Chapter 14
I left.
For all his mask, for all his majesty, Renn surprised me by calling out my name as I did. I glanced back only once, pleading with all I had that he might give me my dignity even as I struggled to keep myself together.
I slipped through the guards and out of the Great Hall, desperate to find somewhere to hide, to be alone, to control myself, because we so desperately needed these negotiations to go well.
We needed Antsan’s aid, or Nicosia might slaughter us all.
Even if Renn pulled a miracle and defeated Sesta, the cost would be abysmal if he did it alone.
I sucked in deep breath after deep breath, desperately looking up and down the narrow corridor, utterly lost. I had to keep it together just a little longer. I couldn’t distract him. Just a little longer, Nym.
I followed the corridor in. Found an armory. Turned when someone from staff came up my way, then again down a narrower hallway. I spied a man with a red band on his sleeve—a physician—leaving a room. He left the door ajar, so I peeked inside. A small infirmary. Empty pallets and half-empty shelves.
I made it inside and shut the door. Desperate for privacy, I dowsed into myself, past the basalt wall, to my gold-limned half-heart.
I built up a new black stone dome around it, praying to the gods it would dampen the emotional flow from me to Renn as a sob worked its way up my throat.
I blocked out the missing pieces of myself, the shimmering of him.
Felt his growing uncertainty, hope, and turmoil fade.
Not entirely. Even after finishing the work, Renn’s presence lingered. But it was the most I could do.
Back in the present, I pressed a sleeve to my mouth as a sob hard as rock cracked across my tongue.
A selfish, horrid sob. In truth, I’d been cheating the universe too long.
Had I known that time on the ship and in the traveling camp had been our last together, I might have .
. . but I had cherished them. I wasn’t sure it was possible for me to have appreciated them more than I already did.
Five months apart. A respite, a balm, a gift. And now it was to end. It had to end.
Renn needed Antsan. We needed Antsan. Every village and town and city needed Antsan. Before my conscription, I’d never considered myself very patriotic. But after Rove, after Sesta, I understood better. Even if just for my brothers and sisters, this alliance would prove crucial.
I retired to the farthest corner of the infirmary and sat on the cold stone floor.
Tears soaked my sleeve, so I pressed my other to my face, staunching the tumult, the breaking, the flood.
Then, hugging myself, I sent a prayer heavenward, thanking the gods for this turn of events.
For the first time, I could imagine an end to this pointless, selfish war.
It was just that I loved him with every fiber that made me. So completely, so entirely. That love pulled me through Rodsfell. It guided me through the forest and across Sesta and into the strait. I would not have survived without that love. I would be forever grateful for it.
I simply didn’t know how I could ever let it go.
Perhaps it was the travel, the emotion, the cold, or all three, but I dozed off, head and rump pressed against stone so that when I stirred, both radiated soreness.
Something was tapping my elbow. I sat up and rubbed sore, crusted eyes. The presence of dry tears only reminded me what had transpired, and I felt my chest crack all over again.
When I finally blinked myself into awareness, I realized a person had been tapping me, rousing me. He crouched in front of me, familiar face quirked in the subtlest smile.
The rush of joy at the sight offered some healing. “Sten!” I cried, then threw my arms around his neck. I’d never hugged the man before, but I was so happy to see him again, so happy he’d survived, I couldn’t stop myself. “It’s so good to see you. So, so good.”
“You, too.” He relinquished a single dry chuckle before I let him go. My cheeks warmed, and I quickly wiped my eyes once more, embarrassed. “His Majesty is looking for you.”
I swallowed, throat already tight again. Tried to smile. “I’m fine, as you can see.”
Sten, gods bless him, did not so much as raise an eyebrow at the lie.
He knew. He’d been Renn’s personal guard throughout the entirety of our relationship—of course he knew about us.
He’d been the one to tell me of the potential marriage alliance.
And so while I desperately tried to focus on the joy of seeing him again, I began to crumble. “I-I can’t, Sten. I can’t see him.”
“Unfortunately, his authority supersedes yours.” The guard seemed the epitome of calm. “Come.”
