The Pages of the Mind (31 page)

“Maybe one day you'll listen to me,” Harlan murmured.

“What's the point of being High Queen if I can't do what I want to?” she retorted, annoyed but with a hint of amusement at quoting Ami. Relieved to hear her sounding more herself, I pursued the topic. Anything to keep her off my divided loyalties.

“And how did you get here so fast anyway?”

She raised her eyebrows. “We took a shortcut.”

Through Annfwn. Of course. “The Tala have sailing ships?”

“Rayfe still plays a cagey game with me, but I have to admit, when we heard what happened to you, he held back nothing.” Reminded of that, she leveled her glare on Nakoa.

I wanted to hear what else had gone on, how things fared with adjusting the barrier, but by the burn of Nakoa's gaze, he would lose the last of his patience soon. We needed to reach some kind of détente before we could move ahead. Ursula's uncertain temper wouldn't make it easy.

“Here are the other things you need to know. You and Nakoa must come to terms on how the kingdoms will intersect. The barrier has cut off some islands and they don't understand why.”

“You haven't told him?” She seemed to be asking more than the surface question, but I wasn't sure what.

“I haven't told him any of this yet, but that should be the first order of priority.”

“Seeing to your safety is my first priority.”

“No. The obligations of the High Throne come before I do. You know full well you shouldn't have left, but since you're here in person, then let's get this treaty handled.”

“You want me to negotiate with the man who treated you this way?” Her voice carried a keen edge.

“That's not a question for you. It's between Nakoa and me.”

“I don't agree. Look at you. If nothing else, he's clearly failed to protect you from his enemies. And he's transgressed against you, my adopted sister and a woman under my protection.”

“We're handling the question of these enemies. I'm handling where I stand with him. I'm asking you to give me the respect of letting me do that. If I need your help, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, what I'm asking of you is that you establish a level of good faith with him so he won't view you as another enemy. For the good of the Thirteen, Your Majesty.”

She pressed her narrow lips together. “I promise nothing, but we can set it aside for the moment. Tell me—why haven't you told him about the barrier?”

“First, because I'm still learning the thrice-damned language and haven't had the nuance to explain all this. Second, because you told me not to without your direction. I wouldn't go against that.”

“I wasn't sure where your loyalty lay,” she answered softly, a glint of betrayal in her gray eyes, not at all unlike the way Nakoa had looked at me. I hated that I'd put it there, for either of them. Totally different people, the two of them, yet so alike in many ways.

“You will always have my loyalty, my Queen,” I told her. Then I reached out to take Nakoa's hand. He eyed me curiously, but cupped my bandaged hand in both of his. “But I owe him certain promises also.”
First.
“If you will align yourselves as allies, as I believe you can do, then I won't have to choose.”

“You can't be loyal to us both. You will have to choose, no matter what is decided today.” She pressed the point home with lethal precision, laying open my heart. “I'm not at all convinced he hasn't messed with your mind in some way. All this magic. We know it can be done. Remember Illyria—she affected your thoughts then.”

I almost couldn't draw a breath, as if my lungs burned with sulfur still. “I promise to consider that. Let's get the politics out of the way first. It has to be dealt with, regardless. Please.”

“And the question of your loyalty to the High Throne?”

Harlan shifted, as if he wanted to touch her, but thought better of it.

“I honestly don't know.” I held her gaze. “Don't make me face that decision, Ursula. I'm asking you for that.”

She wasn't at all happy with me. I'd seen her furious—and betrayed—with Harlan, her sisters, various others, but never like this with me. It took a great deal for me not to back down in the face of that. Standing behind her, Harlan gave me a sympathetic nod.

“Fine.” She faced Nakoa directly, closing me out. “Translate, then.”

Concentrating on the moment, I focused on doing my job.

It took several hours just to get past the explanations. I nearly regretted pushing for this conversation to happen so soon. Already prickly and suspicious of my actions, Nakoa did not receive Ursula's explanation of the barrier and its movements well at all. It did not help that she was beyond aggravated herself and wavering in her trust in me, which made her impatient with my slow translation. Or that I searched for words to convey a number of concepts that hadn't come up in conversation thus far. She didn't understand the scope of Nakoa's island kingdom and he expressed incredulity at the concept of the magical barrier and plainly regarded all of it as an aggressive move on Ursula's part. Understandable, as she told him that his kingdom was part of hers whether he liked it or not, so he'd better start liking it.

