Impossible Things (31 page)

‘And I could defend myself if they did,’ she murmured, then snorted at the reaction that would get.

She stripped and bathed in the small pool, rubbed sweet-scented oils into her skin, ate some of the fruit on a platter in her bedroom, put on one of Malika’s lovely creations, and regarded herself in the mirror. Like the dress she’d worn for her first presentation to the Emperor, this one had a design that mimicked armour, although this time in silver and white. The silk corset bore her finished coat of arms, picked out in bright colours and metallic threads.

‘You’ll never be like other women,’ Malika had said when she’d presented the dress to Ishtaer. ‘Why dress like it?’

This much was true, although Ishtaer supposed Malika meant the bright vivid marks on her skin, the delicate tracery around her eye, the still-visible S brand on her arm, and not what was inside.

She smiled at her reflection, and an attractive, well-groomed woman smiled back at her. She’d got very good at smiling, these last few months. She could even fool herself sometimes.

She worked hard for good rewards. More and more of Samara’s former slaves were thriving, finding jobs and homes and independence. The Emperor asked often for her advice on some new laws he was drafting on the rights of women in the Citizenry. She was valued and respected at the Academy, and only two weeks ago had been presented with the red sash of a fully qualified Militis at the Imperial Ball. Beside her, almost bursting with pride, Eirenn had stood and received his own sash. He’d celebrated with her and Marcus, and then sheepishly admitted he was going back to the domus to celebrate with Malika.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he said to Ishtaer, who found a smile.

‘Of course not. Why would I mind? I’m glad you’re happy.’

And she was glad. She made herself be glad. Her friends were happy and fulfilled, and she was … she was independent and respected and strong and—

Lonely.

The chasm was still there, only instead of demons and lava it was dark, cold and empty. And it yawned and sucked at her, while up above the sun shone and people laughed and babies gurgled.

Oh gods, someone here was bound to have a baby. Poppia had gone on excitedly about her friends’ confinements, about their lovely little bundles of joy, about how she could hardly wait for one of her own. Ishtaer wasn’t sure she could bear it.

—bright blue eyes, shining dark hair, a smile that lit up the room, laughing with her brothers—

Then she straightened her shoulders and told herself that she’d borne much worse, and that pining for something she couldn’t have and had never, until a few months ago, even wanted, was ridiculous, and possibly the actions of a crazy person.

She adjusted the neckline of her dress, the backs of her fingers brushing the warm crystals at her throat. She’d never taken the necklace off, and couldn’t justify to herself why.

More actions of a crazy person.

‘Well, let’s go and be eccentric,’ she said to her wolf, who leapt to his feet and submitted to Ishtaer tying a ribbon from her wrist to his collar. It wouldn’t hold him, of course, any more than the silk breastplate of her dress would stop a sword. Brutus behaved like a dog most of the time, but that didn’t mean he actually was one. He was a wolf, not a puppy.

We’re both of us pretending
, Ishtaer thought, but she lifted her chin and left the chamber.

A smiling woman in the pale tunic Ishtaer realised was servants’ garb directed her back to the main atrium, from where she could hear a harp playing and people talking and laughing. And – yes, there was the cheerful shout of a child, which sounded so much like Garik it made her heart turn over.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think of the two small boys she’d cared so much for. She already hurt so much she didn’t think she could take more.

‘Ishtaer! There you are, my dear.’ It was her aunt Nima, elegant in traditional Draxan dress with a scarf covering her hair. She kissed Ishtaer on both cheeks and said, ‘It’s so good to see you. How was your journey?’

‘Not bad, I came by boat most of the way and hired a carriage.’ She scanned the atrium, now full of guests in bright clothes, eating and drinking. The pool in the middle had candles floating in it and the air smelled of orange blossom.

‘Ah yes, Poppia told me you brought your own manservant with you.’ Nima’s eyes twinkled, and Ishtaer realised she thought Liberius was her lover. She nearly laughed at the idea. The tall, silent man had adjusted quite well to his freedom, but two people more loath to be touched she couldn’t imagine.

‘He came with us from the New Lands,’ she explained, and saw the understanding in her aunt’s eyes. ‘He was originally from the far south, we believe. Hates the cold. I asked him if he’d like to see what a Draxan summer was like.’

