“I shouldn’t imagine he knew. Your butler said the entire family had gone to visit Baron Samann.”
Nanette’s betrothed. My mind sparks with recognition. We'd spent over a week at the barony earlier this year.
Ardin’s lips quirk around a sarcastic smile. “I was too cowardly to leave word with your staff when I hadn’t had the courtesy to send word that I planned on coming. In truth, I hadn’t planned it. I received your letter and just… jumped on a horse. I felt a complete fool once I’d knocked at the door. I couldn’t even bring myself to write you again.”
“Ardin…” My hand wanders to his cheek of its own volition and stays there, still. The music comes to a halt, the dancers slowing around us. His eyes widen at the contact and I swallow, keeping my gaze on his. Propriety has already been tossed out the window, so may propriety be well-damned.
“I hope you call again.”
The Winter of my Eighteenth Year
Wedding Plans
“We should have doves at the ceremony, don't you agree?” Mother frets. “I shouldn’t like to think we’ve been thought to skimp on the festivities when our daughter is marrying a Duke, Makers be blessed.”
“Mother.” I color, glancing in said duke's direction. Ardin had greeted us the moment we'd set foot on palace grounds, but is off performing the necessary social obligations now.
“Hush, Corrine. You know very well that a wedding speaks to our standing. Especially this wedding.” She squeezes my arm. “You’re going to be the duchess of Secan! Wife of the king’s best friend!” If she spoke any louder, she’d be squealing.
Still, her excitement is infectious. In conversation with King Langdon, Ardin catches my eye from across the room and I can’t contain a grin. It’s echoed in his expression.
He twirls his fingers at his hip, nodding seriously at something the king is saying and I stiffen as a cool breeze winds its way delicately under my skirts, caressing my thighs, twining about my calves. My dress doesn’t even shift. I have to fight not to let my surprise show on my face. Sweet Makers, I shudder to think what Mother would say if she were to realize.
He quirks an innocent brow at me and I turn my back on my mother, feigning as though I must put my drink down. Incorrigible, I mouth to him.
He shrugs, untroubled by this accusation.
He’d taken me at my word last winter when I asked him to call upon me at the march. His visits were frequent; our letters, a constant. Our butler grew accustomed to my questioning him about any new post as part of my morning routine. He’d told me about his training as an Air Rider. Told me about his Elemental Reveal three years ago. How his friend, the new King Langdon, after the unexpected illnesses and deaths of his parents, wanted to appoint him Court Rider, an adviser, and a peace ambassador to other nations.
Before long, I was stealing him away from my mother’s watchful eye for laugh-filled walks in the garden, and stolen moments in alcoves. My hands trailing his arms, his fingers grazing my neck. Hurried kisses before rushing back to society and decorum.
Neither of us wishes for a long engagement.
The Winter of my Nineteenth Year
Estate Plans
“Ardin,” I say. “Arrrrdin…” My probing finger is knocked away from my sleeping husband’s face by a well-timed burst of air as he slits his eyes open to glare at me.
“What have you done with my wife?” he grumbles. “I seem to recall that the woman I brought to the winter palace for the annual festivities had a much sweeter disposition. None of this nonsense of waking a man who needs his rest.”
“She’ll return in the morning,” I reply airily. “I had an idea.”
His eyes brighten as he awakens more fully. “Did you? I’m beginning to have my own ideas.”
I’m whisked onto my back and he buries his head in my neck, already dotting kisses along my clavicle.
Makers. I’m not going to be able to concentrate if he continues on with that. Distracted, I trail a hand down his back.
“Flying buttresses,” I manage. My breath hitches on the words.
He lifts his head, looking down at me with a puzzled expression. “Is that an epithet I’m not familiar with?”
“No.”
“A suggestion of something we should—”
“No,” I say emphatically, and push him off of me, laughing. “They are something I think we should include on the new addition to Secan.”
The cold winter moonlight filters in through the window to linger on his bemused expression. “Am I to understand that my charms are less than that of stone?”
