was a brief kiss, lasting only a moment before he stepped away.

  “I’ll do this for you, Aean Brirg. But know this. I don’t do this for your country. I’m not doing it for your dragons, and I’m certainly not
doing it for your gods.” Reaching out, his hands found the laces of my tunic, his fingers pulling them free, his gaze remaining on my face. “I’m doing this for you, and for the rest of my life, should it be a long life, I will find a way to watch you. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, my throat constricted, my vision blurred by tears. “The gods have promised we’ll conceive.”

  Cadeyrn tugged my tunic free, pulling it over my head and throwing it to the floor. He grabbed my arms, his gaze catching mine. “For you,” he insisted. “I’m doing this for you. Damn protocol, and I won’t leave you or a child of mine unprotected. You understand?”

  I nodded again, my voice barely above a whisper when I asked, “Why?”

  He pulled me close. “Ask me that again when I’m not tied to three different countries, two of them asking me for sons.”

  Aside from the fact that I was one of those countries asking him for an heir, I saw the truth in his eyes, in the way he stared down at me.

  My hand found the tattoo on his chest, and I pressed my palm against it, my cold fingers against his warm flesh.

  “The God of Unrest,” I said.

  His hands dropped to my waist. “And the Goddess of Serenity,” he replied.

  His fingers found the front of my breeches.

  I inhaled. “I haven’t done this since—”

  “No,” Cadeyrn whispered against my lips, a quick kiss silencing me. “Not here, Aean Brirg. Tonight, there is no before. We have enough scars between us. Tonight, it’s just you and me. No ghosts.”

  My tears wouldn’t stop coming. No matter how much fire his touch caused.

  Shedding the rest of our clothes, we touched skin to skin. Still, I cried. Cadeyrn wiped away the tears, but he didn’t try to stop them. I think he knew that as full as my heart was at being with him, it was just as broken at the thought of losing him.

  He pressed against me, lifting me before lowering me gently onto his bed, his breath mingling with mine. His hands explored me, and I touched him, my gaze locked with his.

  As much as we wanted to pretend the gods weren’t with us in the chamber, they were here. The wildness of the forest called to me as our bodies came together, the beauty of the moment like the whispers of the trees. Our fingers entwined as we moved, our muscles straining, our bodies reaching.

  Tonight, there were no ghosts.

  Tonight, there was only me, him, and a flood of tears.

  When it ended, the pleasure riding us both, I just barely remembered to whisper, “Cameet.” The Goddess of the Hearth and fertility.

  Warmth spread in my middle, and my tears came harder.

  Cadeyrn pulled me into his embrace, his arms falling around me.

  “You are strong, Aean Brirg,” he whispered against my ear. “Your choices are hard ones, but you’ve made them out of love. In the end, it’s the ones made out of hatred that will falter.”

  For the rest of the night, there was silence, the only sound the rain. My fingers traced his tattoo, and his palm splayed across the falcon on my back. We ignored the tattoos on my wrists. Those represented too much for us both.

  His hand fell to my middle, pressing it. My palm fell over his fingers.

  One day when I looked back on this night, I’d remember three things. The tears, Cadeyrn’s whispered, “Aean Brirg”, and the way he cradled my stomach.

  Chapter 17

  Politics was a dangerous game, full of treachery and people seeking power, and I’d not only entered the game, I’d entrenched myself in it.

  The morning after I spent the night with Cadeyrn, he followed me to Reenah’s chamber, his gaze meeting mine under the robe’s hooded cowl before I turned to duck inside. Reenah waited for me.

  Nodding curtly at the prince, she pressed the door closed, the click loud in the dim room, officially ending my time with Cadeyrn.

  In silence, Reenah assisted me, helping me strip off my clothing before handing me a drying cloth. A dry tunic and breeches were folded on her bed, and I tugged them on over a borrowed chemise.

  Reenah brushed my hair, running the bristles of her large comb through the snarled mess. I didn’t need the help, and she knew it, but the attention was nice, the affectionate gesture chasing away the empty feeling in my heart.

  “He was gentle, I hope,” Reenah whispered. “I’ve never known him to be anything but.”

  I glanced at her, at the worried look in her eyes. “He took it better than I hoped. He was gentle, Reenah,” I promised. “He was more than gentle.”

  Pulling my knees into my chest, I sobbed. Reenah held me, her hand smoothing down my hair.

  “You are an asset to your people,” the consort said fiercely. “History often forgets that with our ability to fight, to survive, and to birth heirs that women have forged tremendous trails. You’ve done it all now, Phoenix. You’ve given your people hope, you’ve fought, and now you’re giving your people the one thing no one else can, a leader and a future ruler. One day, you will rest, and I will make sure you rest well.”