At one point, they were both snarling at each other across the table, nearly about to leap over and throttle each other. Harlan finally put a restraining hand on Ursula and spoke in her ear, earning such a malicious glare from her I expected he'd be in for trouble later also. She called a break, which Nakoa agreed to, and walked off a ways to stand at the edge of the precipice.

I took advantage of the reprieve to send for Akamai to help with translation—and to bring the big map. It might not help, but the negotiation was failing miserably and I didn't know how to resolve their differences.

Particularly when their main difference was me, and who held my allegiance.

“Holding up all right?” Harlan asked me.

Nakoa had stepped off to talk with some of his guard and messengers but hadn't taken his eyes off me. “I'm beginning to feel like a piece of meat being torn between two lions.”

He laughed, oddly making me feel better that he could. “They both love you and have to come to terms with that. The politics will sort out. You're doing a fine job.”

“You think Nakoa loves me?”

Harlan regarded me with some surprise. “How can you doubt it? He treats you as a treasured wife.”

“Yes, but there are other things going on. He does that for any number of reasons—all very complicated.”

“It's not complicated at all, librarian.” Harlan glanced at Ursula's back. “A man doesn't look at a woman as the king does you, doesn't read her smallest gesture as he does, if he doesn't love her. Trust me, I know.”

“What did you say to her, to back her off?”

He made a wry grimace. “I told her she sounded like Uorsin.”

I goggled at him. “A low blow.”

“I save it for extremes.” He assessed her rigid spine. “Sometimes she needs to hear it, as I need to hear when I'm in the wrong. This is what lovers do for each other.”

“Will she forgive you?”

“Oh yes.” He grinned. “I know how to get through to my Essla. Just as I imagine you know how to deal with your king.”

“I don't know. I don't have much experience with this.” I hesitated. But when else would I have the opportunity to get a man's advice on this? “He's really angry with me and I don't know what to do. He thinks I meant to leave him on purpose.”

Harlan's face softened in sympathy. “The more we love someone, the more they can hurt us. He will listen to you.”

“The thing is . . .” I had to sip some water to wet my mouth. “I will leave him. I have to. My place is serving Ursula.”

He studied me thoughtfully, then patted my shoulder. “That is something for you to sort out, then. But I will do what I can to ease your way. She will cool off. Eventually.” He glanced at Ursula again.

Doing my own assessment, I looked in Nakoa's direction, trying to make it seem unconnected to my conversation. His white-streaked brows had lowered and he glared menacingly at Harlan. “Maybe you should start making up to her—and let the king see.”

“Ah, yes. We can remove at least that concern.” He stood, poured a glass of wine, and went to her. Running a hand down her back, he offered her the wine, then brushed her temple with a kiss, saying something that made her unbend. She turned her head, profile sharp against the sky, and replied with a rueful shake of her head, then leaned in when he put an arm around her.

I hadn't meant the display of their status to be quite that obvious, but at least Nakoa looked more thoughtful than brooding. He even gave me a hint of a smile and came to sit beside me.

“You are tired,” he said.

“So are you,” I replied. “And we will be more tired before this is done.”

He didn't smile exactly, but his gaze softened from its stony intensity. “Your queen loves you.”

“I tried to warn you.”

“Yes.” He took my hand and held it. “I do not always listen.”

“Tell me another tale,” I tried to tease him, but trouble lurked in his gaze as it went to Harlan and Ursula.

“The Dasnarian is more than her protector—he is her husband? Not king?”

“Her lover, yes. It is not so . . . straightforward with them. There are rules.”

“It is straightforward.” He got that obstinate look, then touched my garland. “They are
mlai
as we are. No rule is greater than that.”

“Nakoa . . .” I didn't know what to tell him. Harlan was wrong. I had no idea how to talk to this man, to get him to understand.