‘And is he surviving?’ Nima moved a few paces to stand under one of the huge ceiling fans being operated by a servant. Ishtaer didn’t blame her, the crush was becoming immense. She could hardly see more than three or four people away, and the buzz of conversation was so strong she doubted she’d have been able to pick out more than a few voices even with her eyes closed.

‘He says it’s like coming home. I wonder if perhaps you might consider taking him on permanently? He’s very good with horses. Patient and gentle, I’ve seen him work miracles with very difficult animals.’

‘Ah, everyone has an agenda,’ her aunt laughed. ‘We’ll see. Your uncle bought a very temperamental stallion the other week which …’

There it was again, a child’s shout. Brutus’s ears pricked up.

One child sounds much like another
, Ishtaer told herself, and forced her attention back to her aunt.

‘… poor man still can’t use his arm properly, I wonder if perhaps you could take a look at it? We called in the local Healer but I’m not sure if there might be some nerve damage.’

Ishtaer nodded and said she’d be delighted to.
This is how it will be for the rest of your life
, she thought as Nima called over a man about ten years older than Ishtaer, handsome and dark, in a red tunic. Small talk and charity and helping out with tricky medical problems.

‘… Karam Sadik, who trades in horses. I’m not sure I’ve asked, Ishtaer, do you ride?’

‘A little, and very badly,’ she said with a smile. Brutus stood up abruptly at her side, and she wondered why, since Karam seemed entirely unthreatening.

‘Some practice will help,’ said Karam. ‘I should be glad to help you if you’re here for a while? My villa is just a few miles away.’

Ishtaer smiled politely and agreed that some help from an expert would be wonderful, whilst wondering what she could do to get out of it.

The future stretched ahead of her, every social gathering a minefield of men who wanted to marry a wealthy girl from a good family, a Thrice-Marked Chosen, a heroine of the Empire.

Ishtaer wondered if she could throw herself under the cool water of the pool and let the noise of the party fade away. She glanced towards the water, but it was blocked from view by the press of people. Something seemed to be going on there.

Brutus’s tail started wagging.

‘… my lady?’ Karam turned his handsome head to see where she was looking. ‘Ah yes, I think a child jumped in for a swim. Can’t blame him really, not in this heat. Can I fetch you a cool drink?’

The crystals at her neck seemed to get warmer.

‘… know you can swim,’ came a voice that made her heart stop, ‘but this isn’t the place for it. Look, you’re getting these nice ladies’ clothes wet.’

‘It can’t be,’ she murmured, frozen with shock.

‘Lady Ishtaer? Are you all right?’

Brutus yipped, and pulled on his ribbon lead. Ishtaer felt her footsteps follow him, as if in a dream.

‘My brother nearly drowned once,’ a solemn child’s voice informed someone. Ishtaer pushed faster through the press of people. ‘If I hadn’t gone for help he might have died.’

‘Garik, get out of the bloody water. Good gods, son, I can’t take you anywhere.’

‘But Papa, it’s so hot, how can anyone breathe when it’s so hot?’

‘There are bathing pools in the guest quarters,’ Poppia was saying helpfully as Ishtaer pushed into a sudden void and narrowly avoided falling into the pool herself.

She stared. Across the stretch of cool water, past the splashing, grinning child, stood a man dressed all in black, his hand on the shoulder of another boy.

Everything else seemed to fade away. He was here, Kael was here, with his sons. He stood fifteen feet away, across the water, dark eyes burning into her.

‘Ishtaer, look who’s here,’ burbled Poppia’s voice from a distant place.

Ishtaer stood like a statue and gazed at him, utterly unable to speak. Every part of her ached to touch him, to speak to him, and every part of her knew it would hurt too much if she did.

Brutus barked again, breaking the spell, and she turned and walked away as rapidly as she could through the crowd.

‘Ishtaer!’ His voice followed her. ‘Ishtaer, wait, please!’

She picked up her pace, but Kael was faster. She hadn’t quite made it to the doorway before he caught her, his hand on her arm. ‘Ishtaer!’

She stopped dead, her eyes closed.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, without turning.

‘To talk to you. Is there somewhere—’

‘Ishtaer! Ishtaer!’

Durran cannoned into her, throwing his arms around her waist and hugging her fiercely.
Oh gods, I’ve missed you!

