City in Ruins (13 page)

“Why are you crying, Aean Brirg?” Cadeyrn
repeated.

His muscles were taut, the strain in them
obvious.

My tears fell harder. “Because I’m not sure
what hurts worse,” I answered. “Asking you to do this or losing
whatever respect you had for me.”

Silence.

Papers shifted on the desk as Cadeyrn moved. My
eyes found the floor. Lantern light glinted off of the water at my
feet, surrounding me in bright, rainy tears.

“Have your gods agreed to this?” Cadeyrn asked.
I nodded. “And Lochlen?”

“He’d understand,” I answered. “I’m being a
dragon after all. Dragons live to survive.”

Bare feet suddenly pressed against my boots on
the floor, a hand finding my chin, lifting it.

“You’re cold,” Cadeyrn murmured. He
stared at me, his eyes roaming my face. “Tell me, Aean
Brirg,
why
are you
crying?”

A sob escaped me. “Because I love you!” I
blurted. “I love you! I love my country, and I love the dragons.
I’m crying because there’s no way to love all of that without
losing something.”

Cadeyrn exhaled, as if he’d been holding his
breath. He had the ability to discern truth from lie, and I knew by
the way he looked at me that he heard the honesty in my
voice.

His grip tightened on my chin, and my eyes fell
closed, the movement pressing more tears onto my cheeks.

“Little bird,” Cadeyrn sighed, his fingers
releasing my face to slide up my cheek. He leaned forward, his lips
pressing against my forehead before moving to the tip of my nose.
“Checkmate.”

The word was replaced by his lips on mine, his
skin warm against my chilled flesh, and I sank into his touch. It
was a brief kiss, lasting only a moment before he stepped
away.

“I’ll do this for you, Aean Brirg. But know
this. I don’t do this for your country. I’m not doing it for your
dragons, and I’m certainly not doing it for your gods.” Reaching
out, his hands found the laces of my tunic, his fingers pulling
them free, his gaze remaining on my face. “I’m doing this for you,
and for the rest of my life, should it be a long life, I will find
a way to watch you. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my throat constricted, my vision
blurred by tears. “The gods have promised we’ll
conceive.”

Cadeyrn tugged my tunic free, pulling it over
my head and throwing it to the floor. He grabbed my arms, his gaze
catching mine. “For you,” he insisted. “I’m doing this for you.
Damn protocol, and I won’t leave you or a child of mine
unprotected. You understand?”

I nodded again, my voice barely above a whisper
when I asked, “Why?”

He pulled me close. “Ask me that again when I’m
not tied to three different countries, two of them asking me for
sons.”

Aside from the fact that I was one of those
countries asking him for an heir, I saw the truth in his eyes, in
the way he stared down at me.

My hand found the tattoo on his chest, and I
pressed my palm against it, my cold fingers against his warm
flesh.

“The God of Unrest,” I said.

His hands dropped to my waist. “And the Goddess
of Serenity,” he replied.

His fingers found the front of my
breeches.

I inhaled. “I haven’t done this
since—”

“No,” Cadeyrn whispered against my lips, a
quick kiss silencing me. “Not here, Aean Brirg. Tonight, there is
no before. We have enough scars between us. Tonight, it’s just you
and me. No ghosts.”

My tears wouldn’t stop coming. No matter how
much fire his touch caused.

Shedding the rest of our clothes, we touched
skin to skin. Still, I cried. Cadeyrn wiped away the tears, but he
didn’t try to stop them. I think he knew that as full as my heart
was at being with him, it was just as broken at the thought of
losing him.

He pressed against me, lifting me before
lowering me gently onto his bed, his breath mingling with mine. His
hands explored me, and I touched him, my gaze locked with
his.

As much as we wanted to pretend the gods
weren’t with us in the chamber, they were here. The wildness of the
forest called to me as our bodies came together, the beauty of the
moment like the whispers of the trees. Our fingers entwined as we
moved, our muscles straining, our bodies reaching.

