14. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Caelan
I couldn’t believe I fell asleep. If I were my own commanding officer, I’d punish me with laps around the yard in the full afternoon heat until I vomited. The venom coursing through my veins was no excuse—not at a time like this. But it had weakened me, and a dream had come to snatch me from my watch.
The nightmare started out like all the rest.
I stood at a window in the Palace of the Suns while a sea of fire consumed the land that surrounded the castle. I ran away into the dark until the bars of a cage stopped me. But before my brother and his blade came to taunt me, the dream changed.
I saw Eave standing on the bank of the River of Madness. Her lush blue-black hair fell in gentle waves down her back. Ruffled by the wind, it fanned out like wings. The moon cast its purple light. The sands were violet. The river water was a blue so deep, it might be a hole in the ground that went on forever. She turned, and I was struck by the green glow that emanated from her eyes. They were round gemstones, over-sized in her delicate face.
Her mouth did not move. The only moving thing was the breeze, which made the simple white shift she wore dance. Yet words fell from her anyway, rough and unlike her voice. They hung in the air, binding us both.
“Son of scale and feather, are you ready? Destiny will make a man of you, or it will cut your thread.”
A quake shook the land like dice and I woke, my head spinning. My heartbeat raced and sticky sweat coated my skin. I half-drew my scimitar before I realized that I was still in the tunnel, and not yet at the river.
Eave was there, though. She crouched beside me, her eyes as perceptive and deep as they’d been in the dream. She’d escaped her binds and held a dagger in each hand.
A cold sweat replaced the hot one. It crept down my neck like droplets of ice water until I shivered. I was not one for believing in superstition, but the feeling that lingered after the dream was as intense as any I’d ever felt.
“There’s nobody here but us,” she said, as if it was a fear of demon ambush that made my heart race. No, it was her I feared. More accurately, my reaction to her.
She’d made it clear she was my enemy. I should’ve killed her before now, but I’d found an excuse to use her instead. Because I didn’t like killing innocents. Because I’d wanted company, and a distraction. But as we traveled together, the reason was changing.
I gathered myself and put my walls back up. I’d shown more than enough vulnerability in front of her. It was a wonder it hadn’t gotten me killed.
And why hadn’t it? She’d had the daggers in her hands. She could have slit my throat and ended my life right then and there. But she hadn’t. Instead, she'd asked me to take her into Vaharilar.
My answer should be no. She knew I was an altayr. I’d just had a damned dream warning me not to take her. She was an enemy, and a single choice not to kill me wasn’t enough to change that. I could not pretend to myself that a day’s travel and a spark of chemistry could erase the amount of hatred I’d seen in her eyes as we fought.
But I could not make myself draw my blade and end her life. Not when she’d chosen to spare mine. The only other choice was to let her go. To cross the river without her and let her disappear into Los like a shadow in the afternoon.
It was still night when we arrived at the water’s edge. Little waves splashed droplets up onto the glass. Purple moonlight flooded my eyes and made the water sparkle. Though Eave still wore her tattered red garments, her hair was loose around her shoulders. My heartbeat raced as I brought about the circumstances of my nightmare.
Why did I do this? I could not fathom it. Something drove me, some instinct or intuition, and I did not know what I would do next until I did it. Every choice was a discovery.
“Archeon is just a bit south,” she said. "And just north—"
"—it's shallow enough to wade across," I supplied. It was where our party had crossed over half a moon-cycle ago.
I walked beside her along the bank. She shot me looks of wary curiosity. She took short and careful steps and held herself stiffly. Perhaps she thought I would draw my blade and kill her now. It’s what I should do.
I stopped walking. The water here was as dark a blue as it was in my dream; I could not guess its depth.
“Eave, there is a village beside the crossing. My people will be waiting for me there. It's time for you to turn back and disappear.”
When I heard the words drop from my lips, I roused Arbaaz. He’d landed to rest through the night. I shushed his grumbling and sheathed my consciousness in his. Quietly, I took off and climbed until I could see the watchtower of the Fortress of Archeon’s Last Breath. A guard stood at the window, but he couldn’t see us.
I turned north and flew along the winding line of the river until, not far from my human body, plumes of smoke rose to shield my view. I drifted lower to see the frames of what once were peasant homes. Tents pitched nearby left no question what had happened.
Raids of the Borderlands villages were an annual ritual used to blood fresh recruits and keep our lands clear of dirty halflings and demons who snuck across the river. But when my brother Amon and his small army of friends, called the Widowmakers, joined in, the raids became little more than crown-sanctioned blood sport. Apparently Amon had entertained himself while he waited for me, at the expense of the village that, only a half-cycle ago, thrived there.
I sighed. Amon's presence was yet another reason not to bring Eave across the border.
“You won’t kill me?” Eave said. You’d think she’d sound relieved or grateful, but she was only skeptical.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.” It was all I was willing to say on the subject. Let her think that it was only my reticence to kill women that stopped me. Let her think it was no more than that.
“You should.”
“Probably.”
We lapsed into silence.
“Take me with you, then.” There was yearning in her voice, but I wasn’t arrogant enough to think it was me she wanted. She’d told me her reason already: She had nowhere else to go.
“You have no love for me or my father’s court. And you know a secret I need kept. I can’t have you spreading it around.”
“So you’d send me back into Los to tell it to those who hate you most?”
She was right. It made no sense. But the only alternative was to kill her.
“I won’t beg,” she said, with what sounded like genuine humility. “But I want to go home.”
“I can’t have you spreading my secret all over Vaharilar.”
“Then keep me at your side. Take me as yours. I believe I could serve you well, Prince Caelan.”
My heart hammered and my cock’s opinion on the subject was very clear. All I could see were her wide eyes staring at me when I closed my hand around her throat. If she were mine…
No.
