Chapter 27 #3
Turning his head, he leaned over her once more and covered her mouth with his own, and now she thought she’d lose herself entirely, pulled apart between the hunger of his mouth and the path of fire his hand was tracing as it inched, so slowly, yet so irresistibly, farther and farther up the oh-so-soft skin of her inner thigh.
Without conscious thought she lifted her hands, tangling them in Ionáin’s hair, gripping him fiercely as her tongue slid against his, their breaths mingling and growing slower and shallower as their kisses deepened and Ionáin’s hand hardened on her thigh as if he was marking her for all time.
A new sensation began deep inside her, coiling and tightening as he slowly, surely increased the pressure from his fingertips until she almost couldn’t bear it, reaching with both her hands and dragging his head down toward her.
Her existence narrowed to a single point of time, of pressure, of love given, taken, lost, and broken apart to only feel until, from far beyond their stone-and-velvet cave where the snow flurried and their kisses became whole lifetimes lived in an instant, a bell sounded. Tolling midnight.
Ionáin lifted his head.
éadha loosened her hands in his hair, and inside a part of her heart broke in two as she saw the memory of Lambay, of where they were, of the world that lay beyond their tower room, return to Ionáin’s eyes.
“Don’t,” she whispered then. “Come back to me.”
But Ionáin looked down at her, at the white purity of her skirt and the fierce outline of her bodice, her skin gilded honey-gold in the were-light and her dark hair pooled behind her on the velvet cushion.
Drawing a breath still filled with desire, he said, “No.”
Bracing his hands on either side of her, he began to lift himself up, and a chill swept over her body like a kind of grief.
“Not here,” he said then. “Not like this, in this place, hiding away like we’re doing something wrong.
You were right, what you said before. About us having nothing here but hiding and lying.
I want to come to you in the sunlight, éadha.
I want to stand before you and swear my life to you.
Because we’re more than this. We’re better than this place, and I will not give them you. I will not give them us.”
Ionáin sat down on the edge of the couch while éadha pulled herself up so she was sitting. He turned to look at her, and there was so much love in his eyes as he said, “I don’t want the memory of my first time with you to be tainted by being here, in this place.”
He reached out his hand to take hers and squeeze it. “It isn’t too much longer now until spring. In some ways I think it’ll be easier when we go to Westport and people have to focus on fighting actual dragons.” He climbed to his feet.
éadha pulled up her legs and clasped her hands around them as she looked at him and said, “But there’ll never be a good time for us. Some perfect day when we can just be together. Isn’t that the whole point of everything we’ve learned here?”
Ionáin stared down at her, and the look in his eyes was one she’d take with her until the day she died as he said simply, “I have to believe there’ll be something better than this place. Something worthy of you. I’ve waited all my life for you. I can wait for that.”
éadha dropped her head then and climbed silently to her feet.
Moments later, they were flying back down through the still-tumbling snow, and éadha’s body ached all over again to feel the warmth of Ionáin’s body so close to her own as he held her tight. As they flew, he buried his head in her shoulder and murmured, “We’ll get through this.”
But éadha still couldn’t shake the sense of grief she’d been feeling since the moment he’d lifted himself up and said no.
The sense the world wouldn’t give them many chances like this.
As they flew, she found herself concentrating on remembering the feel of his body, his hand against her back, how they fit together.
As if some instinct was telling her she needed to remember this, to store up these memories against what was to come.
They touched lightly onto the balcony once more and stepped apart to stare silently at each other, oblivious to the cold and the snow.
A few moments later, Ailbhe appeared through the curtains, her expression grim as she took in the two of them standing there.
The world that’d stopped so briefly had begun to turn again, and éadha knew she needed to go.
Murmuring an excuse, she slipped back into the hall, but she was reluctant to leave altogether.
Even though her body still ached, her heart was full because, after all, she was loved.
She went to stand in a quiet corner of the hall, watching as Ionáin left with Ailbhe and her friends.
Around her, the party was getting progressively wilder.
A short while later, Gry arrived in through the main hall entrance.
He was as striking as ever in a white tunic with gold thread on the collar, stark against his dark skin.
