Chapter 48 #2
Now she pauses only a few steps inside the main room and turns back to me, the final rays of sunlight shining across her face.
Her forehead puckers in the way it does when she’s trying to avoid asking for help.
Or…perhaps that wasn’t why she hesitated…
“Eat dinner with me.” Her command is firm, spoken with her head high, challenging me to defy her wishes.
I can’t stop one corner of my mouth from twitching upward. “No.”
I prepare to step away and close the door, but she moves in a flash, her palm pressing to my chest. The breath catches in my throat at how fast she moved, but what surprises me more than her speed is that the pressure of her hand feels deliberately restrained.
She takes a deep breath, an alluring pull of air. “Will you please eat dinner with me?”
Once again, I study her features, the brightness in her eyes and the fucking enticing curve of her lips.
I answer more softly this time. “No.”
Her heartbeats become heavy and her face falls. “Okay.”
She lifts her hand from my chest and I fight the urge to press her palm back to me, to tell her I changed my mind.
I let her go.
Her footfalls are quiet as she steps into the main room and disappears down the hallway, leaving me in the open doorway.
I rub the heel of my palm across my heart and force myself to close the door.
When I turn, I find Nara staring at me.
“Go,” I say, abruptly dismissing her. “Hunt.”
She snarls and doesn’t budge.
I stare right back at her. “I can’t afford distractions at nighttime. Least of all to lose focus by having dinner.” With a woman whose very breaths push and pull at me.
I’m certain that the one night I’m distracted will be the night Iker sends another assassin. I won’t tempt fate just because I don’t want to eat alone.
Even if I’d give anything for the chance to share a peaceful meal with Thyra.
Nara scowls back at me as she slinks along the path and away into the distance.
Leaning up against the external wall, I wait for darkness to descend. Within the Rose Room, Thyra spends a much shorter time in the bath before making her way, not into the main room, but into the back garden for the first time in days.
I stiffen when she starts to hum, expecting her to be communicating with the Lethian threads, but I’m surprised when she doesn’t sing the passion-filled melody that could call the armor to her body.
Her humming is soft. Sad. Off-key.
She and I have barely spoken to each other these last five days.
I’ve escorted her to training and back again, delivering her to and from the Rose Room each day.
And yet I’ve heard everything she has said and done.
I can’t close my ears to any of it. How hard she’s training, every determined exhalation, every cracking punch and kick against wood, louder with each passing day.
In all that time, Thyra hasn’t had a single Oracle vision. No blade visions, either.
When I first brought her here, she vowed she would sleep where I sleep and I reasoned that even if I’m outside, I’m still…here. Close to her.
But I’m not. I haven’t been part of any of it, even though she hasn’t pushed me away.
Now, when she returns to the main room, I listen to her pause for a long time near the entrance to the hallway, stopped there, her breath caught.
A whisper of sound tells me she’s brushing her fingertips against…the wall?
But why?
At that moment, the staff appears, and I wait for them to place the baskets onto the path, as they’ve learned to do.
Except that one of them doesn’t stop there. While the other two put down their baskets and hurry away, the third staff member proceeds hesitantly toward me.
She’s the oldest member of the staff and the only one with whom Lilis deigns to speak. I know all of my staff members’ names, and this woman’s in particular.
She is Juniper and she was a shadow at my mother’s side for many years, ready when Mother needed ice for her bruises, ready with a gentle voice after a harsh one, ready with fresh clothing and linens, as if she could make each day new simply by changing the bedsheets.
Juniper’s marriage was very different to Mother’s. Juniper was once married to a man who loved her and she loved him. Until he was killed. Callously and maliciously.
Now, she approaches me along the path, her face pale and hands shaking so violently that the basket rattles against her legs.
I remain silent, giving her only the slightest tilt of my head.
“Lord.” She bows before she fixes her focus on a point near my feet. “Does the Oracle need anything?”
I already ensured monthly provisions were brought to Thyra via a note left in one of the baskets the staff collected.
