Chapter 29 #2
“I’m sorry.” For the sake of the Kingdom and the memory of her family, Syla had wanted Jhiton dead, and even tried to engineer it herself, but she regretted that Vorik had lost someone he loved. The only close family he had left, from what he’d told her. “Thank you for coming for me.”
She had no doubt that Vorik had attacked his brother for her sake, and emotion filled her throat. What a sacrifice to make for her. How could she ever be worth that?
Vorik nodded but didn’t say anything. Maybe his throat was also tight with emotion.
“How long until the mine fills completely?” Oyenar asked Tibby.
She considered the lake and looked thoughtfully into the shaft, though it was fully dark down there, the lanterns long since submerged.
“Quite a few hours, I’d think. Though the pillars may erode and the ceiling collapse before then.
” Tibby gazed around at the troops and the wagons.
“It might not affect the ground we’re standing on, but that would be a gamble. I suggest evacuating the area.”
“Agreed,” Oyenar said. Maybe he’d already been wondering about the stability of the ground underneath them.
At a nod from him, men with weapons turned them toward Vorik again.
“We’ll take your prisoner to a wagon, Your Majesty,” one said.
Looking defeated, even though he’d saved her life, Vorik didn’t so much as twitch an objection. As the men surrounded him, he didn’t even seem to see the weapons. His gaze remained bleak.
“I’ll come too,” Syla said and walked beside Vorik. Deciding she didn’t care what people thought, she clasped his hand.
Though his eyes were haunted, he returned the clasp.
Do you wish me to facilitate an escape? Agrevlari asked, flying a couple of miles to the side of the ship that Vorik sailed on with Syla, Tibby, Fel, and numerous Kingdom troops. And the weapons platform, which had been strapped ominously to the deck again before they’d boarded.
Vorik trusted it was only in his imagination that the ancient device knew what he’d done and emanated dark menace toward him.
At least Wreylith, who perched in her customary spot on the wheelhouse, hadn’t emanated such feelings toward him.
She’d merely swished her tail when the troops had led him past her and belowdecks.
Apparently, accompanying Syla on her vessel had satisfied the whims of the shielder artifact, and it had let the dragon pass through on the way out to sea.
Not at this time. I’m going to try to help Syla get her Kingdom back before going…
Going where? Vorik didn’t know. Back to his people?
He doubted he would be welcome. The two men who’d seen him fight Lesva had likely survived.
And she might have survived. As for Jhiton…
Vorik didn’t think anyone except Tibby had witnessed that battle, but he couldn’t return and lie about what had happened.
His honor wouldn’t allow it. I’m going to try to help Syla, he repeated, deciding not to worry about his own future at the moment.
She has the support of the Bogberry Island lord, but she has a daunting mess to deal with at home.
Quite. We saw many, many more ships than she has now in the Castle Island harbor with more on the way.
Yes.
Will her people allow you to assist her?
I don’t know.
Are you in shackles currently? That might be a clue.
Vorik snorted softly. She didn’t let them shackle me. I am in a prison cell, but it’s quite posh.
A posh prison cell?
There’s a bed, a chamber pot, a porthole, and someone brought me a meal as we sailed away. There were even apples and pears.
I will not be able to assist you on Castle Island.
I know. You should… I’m not sure what you should do, Agrevlari.
Vorik had to swallow a lump in this throat at the idea of sending his bonded dragon of many years back to his people, possibly never to see him again.
But the stormer-allied dragons had always made it clear that they’d joined with his people because of their mutual goal to gain access to the bounteous Kingdom islands, and if Vorik wouldn’t be working toward that end…
Currently, I am speaking with Wreylith, Agrevlari informed him.
Is she talking to you again?
She said she regretted that the barrier didn’t give us an opportunity to engage in battle last night, as she would have enjoyed a vigorous engagement with a spirited foe.
Though she is willing to assist the queen, she finds fighting only puny humans to be unsatisfying.
I invited her to fly away from the death launcher and engage in a physical altercation with me now, but she says she must prepare to aid the queen in reclaiming her throne.
Is a physical altercation what you want with her?
As I learn more about her, I believe that a fierce and challenging battle might lead her to desire to mate—more so than my singing.
I think that’s likely too.
