Chapter 43 Odessa
Forty-Three
Odessa
The bed shook so violently it felt like someone had picked up the mattress to flip it over. I jerked away as Ransom kicked at the sheets.
Shades. “Wake up.” I popped up to my knees, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Ransom.”
My voice only made the thrashing worse. His head rocked back and forth on the pillow as his eyes squeezed shut.
“Ransom.” I shook him, then took his face in my hands. His skin was too hot. “Wake up. It’s only a nightmare.”
His hands balled into fists, and he roared.
I pushed the hair from his sweaty brow, and this time, I shouted. “Ransom!”
He moved so fast I had no time to react. He sat upright, spinning me as he grabbed my wrists and slammed them into the headboard. His body pinned mine to the bed as a snarl tore from his throat.
I yelped, more surprised than pained, frozen in a moment of terror as I looked at my husband’s face.
And saw a monster staring back.
Ransom’s teeth were bared, and his eyes were as silver as the moonbeams streaming through the windows. There wasn’t a hint of awareness that he was growling at his wife.
“Ranse,” I whispered, forcing calm into my voice even though my heart was racing. “Come back to me.”
He blinked.
Silver morphed to hazel. Wrath became horror. Then my wrists were freed and he put the expanse of the bedroom between us.
“Fuck.” His hands dove into his hair, pulling at the strands.
“I’m okay.” I crawled off the bed, rushing to him.
“Dess?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then his shoulders curled inward and he dropped his face into his hands.
“I’m okay.” I took hold of his wrists and tugged them down. “Look at me. I’m all right.”
He scanned me, head to toe. Then he took my wrists in his hands, gently turning both over to make sure I wasn’t lying. The regret in his eyes was a knife through the heart.
“You didn’t hurt me. It was just a nightmare.”
He closed his eyes, pulling me against his chest as he buried his face in my curls. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my nose against his chest, breathing him in as I listened to his pounding heart.
It mingled with the sound of the rain pinging against the windows and the distant boom of thunder from tonight’s storm.
“What was it? The dream?”
“I saw her coming for you,” he murmured. “In Ellder. She was flying so fast, and I couldn’t get there in time. I couldn’t save you from her.”
I held him tighter.
This wasn’t just about a nightmare. It was the Lyssa. The dark veins stretched farther away from his heart than ever, some reaching down to tickle his ribs.
His control was slipping, little by little. How much longer did we have until he lost his grip entirely?
“I can’t…” He shook his head, letting me go. He paced the room, dragging a hand over his beard. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No.” I walked to the door, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Dess, I won’t put you in danger.”
“Don’t go. Please.” I went to him, putting my hands on his hips. “Stay together, remember?”
He sighed, framing my face. His eyes searched mine, and I knew there was nothing I could say that would change his mind. So I didn’t bother talking.
I slid a hand behind his neck and lifted onto my toes, pulling him down for a kiss.
My mouth moved over his, a sweep from corner to corner as Ransom stood motionless, his body locked. Only when I licked the seam of his lips did he finally give in.
Whatever control I’d had vanished as he slanted his mouth over mine, holding me in place as our tongues tangled.
There was a fierce edge to the kiss and the grip of his hands as he picked me up and carried me to bed. He dragged my nightgown up the length of my legs and over my hips.
And then he made me forget everything but the feel of his body moving inside mine. The taste of his tongue and the rumble of his deep voice. He fucked me until I was exhausted, and when I curled into the warmth of his arms, the last thing I heard before falling asleep was a soft apology.
“I’m sorry, Dess.”
“I love you, Ranse.”
When I woke at dawn, his side of the bed was empty.
So was the couch.
Evie and I were sharing a quiet breakfast in the suite when the summons came.
“The king requests you join him in his study,” the steward said. “Presently.”
I sighed and scarfed down a piece of toast and sweet persimmon jelly—a staple around this castle—then took Evie and Faze to the nursery to play with Arthalayus and Titus.
Meeting with Father was not on my agenda today. I had a husband to find. But my foolish, silly little heart held on to a sliver of hope that Father might actually want to see me.
I knew I’d likely be disappointed. But that foolish, silly little heart of mine didn’t care.
The doors to the king’s study were open when I arrived. I steeled my spine and stepped into the room.
Father cut an imposing figure behind his walnut desk, a quill in hand as he wrote on a piece of parchment. He didn’t so much as glance up as he spoke. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
A fire crackled in the stone hearth, its light melding with that from the lamps placed around the room.
The walls were paneled in the same walnut wood as his desk.
