The Oracle's Queen (43 page)

Lynx stepped back, motioning for Nikides to do the same. Ki nodded his thanks and lifted the latch.

Tamír sat on a low stool in front of the fire, arms locked tightly around her knees. Brother was crouched beside her, his face a mask of fury, and he was hissing angrily at her, too low for Ki to hear. The air was thick with menace. As he watched, Brother slowly reached out to her. Ki drew his blade and rushed the demon. “Don't touch her!”

Brother whirled and flew at him.

“No!” Tamír shouted.

Brother leered as he continued his rush, and Ki felt a deadly chill surround him. The demon disappeared. Ki's sword fell from numbed fingers and he fought to stay on his feet as a wave of weakness passed over him.

Tamír sprang to his side, gripping his arm to steady him. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, just gave me a scare.”

“Good.” She released him and sat down again, turning her face away. “Go away, Ki. I don't want to see anyone now.”

Ki pulled another stool close to hers and sat down. “That's too bad, because I'm staying.”

“Get out. That's an order.”

Ki stubbornly folded his arms.

She glared at him, then gave up and buried her face in her hands. “Iya and Lhel killed my brother.”

Somehow, that didn't surprise him. He kept quiet, waiting for her to go on.

“It's because of me that he is as he is now.”

“It's not your fault. Bilairy's balls, Tamír, you were only a baby yourself! I'm sure they only did it because they had to.”

“For Skala,” she said, her voice heavy with grief.

“I won't say it was right, to use a baby so, but what if your uncle
had
found you and killed you? Where would Skala be then?”

“You sound just like them! I should have killed Iya for what she did. He was a prince of the blood. But—I couldn't!” Her shoulders shook. “I just banished her and now Brother is more hateful than ever, and I don't know how I'll ever look at Arkoniel again—and I was just starting to trust him again, and—” She curled forward in a knot of misery.

Ki forgot the earlier tension between them and pulled her into his arms again. She didn't weep, but her body was rigid and shaking. He stroked her hair again, and after a moment she relaxed just a little. Another moment and she put her arms around his waist and hid her face against his neck.

“Am I a monster, Ki? An unnatural thing?”

He tugged at a lock of her hair. “Don't be stupid.”

She let out a choked laugh and sat up. “But you still see Tobin, don't you?”

She looked fragile again, the way she had that night before he left to fight. “I see my friend, who I've loved from the day we met.”

“Loved. Like a brother,” she said bitterly. “What does that make me now? Your sister?”

The pain in her eyes twisted his heart.
If not a sister, then what?
Fear and confusion still held his tongue, but he hadn't forgotten the look on her face when he'd called her by her boy's name tonight, or how it had felt when she'd smiled at that handsome Aurënfaie over supper.
Do I—? Could I—?

Those dark eyes widened as he leaned forward and tentatively touched his mouth to hers, trying to give her what she needed.

Her lips trembled against his for an instant, then she turned her face away. “What are you doing? I don't need your pity, Ki.”

“It's not.”
Isn't it?
He hung his head. “I'm sorry.”

She sighed and rested her face in her hands again. “I can't ask you to feel differently than you do.”

That was the problem. He didn't know his own feelings.
She's a girl, damn it! You know how to please a girl!
He pulled her to her feet, wrapped an arm around her waist, and kissed her more decisively this time.

She didn't push him away, but her arms stayed at her sides, fists clenched. It wasn't like kissing a boy, exactly, but it wasn't a good kiss, either. There were tears and mistrust in her eyes when Ki released her.

“What are you going to do now, throw me on the bed?”

Defeated, he shook his head miserably. “I'm sorry.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Damn it, Tamír, I'm trying!”

“I'm sorry it's such a chore!”

They glared at each other for an instant, then Ki turned and slammed out of the room, telling himself it was a strategic retreat.

Before he could escape, Lynx caught him by the arm and propelled him right back into the chamber. “Get back in there, you coward!”