A lock turned in the door, and Vorik sensed Syla in the corridor. A guard with a crossbow stepped in first, looking suspiciously at Vorik and waving for him to back to the wall before he would allow Syla to enter. Other guards, including some of her Royal Protectors, lurked in the corridor.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Syla murmured politely while shooing him back outside with one hand. She held a small circular pan in the other, something that smelled of apples and cinnamon and other spices he couldn’t name.
Vorik’s mouth watered.
“Are you sure you want to be alone with him, Your Majesty?” the guard asked. “We’ve heard that you have, uhm, powers now, but he’s dangerous.”
“Not when he has baked goods in his mouth.” She showed the pan to the guard.
The man’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t know if that was a joke or not.
“It’s true,” Vorik offered. “I hardly ever threaten people who give me delicious food.”
“I’ll be fine.” After succeeding in shooing the man out, Syla closed the door, then lifted the apple dessert toward Vorik. “The palace and barracks kitchens on Bogberry Island are in a shambles—most of the city is—so this isn’t fresh, but I had a bite of another one. It’s still tasty.”
“It smells wonderful.” Vorik accepted the dessert but set it aside so that he could envelop her in a hug. “You do too.”
“I haven’t bathed yet, except in salty lake water.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Vorik rested his cheek against her hair, inhaling her scent and appreciating the warmth of her body against his. And that she returned his hug without reservation.
“I’m sorry that you lost so much,” she whispered into his shoulder.
“When I came up with the idea… I didn’t think through all the ramifications.
I certainly didn’t realize half the shoreline and all those boats would be pulled under.
And I meant to flood the mine before your people arrived.
” The distressed tightness in her voice didn’t surprise him, and he knew that she wouldn’t have willingly chosen a path that had killed so many.
But he also knew she would always do what had to be done to protect her people.
“And I’m sorry that you lost your brother. ”
“That was because of my choice, nothing you did.” The aunt might be the reason Jhiton’s wound had ultimately been fatal, but Vorik had run his brother through with his sword.
That would haunt him for the rest of his life, but as he held Syla in his arms—warm, beautiful, and determined Syla—he couldn’t bring himself to wish he hadn’t done it.
If Jhiton had been with Lesva at the shielder chamber, Syla wouldn’t have survived the encounter.
Jhiton may have humored Vorik more than he should have in regard to their relationship, and he might have even respected Syla, but he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her.
Not if she stood between him and his goal.
“You only made that choice because of me,” she said. “If I didn’t exist, you never would have pitted yourself against your brother.”
“Eyes of the moon, Syla, if you didn’t exist, who would have brought me… what did you say that is?”
“A three-day-old apple tart.”
“It’s magnificent.” Vorik gripped her shoulders and leaned back so he could look into her eyes, and the moisture in them touched him.
The tears weren’t for Jhiton—she was probably relieved he was gone—but born out of sympathy for him, for his distress.
Of everyone onboard, nobody could know more than she what it was like to lose family.
“You’re magnificent,” he added. “And I’m going to help you reclaim your throne. ”
“I really do love you,” she whispered.
“As you should.” Vorik smirked, then lifted her spectacles from her nose and set them on the table with the dessert. They could enjoy that later. But now…
Syla slid her arms up around his shoulders and kissed him, her thoughts seeming to match his.
Vorik returned the kiss more gently than he might otherwise have, but he was drained after the long night, after losing so much.
He sensed the same in Syla, a need for comfort as much as sex.
But he enjoyed the touch of their lips as he slid his hands over the curves of her body.
He had lost so much, but he had her, and she loved him.
Maybe there shouldn’t have been tears as they kissed, but their lips were salty, their regrets mingling with their passion. Mourning as much as love brought them together, a need for mutual support, something to remind them that they’d lost much, but they were still alive.
He trailed his fingers down her throat, then around to rub the back of her neck, to relax her even as he aroused her. And aroused himself. The heat of her body pressing against his made the memories—the horrors—of the last couple of days fade, at least for a time.
They undressed each other, hands roaming, desire growing. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails grazing his scalp, and his entire body went taut with need.
“Oh, Syla,” he whispered, cupping her with his hands, making sure to please her as he relished her touch on his body.