41. Forty-One
forty-one
Winter had truly arrived in the last night; dawn still hours off, Neira had woken to see Erqis slide out of bed and stoke the dying embers in the fireplace. She had burrowed back into his arms, keeping her silence and taking his warmth.
Now, in the hour before noon, the sky was pale, the misty clouds hanging low over the bay and stretching on forever, obscuring even the larger islets further out. A dreary eternity just outside her window, not unlike the fogs that had hung over the moors of Brightmere so often.
Neira found herself in one of her desolate moods, once again, and it had taken only a glance out of her bedroom window to make her plummet. All the pain and horror and rage had congealed in her chest, an aching, malleable lump that reared its head at the most inopportune moments. Neira would be having a lovely time, and then something small would remind her of everything that was not fine, not at all , and it would drag her into so black a mood it took her hours to snap out of it.
Another castle. Another prison. Both of her own making, as neither her father nor Erqis would have stopped her if she had ventured outside the thick, high walls, but there was nowhere Neira wanted to go. Not then, and not now. Her world was small and always had been.
Faint green flared and in her cupped palm; the sparrow she had found on her window sill this morning came to life, pecking at its feathers where they had become mussed.
The magic came so easily now. Soon enough, she was sure, she would master the skill to make a perfect doll, one that imitated life so closely no one would be able to tell their true nature.
A Dread Queen not only in name.
The black smudges on her fingertips had spread, already reaching for the first knuckle. The flat half-moons on her nail beds were tinged a dark grey.
With a sigh, she lowered her hand to the sill, the cold air nipping at her fingers, and the sparrow hopped onto the stone. It took off after rustling its wings, and the spark of magic she had sowed within it stretched, a thin connection anchored behind her breastbone. The bird had vanished into the thick fog but her gaze followed it, blindly, led by only that sensation.
If only her father could have seen it, could have known how useful she would have been if given a chance.
Neira shook her head, banishing the longing before it could take root. Not her father, she had to remind herself; she didn't know whether he had sired her himself or used another man, as he had done for Ramin's conception. No notes existed that spoke of it, at least none that the mirror would show her. Either way, she would not call a monster, that had created her to ultimately be consumed, father. Not anymore.
She felt unrooted for not the first time, disconnected from a family she had never had.
Her father had been little more than a jailer. Her mother had chosen her own death to avoid consumption, leaving Neira to repeat a cycle that had played out for who knew how many centuries. Only she had broken it – a hero had come and slain the monster, carried the princess away to his castle and married her, made her the queen she had always longed to become. A fairy tale indeed.
If only the story had been so straightforward.
Almost half a year had passed since she had sent Ramin and Safir away. She missed both of them keenly, some days more than others. And every day since she had spoken to Sorloq, her rage had grown, a dark, taloned thing snarling and clawing at her insides.
She had no more tears to spill, Neira found, the burning in her eyes staying quite dry. She pulled the thick knit blanket tighter around her shoulders, staring into the blind endlessness outside. Towards Huldra, which she wouldn't have been able to see even on a clear day, so far away.
The door opened, followed by a low curse. "Gods below, woman, you'll catch your death like this."
The irony of the words didn't escape Neira. It even made her smile. Erqis' heavy steps approached, and then his hand slipped beneath her jaw, tipping her face up so he could place a curiously soft kiss on her forehead.
"You're ice cold. Come on, let's close the window."
He leaned past her, filling her space with his view and scent, one of his knees on the bench as he reached for the window and pulled it back in. For once, she didn’t daydream about sending him tumbling to his death.
"You let the fire go out," Erqis complained, even as he pulled her by her hand to the cushioned bench closest to the fireplace, and then knelt to rekindle the charred logs, blowing gentle flames across them. "Will you come down for a meal or would you like me to bring you something?"
Neira tried to reply. Words formed in her throat, on her tongue, but her teeth clacked together sharply.
"Neira?"
She pressed her lips together against the sharp lance of pain in her chest. His eyes were shadowed with worry – for her. Not because of what she could do for him, what use she was in his kingdom, for his plans. For her . Because Erqis, against all odds and despite everything they had been through, loved her. Had loved her through harsh words of vitriol, through attempts of harm, through the jagged cleave in her heart after she had come to know just what she was.