“For the moment, yes.”
He sighs, reclining back against our pillows, not looking half as offended as he’s pretending to be. “Come,” he says, motioning me toward him. I settle against his chest. “Tell me about these flitting breastesses.”
“Flying buttresses,” I say with a smack on his arm. But I’m grinning.
“You can hardly blame me for my base thoughts when you wake me looking as you do,” he mumbles, and drops a kiss onto the top of my head. “Really, Corrine. Tell me.”
In this moment, relaxed against my husband’s chest, I see our life together stretch out before me and I marvel over my luck. Ardin and I are fortunate to have found each other when most of our peers are forced into marriages of convenience. We listen to each other. We want each other. We're in love. I'll never take such a thing for granted.
And surely, children will be added to the mix soon as well. I can already hear the pitter-patter of their little feet running through the halls of Secan. Perhaps by next year’s winter ball, I will already be heavy with child.
Warmed by this thought in the back of my mind as I enthuse over masonry blocks and arches, nestled in Ardin's arms, I am perfectly, incandescently happy.
It’s not the simple life with a simple noble I had pictured at fifteen, on my way to my first winter ball.
It is far, far more.
The Winter of my Twentieth Year
Homecomings
The ball has already started inside, but I stand impatiently at the palace gate, freezing and wishing dearly to be indoors beside a warm fire instead of outside, waiting for my husband.
Ardin should be here by now.
I jiggle in place, attempting to get my blood moving, and clutching my coat tighter about my arms. The king had taken him off on some scouting mission to an Elemental Adept camp. He’d written of another Air Rider, one with tendencies toward using her powers to fight rather than heal. As rare as the gift is, rarer still is a Rider who does not feel more drawn to the healing arts. It's a boon that the Egrian empire can not afford to overlook.
I do hate to leave you any longer than I promised, Ardin wrote. But I feel that I must. That it is my duty to Langdon. And perhaps, with two Riders at his disposal, I will be able to remain at home more often. At home with you, which is my dearest wish. I feel that we never have time enough.
Yours always,
Ardin
I had bitten my lip over the letter, knowing that he was right. Hating that he was right. Of course he must stay, but if it meant the eventuality of longer stretches between his absences…
I’d written him back, doing my utmost to assuage him of any lingering guilt he might be harboring over remaining in the Adept camp.
Now, though… where is he?
I crane my neck as I attempt to see down the path, hoping for a glimpse of his horse or carriage. I’m not certain how he’ll be arriving.
“It’s not many a husband that would allow his wife to freeze in the snow.”
My heart skips a beat over the familiar, well-loved tone.
A smile tugs at my lips, but I keep my eyes on the gate. “I’m afraid my husband has long since abandoned the hope that I need not be explicitly forbidden from foolish pursuits, good sir,” I say lightly. “And as he never cautioned me against awaiting his return in the snow, I find myself here. Though, I do thank you for your concern.”
He comes closer,
his warmth at my back, his breath at my ear. “It would be wise for you to return indoors, my lady.”
I break from my aloof little game, whirling around to throw my arms about his neck, laughing. “When did you get back, you fiend?” I demand, pulling back to look into his eyes.
“But an hour ago,” Ardin says, hands resting at my waist. “We went straight to the stables. I’d thought to surprise you at the ball, but how was I to guess you’d be fool enough to wait in the snow that you so despise?”
“Have you yet to meet your wife? Of course I’d wait in the snow for the husband that I so miss. The man that I so love,” I say— and then sneeze. Most becomingly, of course.
“You, my dear, are shivering.” Ardin loops an arm about me and leads me inside. “Let’s get some brandy in you.”
❄︎
Shivering or not, I had dressed properly for the cold while waiting for Ardin, so it’s not altogether very long before I have warmed considerably, especially with Ardin’s attentions on me.
