Chapter Twenty-Six #4
Flying high above the grisly battlefield, my arms outstretched to either side as I command six huge tornadoes in the distance. They cut a terrifying visage of destruction across the background of the canvas, black as the desert sands they pull up into the skies in tremendous funnel clouds.
The longer I stare at the mural, the harder my heart pounds.
It isn’t me, I reason. I have never commanded tornadoes. I do not own gilded armor. I have never done battle on such a scale, never even witnessed one like that…
This is someone else.
It must be.
“So, the skylark found her way inside my cage after all.”
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of Soren’s voice. Heart in my throat, I spin around in time to watch him strike a match. It flares in the dark as he lights the candelabra on the end table, illuminating the shadowy corner where he sits in one of the wingback chairs.
“Skies! How long have you been sitting there?”
“Since before you snuck in.”
I exhale, flustered. “You should’ve announced yourself!”
“Forgive me, I thought I was free to do as I liked in my own chambers.” A wry note fills his voice. “I will endeavor to make you more comfortable the next time you come snooping in places you were told to steer clear of.”
He has a point. I swallow down my embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I know you said this was the one place I was not meant to go, but—”
“Rhya. Relax. I’m teasing you.” He crosses toward me slowly.
He is fully dressed for departure in obsidian breeches and a fitted tunic with carved stone buttons of the same shade.
There is a beautiful silver-hilted sword sheathed across his back.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him carry a weapon of any kind; he usually relies on his power alone.
But that may not be an option on this mission.
The thought makes my stomach clench with anxiety.
His strides are soundless, his voice nearly so. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was…” I shake my head to clear it. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought you might not be able to, either.”
He stops a handspan away. His eyes move from me to the mural and back, and a furrow appears between the dark slashes of his brows. “That, there, is the reason I did not want you in my chambers.”
“The mural?”
He nods, jaw tensing.
“Why?” My heart is pounding too fast from what I saw in the painting as well as his sudden proximity. “Why would you not want me to see a piece of art?”
“I knew it would upset you.”
“But…I don’t understand.”
“No?”
I suck in a quick breath. “It is not me. It cannot be.”
He simply stares at me, saying nothing.
“Soren—”
He cuts me off. “What are you really doing here? You did not come to discuss my artwork or to check if I was resting.”
My whole frame rocks back, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “I…I…”
“Rhya.” His eyes trace my features. “There is nothing you cannot tell me. Don’t you know that by now?”
My heart flips. I do know that. I think I do. Still, I cannot quite force out the words.
“What’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours?” he murmurs, leaning a shade closer, compressing all the air right out of my lungs. His mind brushes mine, inviting a mental connection, but he does not push past my barricades without permission.
“I could not feel you through the bond. Not at all,” I admit in a rush.
“I was worried, all right? Earlier, you were so upset when you learned about Arwen…I wondered if you might…” My voice shakes; with effort, I steady it.
“Because you were not here when it happened, I worried that perhaps…you blamed me.”
He stills. “You?”
I give a tiny nod.
“Why the hell would I ever blame you?” His confusion is tempered with anger as his mind races, putting the pieces together before I have a chance to answer.
“Ah. Because he did. For Fyremas.” Soren’s scoff is harsh.
“He shoved the blame on your shoulders when his were too cowed by his own shame to bear it.”
My flinch is apparent, though I try to hide it.
How easily he sees through me. How clearly he reads between the lines of all I do not say, seeing the damage I’ve internalized before I can even recognize it myself.
Soren’s hands find my face, his large palms framing it. He tilts my chin up so I am looking directly into his eyes. They are very blue, even in the dark.
“I do not blame you, Rhya. And while there is a whole list of things I regret about this night…what happened with you will never be included on it. Not as long as I breathe.”
My eyes sting as the weight of those words rocks through me.
His forehead drops down to rest on mine. I think he might kiss me, but he does not. We remain like that for several long moments, simply sharing breaths, until he finally speaks again.
“Efnysien sent his minions to strike at the things he knows matter most to me. The floating market, which is the beating heart of my city. The Paexyri, who are the living embodiment of our oldest maegic. And my sister, my closest blood relation, whom he has always coveted for his own.” His fingers flex against my face, then slide deeply into the hair at my temples.
“If there is one thing I am grateful for, it is that he does not know the depth of my feelings where you are concerned. For if he wanted to deal me a death blow…it is you he would have taken through that portal tonight. It is you he would have stolen away from me.”
“Soren—”
His lips close the gap, kissing away my surprised gasp.
Kissing me and kissing me and kissing me until all the air is gone from my lungs, until I lose the strength to stand on my own and, knees weak, sink into him like the warmest of seas.
He holds me tight against him, hands deep in my hair, tongue sliding between my parted lips to stroke mine.
My arms twine around his back as I bow against him, losing myself in the sensations that are crashing through me like a tide.
The pound of a fist at the door tears us apart.
“Soren!” Vaughn pounds again. “The ships are ready!”
My eyes meet Soren’s in the dark. The silver striations are brighter than ever. His voice is raw with regret.
“Time to go.”