22. Enough
22
ENOUGH
Whatever was in their ‘greater drink’ didn’t erase the need for sleep, and may have even contained a mild sedative. The mattress was just firm enough, the linens wonderfully clean. There were no pillows but several soft bolsters, both round and square—and Ari didn’t realize she’d probably stolen Hannixe’s bed until she woke in slow stages, sprawled flat instead of curled into a tight protective ball.
She hadn’t slept so well since before her marriage; thankfully, there were no dreams. Just an endless, velvety restorative unconsciousness, then opening her eyes to see heavy black timbers sectioning off white plaster ceiling, the room unfamiliar but brimful with a silence somehow comforting instead of isolating, the sense of other breathing, living creatures nearby.
There was a window, the shutters closed and barred—probably because of those robot things and other dangers, Ari realized, stirring under heavy blankets, both dense-woven wool and lighter comforters filled with something that felt analogous to down. A golden orb in its branching holder next to the door brightened as she moved.
Tesla would love that . Was it technology or magic? She lay motionless for a few moments considering the difference before consigning it once more to the realm of useless questions.
Whoever painted this room would use oils to capture the rich vivid tints, working fast and layering to give an impression of the bedstead’s wood grain and thickly whitewashed stone wall. The cloth on the bed would be the bigger problem, time to show off technical skill with wrinkles and folds. Maybe the angle from the doorway, framing the tumbled covers, an edge of the highly carved wardrobe, its wood fragrant like cedar but blue-toned and closely grained.
A soft silver gleam came from the necklace; light as a whisper, it hadn’t disturbed her at all. The shift was surprisingly comfortable as a nightgown, and since she’d seen Hannixe deal with the laces it wasn’t difficult to get herself back into the underlayers and outer dress with its seed pearls and heavy flow.
There was no sign of her jeans, boots, flannel button-up, or anything else. Which should have disturbed her more, and Ari wouldn’t have minded a mirror.
Or maybe she would have, since she felt awkward and ridiculous even with nobody around to see. Thankfully her hair wasn’t too tangled, just a few incipient knots easily parting under tentative fingertips. The slippers were no trouble, and the most surprising thing was the faint lingering taste of spice in her mouth instead of morning-breath.
All in all, this was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe they’d let her abdicate peacefully once this Bright King guy was dealt with, and she could rent a small abandoned house?
It was a lovely thought. She padded past the tiled room holding the bathtub, dark and empty, and slipped down the stairs.
Except for the clothing, it could have been the aftermath of a particularly successful party. The fire was low, and Keners was propped against the knee-high hearth with Hannixe cuddled to his chest, both deeply asleep. Even unconscious, he cradled the grey-haired woman tenderly, and her profile in repose would have tempted Botticelli to reach for his sketchbook.
The rest of the guys were sprawled wherever they could find room—Darjeth on a bench, one hand hanging limply like David’s Marat in the bath; Sarle, arms crossed and hat pulled low, reclining in a chair with his booted toes pointed in a V; Naithor under the big butcherblock table. Jazarl was in the same chair he’d taken last night, arms also crossed over his chest and head resting against its wing. Alzarien was propped in a defensible corner near the hearth and Majan lay along the wall near the stairs, hat over his face and his booted ankles crossed. Only Hannixe had a blanket, heavy, brightly patterned wool tucked solicitously around her.
The front door was open, and a tall spike-clad shadow stood on the stone step just outside, limned in violet-grey dawnlight. He didn’t move as Ari approached, but she figured he was aware nonetheless.
Her hypothesis was verified when she was less than five feet away and he turned his head slightly, chin almost touching heavy steel gorget. The invisible static of his attention settled upon her.
Ari swallowed, nervously. But he simply moved aside on the step, noiseless despite the amount of metal he carried. Cool fresh air enfolded her as she crossed the threshold, and she might have gone a little farther if his left arm hadn’t raised, hand loose, to bar passage.
Okay . She probably shouldn’t be wandering outside in slippers anyway, even if the garden’s stone paths were immaculate. Ari hugged herself, cupping her elbows. “Hello.” Thankfully, the word didn’t quiver; they didn’t seem to have an equivalent to good morning . At least, the invisible translator couldn’t supply one.
“My lady.” Quiet, so as not to disturb the sleepers. “Are you well?”
Haven’t slept like that in ages. Maybe ever . She nodded. “Are you?”
That earned her a long, considering sideways look. “Of course. How can I be otherwise, with my lady returned?”
You really shouldn’t say things like that. Ari hoped that was enough in the morning pleasantries department. This was a golden opportunity to find out a few more details, if he’d cooperate. “We should talk.”
