14 Imogen #3
After a long moment, all that Halla offered me in response was a curt nod.
Markis had gone through two goblets of wine, but Aleka’s attention had been fixed on Halla and me.
She didn’t break it until the music changed.
Now the tune turned floating, tranquil, the soft notes reminiscent of a lullaby. Without a word, she stood and left.
I was ready to leave too. I pushed back my chair when Halla set a hand to her stomach as if to settle a new bout of seasickness. “I have one more question. Please.”
“What?”
“Did your father…” Halla started to say, then stopped herself. “Forgive me for asking. It’s rather personal. I wonder if having a mortal father lessened you in any way?”
I did my best not to jolt at the question. Lachlan’s finger began to drum the table.
Yes, having Nemea as a father lessened me in every way.
But I knew she was asking after the power I’d inherited from my mother.
I took a wedge of orange from the plate before me, took a bite, and mulled over my answer.
Eusia had stolen my mother and had made a votary of my deplorable father, but I’d never known them as they’d been before.
Had there been goodness in Nemea once? Had the spirit truly blessed me with the same potency it had my mother?
And had my mother’s vast power made her terrible?
A heaviness filled my chest, but I managed an easy gesture. “I suppose I’ll never know.”
Halla’s brow puckered in frustration. She stood quickly. “Commander, Steward, I’d like a word alone with Queen Imogen.”
Markis seemed happy to be dismissed, but Lachlan lingered until I gave him a reassuring nod. He glowered at Halla, not bothering to hide his mistrust. “I’ll be just beyond the helm.”
Halla lowered herself to the edge of the table, so I had to look up to meet her eye. “You see…” She stopped and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I am concerned that my being mortal will weaken our child.”
The air in my lungs went thin. “Your… child…” I remembered that vision of Eusia being appalled by Halla’s ordinary blood.
“I might interfere with the power of your Gods. My mother said my concerns were null, that I was being silly. But I am not of Leucosian lineage, like Nemea was. What if the power of your Gods can only be passed down through—”
My stomach had knotted so terribly that I couldn’t form words. I held up a hand, begging her to stop. “I can’t… Do not ask me.”
“I have no one else, and I thought—”
I had hoped to breach our divide, but I could not stretch myself this far.
“The king’s marshal seems wise and well informed,” I said, harshly, as I rose from my seat.
Theodore’s assurances against his pact with Halla had not been enough to prevent this conversation from stinging like nettle against soft skin. “Ask her.”
I turned for the open deck. A strong wind had finally started up, drawing the fog across the deck like a sheer curtain. The music was dwindling, the dancers slowing.
I stopped dead.
Theodore strode through the thinning mist like a malevolent specter, dark and grim. The night sat in his eyes; taut fury radiated from him like heat. Aleka trailed him, folder clutched to her chest.
She spoke quietly to Theodore, but I caught the words.
“I will see to your orders regarding the execution, Your Majesty. And you’ll forgive me, of course, my king,” she said, opening her folder and riffling through its pages.
“I am merely doing the job I have been appointed to do by the crown. Both Obelian and Leucosian tradition dictate—”
“Enough.” Theodore stopped just beside the helm, the whole of his attention on me. The open look of wonder, of reverence, that etched his face rattled me. Not once had he ever looked at me like that, not even when we’d been alone.
My heart thrashed. I’d been able to keep myself steady when we’d been together beneath the bowsprit, but now I was spurred by my bristling emotions, by that look on his face, and the thick tension that seemed to grow around us as fast as weeds.
I couldn’t stop the awful thrum of power as it began to sneak through my middle.
Theodore’s brows lowered. His gaze fell to my lips. “Good night, Your Majesty.” He moved past me for his stateroom, angling himself through the tight space, and as he did, he dragged his knuckles against mine.
The brief contact made me shudder. It made a sudden burst of oily power lift up into my chest. “Good night,” I replied, only my voice was alarmingly silken, a stark contrast to the chaos that had seized my body.
Aleka made a sweeping gesture, as if to guide Halla forward. “You may join him now, Your Majesty.”
I watched, horrified, as Halla soothed her gown with an elegant hand. Her shoulders rose with a breath. Finally she entered the stateroom, slow and coy, and closed the stained-glass door behind her.
The lock gave a loud click.
My power was a consuming fire, licking between my ribs. Lachlan was at my side before I could call for him, pulling me by the arm toward the scuttle hatch.
I reached into the pocket of my gown, and took out the key to the cabin. I shoved it against his breastplate. “Lock me in and don’t let me out until we reach Anthemoessa.”