Portraits of his parents hung on one wall.
The other appeared empty, but when I was a little girl, I’d snuck into his study to steal a mint candy from the jar he kept on his desk.
When I’d heard him approach, I’d hidden beneath the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. And I’d peeked out to see him open a panel to a secret compartment with a brass key.
The panel’s door had blocked my view of whatever he kept hidden in the walls. Maybe I needed to try harder to find out.
There was a wall of windows at his back, but the teal curtains had been drawn today. They blocked out the light but not the sound of the drizzling rain.
I inched farther into the room, toward a table and a map spread on its surface. It was the same map Father and I had pored over the night before I left for Turah months ago.
The only preparation I’d had before I became his amateur spy was a single night. My wedding night.
He’d spent hours trying to cram as much information into my mind as possible, from the information about Turah he’d gathered from professional spies to his theories of Allesaria’s location.
The map was different today, with notations and lines across Calandra, not just Turah. There were Xs in red. Lines drawn in blue. Circles in black.
He’d told me he needed to get into Allesaria. That there was something he wanted in the hidden city. But was that only part of his scheme? I’d thought his interest was just in Turah. But what if he had broader ambitions for the five kingdoms?
A chill raked down my spine as my attention snapped to Father’s desk.
His gaze was waiting.
Shit. I walked away from the map toward his desk, clasping my hands behind my back so he wouldn’t see them tremble. “You asked to see me?”
“Yes.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “There was an incident this morning in the stables with Prince Zavier.”
“Ransom,” I corrected.
He waved off the name. “He had an altercation with a guard who now has a broken arm.”
“Well, then I’m sure it was in self-defense. Ransom doesn’t go around breaking arms for sport.”
“From the report I received, the guard made a few snide comments. For his disrespect, he’ll be punished.
But those punishments are for Captain Brix and General Hawksley to deliver.
Not a Turan guest. He is your husband and a visiting prince, and as such, I will grant him some leeway.
But there is only so much insolence I will tolerate, Odessa. Am I understood?”
I stayed quiet. He wasn’t really looking for a reply. But at least now I knew where Ransom had gone.
He picked up his quill and went back to the letter he was writing. “You may go.”
My foolish, silly little heart was a jackass for luring me here.
I turned to leave, angrier at myself than Father. But before I made it to the doors, he stopped me.
“Odessa.”
“Yes?” I turned, feigning a smile.
His lip curled as he took in my sable pants and belted green shirt. “Stay away from Gable.”
“No.”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not negotiable.”
“Then you can tell me about my mother.”
The room went so still, even the motes stopped floating in the air. “Leave.”
I stood my ground, refusing to let him dismiss me again. “The High Priest asked me about her, and I didn’t have an answer. I deserve to know who she was. If you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll find someone who will.”
“Don’t make the mistake of testing me.”
“Don’t make the mistake of threatening me.” The words came so forcefully I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d tried.
I’d never sounded more like Ransom in my life. Unwavering. Unafraid. Unbelievably fed up with the secrets in this castle.
“Why are there no portraits of her in the castle? Why is no one allowed to speak about her? Did she hurt you? Did she take a lover? Is that why you won’t talk about her?”
“Enough, Odessa.” He slammed his fist on the desk. Waves of fury radiated off his frame.
Months ago, that rage would have chased me from his study. But I was tired of being left in the dark. He could either tell me the truth or he could live knowing I’d make my own assumptions.
“I heard a rumor that you killed her. Did you?”
A wall came crashing down between us. The emotion in his gaze vanished. The anger disappeared. There was nothing but empty silence.
He didn’t deny my accusation. He lifted his quill, dipped it in an ink pot, and went back to work.
“What are you searching for in Allesaria? How will you stop the migrations? By killing the Voster?”
He kept writing, his voice cold and distant. “If I must.”
“Even if it costs you your life?”
“It won’t. You are dismissed.”
Always dismissed. That wasn’t anything new. “Why are my eyes gold? Why don’t I have starbursts? Did my mother have gold eyes? Why can I feel Voster magic? Could she feel it, too?”
The quill clattered as it fell from his fingers. Father looked up, the color slowly draining from his face. “You can feel their magic.”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“You never told me that.”
“Well, I guess I learned how to keep secrets from the best. What does it mean?”
He stood, slowly, palms flat on his desk like he was using it to keep his balance. “It means you need to stay away from the Voster.”
“That’s not an answer.”
But it was all the answer he was going to give.
Without a word, he rounded the desk. And since I wouldn’t leave his study, Father walked out instead.