Somehow, she thought, he managed to look entirely detached from the increasingly drunken partying behind him.
She saw how his eyes searched the room until he found her and how he pushed through the crowd until he came to a stop in front of her, taking in her still-flushed cheeks and bright face with those gray-green eyes that always saw far too much.
He stared at her for a long moment before giving a single nod and turning away to face out toward the party, no longer looking at her.
Not, though, before she’d had time to see the pain in his eyes, and even in the roar of the crowd, she could feel the charged silence stretching between the two of them before she said at last, “I’m sorry. ”
“Nothing for you to be sorry for,” said Gry abruptly, still staring straight outward. “Just next time maybe warn me. Especially if you’re going to look like that. It’s hard on us mere mortals.”
“Oh, Gry,” said éadha then, her heart aching. “It’s just me, it’s just a dress. It was a present from a girl in the hold. I helped her a bit, gave Senan my energy to protect hers, and she was being kind back. I had to wear it, to say thank you.”
Immediately Gry’s forehead creased, and now he swiveled around to face her directly.
“What do you mean, ‘gave Senan your energy’? How is that even poss—” A stunned expression came over Gry’s face, as if something was just dawning on him.
A look almost of panic came into his eyes. “éadha, do you mean you…”
But before he could finish, a familiar voice shouted, “Keeper, over here!”
It was Senan, beckoning to her impatiently.
“I have to go,” éadha said then, resting her hand briefly against Gry’s chest. “He’s meaner if I don’t come quickly. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“éadha, no,” said Gry urgently. “We need to talk about this. I need to know…”
“Keeper!” shouted Senan, pointing toward a Fodder alcove.
“I have to go,” said éadha again, stepping around Gry. She looked back over her shoulder. “Tomorrow, all right?”
“About time,” said Senan as she came in. “You do realize if you don’t satisfy me, I’ll get you sent for further remedial training, yes? Do you want that?”
“No, my lord,” said éadha, keeping her head down, knowing her love would show in her eyes and determined not to let Senan see it. “I’m sorry.”
Senan grunted, then she felt his thread spring into life, barreling through her and on to Seoda and the other presentables.
With practiced skill she funneled the minimum from them, added some of her own strength instead and sent it back hard and fast into him.
After a few moments he’d enough for his next were-dive, and he swept out of the alcove.
It was a long night. Ionáin and Ailbhe never returned, but the other apprentices were determined to make a night of it, running through all the old favorites one last time: diving, racing, illusions.
Couples danced, flew, held each other with new intensity.
Senan was in the middle of every race, every contest, drawing power almost continuously, running it down as fast. éadha was shaking with the effort of managing the flows, substituting her power when she felt the Fodder could no longer take it, until she was so drained herself she felt like slumping in beside them, crawling into a service hatch to be carried back down to the holds and oblivion for a little while.
Shortly before dawn the hall began to empty out, couples slipping away onto balconies and up into aeries for a last embrace.
Senan at the last found himself standing alone in the center of the rotunda, candles guttering around the walls, the fires almost out and the were-lights long since departed with their creators.
He picked up and drained a half-full goblet of wine.
“Keeper,” he called to éadha once more as she sat on a bench by one of the fireplaces, cold in her thin dress in the predawn chill, trying to stir some last life from the embers.
She came over to where he stood staring at her.
“A little bird tells me you were a naughty girl. What did I say about stepping out of line, hmm?”
“My lord, I’m sorry, I thought I’d kept well for you?”
“You were seen with Lord Ionáin at the start of the evening, sneaking out onto the balcony, no doubt giving him a twirl of your shiny dress.”
“My lord, I’m sorry, I…”
“Did I give you permission to speak? Did I?”
“No, my lord.”
“It’s simple. You have one thing to do—stay away from Lord Ionáin.
Master Dathin was very clear when he spoke to me after the trials.
Ionáin has to be saved from himself. He’s too soft; he has this ridiculous notion of loyalty to you.
He was doing so well all winter. I blame you, running around half-naked in a stolen dress, making eyes at him, doing lord knows what else to get your claws back into him.
” He seized éadha’s arm, half dragging her across the empty floor.