Tonight, there were no ghosts.

Tonight, there was only me, him, and a flood of
tears.

When it ended, the pleasure riding
us both, I just barely remembered to whisper, “
Cameet.”
The Goddess of the Hearth and
fertility.

Warmth spread in my middle, and my tears came
harder.

Cadeyrn pulled me into his embrace, his arms
falling around me.

“You are strong, Aean Brirg,” he whispered
against my ear. “Your choices are hard ones, but you’ve made them
out of love. In the end, it’s the ones made out of hatred that will
falter.”

For the rest of the night, there was silence,
the only sound the rain. My fingers traced his tattoo, and his palm
splayed across the falcon on my back. We ignored the tattoos on my
wrists. Those represented too much for us both.

His hand fell to my middle, pressing it. My
palm fell over his fingers.

One day when I looked back on this
night, I’d remember three things. The tears, Cadeyrn’s
whispered,
“Aean Brirg”
, and the way he cradled my stomach.

Chapter 17

Politics was a dangerous game, full of
treachery and people seeking power, and I’d not only entered the
game, I’d entrenched myself in it.

The morning after I spent the night with
Cadeyrn, he followed me to Reenah’s chamber, his gaze meeting mine
under the robe’s hooded cowl before I turned to duck inside. Reenah
waited for me.

Nodding curtly at the prince, she pressed the
door closed, the click loud in the dim room, officially ending my
time with Cadeyrn.

In silence, Reenah assisted me, helping me
strip off my clothing before handing me a drying cloth. A dry tunic
and breeches were folded on her bed, and I tugged them on over a
borrowed chemise.

Reenah brushed my hair, running the bristles of
her large comb through the snarled mess. I didn’t need the help,
and she knew it, but the attention was nice, the affectionate
gesture chasing away the empty feeling in my heart.

“He was gentle, I hope,” Reenah whispered.
“I’ve never known him to be anything but.”

I glanced at her, at the worried look in her
eyes. “He took it better than I hoped. He was gentle, Reenah,” I
promised. “He was more than gentle.”

Pulling my knees into my chest, I sobbed.
Reenah held me, her hand smoothing down my hair.

“You are an asset to your people,” the consort
said fiercely. “History often forgets that with our ability to
fight, to survive, and to birth heirs that women have forged
tremendous trails. You’ve done it all now, Phoenix. You’ve given
your people hope, you’ve fought, and now you’re giving your people
the one thing no one else can, a leader and a future ruler. One
day, you will rest, and I will make sure you rest well.”

I glanced at her. “Why do you do this? Is there
no one else you’d rather be with? Someone you love you’d rather
share your life with?”

Reenah’s eyes met mine, a deep sadness in her
gaze. “I fell in love with a prince once, too,” she told me. “I’ve
had my fill of love.” She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. I
knew the man she loved wasn’t Cadeyrn. Even though she’d been his
consort, their relationship was only friend deep.

“You don’t want children?” I asked.
Instinctively, my hand found my stomach, my throat clogging up. I
didn’t know yet if calling on Cameet meant I’d conceived, but I was
depending on it. There’d be no more chances to try. I wouldn’t risk
it, for me or for Cadeyrn.

Reenah stared at her hands. “I can’t have
children.” Her voice was hoarse, full of unshed tears. Again, she
didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask.

Reaching out, I touched her shoulder, my head
bowed. It was a Medeisian gesture of comfort.

Throwing me a soft smile, she patted my
stomach. “This will be enough.”

“If I conceived,” I responded.

Our eyes locked. Silence.

Exhaling, Reenah stood. “We should prepare. If
the weather permits, we’ll make port at the Isle of Marr. It’s a
beautiful, exotic place.” She waved her hands in excitement.
“Beaches and water like you’ve never seen before. The women wear
long colorful blouses and thin, full skirts. The men are mostly
bare chested, their legs covered in breeches that stop at their
knees. Shoes are rarely worn.”