  I glanced at her. “Why do you do this? Is there no one else you’d rather be with? Someone you love you’d rather share your life with?”

  Reenah’s eyes met mine, a deep sadness in her gaze. “I fell in love with a prince once, too,” she told me. “I’ve had my fill of love.” She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. I knew the man she loved wasn’t Cadeyrn. Even though she’d been his consort, their relationship was only friend deep.

  “You don’t want children?” I asked. Instinctively, my hand found my stomach, my throat clogging up. I didn’t know yet if calling on Cameet meant I’d conceived, but I was depending on it. There’d be no more chances to try. I wouldn’t risk it, for me or for Cadeyrn.

  Reenah stared at her hands. “I can’t have children.” Her voice was hoarse, full of unshed tears. Again, she didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask.

  Reaching out, I touched her shoulder, my head bowed. It was a Medeisian gesture of comfort.

  Throwing me a soft smile, she patted my stomach. “This will be enough.”

  “If I conceived,” I responded.

  Our eyes locked. Silence.

  Exhaling, Reenah stood. “We should prepare. If the weather permits, we’ll make port at the Isle of Marr. It’s a beautiful, exotic place.” She waved her hands in excitement. “Beaches and water like you’ve never seen before. The women wear long colorful blouses and thin, full skirts. The men are mostly bare chested, their legs covered in breeches that stop at their knees. Shoes are rarely worn.”

  Despite her glowing features, I felt wary. “The Isle of Marr is located between New Hope, Greemallia, and Henderonia, isn’t it?”

  Reenah shrugged. “It’s risky business, but it’s listed on the trade route, and if we passed the port and ran into bad weather or pirates, we could be stranded with few provisions.”

  “A double-edged sword,” I murmured. “Surrounded by enemies if you stop, and run the risk of running out of supplies if you don’t.”

  Pulling me up, Reenah pushed me toward the door. “This is a diplomatic mission. We’re not flying a battle flag. Try not to fret.” Directing me into the corridor beyond her cabin, she pointed down the hall. “Go!” she ordered on a laugh. “You really don’t want to miss this.”

  With each thudding step, my unease grew. It ate at me.

  Pausing at the cabin I shared with Maeve, I ducked into the room to grab my bow.

  Groans met me when I entered. Maeve reclined on her side on the bed, her knees drawn up against her stomach, her arms cradling her legs.

  With a sympathetic smile, I slung my bow and quiver of arrows onto my back and knelt next to her, my hand covering hers. “We’re making landfall today for provisions.”

  Maeve’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’re not just telling me that?”

  My head shook, my eyes bright.

  Sitting up, she threw her trembling legs over the side of the bed. “I want to see the land,” she breathed. “I know you must be gett
ing tired of playing nursemaid, especially since Daegan’s abandoned us to play sailor.”

  My arm snaked around her back. Leaning heavily on me, she stood, and even though I’d been bringing her food twice a day from the galley and emptying her chamber pot when needed, I noticed she’d lost at least a stone in weight. When I’d not been with SeeVan in the evenings or working on the ship’s ledger—which mostly consisted of celestial figures and instrument readings—I’d read to Maeve or assisted her to the upper decks. Oran often stayed with her. Other times he followed me. Still others, he shadowed the crew.

  On the way to the door, I grabbed Maeve’s sword, my fingers gripping the scabbard.

  She glanced at me. “Do you expect trouble?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered, “but we’re too close to hostile nations for my comfort.”

  Maeve trusted my instincts, and she didn’t argue, her gaze drifting from her sword to my bow before finding my face.

  She studied me, her brows furrowing. “Something’s happened to you.”

  We climbed the stairs to the main deck, the rain beyond having turned into a light mist. It swept our cheeks and left them damp.

  “I’m going to need you,” I whispered to Maeve. “Now more than ever.”

  I didn’t tell her about the significance of the tattoos on my wrists or my night with the prince. Those were my burdens, my precious memories. Secrets kept between few saved more lives. Cadeyrn taught me that.

  The deck was full of life, the crew rushing to prepare the ship for docking.

  “Land, ho!” a man yelled from the rigging.

  I glanced up to see Daegan hanging from the crow’s nest, a smile plastered on his face. He’d found a place among the men, and his eyes were bright, his gaze flashing from the sea to the deck.

  Cries rose up, fists lifting toward the sky. No matter how much a man loved the sea, the sight of land was a welcome one.

  “Land,” Maeve said on an exhale, her voice full of relief. I helped her over to the side of the deck, and she sagged against the railing, her frantic gaze on the sea. “Where’s the land?” she demanded.