YOU ARE NOT DEAD #3
“Did you truly think me dead?” Esme let herself fall back in bed and took Bal with her.
It was so stark a difference between Simon’s heat and Bal’s warmth, one a blaze she felt at the core of her soul, the other a balm that melted the frost from her skin.
Between the two of them, she was thawed completely.
“Well, you put up a hell of an act,” Bal said, panting, touching his forehead to hers. Last time they’d been in this position, she’d died beneath him. His eyes flashed like he could still see her draw that last breath.
It struck Esme suddenly that he’d resigned himself to dying with her, and her stomach twisted at the thought.
She’d accidentally let her heart wander into so many others’ hands, and they were pouring so much into her.
Simon had been here just a second ago to fill her to the brim, and now Bal’s affections were spilling over her edges.
And still she’d yet to see Mina, who’d been torn away from her bed.
By the time Esme set eyes on her wife, she’d be drowning in love.
“Mina will be cross with me,” Bal said as if reading her thoughts. “I told her she could check on Urias before coming here. She’ll be furious I got to you first.” Esme was very familiar with Mina’s angry love. By the fondness in his voice, Bal was too.
Bal nuzzled his nose against hers. His arms locked her in on either side and his body lay down on hers lightly. He was too scared to put more of his weight on her, but he couldn’t resist getting so close. His smell filled Esme’s senses.
Lavender soap. Blood.
Yanor’s, this time.
Esme swallowed. She touched his cheeks with the tips of her fingers, silver nails gone. He still looked like her Bal, soft and sweet, and he held her like that man, too, almost too tightly, and with a silent declaration she didn’t want to handle hearing. This was her Bal.
She wondered which version of him killed Yanor.
Had the man with softness only for her driven a knife into an innocent woman’s chest, or had it been Balthazar, that vicious beast howling for revenge?
Had he said anything to her? Had she understood?
Had he even dwelled on it, or was Yanor just another body in need of plowing through on his way to glory?
“Was there a funeral?” Esme asked. She would have missed it if there had been. That made her sick to her stomach.
“What?” Bal asked.
“For Yanor. You killed her.”
Bal flinched as if it were an accusation.
“Was there a funeral?”
Bal nodded, all the happiness in his eyes draining away. “We tried to make the body look… you know. It was sent back to her family with money, of course. It didn’t feel right, me going, so I sent Maranna. She had a proper Lake sendoff.”
Fire, then. Her family had built her a pyre as tall as the woman herself and buried her inside and set it all on fire. They’d stayed for the hours it took for the flames to finally burn it all to nothing. Hours of crying over a girl who’d done nothing but be brave, and had been killed for it.
“Did you feel remorse?” Esme asked, fearing the answer. Bal could say yes, but Balthazar could say no.
Bal’s eyes clouded over, and a tear dripped on her cheek. “Esme, of course I did. I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for you. I just wanted you to stop bleeding. That’s the only reason I did it.”
That, and the kingdom. Esme was sure she hadn’t been the sole driving force behind Bal’s blade.
“And if I hadn’t… Janos couldn’t be king,” Bal continued. “I had no other choice. Please don’t think it was easy for me.”
Esme battled with herself between rationalizing his actions and being terrified of him. On one hand, Janos couldn’t be king. On the other hand, Janos hadn’t been going to stab Yanor.
Did Bal know that when he’d decided to do it himself?
No. No.
Why was Esme judging him like this? She’d be dead if he hadn’t ended it. And who was to say Janos would have held his conviction for any longer? Bal had done something terrible, but it was the only thing he could do.
“You finally look like yourself again.” Bal’s words tore her out of her own thoughts. “Urias’s glamour was terrible. Mina and I hated it.”
“Did he make me ugly?” Esme asked uneasily.
“Your hair was too straight, and you looked dead,” he said.
“I was so worried that you were. You were so cold. Every day, you got colder.” He blinked and blinked, but his tears dropped to her cheek anyway, and he let a bit more of his weight fall on her as he hid in her shoulder.
“And you barely breathed. I couldn’t even feel it.
I dragged in every Viryan I could find. I just wanted one of them to tell me there was a chance, but they were so sure you were gone.
Mina and I didn’t believe it. We knew they were wrong. ”
Esme’s heart threatened to burst. She held him closer. He’d kept her body in this room and visited it every day, either because he couldn’t bear the thought of her being dead or because he somehow knew she wasn’t. Both options made her hands shake. She turned to the side and kissed his ear.
She felt stupid. This whole situation made her feel stupid.
But she liked this. She liked that he’d sneak into her room to take her to dinner on the roof.
She liked that he wanted all parts of her, even the sharpest ones.
She liked that he’d die with her. She liked that he’d lay her body out fresh clothes and clean sheets and wait for her to come back from the dead, even when there was absolutely no hope of it happening.
She liked that he loved her. She wanted to love him back.
But there were three people in this bed right now. One man made her swoon, the other made her shake. Could she look over one to adore the other?
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she whispered, then ran her hand down his strong back. Her fingers tripped over the embroidery of his shirt.
Another thing standing between them.
Bal was king now. This shirt cost more than all the servants in this castle would make in a year. His colors were probably already flying atop Amaris. And if he commanded her to do something, Esme would have to do it.
“Don’t do that ever again,” he said.
Esme sucked in a breath, and the Bond squeezed her lungs in a warning. Right on time. But it wasn’t as terrifying as it had once been. Perhaps it too remembered when she’d sliced right through it.
“Bal,” she said with a cough. “You can’t say things like that.”
He moved away from her neck and leaned up to sit on his heels with her between his legs, staring while she rubbed her aching chest. “Can I not control it?” he asked. His hand cupped her cheek as she leaned on her elbows. “Will the Bond make you hurt over every little thing I say?”
“You can, but it takes time and practice.” She sighed, then took a few deep breaths. “We need to talk.”
He winced, because he understood. “There are many things to discuss. They are all sad. Can’t we just wait?”
“There is a war outside. We won’t have time in the middle of a battlefield.” She turned to kiss his palm. “We can’t do this.”
Bal leaned forward again. “I know our situation is difficult now, but I can learn to control the Bond. Or I can find a way to break it. Just give me time,” he said.
“You’d break it?” She bit back her glee so he wouldn’t hear it, but it zipped in her belly.
“If I knew how, I’d break it in a second, my love,” he said, voice brokenhearted. “Maybe one day I’ll get to meet your parents. You grandmother seems terrifying, but I’ll brave her as well.” His nose ghosted by hers, his fingers tangling in her hair.
“Why?” she asked.
“Isn’t that what you want? To go home?”
“Of course.”
“Then it’s what I want for you,” he said. “A-and maybe, if you wanted, you could still spend some time here, too.” He tried to swallow his stuttering, but it didn’t work. His eyes, dark as vanilla pods, roved over her face, trying to read her answer off her.
Esme laid in bed, eyes watering. He was her king.
He was the man at the end of her leash, and it was never a good idea to love that man, not even a little.
But he was Bal. He was her obscenely sweet Bal who brought her two plates of food because he knew she’d need it and badgered her to let him care for her wounds.
He’d throw himself on top of her if the sky fell down.
He’d waste his last seconds on her. He’d free her and only ask that she return to him sometimes.
He was now a king, but he was also hers. And though those men couldn’t be extracted from each other, Esme could ignore one for the favor of the other for a few seconds.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she said, grabbing his collar and pulling him down on top of her. “Just paused. So you can kiss me.”
Bal grinned and leaned down immediately to do as he was told.
“Yes, pretty Wraith.” He stole her smile with a kiss, and Esme could almost ignore the scrape of his signet ring across her cheek as he caressed her face.