Mother and Father have chosen to forego this year’s ball, without any eligible daughters to secure engagements for. Instead, they’re spending the winter at the pregnant Nanette’s barony, keeping her company. We expect her first child any moment now.
A pang of jealousy strikes me. It's unfair that no matter how many times I tell myself that Nanette has been married nearly a year longer than I have, that of course she would have a child first, envy still strikes me. Irrational creature that I am, logic does not seem to have any effect on my feelings.
Ardin has been away often. We’ve scarcely had the time.
And the time will come.
“I cannot imagine how someone could look so dour at such an elegant event.” A woman’s voice, silky smooth, but slow, as if she’s carefully concentrating on her speech, slides into my thoughts.
Do I know her? No, I decide, after quickly flipping through the many faces I’ve encountered at court. Hers is not among them. Her ice blue eyes and blonde hair are distinctive. I’d remember her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, setting my drink down on the table and extending a hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Miss…? Or perhaps, Lady…?”
A frisson of irritation passes over her face and I’m mildly alarmed. How in Egria could I have offended her this quickly? “Miss will do for now. Katerine.” She barely grasps my fingers in her cold hands before she stops to stare at me, tilting her head in a calculating manner. “And you must be the Lady Corrine.”
She knows my name. I reevaluate her.
“Corrine of Secan. Yes. How did you…?”
“Kat.” Ardin interrupts, breathless. He puts a hand on the small of my back, as if reassuring himself that I’m still standing with him. “I see you’ve met my wife.”
Her lips curve. “Yes, Ardie. I was just expressing to Lady Corrine how thrilling this whole event is for me.” She inclines her head to include me in their exchange. “This is my first ball.”
She doesn’t look like it’s her first ball. She’s not as starry-eyed as most new attendees are. As I’d been. She looks around the room at people like they’re pawns on a chess board and seems utterly at ease in her new finery.
“I do hope you’re enjoying yourself,” I say carefully. Ardin is different around her. Friendly still, but a bit… cautious. Like one would behave around an unpredictable animal.
“Do look out for the rogues who go about spilling drinks on unsuspecting ladies,” he says. He looks down at me and seems to warm. He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “I hear they’ll do it simply to have an excuse for a dance.”
“The fiends.” I grin back.
Katerine tilts her head at us, looking puzzled. Her grin shifts like it’s been rattled loose. “Yes, well… I must attend to His Majesty.”
She winds her way through the ballroom far faster than she should be able to, and drapes herself over King Langdon—and his newly pregnant Queen.
“The new Air Rider, I take it?” I mutter quietly to Ardin.
“However did you know?” he asks sarcastically.
“It was difficult. She’s so…” I trail off as she winds her arm through the King’s and twirls a finger, creating a breeze that makes her look delightfully windswept. “Subtle,” I finish.
“Well put,” he says. “Any other impressions?”
“You’ve spent months with her.”
“And I’m still not certain what to think of our Lady Kat.”
Katerine turns. She catches my gaze, smiles at me, and I can’t suppress a shudder.
“My impression?” I lift my glass and take a fortifying sip.
“I don’t think I like that woman, Ardin.”
The Winter of my Twenty-First Year
Reunions
Another ball. Still no children. Well, no children of mine. Langdon’s son, Prince Caden sits in his mother’s lap, bounced on her knee. Nanette and my brother-in-law even made the trek with my young niece. Never mind that children at the winter ball is generally frowned upon.
It’s also another year in which Ardin is late.
This year, though, I wait indoors, swilling my drink back.
Ardin makes excellent claims about wanting to be home at Secan with me. Claims seem to be all that they are, however. More and more, he’s called away by King Langdon for “peace ambassador” missions. He no longer utters even a token protest.
He promised he’d be here.
Little Tess, Nanette’s daughter, toddles around our legs, unsteady on her tiny feet. I can’t help but smile, watching her.
I wonder if I’ll ever have one of my own. A son. A daughter.
The Makers have yet to bless me. Though it would probably help if my husband was home long enough to conceive.