His unbalanced forward rush caught her on her feet, and they tumbled together onto the bed. The ropes groaned under them as they struggled to get free of each other. Panting and blushing, they retreated to opposite ends.

“Lynx pushed me,” Ki mumbled.

“I know.” She pulled her disheveled skirts down over her knees.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the snapping of the fire. Ki could just imagine the others outside, ears pressed to the door. He started to apologize again, but she silenced him with a look.

After another excruciating moment she sighed and held out her hand. “You'll always be my best friend, Ki.”

Ki clasped it and blurted out, “I
do
love you! I always will.”

“But not as—?”

He looked down at their joined hands, searching his heart for some spark of desire. But he still couldn't imagine lying with her as he had with all those serving maids and scullery girls. It was as if some wizard had hexed him, sapping the heat from his loins. “I'd give everything I have to feel that way for you.”

Her soft sob and the sight of the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks twisted Ki's heart again. Swallowing hard, he shifted over and pulled her close. This time she did cry.

“I'm cursed, Ki. Brother says so.”

“Well, you don't want to believe anything he says. You know what a liar he is.”

“You don't think I was wrong, to let Iya go, do you?”

“No. I think it would have been wrong to kill her.”

Tamír sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve, giving
him a trembling, shamefaced grin. “I really have turned into a woman, haven't I? I never used to cry like this.”

“Don't let Una catch you talking like that.”

She managed a weak smile. “Your friendship means more to me than anything. If that's all we ever have—”

“Don't say that.” He looked earnestly into her sad eyes, wanting to cry himself. “You hold my heart. You always have and you always will.”

Tamír let out a shaky sigh. “And you have mine.”

“I know that, so don't—Well, don't give up on me yet, all right?”

She started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she sat back and wiped her face again. “I guess we'd better get some sleep.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She shook her head and Ki knew by the way she did not look at him that things had changed between them tonight in a way that neither of them could take back.

He ignored his friends' questioning looks as he went out. A room had been set aside for him just down the low stone corridor, but the thought of lying alone in the dark drove him in the opposite direction.

Tharin was still in the large room, playing bakshi with Aladar and Manies. Ki nodded in passing and went outside. He was halfway across the empty square when he heard the door behind him open and close. He turned, arms locked across his chest, and waited as Tharin joined him.

He didn't stop, just brushed Ki's arm and said, “Let's take a walk,” then strolled off toward the trail that led to the Oracle's chamber.

They picked their way among the tumbled boulders and over the slick spots. Tharin seemed to be looking for something. It turned out to be a sheltered overhang above the trail. He settled there with his back to the rock face and motioned for Ki to sit beside him.

Ki pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around
them, heart beating too fast as he waited for whatever Tharin had to say. “How much did you hear?”

“Bits and pieces. Iya's been sent away and Arkoniel may have gone with her. I haven't seen him since he sent you racing back in. What can you tell me?”

Ki poured it all out to him, about Iya and Brother and his own ham-handed failures at comfort. “I even tried to kiss her,” he admitted miserably. “She wants me to be more than just her friend, Tharin.”

“I know.”

Ki stared at him in surprise.

Tharin smiled. “She told me, months back.”

Ki felt his cheeks go hot in spite of the cold night air. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“To what end? I've got eyes, Ki.”

“Do you want to smack me? I deserve it.”

Instead Tharin just clapped him on the knee.

“What am I going to do?” He clutched his head and groaned. “I'm failing her when she needs me most.”

“You can't change your heart, Ki, or order it, like a warrior into battle.”

“People will still talk.”

“There's no escaping that. People like to talk.”

“They've always gossiped about us. Even when Tamír was a boy, they thought we were bedmates.”

“It might have been easier now if you had been. But I figured out long since that you don't bed boys.”

“So why can't I feel the way she wants me to now that she's a girl? Bilairy's balls, Tharin, I do love her, but when I think of lying with her, I just can't imagine it.”