Despite her glowing features, I felt wary. “The
Isle of Marr is located between New Hope, Greemallia, and
Henderonia, isn’t it?”

Reenah shrugged. “It’s risky business, but it’s
listed on the trade route, and if we passed the port and ran into
bad weather or pirates, we could be stranded with few
provisions.”

“A double-edged sword,” I murmured. “Surrounded
by enemies if you stop, and run the risk of running out of supplies
if you don’t.”

Pulling me up, Reenah pushed me toward the
door. “This is a diplomatic mission. We’re not flying a battle
flag. Try not to fret.” Directing me into the corridor beyond her
cabin, she pointed down the hall. “Go!” she ordered on a laugh.
“You really don’t want to miss this.”

With each thudding step, my unease grew. It ate
at me.

Pausing at the cabin I shared with Maeve, I
ducked into the room to grab my bow.

Groans met me when I entered. Maeve reclined on
her side on the bed, her knees drawn up against her stomach, her
arms cradling her legs.

With a sympathetic smile, I slung my bow and
quiver of arrows onto my back and knelt next to her, my hand
covering hers. “We’re making landfall today for
provisions.”

Maeve’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’re not just
telling me that?”

My head shook, my eyes bright.

Sitting up, she threw her trembling legs over
the side of the bed. “I want to see the land,” she breathed. “I
know you must be getting tired of playing nursemaid, especially
since Daegan’s abandoned us to play sailor.”

My arm snaked around her back. Leaning heavily
on me, she stood, and even though I’d been bringing her food twice
a day from the galley and emptying her chamber pot when needed, I
noticed she’d lost at least a stone in weight. When I’d not been
with SeeVan in the evenings or working on the ship’s ledger—which
mostly consisted of celestial figures and instrument readings—I’d
read to Maeve or assisted her to the upper decks. Oran often stayed
with her. Other times he followed me. Still others, he shadowed the
crew.

On the way to the door, I grabbed Maeve’s
sword, my fingers gripping the scabbard.

She glanced at me. “Do you expect
trouble?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered, “but we’re too
close to hostile nations for my comfort.”

Maeve trusted my instincts, and she didn’t
argue, her gaze drifting from her sword to my bow before finding my
face.

She studied me, her brows furrowing.
“Something’s happened to you.”

We climbed the stairs to the main deck, the
rain beyond having turned into a light mist. It swept our cheeks
and left them damp.

“I’m going to need you,” I whispered to Maeve.
“Now more than ever.”

I didn’t tell her about the significance of the
tattoos on my wrists or my night with the prince. Those were my
burdens, my precious memories. Secrets kept between few saved more
lives. Cadeyrn taught me that.

The deck was full of life, the crew rushing to
prepare the ship for docking.

“Land, ho!” a man yelled from the
rigging.

I glanced up to see Daegan hanging from the
crow’s nest, a smile plastered on his face. He’d found a place
among the men, and his eyes were bright, his gaze flashing from the
sea to the deck.

Cries rose up, fists lifting toward the sky. No
matter how much a man loved the sea, the sight of land was a
welcome one.

“Land,” Maeve said on an exhale, her voice full
of relief. I helped her over to the side of the deck, and she
sagged against the railing, her frantic gaze on the sea. “Where’s
the land?” she demanded.

“You’ll see it soon,” Lochlen’s voice promised
from behind us.

I stiffened, my eyes flying to the dragon’s
face. He was in his human guise, his yellow-green gaze searching my
features.

“How are you doing this morning?” Lochlen
asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“Fine, thank you.”

His eyes dropped to my stomach, and I turned
away from him. Maeve glanced between us, her eyes narrowed, but she
didn’t speak. Dragons had unpredictable moods, and no one wanted to
set one off.

Lochlen sidled next to me, his shoulder
brushing mine. “I’m proud of you, little one.”