“Certainly.” But he didn’t move; apparently he was really going to make her work for it.
“Privately, I mean.” The blush was back, creeping up her neck, but maybe he wouldn’t see it in soft indistinct predawn.
“They will not hear. But…” He indicated the garden with a slight twitch of a gauntlet. “So long as you stay close, my lady.”
She was already nervous enough to shudder, and scanned the mist clinging to neighboring houses, the road’s glistening surface. Heavy dew coated bushes and flowers, glittered on the white-painted fence and the archway’s tangled vines. “I thought those clockwork things didn’t come here.”
“They may be tempted.” He didn’t move, looming patiently on the step. “But ’tis not just that, my kindness. I once failed to guard you closely enough, and the result was disastrous. I will never make that mistake again.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Ari gathered every bit of courage she had, ignoring the tiny shrieking voice of cowardice. It might be a bad move to have this particular conversation now, sure.
But by Jesus and gin—as Mom used to say—Ariadne was tired of lying, of covering up with a mumbled it was an accident , smiling when Wanda Lee started in again, of attempting to soothe Mike’s moods, of constant agonizing indecision. This guy was the power behind the throne, so arriving at some kind of agreement was necessary.
It might even help her survive this and retire, which sounded like a great idea.
“I’m really not what you think.” Ari had said it before, but now she had the chance to make the statement stick. “Your moon-lady.”
“My lady Moon.” Not quite a correction, and at least he didn’t seem angry. Maybe he’d expected her to begin bargaining for a political arrangement sooner. He gazed at the road, impersonal, his profile sharp.
“Yes. That.” Ari’s fingers bit her elbows, squeezing hard. The bruises on her arms were nearly gone, the ‘greater drink’ doing a lot of work she’d probably ruin. “But I’m just a mortal, right? I was running away and I landed here, maybe through one of the Bright King’s doors you were talking about, and I?—”
“Do you think Hannixe would break her long silence for a stray mortal? Do you think my sword would recognize you or the Golden seek you out, were you not more than you seem?” He wasn’t staring at the road anymore. Instead, he turned, and that scorch-hot gaze pinned her. “You purified a poison-pool near the Keep, as well. More than that, I know you , no matter what shape you wear. Did you think I would not?”
The wall of metal came closer, but Ari didn’t flinch. She couldn’t, too busy staring at his eyes. They were the same as in those awful nightmares, but he wasn’t wrapped in a mound of chains anymore.
He wasn’t talking like a savvy political manipulator either. No, his tone was almost ragged, and the intensity of his expression was a shock. What if he was a fanatic? What if he really believed she was…
That’s ridiculous, Ari . And yet, the face in her dreams was an incontrovertible fact. What explanation or theory could fit?
Guessing correctly once when it counted was useless if she couldn’t continue the trend.
He bent slightly, iron still soundless though the chains draping his arms swayed. “The same,” he murmured, and his breath held the same spice-tang as last night’s strange drink. “Your eyes, in your quiet and your speaking, but more than that. Since the moment I first saw you amid flowers on the heath while your companions fled in terror, I have known what you are.”
Um. Her brain seized up again. Come on, Ari. Don’t be stupid. Do something.
But what? The sense of helplessness wasn’t like waiting for Mike to go off again or yet another session of not living up to her mother-in-law’s standards. Instead of breathless tension it was endless falling, but that wasn’t quite right either.
Like flying . That was it, the imagined rush of wind under feathered wings or the stomach-flutter when a plane bounced on a pocket of warm air.
His lips moved slightly, as if wanting to say more. But he stopped, those eyes darkly incandescent and the rest of him a haze of dangerous warmth, an unfamiliar sensation filling Ari from slipper-soles to scalp.
“I…” A tiny, helpless whisper. She was failing miserably at negotiation. “I don’t know what to do.”
His chin dipped incrementally, the merest suggestion of a nod. “You have freed me, and brought hope to your companions. You are alive, and before me again.” His mouth curved up at either corner, just a fraction. “It is… enough.”
Nothing is ever enough. The crashing realization that she was making a gigantic fool of herself pushed Ari back a step, nearly tripping on the threshold.
His right gauntlet shot out, closing with that same exquisite care around her arm. A brief, steadying touch, but it burned all the way through her, and when he let go she was almost bereft. A susurration of waking went through the room behind her, cloth moving and the sighing of a deep yawn.
The chained man turned back to his vigil. His broad black-armored back was stiff, but something in his stance said it wasn’t anger.
She couldn’t find the word for his body language, which was dangerous—anticipating someone else’s mood was the only way to be even halfway safe. Plus, Ari realized, she’d lost the chance to make her case.