“You've been with other girls. Did you treat them badly?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Did you love any of them?”

“No, it was just a tumble.”

“So you can't think of tumbling our Tamír?”

Ki cringed at the thought. “Of course not!”

He waited for Tharin to chastise him or at least give him some advice, but the man just jerked a thumb in the direction of the Oracle. “Have you thought of going down there yourself?”

“No, I don't go messing about with all that moon smoke and magic. Sakor is a damn sight cleaner to follow. You fight, and you live or die. No messing around with blood and ghosts.”

Tharin stood and stretched. “Well, things change,” he said quietly, then turned and gave Ki a look he couldn't quite interpret. “Sometimes you just have to be patient. Let's go back. It's cold.”

K
i had to pass Tamír's door on the way to his own chamber, and endured Lynx's accusing look. Later, as he lay on his narrow bed, knowing sleep would be a stranger, he wished he had more faith in Tharin's words. Some things just couldn't be changed, no matter how much you wanted them to.

A
rkoniel spent the remainder of the night sitting on a stone by the road. Wrapped in Iya's cloak, he watched the stars wheel and fade.

The first hint of daylight was casting a pink tinge across the snow-capped peaks when he heard the sound of riders behind him.

It was the Aurënfaie, muffled in cloaks and wearing the plain white sen'gai they used for traveling.

“You're up early, wizard,” Solun greeted him.

“So are you,” replied Arkoniel, rising on stiff legs. “Are you leaving so soon?”

“I wanted to stay,” Arengil said at once, looking a bit sulky. “Tamír offered me a place in the Companions.”

“And me,” said Corruth, looking no happier.

Sylmai gave them both a reproving look. “That is for your parents to say.”

“You haven't seen much of Tamír,” Arkoniel observed, concerned.

“We've seen enough,” Solun assured him.

“Will Aurënen recognize her claim?”

“That is the decision for each of the clans to make, but I will urge Bôkthersa to accept Tamír as the true queen.”

“I'll do the same in Gedre,” said Sylmai.

“She means to declare war, you know.”

“We will take that into consideration. Our ships are swift, should the need arise,” Sylmai replied. “How will you get word to us?”

Arkoniel showed her the window spell. “If I can find
you, I can speak to you through this, but you must not touch it.”

“Look for me in Gedre, then. Farewell, and good luck.”

The others nodded to him and rode on, disappearing quickly into the morning mist. The Khatme, Arkoniel noted, had said nothing of support.

Unsettled, he walked slowly back up to the guesthouse.

Tamír and the Companions were sitting around the main hearth with their breakfast. Neither she nor Ki looked rested, but at least they were sitting together. She glanced up as he came in, but didn't call him to join her. He wondered dully if she'd reconsidered his banishment. With an inward sigh, he went to the sideboard and helped himself to bread and cheese and went to his room.

The fire had gone out and the tiny cell was cold as a tomb. Wythnir was still asleep, curled up tightly under the blankets. Arkoniel placed a few logs on the hearth and cast a spell. He seldom wasted magic on anything as mundane as a morning fire, but he was too dispirited to make the effort with flint and tinder. The logs caught and a bright blaze flared up.

“Master?” Wythnir sat up, looking worried. “Did the queen really send Iya away?”

Arkoniel sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a bit of his breakfast. “Yes, but it's all right.”

“Why did she do that?”

“I'll tell you another time. Eat. We're leaving soon.”

Wythnir nibbled dutifully at the cheese.

Arkoniel was still wearing Iya's cloak. Her scent clung to the wool. That, and the worn old bag lying next to his bed, were all he had left of a lifetime together, it seemed.

Iya had been right, of course. Under normal circumstances he would have left her at the end of his training and gone his own way; but events had kept them together and, somehow, he'd always imagined that they would
remain so, especially once they began gathering other wizards to them.