He offered me a hand; I accepted it, wincing as my body uncurled and stood. I took a second to dowse the ache away, but there was nothing I could do for the other hurts. They didn’t manifest in my lumis. How easy it would have been to squelch them from the very beginning.
Yet I couldn’t regret my choice. I could never regret him.
I kept my head down and hair forward as Sten led me through the castle.
Though I’d been here a matter of hours, it felt nostalgic, somehow.
As though I’d lived here for months, years.
As though I stood in a memory instead of a physical thing.
Like I was describing this place to my children, detailing the great adventure I’d once partaken in before coming home.
Absently I touched my stomach, thinking of my lost daughter.
There would be no children to tell the story to.
Nieces and nephews, then.
My eyes watered as Sten led me into the west tower, and I focused on the burn in my legs from climbing the twisting stairs.
He opened the door to a room there. It was spacious for the tight design of the castle.
A simple bed in the corner, an old circular rug near it.
Four slotted windows, each facing a cardinal direction, letting in the cool evening air.
The wall jutted inward near the door to make way for the tower’s spiraling staircase, and as I came around it, I saw a table and basic toiletries.
No Renn. The room lay empty, but I knew it was his. From the scent, or the make of the bed, or just intuition, I knew it was his.
“I’ll be outside the door,” Sten offered, but as he stepped away, I asked, “Eden. Is Eden here?”
He nodded. “In the east tower.”
Relief cut through the ache. Then confusion. “The east is crumbled.”
“Not entirely.” Then, again, “I’ll be outside,” and he shut the door.
I took in a shuddering breath. Folded my arms tightly and crossed the room.
Looked out of one window across the castle, then another, with a vantage over the thick wall.
A copse of trees huddled out that way, and beyond them, a distant smear of forest, broken by the snake of a river.
It must have been the one that filled the moat.
I sat on the bed—there were no chairs—and ran my hand over its blanket, then across one of two pillows. Imagined him sleeping here while I stayed bound to that gods-forsaken tree, thinking of me as I thought of him, wished for him, wanted him.
New tears sprang forth. I cursed and dabbed at them. Needing distraction, I rose and crossed to the table, where I found a few clean handkerchiefs and helped myself to one. Noticed another tucked under the lip of the basin, stained with blood.
I froze, staring at it. But Renn was healed. He had some symptoms, but he was mostly . . . It must have come from a bloody nose, or a cut of some sort.
I felt Ursa’s absence starkly, again: the absence of her comfort, the absence of her power.
Footsteps coming toward the door hit the stone stairs hard.
Despite my resolve, I turned toward them.
Moved for the door as it opened. The sight of him struck me as though I hadn’t seen him in years.
I didn’t know if I ran to him or he ran to me, but I embraced him like he’d pulled me from the strait all over again.
Embraced him like it would be my last chance, and it might very well be.
I set my jaw until my teeth hurt. Pinched my eyelids shut, but tears still leaked through.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing me until I might break, then pulled back enough to look at my face, searching it as though I were a book with the answer, coded to not be easily read. “I can’t feel you as strongly. I thought something had happened—”
“I put another wall up.” The words came out in choked whispers. I’d explained the black basalt I’d built around myself before. “I-I didn’t want to be a distraction.”
“Gods, Nym—”
“That wall is still there.” The realization hit me like a hammer, making me feel even more foolish.
“If I were injured, I would jeopardize you. And if you had a healer nearby, he or she wouldn’t be able to get to my lumis.
I need to take it down.” It was the sensible thing to do, but I’d hidden behind that wall for so long, it frightened me to destroy it. To lose that on top of everything else—
“Nothing is signed yet.” He smoothed back my hair, eyes still frantic, still reading. “Nothing is set.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
He cupped either side of my face, forcing me to look at him. He looked so tired. Older. Veins of red in his eyes made the shock of blue so much starker.
More tears, blurring my vision. “I trust you will do what’s best for your kingdom.”
A flicker of him down the link. “That I will do. But it will not involve marriage to an Antsan princess.”
I shook my head. Croaked, “For how clever you are, Renn, you lack wisdom.”
“Wisdom is earned by the old and conquered by the young,” he stated. It sounded as though he was quoting a book.