Sanctuary

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T heophania rose to meet her sudden guest. Petra tried to decipher his expression. Rand sunk to one knee, stood, and then respectfully drew Petra to his side.

When her shoulder was tucked under his arm, she knew the reason for his coming.

Pain. Heat radiated from his body, almost burning her skin. Her mystic Ensign reverberated, like a response. She felt him shudder and his grip at her side tightened.

“Lady Theophania, near tsarina of Vale,” he began, his voice unaffected, “can you forgive a man for wanting to spend his moments free from duty with his bride, when he marches from the city come morning?”

Her returning smile was benevolent. “When a soldier defends his city and its people, his emperor and the country, there is little he should fear being denied.”

“You are most gracious.”

She shrugged prettily. “You have spilt blood for Vale. I have not. Therefore, I have no right to deny you.”

Petra curtsied. “May you never spill blood nor tears during your reign. Thank you, Madame.”

The future empress commanded her guests be escorted to the front gate. In sync, both Petra and Rand took three steps backwards, before turning and following the servant.

Walking through the residence, she thought of making small talk. Something that could be overheard and deemed too mundane to be worthy of gossip. At the same time, Petra did not want it said that she was chatty, so unaccustomed to nobility that she prattled like a poor, old woman.

Additionally, it might have been difficult to keep her voice natural for her insignia rippled and hummed in waves of cool and warm. With each surge, Rand’s grip went from lax to rigid and she could not pretend his touch did not affect her.

Outside, Rand waved away Samual. With ease, he placed Petra atop Loom. Behind her, he mounted and snapped the elk into a smart trot.

Until they passed the gate of the entire residence of Delicate Petals, Petra chose not to speak, in case enlarged ears heard. Also, it took her those moments to settle her mind under the way he held her tight to his body.

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

“It’s not your fault.” His breath was warm on her ear. “I forgot about the invitations. You were wise to visit Theophania.” He shifted. “I intended to wait longer before I fetched you. I thought I would be able to wait. Eventually, I will get used to this pain.”

“Are you bleeding?”

“Inwardly. Yes. I can feel it. Touching you will staunch the flow faster than only being near.”

“Rand...”

His sigh was strained. “I don’t know how to do this. How will I lead my men? How will I fight if I can’t see you. Reach for you. Just the sight of you, Petra, is solace.”

“The Heavens will see your pain,” she managed, quivering from the heat of his breath. “They won’t abandon you in this.”

“No?” She felt him straighten. “Let it be from your lips to eternity, then.”

Loom trotted on. Tufts of cloudy air puffed out from the wide nostrils of his velveteen snout, soft in comparison to the smart clack his hooves made on the road.

For passersby, she did not spare a glance. It was uncommon for a man to ride with a woman mounted in front of him. Especially a married couple and newlyweds to boot. Not ignoring the man was a Shivalry captain, the first to publicly break his vows and take a wife! She must keep her vision forward. She must not display any intimacy between them, lest either be accused of public indecency.

Her thoughts, however, were less pure.

He shouldn’t have to be in pain. I’m responsible for his pain and it’s in my power for him to suffer less. He should not keep himself from me tonight. He should be fully restored by morning to march. He should sleep beside me .

Under the natural fairness of his complexion lurked pallor. Their bonding had wounded him with unearthly power. Yet she had divided his heart and Rand must march out under such division—the weight of men’s lives, the safety of Vale, and her claim on his body and soul.

I have an obligation to him. He has not failed me. I won’t fail him. I must cast out the idea of his body beside mine, of such muscle and power depressing the mattress. I will hear his breathing, steady and measured. I will see the rise and fall of his chest while the stillness of sleep consoles him. I will feel my womanhood keenly. I feel it now. I felt it the moment our eyes met. I wonder what it would feel like if he pulled me close in the night and I felt his chest expand into my back.

She shivered.

“Rand?”

“Are you cold?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I was thinking...you, you deserve to be rested and restored for the morning.”

“I’m not sure what is rightfully mine anymore.”

“I mean, I want you to sleep well tonight. I want you to sleep well from now on.” She felt a spasm pass through his hand. “I had no intention of keeping you from my bed, though I hadn’t really thought about it either. I know...I know on the march we will share a tent.”

“Y-yes though I—”

“Sleep with me tonight. I don’t want you to hurt.”

His answering cough sounded more like a stifled sob.

