The Pages of the Mind (26 page)

His pet topic seemed to be that some of the islands in the archipelago had not been in contact. Apparently this had happened in their history—with islands sinking into the sea, never heard from again. Messenger birds returned with their missives undelivered. The great satisfaction of finally understanding what they discussed dimmed considerably as I realized what had occurred. Almost certainly the magical barrier had cut off those islands. Something Ursula had specifically told me not to discuss with Nakoa, goddesses take it.

Nakoa, now my lover, if not husband and king. How could I be loyal to both? A headache glimmered to life behind my eyebrows.

It quickly became clear that Tane aimed to undermine Nakoa's rule by implying that he knew not of his people's suffering and had not bestirred himself to see their troubles for himself, or done anything to ascertain the fate of these islands, because he'd secluded himself in the palace.

Devoting himself to caring for, and then seducing, the tenderfooted foreign witch.

Akamai downplayed that last in his translation, but I caught the intonation well enough. No surprise that my less-than-tough feet elicited bemused contempt. The euphemism Tane used evoked an infant who'd not yet walked on her own, neatly adding the sideways implication that I might not be much more intelligent than that.

There was also a repeated reference to the treasure that prophecy promised the dragon would deliver that had not materialized. If Nakoa were truly a king and if he truly controlled . . . Akamai floundered again. We would have to discuss accurate translating over worrying about offending me. Tane insulted me just fine on his own. It sounded, however, as if he somehow referred to both me and the dragon as one, both needing to be leashed to the service of the people.

Something he implied Nakoa might not be man enough to do.

Much like the volcano, Nakoa silently rumbled beside me. I nearly expected smoke and ash to puff from his ears. Because that gave me cause to laugh, which could be useful at the moment, I let it out, disrupting Tane's momentum and causing both men—along with the assembly, who'd been whispering in tones of consternation—to focus on me.

Tane wanted to paint me as empty-headed? I'd learned enough from Ami to take advantage of those tricks.
Oh, please. Underestimate me again—for entirely the wrong reasons this time.
I'd fooled Tane into thinking I could wield a blade. He had no idea where my true weapons lay. But to use them, I needed more knowledge.

“This is so boring.” I pouted at Nakoa, who regarded me with a flicker of incredulity, which also took the edge off his imminent explosion. “Can't we do something else?” Easy enough to deliberately mangle the words. Inoa, who'd taken a place in the front row of nobles, looked more obviously astonished. The rest of the assembly ate up my performance, murmurs turning to dismay.

Nakoa picked up my hand, kissed it, and stood, waving a hand to dismiss court. “As my queen wishes.”

Tane gaped in utter shock—quite comical, though I concentrated on awarding Nakoa with a besotted smile—then burst into protests that court had only just convened, something Nakoa had severely neglected.

Brushing him off like an annoying insect, Nakoa regally ignored him, along with several other nobles who attempted to snag his attention. He even waved off Inoa, announcing to all that his new queen had been bedridden and deserved more entertainment on her first day out than the dullness of politics.

I almost believed him myself.

With my hand tucked in the crook of his arm, Nakoa led me out of the hall and onto the broad escarpment overlooking the sea, where the celebration had been held. He pointed out sights, comparing them to my beauty, for the benefit of the few onlookers who trailed along. And who finally gave up in baffled resignation when he took me down the steps to the beach, where the sand made for fine—and clearly very private—walking.

“Your feet are not sore?”

“No, the ocean feels good.” The crystalline water lapped around my ankles, cooling the warming soles as we walked well out of anyone's eavesdropping range.

“What do you wish to know?” Nakoa asked. Not much got past him. Amazing, really, that he already read me so well to know what I'd been about. If I was truly his queen, we'd likely work very well together. Pushing the wistful thought aside, I fluttered my lashes in my best Ami imitation.

“Maybe I was truly bored.”

He snorted out a laugh, turned, and picked me up to kiss me soundly before setting me on my feet again. “Tell me another tale.”

24

“Y
ou don't always have to pick me up,” I complained, to cover my unexpected emotional flutter at the kiss—and at his unshakeable faith in me, a woman he barely knew.

“I like to.” He tucked my hand in his arm and resumed our apparent pleasure stroll. “Or you can stand on a chair.”

“I'm not
that
short,” I muttered in Common Tongue, and he slid me an amused glance. Truly, it made me happy to see the edge off his anger. Perhaps the break was good for both of us. “Can you explain about the dragon? What is Tane's . . . complaint?” I substituted the Dasnarian word, suspecting Nakoa would know it.

He nodded and pursed his lips, thinking. “I do not wish you to worry. You are new in this place. Still tenderfooted.” He cast me a teasing look at that.

“An infant, yes. I understood. Better to worry me than I not understand court and the . . .”

“Complaint,” he told me, in both Dasnarian and Nahanaun. “Apologies to you,
mlai
. This morning was not to be avoided. People needed to see you as queen, now that you truly are.”