Erqis loved her.
Neira let her fingers glide along the back of his hands, up his forearms, down again into his waiting palm.
"They lied," she said, her voice hoarse from disuse. "They lied. To me." She didn't have to specify who. He knew.
Erqis pressed the back of her hands to his lips, his head bent low over her lap. What would she have given to see him like this months ago, when he had come to her castle. What satisfaction it would have brought her to see him kneel, swear his fealty. The Grey King had planned to make her his but the truth was that he was hers, as was his kingdom. She wore his ring and his crown – power beyond compare was at her very fingertips.
And all she felt was affection for this complicated, obnoxiously bright man, with his overly ambitious plans. All her vindication had been bled out of her.
"Tell me what you want," he said earnestly, looking up at her. "And it will be yours."
Her heart gave a pang. She had heard those words before – long ago, when the person she had been then had demanded his death by his own hand. Now there was only one path she could think of. "I want Ramin."
"Yes."
"I want Huldra's crowned head."
"On a silver platter or a golden one?" Erqis grinned. He was delighted she finally saw things his way. "Say the word, and I will rain fire on those frozen wastes until all of it has melted into the sea."
She huffed. As appealing an image as it was to the dark horror raging within her… "We can't wage war on Huldra without Malvea first conquered."
"We could," Erqis said with a shrug. The mere idea of melting all that red-tinted snow thrilled him. She could almost see the images of his conquest in the green-gold of his eyes.
"No. The provinces will turn on us the moment you direct your attention elsewhere, and taking the army across the sea will leave our shores undefended. We spoke about this."
"You are not wrong – why stretch ourselves thin?" The grin he gave her was broad and thrilling, and something bright flared from within Neira in answer, a spark of excitement. It must have shown in her eyes, because Erqis kissed her again. "If you grant me time, my love, I will lay the entire world at your feet."
"How much time?"
"Now who’s impatient?" He chided. "They will not harm the boy while they think they have the upper hand, and they won't meddle in our affairs as long as we remain on our side of the sea. A few years is all I need for Malvea – and Huldra will never see us coming."
A few years. It seemed an unreasonably long stretch of time, so long it made her heart ache, but Erqis was right. Neira’s lungs expanded in what felt like the first full breath she had drawn all day.
"Not too many years." Neira was not willing to miss Ramin’s entire childhood.
"As fast as I can. As fast as we can, if you want to come along and show the rest of Malvea why exactly it should fear us."
"You don't want to rule a continent of the dead, Erqis."
His smile softened. "No, I do not. But I do want you by my side, every day, for the rest of my life." He squeezed her hands. "Especially if that means turning Woodhaven into a wasteland. They still haven’t sent word. Can you imagine? After I've been so kind to them, even."
Neira felt his smile call forth hers, starting warm in her chest and travelling until her expression lost the grief it was too often haunted by. "You did burn their messenger."
"Yes, but only one of them. The others left intact."
"I love you."
She didn't know where the words had come from. By the surprise lighting his face, neither did he, but Erqis recovered faster.
"A terrible idea, honestly."
She pushed at his forehead with a groan and rose, but her husband was right there, his hands sliding into the curve of her waist, looking almost… pensive.
"You mean it?"
"You don't have to drag this out-"
"No." Erqis ducked his head to peer into her face, waiting until she met his eyes. "I need to know, Neira. Do you mean it?"
Her hands came to rest on his upper arms, feeling how tense he was, how warm, his now familiar scent mingling with the woodsmoke from the hearth. He needed this.
She needed this.
"I love you," Neira repeated, quiet but firm. "You made me your enemy, your wife, your queen, your lover – in that order. Don't be surprised that it took me this long to admit it."
Erqis' answering smile was one she didn't see often, void of all swagger, all bravado. Just… soft, genuine bliss.
"I love you," he said, just as quietly. "And if they won't bow to you – then we’ll burn the world to ash together."
"I can't wait."