Now, in fact, she couldn’t even remember what her case was .
A crimson furnace on the horizon said dawn was underway instead of merely nigh, and there were three new equines grouped with the others outside the garden fence, stamping and making horsey sounds. Two were grey, one dark and one much paler, and the third was cream-colored with a flowing mane and tail, its tack adorned with silver discs. Hannixe regarded the beasts somberly as Keners closed the gate; the house was buttoned up tight and looked forlorn now, as if it sensed abandonment.
“They are tame enough,” the Grey Lady murmured. Her elbow brushed Ari’s arm, comfortingly close. “But I have not ridden in some while.”
“Yesterday was my first time.” It was a lot easier to talk to another woman; Ari’s fingers moved uneasily over pale cloth. Hannixe had produced this sleeved mantle—clearly cut to accommodate the dress—from somewhere, and fussed with the large draping hood while Ari tried it on. “I’m surprised I didn’t fall off.”
“We shall n-no doubt go at an easy pace; ’twill be difficult to fall.” She was trying to be comforting, maybe; Hannixe smoothed a fold of her own rain-colored cloak. “And our lord prince is not likely to select a beast so ungrateful as to inconvenience his lady.”
If you say so . “He seems very…”
“Grim?” The other woman’s dark eyes gleamed as she glanced swiftly aside, the corners of her mouth tilting up. “He was passing sober before, indeed, but now…”
“He’s very thorough,” Ari said. It was difficult not to smile, and she was deeply glad for another girl in the group. In fact, Hannixe reminded her of a college friend, cheerful brunette Annelise, who had moved to Massachusetts the year after graduation. “And sort of…” Repressed . There was a term in their language, but Ari wasn’t sure it had the right overtones.
“Difficult to say, is it not?” Hannixe’s laugh, low and sweet, brought a glance from Keners, who was busy checking the tack on the new grey equines. He smiled before turning back to his work, the stripe at his temple flushing as mist thinned further and ruddy light crept between houses. “Many called him cheerless before, though you found much comfort in… but forgive me, I should not speak of such things.”
It would have been nice to get more context, but Ari was uneasy with any mention of ‘before’. The urge to look over her shoulder to see who they were really talking about grew more pronounced each time.
Jazarl and the chained man were in conference at the head of the group, where the big black equine stood patient, tail flicking irregularly. The blue-haired man nodded, conveying the impression of a respectful bow, and swung away, gesturing to his fellows. “To horse,” he called, and the chained man moved along the fence, bearing down on the women.
Keners reached them first, his dark grey half-cloak dotted with mist. “May I have the honour, my lady Hannixe?”
“Of a certainty.” Her cheeks turned pink; the fresh color was even prettier though her eyes were still red-rimmed. The damage did indeed look permanent. With my queen gone, all I could do was weep , she said, matter-of-factly, while braiding Ari’s hair with swift grace. Hand me that r-ribbon, if it please you… oh, very lovely indeed.
“My lady Ari.” The chained man arrived, the metal on his boots making faint sounds against paving—he was back to advertising his movements. “We are ready, when it pleases you to mount.”
Great . Now she had to struggle into the saddle wearing this getup. There was plenty of material to cover everything even if Hannixe hadn’t done something to make the skirt divided, frowning at cloth while that strange unsound of magic or a different technology brushed the air.
Thankfully, it was easy—one foot in the cupped cradle of the chained man’s armored hands, a moment of effort, and Ari found herself atop the white equine as if she’d been performing the movement for years. He even guided her toes into the stirrup, and she found the one on the other side with a glance. Okay. Great. I can do this . Ari gathered the reins, concentrating hard and biting her lip.
Keners performed the same service for Hannixe before swinging into the saddle of the slightly darker dappled grey. The chained man looked up at Ari for a moment, and from this angle she could see an edge of soft black cloth below the lip of his gorget.
What was he wearing under all that iron?
He nodded, briskly, and moved away. A moment later he was in the saddle as well. Hannixe’s equine stepped close to Ari’s, and the entire group set off. Majan and Alzarien vanished into the thinning mist ahead at a trot, but the others arranged themselves around the two women at an amble. Darjeth’s grin was visible even under the shadow of his hat.
Ari gripped the reins hard, hoping she wasn’t going to embarrass herself. The white equine’s rolling gait was reasonably easy, she supposed, and maybe they could find more magic pondwater for any blisters that might occur.
Did these people get blisters? If they were aliens maybe they wouldn’t, but…
Another day full of dangerous questions stretched before her. The mist thinned still further, and as the last few houses receded they turned off the road, onto rolling grassland.