Which I wasn't, but that argument would divert him from the current conversation and wouldn't convince him anyway, as stubborn about it as he'd been thus far. “I understand.”

“This is difficult to explain, in words you know.”

“Can we ask Akamai to translate?”

He shook his head. “These are things only for you and me. Tane thinks he knows, but he is not wise in this.”

“Or anything.”

Nakoa smiled, stroking my hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

That wasn't saying much, but I took the compliment in the spirit it was intended.

“This is . . . private. Never tell another, yes?”

Swear to keep the secret—but what if it affected the Thirteen? I'd be honor bound—by an oath of fealty, even if I disregarded everything else—to tell at least Ursula. Of course, I was also honor bound to tell Nakoa about the barrier affecting his kingdom. Nakoa picked up on my hesitation immediately, stopping to take my upper arms so I faced him. “Make your vow.” He used the Dasnarian word for it, all softness and amusement gone. How unerringly he seemed to see through me.

“I owe loyalty to my queen first.”

The words dropped like rocks into the still pond of his waiting silence.

His hands tightened on me slightly, dark gaze severe. “No. To me first. Always this was so. You to me and I to you.”

“Oh, don't give me that mystical claptrap,” I snapped in Common Tongue, but he'd read me well enough.

He cocked his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Make your vow,
mlai
.”

Suddenly this had become about much more than just these secrets. I fumed at him, shrugging off his grip and stepping away, all sweet emotional flutters burned to ash in my frustration. I switched to Dasnarian. “Don't you try to corner me, Nakoa. I've had about enough of this. I need this information to make informed choices and you're the one who stuck me in this situation to begin with. You can't just command my loyalty.”

He folded his arms, implacable. “Make your vow,
mlai
,” he repeated, strengthening the command tonality.

Maybe we wouldn't work so well together. The man possessed zero ability to compromise. Not that remaining as his queen had ever been a viable possibility, but it had been interesting to contemplate. Now he'd just pissed me off—and reminded me of all the very excellent reasons I had to keep him fenced off and not let him affect me so.

I folded my arms in turn. “No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

I threw up my hands. “Fine. Don't tell me about the dragon. I'll find out on my own.” In sizzling frustration I stalked past him, intent on returning to the palace. If there had been information in Annfwn's library, there would be in this one.

“Dafne.” Nakoa's voice held a warning, and I ignored him.

He stepped in front of me, not touching me, but making it clear that he'd block my retreat. “Do not run,” he said in a soft voice that nevertheless carried the promise of menace.

“Or what?” I put my hand on my knife. I wouldn't use it on him—probably—but I felt braver for it, and less intimidated by his scowling bulk.

“Or I will show you.” He growled the words, anger rising also.

“You wish!” I hissed, in a full flood of anger, not even entirely sure why anymore.

“Yes. I wish.” He moved on me and, my courage faltering utterly, I broke and ran. I only made it a few steps before he overtook me, swinging me up in his arms, slinging me over his shoulder, then headed down the beach away from the palace in great, ground-eating strides.

I shrieked in pure fury, pounding at his back with my fists, kicking at him and wrestling against his iron grip. He laughed and patted my rump, infuriating me further, if that were possible, climbing with agile grace over some rocks. I'd never been so angry in my life. I'd read stories where people saw red, and now my vision pulsed with it. Something not helped by my upside-down position. In the distance, the volcano rumbled.

“Put me down!” I yelled, adding every insult I could think of in every language I knew.

“Yes, Dafne
mlai
.” And he did, setting me on my feet, his face and voice as bland as if he hadn't just dragged me off literally kicking and screaming.

Beyond infuriated, I punched him in the rock-hard abs. It hurt my hand, but I wasn't about to show it. I should draw the thrice-damned dagger. Taking a deep breath and a few steps of distance, I tried to calm my unprecedented rage. He'd brought me to a little cove, walled off on three sides by rocks, open to the ocean on the other. I'd have to climb or swim to escape and he'd undoubtedly catch me first.

“You are angry,” Nakoa said, sounding not at all bothered by it, but simmering with some of his own.

“You think?” I spat back.

“I understand.”

“But you won't let me go.”

“I cannot.” His jaw had that determined set to it as he ground out the words. “You will make your vow,
mlai
. Speak the words your heart already has.”

I wasn't sure I understood him correctly. My heart had nothing to do with this, despite my uncertain emotions, unstable as the rumbling volcano. “I don't understand.”

“You will.” The quiet words were all the warning I got before his hands were on me, lifting me, then bearing me to the sand.

“Nakoa, thri—”

His mouth closed hot and demanding over mine, cutting off my curse. “No words. Feel.”

I couldn't fight the flare of desire, the fire he seemed to be able to call up in me faster each time we came together, especially with the morning's session still warm in my mind. I found myself kissing him back with wild intensity, all of my frustrated fury alchemically transformed into the crazed need to touch him. We rolled over the sand together, nearly frantic with it. I scratched and bit at him, venting all that emotion, and he snarled in return, fastening his mouth on the flesh he revealed with his tearing hands.