“How brave you are! I-I don’t know if I’m ready to have your body next to mine at night. But since you allow me, I will sleep in the room with you, on the floor. Drape your arm over the side of the bed that I may see it.”

“Please trust me that I will not force myself on you, ever. I never meant to force any of this—”

He silenced her.

In one motion, he swept her hood away and bent near, pressing a kiss on her cheek. His lips were warm on her chilled skin. His mouth was gentle while the kiss was firm. And, brief though it was, her vision blurred.

***

U PON ARRIVING, BARTHOLOMEW took their outer garments and informed Rand that fifth Shivalry captain, Yates, had arrived in their absence. Currently, he waited in the study.

To this Rand nodded before asking Petra if she minded Yates having dinner with them, since there was still so much to be talked over.

“I don’t mind. I’ll brew the tea myself to welcome him.”

He smiled. “Come and meet him now. If you wish to stay while we talk—”

“You and I both know how unsuitable it is for a woman to—”

“I do and I don’t care. I would value your opinion,” he stated, looking at her, looking far into her eyes.

Now, a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

“Gossip is unseemly,” she teased.

He chuckled. “How right it is for a wife to chastise her husband.”

Bartholomew cleared his throat. “I shall inform Captain Yates my lord and my lady will be with him shortly.”

Rand asked if she wanted to freshen up before they greeted Yates. She told him she wanted to stand for a few moments in front of the hearth to take the frost from her cheeks.

“You can go ahead.”

Her husband shook his head, took her arm with care, and rested it atop his. He walked her towards the only fireplace that was lit in the main room.

“Once you feel warmed, we will welcome him together.”

Petra was grateful her cheeks were already rosy.

When she and Rand entered the study, Yates rose. Though Petra had seen him at the hearing, her vision was fractured and her body outside of itself. Greeting him as warmly as he greeted her, she noticed her husband’s compatriot looked young for his rank. All his countenance seemed to match his personality—rounded, affable. Authority held itself in his posture, but he looked at Rand with the eyes of a younger brother.

“You will be married six months before you spend any time with your wife,” he jested. “Please forgive me, Lady Tsenturian, for encroaching on this special time between newlyweds.”

“What kind of captain’s wife would I be if I demanded my husband’s loyalty over his country?”

Yates opened his mouth but shook his head almost immediately and turned to Rand.

“Your wife is most gracious, Sir.”

“She is.”

He led Petra to a seat before moving one of the cushioned chairs alongside her for himself. Then he motioned Yates be seated.

Conversation began immediately.

Petra watched more than she listened. To the best of her understanding, although all five Shivalry captains were equals, their ranking remained significant. Yates took in every word Rand spoke and offered counter suggestions respectfully. Meanwhile, the jesting, conversational tone of her husband had vanished. It was replaced by granite. Weapons could strike against and make no dent. Too strong for fear.

She supposed it must be. Behind his decisions were the lives of his men. And behind them were wives, children, mothers, and siblings.

How frightening. I wonder how many are equipped to handle such responsibility. I don’t think I would be. I would doubt myself, leading to the death of a man and the starvation of his wife and children.

I will not doubt myself, here, though. As his wife. I will be one less care of his to heft. I did not doubt myself when I came to this city. I did not doubt I would find Aldney’s truth. And had I been brave enough to accept that truth, all this would never have happened. I cannot hesitate now.

The emblem ached.

***

P ETRA OVERSAW THE MAKING of dinner. She told the third servant of the house that she wanted hearty fare. Brought to the table was a cloudy, meaty broth, heavy with bone marrow, and large dumplings floating on top. The rice on the side was flavored with citrus peel. Pickled radishes and tea-steeped eggs were also set down.

Yates kidded Rand that the quality of the food in his home was greatly improved since the last time he visited. To this Rand told his fellow captain not to expect any such luxury during the march, even if Lady Tsenturian was coming along.

Petra volunteered that there had been sparse winters during her childhood when she was forced to eat eggshells.

“May I say,” Yates offered, “I admire a woman who understands struggle.”

It did not take long before the subject of Bessarabiah’s intended attack on Mynydd came around. Both men stayed away from any treasonous talk of the emperor’s brazen decision to snub Lady Sunniva. However, they confessed they did not understand why Cyprian allotted such a small number of soldiers (and not even men of Shivalry) to march or why he insisted captains one and two remain in Vale.

