Chapter 27 #2
And she was between them, the twin princes who stared at each other like they were on two different sides of a silent war.
‘Kinlear,’ Arawn said as he stopped an arm’s length away. ‘You look … well.’
Kinlear lifted his chin and placed his free hand atop Ezer’s.
She did not miss the way Arawn’s eyes slid to their hands.
How they narrowed beneath the mask for a breath of a second before he looked indifferent once more.
‘I think it’s all the time spent in the outside, with our dear Raphonminder,’ Kinlear said.
‘She has been quite healing for me, in more ways than one.’
Ezer swallowed the lump in her throat.
Her palms were sweating. She looked up at Arawn, begging him to meet her gaze.
But he stared at his twin like it was just the two of them.
‘Not quite so healing for her,’ Arawn said. ‘What with the brutal injuries that Alaris must fix, time and again.’
‘The Raphonminder is strong,’ Kinlear replied. ‘She can handle it.’
‘May I remind you,’ Arawn added as he stepped a bit closer, and Kinlear’s grip on Ezer’s hand tightened even more, ‘that after she is done with you, she trains here, in the darkness, with me.’
‘Learning how to protect herself better than the last you took beneath your wing, I hope,’ Kinlear said.
And she could have sworn Arawn’s fist curled.
‘She,’ Ezer said, removing her hand from Kinlear’s arm, ‘is standing right here. Between two brothers who refuse to forgive one another for a past that is neither of their faults. That lies with Soraya alone.’
At the sound of her name, the tension broke. The two brothers looked to her like she’d spoken a curse aloud.
‘It’s the truth,’ Ezer said. ‘And telling it is what Sacred do.’
‘Forgive me,’ Arawn said, clearing his throat. ‘I … don’t know what came over me.’
But Kinlear only sighed, and reached out as a servant skirted past them, golden goblets balanced on his tray.
‘It’s the winterwine,’ Kinlear said, handing Ezer a goblet.
The liquid inside was blue, and glowing as if by magic.
‘It takes the limits off. Makes the walls we usually have … come crumbling down.’ He looked to Ezer and noticed her gaze on Arawn.
With a loud sigh, he said, ‘I’ve suddenly discovered I have somewhere else to be. Anywhere, really.’
But then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ezer’s cheek.
His lips were soft, and she sucked in a breath, surprised at his touch.
‘Tomorrow, Raphonminder,’ he said as he backed away, ‘we’ll take Six back outside and make certain we do not fail.’
Ezer nodded. And together, they watched him go, fading into the crowd like a ghost.
To hell with it, Ezer thought. And took a sip from her goblet, lingering on the feeling of instant lightness in her bones that could only come from magic.
‘That was … interesting,’ Ezer said. ‘Were you two ever close?’
‘Too close,’ Arawn said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. ‘I suppose … war takes more casualties than lives alone.’ He watched Kinlear’s back, then sighed deeply as he turned back to her.
And she could have sworn …
He looked nervous.
‘I can’t believe I’m asking this, but …’ He glanced over a shoulder.
‘I’m supposed to be seen doing court fineries.
Pretending that the things I worry about, like my father’s soon-to-be passing …
do not exist. At least for tonight.’ Another sigh, in which he took a long pull from his goblet.
His lips shone as he asked, ‘Would you dance with me, Minder?’
She thought her eyes might pop out of her skull.
But she took another few sips – half the goblet’s worth – and answered him breathlessly, ‘Yes.’
His hand engulfed hers as he led her to the middle of the training room. And as the music turned, and the sweeping melody overcame them …
His hand settled carefully over her hip.
She sucked in a breath, because though he’d trained with her, sparred with her … this was different.
This was a tender touch, the kind of thing shared between lovers.
Which they most certainly were not.
‘I’ve never danced before,’ Ezer said, her voice a bit breathless as he guided her through the sea of dancers. ‘Certainly not in gown like this.’
His gaze lowered, sweeping down her body before they shot back upwards to her face. And then stayed only on her face.
Like he was trying very hard not to drink in the details of her.
The way the fabric clung to her body like a second skin. He’d done the same in the bathing chambers, and suddenly she was thinking about him in such a state, and …
Gods, she suddenly felt like she needed air.
‘Well,’ Arawn chuckled. ‘Lucky for you, Minder, I am a prince. And a very unfortunate side effect of that is an extensive knowledge of dancing.’
He took charge of their bodies together, spinning her round like she was made of air.
They spun past a couple in Dhysis’ gold and then Aristra’s green. The colors seemed to muddle together, the motions so fast that she suddenly found herself tripping over her own feet.