‘Where have you been? Papa said you weren’t coming back and then he said we were going on a trip and we went to the Empire to see you but you weren’t there and there’s a huge tower and so many people and Papa wrote our names down in a book and they don’t have carriages there in the day and Eirenn said—’

‘That you’d come to your cousin’s wedding,’ Kael interjected. Ishtaer kept her eyes on Durran’s face, alive with animation, tilted up to hers.

‘You’ve grown,’ she said.

‘That’s what grandmama said,’ he said scornfully.

At that her gaze flew to Kael’s.

‘I took your advice,’ he said softly. ‘Ish, is there somewhere we could talk? Away from here? Garik is – oh gods, he’s dripping wet, Garik, don’t drip all over those people!’

‘There’s a pool by my room,’ Ishtaer said as the little boy squelched towards her, clearly enjoying the effect he was having. ‘This way.’

Garik hugged Brutus, who didn’t seem to mind getting wet in the slightest, and she led them silently through the corridors and courtyards to her room. Garik leapt into the little pool with delight, and his brother and Brutus followed seconds later.

Ishtaer stayed in the shade, standing next to a stone bench, keeping her eyes on the boys because it hurt too much to look at Kael.

No, that wasn’t true. Looking at him was wonderful. He wore black, with his own crest emblazoned on his chest. His hair had been cut, he was clean-shaven, and he looked more presentable than she’d ever seen him.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, and the words twisted like a knife inside her. ‘You look really well.’

She wanted desperately to touch him. ‘The boys have grown,’ she said stiltedly.

‘Kids do that. They’ve been desperate to see you. So disappointed when you weren’t there in Ilanium.’

‘You must have travelled fast,’ she said. ‘If you left after I did.’

In the pool, Durran was peeling off his sodden shirt and throwing it onto the paving stones, where it steamed gently.

‘We came by sea. Eirenn says you went by barge.’

‘I did. I wasn’t in a hurry.’ Silence. ‘I wanted to see the countryside.’

‘Yes,’ Kael said, a little too eagerly. ‘You must have. I mean, you didn’t see it before. I mean …’

Suddenly he slumped onto the bench, and she looked down, startled. Kael ran a hand through his hair, and she realised how tired he looked.

‘I’m making a mess of this too,’ he said, ‘aren’t I?’

Someone tapped on the door to the courtyard, and it swung open to reveal Liberius with a large trunk.

‘You’re not staying here?’ Ishtaer said in alarm.

‘No. Poppia found us rooms. This is for you.’

The big man set the trunk down and hesitated, eyeing Kael with distrust.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, understanding. ‘He won’t hurt me.’

‘What? Of course I won’t!’ Kael said, outraged. ‘Who are you, anyway?’

‘His name is Liberius,’ Ishtaer said before Kael could do something stupid. ‘He came with me from the New Lands. I spoke to Aunt Nima about getting you a job here, Liberius, but she’s understandably busy at the moment, so I’ll talk to her again after the wedding, all right? Give you a chance to see if you like it here. I also met a man who trains horses, so he may have something for you.’

Liberius nodded his thanks, and left.

‘He’s a quiet one,’ Kael said cautiously.

Politeness. That was the way to get through this. Treat him like any one of the strangers in that atrium.

‘He can’t speak. Samara did something to his throat and his vocal chords are damaged beyond repair.’

Kael winced. ‘I heard about the work you’re doing with the slaves. It’s really good.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I, uh.’ He raked his hands through his hair. Ishtaer’s fingers twitched, remembering the silky feel of it against her own fingers.

‘I didn’t know Poppia had invited you,’ she said.

‘She didn’t. I just turned up. I had to see you.’ He tilted his face up to hers, something in his eyes that looked very much like hope, and Ishtaer couldn’t stand it any more.

‘Why? Why are you here?’ Her voice started to break. ‘I was doing fine without you. I have a house, and a job, and people who respect me, and I’m doing fine, and now you’re here and it’s like tearing open a healing wound. It hurts, and I wish you’d just go away and let me be—’ She broke off on a sob.

Kael leapt to his feet, appalled, and tried to touch her, but she stepped back.

‘Don’t. Please.’

His hands fell away instantly.

‘What do you want? Because if it’s to make me feel worse about the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, then don’t bother, because I already hate myself enough over it for the both of us.’