“You want me,” he growled against my skin. “Real. No game.”

I dug into him. No denying it. “Yes.”

Sand. Sea. Sky. Nakoa. The images flickered, blending into one. The taste of salt and skin, his hands up my skirt, ripping away the pantalets, and fingers thrusting into me with none of the gentle skill he'd shown the night before. I screamed, an echo of my enraged curses, calling his name and—as if the frenzied urgency escalated my responses that much more—climaxing immediately.

“Yes,” he grated in my ear. “Feel. I am yours. You are mine. First.”

He rolled onto his back, spearing into me in the same movement, gripping me by the waist as he thrust up into me. Then held me there. I thrashed, needing to move, the sensation too exquisite, but he held me still.

“Mine,” he insisted, rocking himself inside me.

I shook my head, biting back the words that sprang to my lips. The traitorous desire that urged me to say it, too. That I wanted him to be mine alone, this man spread beneath me, wild lightning-streaked hair like an aura around his head on the pale sand, his brooding face tight with an edgier emotion. Desire, yes. Also determination and need. Foolishly, I wanted him to truly want me and for this not to be some sham. Those sloe-eyed ladies couldn't have him because he belonged to me.

No. No, I couldn't give him the vow he wanted. His hands moved up to my breasts, the metallic cups long-since lost somewhere in the sand, and I moaned a plea, rocking my hips, the inescapable pleasure rocketing through me.

“Nakoa . . . ,” I gasped, bracing myself on his chest, finding that sweet spot.

“Yes. Yours. Take me, Dafne
mlai
.”

I dug in my fingers, spearing the tattooed dragon's scales, and he made a sound, tightening his hands on my breasts, pinching my nipples. Driving me wild. Challenging me with his night-black gaze. I moved on him, finding the rhythm I wanted, raking him with my nails. They'd grown longer in the last week, satisfyingly strong. He arched under me, lifting me with it, piercing me with sweetest pleasure.

I growled. Fierce and predatory, hot-blooded like the dragon. Mine.

“Yes. Say it.” Nakoa met me with his own ferocious demand.

I raised myself on his cock and slammed down, hard enough to make him gasp and arch again, pinching my nipples with a pain that radiated through my mind, obliterating everything else. “Mine,” I said.

“Yours.” In a flash, he rolled me onto my back, taking control of the coupling, slowing the tempo so I became the one to writhe beseechingly. “Mine. Each to each. Me to you, you to me.”

My heart thundered. I was the dragon, the volcano, Nakoa. Each to each. I lost myself in the frenzy of it, now clinging beneath him, thighs clamped around his hips, ankles locked to keep him there, chanting crazed commands to take me under utterly. Then on top of him again, his face contorting as the pleasure rode him hard.

We devoured each other whole.

Immolated in a blazing sun of endless climax.

At last, utterly spent, I collapsed over him, his skin hot and slick under my cheek. Heartbeat thundering. With him inside me still, it seemed the boundaries between us blurred. His hand trailed up and down my spine, a comforting caress. So at odds with the nearly vicious way we'd taken each other—for I could not excuse my own behavior—and yet somehow another face of the same emotion.

Just as my fury had somehow been the reverse side of my desire.

I had no idea how to feel and, tired of thinking about it, I let it go for a few minutes, letting the kaleidoscope of our furious lovemaking spill back in sensory fragments. For it had been both—full of fury and love.
Speak the words your heart already has.

I didn't believe it. All afterglow, as Jepp called it. And yet . . .

“Nakoa
mlai
.” I murmured the words against his skin and his hand came up to cup my head, threading through my hair.

“Understand,” he said, not quite a question, because he knew it wasn't. I understood all too well. Completely without knowledge, I still understood. He was first for me, whether I wanted it that way or not.

“You have my vow not to speak the secrets,” I said on a sigh of resignation. “I might ask you, if I think I need to tell, though.”

“I am always here to ask.”

His simple words struck me. He would not always be there, because I would have to leave him eventually. How I'd manage that, however, without causing war but still escaping his determined possession, I had no idea. Perhaps he'd be satisfied with the piece of my heart I'd leave behind, against all expectation.

Magic bound us together—I couldn't deny that. But that wasn't real love. It made for a nice fantasy, to lie against Nakoa and imagine a true marriage, but I couldn't trust my own heart, or his. I'd never known what real love felt like, but I knew that it grew between people of like minds. Not striking like lightning from the sky, ripping one open, the way I'd been with him just now.

Maybe I could fulfill this role, help him with the dragon and this treasure, and that would satisfy whatever
geas
connected us. The smoke and ash from our fiery union would dissipate, our minds clearing of this induced emotion. That had to be the case, because I'd never felt any of these things before. I sat up, groaning at the protests of my body, aware I wore only the jewelry and the knife belt, with the dagger I'd never drawn. Nakoa touched my cheek, a bit of a wince in his expression. “Sorry for sore.”