Damn the heels Izill had forced her into.
Damn how good it felt when Arawn caught her.
And lowered her, slowly, into a dip, his hand dangerously close to the small of her back.
‘Careful,’ he said, as he held her there, his face so close to hers she need only lift her head … just in the slightest … to press her lips to his.
If she dared.
She could discover all the things she had in her dreams.
She could taste him … have him the way she never had before … if only he felt the same.
Warmth shot all the way to her toes.
He lifted her slowly, his hand sliding across her back.
‘Winterwine is potent,’ Arawn whispered as he righted her. ‘It is why we are only allotted one glass. The ones who fight tonight won’t drink at all. Though some...find their ways around the system.’
‘And you?’ Ezer asked, breathless in his gaze. ‘What will you do tonight, Firemage?’
His eyes slipped to her dress again.
‘I … will stay up later than I should,’ he said. The music changed around them, and he lifted her, spinning them again. ‘Most likely, I’ll send every lackluster thought I have towards you until I bore you to sleep, and the speaking stone goes cold.’
Behind his mask, his eyes were like twin crystals, so blue she could have drowned in them, could have—
‘Ezer.’ The wind sighed her name, as if in warning.
Like it was calling to her through the warm fuzziness of the winterwine, reminding her not to fall.
Not to sink into something she would not be able to climb out of, when morning came. When he would be untouchable, forbidden, yet again.
But she dared place her hand upon his chest, as they turned.
She dared feel the way his heart slammed against her palm, dared relish how the heat of him licked her skin like a promise.
He cleared his throat.
‘How is Six treating you?’ Arawn asked.
So painfully, he’d changed the subject.
His eyes roved across her again … but this time it was searching instead of hungry. Like he was checking her for more evidence of injury.
He would see nothing beneath the long sleeves of her dress.
She was fully clothed, and yet in his gaze … she couldn’t help feeling like she did in the bathhouse.
Like she was utterly bare before him.
‘The injuries are part of the job,’ she said, trying to keep a rein on herself. ‘And nothing Alaris can’t fix.’
She’d grown stronger when it came to pain.
It was temporary. It was …
Strangely liberating. Because each time she trudged her way to Alaris’s healing room, it reminded her that she’d done something worth the healing.
It reminded her that she was fully alive.
But nothing compared to this, right now.
With her hand in his … and his fingertips on her waist.
‘She won’t fly,’ Ezer said, and almost yelped as Arawn spun her wildly, dipping her down before lifting her up again so that their gazes met. So that she practically collided against him, chest to chest.
‘Perhaps she’s just not ready to,’ Arawn said. ‘They’re her wings, after all. She can decide what to do with them.’
‘Your father will kill her if we fail,’ Ezer said, softly enough that only he could hear. ‘And probably me, too.’
His hand curled tighter over her waist.
His blue eyes hardened beneath his mask.
‘Then don’t let him,’ Arawn said. She noticed he did not argue about the punishment.
And by now, she’d taken note of how many other Sacred had penance marks.
It seemed that the more they had, the more they carried themselves with a certain stiffness …
as if they feared stepping an inch out of line. ‘Find a way.’
He never dropped her gaze, even as he expertly skirted past the other Sacred.
As if he saw only her.
They went past Kinlear. He took a goblet and tilted his head back as if to down it in one sip, then grabbed the hand of a beautiful Watermage in royal blue.
‘Do you know what bothers me most?’ Ezer asked as she snapped her head away from Kinlear. ‘I’m supposedly Sacred, but I am neither a Knight nor a Scribe nor a Null, so I’m not even qualified to be a servant. I cannot invocate. And yet here I am … dressed in white like I belong here.’
She hadn’t meant to say it.
But the words had simply tumbled out.
‘I’m Unconsecrated, unclaimed, which makes me broken, or …’
‘Broken things are beautiful, too,’ Arawn said.
So softly, she almost didn’t hear it.
She had never been called beautiful.
That word …
The music ended before she could let it settle against her soul, before she could believe it. And then he released her. They were at the edge of the crowd, standing before the wall of glass.
He lifted his own hand, whispered an invocation … and brought a tiny golden flame upon his palm. It was larger than a candle’s flame, but still not enough to destroy a darksoul.
‘You’re not alone in your struggle, Minder,’ he said. A lifetime of invocations granted … and yet this is all I have left. Every time I try … I think of how I couldn’t save her. How I wasn’t good enough, strong enough, devoted enough to—’