I banished the thought.
“You hate Slayers, remember? You don’t want to serve me. I’m your enemy, Eave. You made that very clear. I’d have to be stupider than I am to invite an enemy to share my bed.”
“I had the chance to kill you tonight and I didn’t.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t prove you wouldn’t next time. I don’t want a slave I must keep constantly chained for fear she’ll put a knife in my back.”
“So you don’t want to own me?” Eave’s soft question rocked me to my core. I released Arbaaz and stood shakily in my own body, suddenly aware of the proximity of her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel her heat. A yearning rose in answer, a desperate, eager, panting yes. I swallowed it back and tipped my head up to see the stars. The bright moon obscured most of them, but there were enough. One, two, three.
I could swallow this strange desire. All my life I’d denied myself; what was one more denial? And yet when I spoke, I found truth slipping from my lips instead of my usual gruff deflection.
“Wanting you has nothing to do with it. I can’t trust you. And I won’t subject you to the life you’d have with me. You should thank me and be grateful.”
A mocking smile curved her lips. She stared with hard eyes across the river into Vaharilar. “I’ve been a slave all my life, though most of my owners have preferred to call me something else. Do you imagine, Prince Caelan, that the life you offer is so much worse?”
“I offer you freedom. Take it. Just step away from me.”
She smiled bitterly. “I can’t be free. The chains that bind me are invisible but I cannot escape them, no matter where I go.”
I sighed. “I can’t bring you back with me.”
“Tell me a real reason.”
Because I’d done battle against my sadistic nature all my life and if I brought Eave back with me, I would lose. When I was with her, my passions roared to the surface with too much fervor and strength for me to stand against them. When I looked at her, I saw an outlet for everything I feared in myself. And I would not take it. I would not make her eyes blank like my mother’s. Her screams would not carry up the stairs from the underworld.
Thoughts such as these always made me think of Amon, which brought me to the other reason: As soon as I brought Eave in and called her mine, Amon would want her for himself. If he didn’t kill her, she’d probably wish he had.
“I dreamt of you, and I’m not sure I’ve woken up,” I said instead of an answer.
“What happened in the dream?” she asked.
“We stood here on the bank of this river. Your eyes glowed green, and you spoke without moving your mouth.”
“What did I say?”
“I—I can’t remember. You warned me of destiny, I think.”
“Ah.” Her voice was nothing like it had been in the dream. It was smooth and rich and deep, like a cello chord played by a master. “I’m afraid that does sound like me.” She smiled.
Her smile was a crypt of secrets, it was a sensual promise, it was softness in a world of stone. She had better turn from the river now, for I would never again give her the chance to leave me. If she came now, then she was mine. I wanted to claim her like I’d never wanted anything in my life.
“Are you going, or not?” I said roughly.
“Not.”
“You want to be my slave so badly?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know you yet.”
“So then, what? You want to come to the capital?” I snorted. “Do you think you’ll do well at court? Do the games of intrigue played amongst the powerful amuse you?”
She was silent.
“Or maybe you love Tajawl after all, and you merely follow him?” I spat these words. The possibility felt like sticky refuse on the bottom of my boot.
“No,” she said firmly.
“Then why?”
“Does it matter why?”
“Of course it does.” It mattered immensely to me to understand her. With the warning of my dream still hanging over my head, it felt like a matter of life and death.
“It should only matter that I’ve chosen it. If indeed, destiny allows for any free choice at all.”
“You speak of freedom. I’m trying to set you free. Why will you not see that?” It was infuriating.
She smiled a little sadly. “I’ve never been free before. Not sure I’d be good at it.”
“You don’t make sense.”
She sighed and looked across the river, into the vast dark. “It is not chains or collars that enslave me. It is a set of circumstances set in motion before I was even born.”
She must mean being Touched. It was said that to be god-Touched was really a curse.
“Are you saying that your devotion to the Father compels you to come with me to Havard?” I asked.
“My path turns toward Havard. As for your role in it, or even the role of the Father, I do not know. Until I saw you, I felt sure my path was to wait at the Mother’s Womb for the birth of Asherah. But now you and I are linked with a chain that cannot be easily broken.”
I’d hoped to banish the ominous feeling brought on by my nightmare, but our discussion had only cemented my sense that I could not escape whatever pattern had hold of me. Destiny had caught up with us both during the eclipse.
“Fate is the collar that even princes wear,” I said.
She glanced at me sharply. “That’s true. We both must play our parts.”
Unspoken between us was the other reason we did not want to part—the reason that had nothing to do with destiny at all, but with bodies writhing naked together in pleasure and intensity. I could not know if she felt what I did, or if she’d been faking to manipulate me. I could know only that I longed for the exploration that might follow if she came with me. I didn’t want this to be the end.
Maybe it didn't have to be. Broker's advice kept circling in my head. "If you want your father to get the message, you have to speak to him in a language he understands."
My father understood power and sex. Capturing a demon hiding in Vaharilar or executing a well-organized raid might not impress him, but he would surely take notice if I marched into court with an enemy priestess on the end of my leash. I'd always shied away from flaunting the dark proclivities we shared, thus earning myself a reputation for being overly serious and disinterested in women. A mask can be worn too well, I sometimes thought. Perhaps Eave offered an opportunity for me to adapt mine.
But she'd be dangerous to me if I allowed her to be. She could spill my secret and she no doubt still hated my family. I would have to weave a tight web of control around Eave or this choice could quickly backfire. It was a high-stakes game with every player lying about their hand—that was politics. But if I never played, I'd never win.
“To the game.” I raised an imaginary glass, joking, but Eave looked back at me with a face as somber as a widow.
“Let us play,” she said. It sounded like a benediction.