Two years. We’ve been married two years. I should have a child by now. I don’t wear one of those foolish charms to keep pregnancy away. I’ve even been to see a healer.
The charlatan told me that I would never bear a son or a daughter.
He was an obvious fake. I hadn’t even bothered to write Ardin about the visit.
“Would you excuse me?” I ask my family, forcing a smile upon my face. “I must… I need to…”
Mother puts a hand on my wrist, eyes soft. She’s followed my gaze as it’s wandered from Tess to Prince Caden and back again tonight. “You need to freshen up?”
“Yes.” My smile shifts to one of gratitude. “I need to freshen up.”
If one takes “freshen up” to mean that I cover my eyes and cry in private for moment, then that is what I do. But I have to get back to the ballroom, so I splash some water onto my face to make myself more alert, pinch my cheeks to put color back into them, and pray that my eyes don’t give me away.
Ardin is waiting in the hallway outside the ballroom. My feet stumble of their own volition at the sight of him.
And, that easily, my anger with him vanishes.
He’s lost weight. His eyes have deep, worried shadows beneath them and his hair looks thinner. Being away, off in other lands doing Makers only know what, has clearly been a struggle for him.
He sags in what looks like relief at the sight of me. “Hello.”
“Hello,” I say. My throat is tight around the greeting— and, inexplicably, I burst into tears.
Instantly, he’s across the hall and his arms are around me, strong and bracing. I cling desperately to him, sinking onto the floor.
I can’t seem to stop crying, even as he whispers soothingly into my ear.
It’s Ardin being away so often. It’s the lack of progress on our Secan additions and how little everyone but him seems to take my suggestions into account.
It’s that there isn’t laughter or the pitter-patter of little feet through the halls of the duchy’s castle. No Ardin and no children.
It’s that I’m lonely.
It’s that I’m…
“I saw a healer,” I whisper. I haven’t said it out loud yet, unwilling to admit it, to believe it, to m
ake it real. But now that Ardin is here with me and I’m in the shelter of his arms, I’m unable to keep it to myself. It’s too much to bear alone anymore. “He said I’m barren.”
His arms tighten around me and he shushes me gently, rocking me, the empty hallway a witness as I weep into the night. “It will be all right, love. Take a breath. Just… breathe in.”
The Winter of my Twenty-Second Year
Children
“Corrine.” Ardin’s tone is urgent, as is his hand on my shoulder, shaking me relentlessly. “Corrine.”
“Ardin?” I struggle to come to alertness, sitting up. What is he doing here? He was meant to be off on a mission to Nereidium. The ball has come and gone tonight, but I hadn’t expected him at the winter palace at all this year.
My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I sit up with a gasp. “Ardin. Is that a baby?”
It is a baby. A tiny child sleeps in Ardin’s arms and he bounces it in the moonlight, swaddled in blankets, his eyes wide and panic seeping into them.
“Ardin. Where did that baby come from?”
The blankets fall off of my shoulders and Ardin looks at me with wild eyes. “This is Princess Aleta of Nereidium.”
“Ardin.” I can’t seem to stop saying his name, struck dumb as I am with disbelief. “I hardly think kidnapping their heir will encourage peaceable relations with Nereidium.”
“My title of peace ambassador isn’t quite what it sounds.” The baby— the Nereid princess, by the Makers— shifts in his arms and utters a tiny, little grunt. Nervously, he shushes her and continues. “And there are some things that I need to tell you about what I’ve done over the past few years—in particular, what occurred in Nereidium—but all of those things will have to wait. I have to leave the Egrian court. Tonight.”
My mouth falls open, but before I can utter so much as a “Wha—” he rushes on.
“I understand if you want to stay here. I’ve sprung this on you without any sort of a warning and you can’t be expected to—I shouldn’t expect you to—But I hope that you’ll come with me because I just can’t imagine doing any of this without you.”
Breathe In (Threats of Sky and Sea Book 6) Page 2