Chapter 14 #4
“Well last night she stayed in Bash’s room,” Idris says, chuckling with amusement. “Make of that what you will.”
I snort, entirely unsurprised. I tilt my head up to the painted ceiling, made to mimic a canopy of citrus trees.
“What is she doing here?” asks Idris, his biting curiosity winning out. “I thought she was here to see her mother or relay some message from your aunt.”
“She is, or was,” I answer quietly. “She’s been rather key to getting the plan together.”
“I get it now, why Fiora had to live,” Idris says quietly. I lift my head up to meet his steady gaze. There is a begrudging acceptance there. “Cutting off the Holy States from all allies on the continent is quite a blow. One worth letting her live.”
“For now,” I say quietly. Idris’s lips twitch as he nods once.
“For now.”
“I’m surprised our counterparts in Chalgos agreed,” I answer honestly. “They stood to make a fortune given their control of the only land route into the Holy States.”
“No one wants to trek the Faith Pass. It takes weeks and isn’t suitable for any kind of carriage.” Idris scowls. “It’s serious hiking, and the weather is terrible even in the summer. I hate to think what it’s like in the winter.”
“Speaking from experience?” I ask.
“One of my many adventures,” Idris answers evasively. I nod.
“So you’ve forgiven me for Fiora?” I push.
“I have,” Idris answers. “I just wish you’d told me. I would’ve agreed with you.”
“We weren’t really speaking,” I point out. “I’ve tightened the leash on my extended family, and they’re all acutely aware.”
“Won’t that ruffle up some trouble?” Idris asks.
“Perhaps, but after Agosta and Rialta, I inspire enough fear to keep the majority in their box. Those that come will come with a plan, and that will require some time,” I answer. “So for now, it’s handled.”
Idris nods, reaching for the wine between us and taking a sip.
“It didn’t feel good, you know, letting her walk,” I answer. “I almost didn’t…”
“It was for the good of Halice,” Idris answers softly. “You did the right thing.”
“Didn’t feel like it at the time. Still doesn’t in many respects.” I scowl. “Sometimes I wonder if I should hire an assassin and give her a taste of her own medicine.”
Idris leans forwards, the water lapping around his steel muscles as he gestures for me to take the glass. I do, pulling it to my chest.
“I appreciate the sentiment but breaking the law? That’s not really your forte. Still, it’s nice to know you’d seek vengeance on my behalf.” Idris grins. I roll my eyes at him, kicking him gently in the water.
“And if you’d been too late last night, am I to believe you wouldn’t have personally cut down every last person?” I counter.
“Without hesitation,” Idris announces without a hint of shame.
“I just wish I felt so sure about every decision.” I sigh, looking at the wine in my hands before taking a sip. Idris nods, leaning forwards in the tub.
“I get that. We can never be sure about every decision we make. But don’t forget who you are. You’re Renza Di Maineri.”
“I’m very aware,” I grumble.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Idris verges on scolding me as he smiles. “You are magnificent, Renza. Don’t you forget it.”
“Well after this is all played out, we can ask the people for their opinion,” I answer. Idris frowns.
“What do you mean?”
“When I hand power back to the High Chamber and restore the authority of the Electi, I plan to put my seat up for re-election, so people can decide if they still want me to lead them or not,” I answer. Idris bolts upright in the bath, staring at me in shock.
“You’re not serious?”
“Of course I am,” I answer, finishing the wine in my fingers and setting it down. “It’s only right, after everything.”
“If there is still a High Chamber to restore, it’ll be because of you,” Idris answers hotly.
“Sounds like I can count on you for endorsement in the election then,” I say. Idris rolls his eyes at me and I make to get out of the bath. Water drips off me as I reach for a clean, fluffy towel and wrap it around my body.
I walk to the vanity and start sorting my hair, rubbing my oils and lotions into my skin as I prepare for bed.
I slip on a nightdress, the strappy silk the colour of candlelight.
Idris isn’t far behind. I try not to look at him in the vanity mirror as he dries himself off.
Fate surely designed him as a perfect torment for me.
I walk towards my bed and slip under the covers as Idris puts on some loose linen trousers and walks around the room. He closes the blinds and blows out all the candles but the one on my bedside table. He comes closer and sits on the edge of my bed.
“I can stay here tonight, or I can find another room if you prefer,” Idris offers. “I know that our bond might not help you sleep.” I let out an unsteady breath and shake my head.
“No, please, I don’t … I don’t want to be alone,” I admit quietly, taking his hand in both of mine and squeezing tightly. The corner of his mouth turns up, face silhouetted by that one wobbling candle.
“You can change your mind at any time,” he says before slipping into the covers next to me. I fall back against the cushions, taking a deep breath as Idris leans towards the candle. With a single puff we’re engulfed in darkness.
The bed jostles as Idris settles down beside me.
I use mind-stilling. I focus on my breathing and slowing my pulse.
I try and clear my mind of absolutely everything.
The fire of Idris’s bond is a great anchor, a great place to focus.
But in the dark, my eyes adjust to the slithers of light creeping through the curtains and my minds drifts.
I replay the events of the day again and again in my head, analysing them from every angle, questioning my every breath.
I catch myself again and again. I turn over and punch the pillows, hoping to find a position that’ll be more comfortable.
I try again, controlling my breathing and my pulse, focusing on Idris and our bond – hoping it’ll burn away all the voices that plague me.
But they return, sneaking through the cracks like spiders.
“Renza.” Idris’s sleepy voice eventually comes to me in the dark as I turn over yet again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. If you can’t sleep I’ll—”
“Struggling?” he asks. I let out a sharp sigh.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I just keep thinking and thinking. It’s like my mind won’t turn off. It won’t let me rest.”
“Does me being here make it worse?” Idris asks.
“No. No, this would be happening anyway,” I admit. Idris makes a sympathetic noise and rubs my arm.
“I’ll get up in a bit if I can’t drift off,” I tell him. After all, if I’m not going to sleep there’s no point keeping him up with me.
“Where do you keep it?” Idris yawns, sitting up.
“Keep what?”
“The Red Root,” he says.
“Uh, my drawer,” I answer. He squints in the dark, fumbling around until he relights the candle and finds my pot of Red Root.
“How much do you normally take?” he asks.
“I can do it,” I offer.
“How much?” Idris repeats himself like I hadn’t spoken as he gets out of bed to grab the glass of water. I sigh.
“Level the spoon in the pot,” I answer quietly, glaring up at my canopy of red and yellow organza. Why won’t sleep come to me? Why does it betray me like this?
Idris returns with the glass of water.
“There is no shame in taking your medication as the doctor prescribed. Particularly not if it helps you,” Idris says. “Just do me a favour and tell me, so I know when it’s in your system.”
“You want me to tell you every night if I’m using Red Root?” I almost laugh as he hands me the glass of water. Idris nods seriously as he climbs into the bed next to me.
“Yes, just in case.”
“Okay,” I agree before downing the glass of water.
Idris sets it on the side for me and returns us to the embrace of the darkness.
As we settle in the bed again, Idris puts his arms around me and pulls me closer.
He presses a boiling kiss just below my ear, his front a chiselled furnace against my back, his arms strong like the walls of a fortress.
“Sweet dreams, my beloved nemesis,” he whispers as the Red Root starts to take its grip, and I sink into the blissful unending peace of sleep.