The staff have taken care of Thyra’s laundry every day, provided the extra training suits she needed, brought fresh linens, and even learned what foods she prefers, seemingly based on how clean she licks the bowls.
But now, by asking me a question, Juniper not only risks that I’ll speak directly to her, she’s requesting that I do so.
I consider my response carefully. “You have provided very well for the Oracle.”
Juniper raises her eyes to mine, her heart stuttering so badly, chances are high she might pass out.
“But, Lord…” Juniper swallows hard and gestures with her free hand at the Rose Room behind me. “Does she not wish for more than this?”
A snarl leaves my lips before I can stop it, a hum of sound that carries a sharp warning of my Lethian power.
Juniper stumbles back a step, appearing to forget she needs to leave the basket before she dumps it onto the path with a breathless, “Forgive me, Lord.”
Then she stops, hunches, and as Lilis did earlier, rallies. “Your mother hated it here.”
Juniper’s voice wavers so badly, it’s difficult to make out her words as she rushes on. “Why would you cage any woman here? Especially when you’re—”
She gulps when I take a threatening step toward her.
Her heart, her breathing, her posture all tell me she’s terrified. As she should be.
Coldly, I ask, “When I’m what?”
She drags in a breath and her eyes fill with tears. “When you’re better than this.”
I’m struck still, sudden pain clawing at my chest. Fucking…damn.
How could Juniper say such a thing?
“After what I did,” I rasp, “you dare tell me I’m better than this?”
“Yes.” She swipes at her cheeks, raking at her tears. “Even after what you did.”
I shake my head. “No.”
She reaches for me, daring to breach the gap between us. “When will you stop punishing yourself?”
Never.
I am heartless because I need to be.
When I first heard Thyra’s voice, her scream was preceded by an explosion of golden light that had nearly blinded me. In that moment, I felt agony. I was driven to the ground by the force of love and hate and grief and happiness and warmth and terrifying need that the light brought with it.
A need for her I’ve been fighting for days.
A need to give her everything she desires and to hold nothing back.
In that moment, I convinced myself I had a right to feel again and now I’m reminded that I must never feel again.
I stare at Juniper’s weathered hand as it hovers between us.
Despite my resolve…despite the chill in my blood…I find myself challenging her to have an answer. “Where would you have me take the Oracle, Juniper? She’ll freeze to death in the palace.”
“No, Lord.” Juniper’s eyes brighten, even though her hand falls to her side. “We made a place for her.”
I’m wary. “Where?”
Juniper’s hopeful eyes rise to mine. “We constructed heating elements in the northern wing, where the vines grow. The vines your mother planted.”
“Those plants died.”
Juniper reaches for me again. “You should see them, Lord. They’re bright and green. Thriving.”
I don’t detect a lie in her speech, but I also don’t believe her.
Her smile fades the longer I don’t respond.
“Lord?”
I harden my expression. “I’ll consider it.”
Juniper waits another moment, a long silence as she searches my face. Maybe she’s looking for some hint of the boy I once was.
Her shoulders slump. She casts her gaze past me to the Rose Room and now she wears the same expression she wore on the day Thyra first rode through the palace gates.
Deep pity.
As Juniper hurries away, I remind myself I’m no better than my enemies.
No matter what Juniper believes.
I’m incapable of—
Thyra’s faint humming floats to my ears. As soft as falling snowflakes. As sharp as knives.
Her singing cuts through my self-contempt as cleanly as a blade.
She has moved along the hallway and now I judge she’s outside my sister’s room. A room still filled with all the innocent beauty of my sister’s heart.
From far away, the chill breeze carries that quiet scream, the ever-fragile cry that haunts me.
For the first time in days, I force myself to remember what Thyra said to me after I collapsed in the Alak-Teah.
You’re all I’ve got.
I close my eyes, my shoulders hunching.
I’ve constructed a prison around Thyra and called it protection. I vowed to ensure she could hold her own in combat, only to use that as an excuse to keep her away from what she really needs.
I’ve deceived myself.
But opening this cage…
Will only bring Thyra more pain.