Yates admitted he had lost sleep over the matter. Rand stated he had worked out every outcome of this decision and failed to arrive at a logical explanation. What it seemed like was Cyprian wanted Bessarabiah to lay siege to the mountain pass and claim it, though that boded nothing but invasion and battle for Vale. Even if the emperor wanted to be the hero in the last moments and send out the true force of his army, what was the point of letting Mynydd fall only to recover it?

“Does he have a secret campaign now that he takes an empress?” Petra wondered, aloud.

“If he did,” Rand answered, “what would the envisioned end be?”

She shook her head. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“No. I value my wife’s opinion.”

“Perhaps your ladyship has a clearer perspective than we do. We stand in mire,” Yates stated.

Rand continued with a grim smirk. “Our senses are stunted by manure. It certainly feels as if we wade in it.”

Petra considered her words before continuing.

“I have not been in this city long but if I look only at his actions then I see a ruler who shocked his people by choosing a woman so markedly not intended. He did not flinch under the repercussions. In fact...”

“He gloried in it,” Rand muttered.

“Would he also glory in saving his city after the ingress was taken? It would make his name resound above his father’s.”

Rand placed his hand over hers. “I hope not.”

Yates agreed and there was a lull in the conversation before Rand suggested they go over the route of the march once more.

***

W HEN THE LAST CUP OF tea, flavored with cinnamon and cardamum, was finished, Petra accompanied her husband to see Yates to the door. She wished him a restorative night’s slumber and Rand echoed her sentiments.

When the door shut, Petra felt it resound in her body and kept her eyes on the floor. Overseeing the meal and conversation during had distracted her from this being the night before the march. She had been too pleased with how the men enjoyed their dinner to think on what she and Rand had talked about astride the elk.

We’re not sharing the bed, but I don’t trust my face right now. It feels like my fingers might sprout wings and flutter away. I should not be nervous. I should not be excited. None of this should feel like intimacy.

Except how could it feel any other way? Ancient enchantments had bound them together. The first moment she looked at him, something untouched within her soul stirred. As thanks, he had pressed his lips to her cheek.

Walking with him now, she was aware of the slight swing of his arms and the heft of his footfall. Petra was cognizant of how close her thigh was to his. His body next to her was palpable. It was intrinsic, though she knew no such word.

Bartholomew preceded them without comment, tending to the hearth in the loft and placing a full basin near so they might have warm water come morning. He also removed a fired brick wrapped in a thick blanket from the foot of the bed. Then, with only a mumbled wish for peaceful slumber, he left.

And though the bedroom was only three walls with full view of the house below, Petra had never felt so isolated.

Rand moved first. From the far wall, he pulled a tri-panel bamboo partition and unfolded it.

“I’ll change first.”

Petra nodded, her throat instantly dry. Even though his form was completely hidden, she heard the soft rustle of fabric, and turned her back. Gripping her hands together, digging her nails into her knuckles, she tried to blur the tempting images in her mind.

Worse was that she had seen him naked from the waist up and her imagination could conjure what he looked like as he shrugged out of his shirt. And though she had rarely seen a full nude man, her mind raced to picture him from the waist down. A slim waist, narrow hips, shapely, long legs and what between them?

“I’ll get your bed ready!” she chirped, scuttling to grab pillows and blankets.

She did not see him emerge. There was, after what felt too short a time, a soft-spoken thanks. Without acknowledging, Petra took her night things and went behind the privacy screen. Her hands shook and it made undressing complicated. Her breathing was altered, and she was positive she sounded like an ox laboring to give birth.

When she stepped out, Rand had already laid down on the floor. Woolen blankets and fur-lined pelts blurred the shape of his body. His eyes were shut, though she’d believe in winged pigs before she believed him asleep.

Still, she moved quietly and made a wide berth around him, to the other side of the bed. Throughout the house below, Bartholomew had extinguished all the lights. While she had changed, Rand blew out the few luminaries on the walls.

Save for the uneven spark and keel of their fire, all was dark.

She got under the covers and pulled them up to her chin.

“Will this be alright,” she whispered. “You can’t exactly see me.”

“You’re near. I can feel you.”

“It...it feels like I can feel you, too.”

One of the logs crumbled and a flutter of sparks fizzed upwards, crackling and spitting.

“It should feel like you can reach me anywhere.”

“It does. It feels...safe.”

He did not answer, and the hours stretched over them until sleep found them both.