Sure enough, his face darkened, a cloud passing over the sun. “We will discuss later. Tell me one thing. Which of us do you argue for?”

I sipped more water. Ursula's question again. “You are both precious to me. There need be no winner or loser. You can work together and I don't have to choose.”

“You will have to choose,
mlai
,” he said softly, an echo of Ursula. “Do you promise me this is true, about the magic barrier?”

“Yes, I would not lie to you.”

“Not about that.” And he turned away, just as Ursula had done.

29

B
y the time Ursula and Harlan returned to the ship for the night—as all agreed that would be the best place for them—I was ready to bash both her and Nakoa's heads together.

I was also skull-poundingly exhausted. Though Nakoa carried me back to the palace, we did not speak. I suspected he was as tired of arguments as I.

The big break had come when I convinced Ursula of Nakoa's power to make it rain—though I did not mention that he'd sent rain as far as Ordnung's environs, which might only make her more wary of his abilities—and when Nakoa agreed to help beleaguered Aerron in exchange for a tentative agreement on an allied kingdom status, based on what we'd worked up for Annfwn. I'd thought Rayfe had been stubborn on points, but he had nothing on Nakoa. Though we'd had Andi to smooth the way with the King of the Tala and I had no such power over my dragon king.

After our brief talk during the break, Nakoa seemed less angry with me, but I couldn't shake the lingering sting that I'd disappointed him. As I'd disappointed Ursula. It seemed that, no matter what I did, I let one or the other of them down. Keeping a promise to one meant breaking my word to the other.

I had no idea how to come to a solution that would please everyone.

Fortunately Nakoa simply dropped me off in our rooms, where a bath and a number of ladies waited to help me, and left again with a comment that he'd be back later. I needed the time to think. Or not think, more precisely.

To my utter shock, the mirror that remained a fixture in my rooms showed that I did indeed look like I'd been roasted in a fireplace. My eyebrows had singed to nearly nothing and my hair had crisped on the ends. The golden tan had deepened further, making my eyes look lighter by comparison, almost amber. The flimsy gown I'd had on for far too long was rent in places and filthy.

No wonder Ursula thought I'd lost my mind.

Maybe I had.

I loved Nakoa—no escaping that realization—but Harlan's glib reassurances that Nakoa loved me also were not something I could accept as readily. Nakoa had other reasons for his possessiveness, ones I'd sworn not to reveal. Some tied to Kiraka and her gifts. Others part of his admirable dedication to the throne and his people. Maybe some, as Ursula pointed out, due to the mind-clouding effects of magic. Certainly our relationship had been intensely overwhelming from the beginning. Neither of us loved for rational reasons, built on friendship and mutual regard.

And, in the end, did it matter if he loved me or if I loved him? I didn't belong in Nahanau. He clearly counted on me to be his queen and have his babies. Two things I couldn't do. We would have to part and the time had come for it. Maybe it was better that he was angry with me and felt I'd let him down. It would make it easier to sever this ill-advised liaison of ours.

I would get over him eventually.

I felt tremendously better to be clean, though not at all looking forward to the coming arguments. I considered waiting for Nakoa on the balcony, with the evening going from golden to violet. The bed, however, looked so inviting that I decided to lie down and close my eyes, for just a few moments. A bit of rest to fortify myself for the fight with my dragon king.

I awoke to early morning sun, still in my light gown, but under the sheet, the net curtains drawn around the bed. I'd slept straight through the night because Nakoa had never come back. My heart lurched into panic. Had something happened to him? Or was he that angry with me?

I sat up, thrusting off the sheet, ready to go look for him. But he was there after all. Farther away in the bed than usual, deeply and silently asleep. I lay down again, relieved. Then edged closer, carefully, though he hadn't awakened at my abrupt movements so far.

He lay on his side, facing me, the white sheet draped over his hip, and even in sleep he still looked tired. Less forbidding, though. Younger, somehow, with none of his usual stern lines. A different face of him. The volcano as it had been when it was serene, no crags from the eruption. No broken lip. Perhaps he'd looked more carefree before he'd endured so much for his people. We knew so little about each other.

I lay there, studying him in this unguarded moment, as I so rarely had the opportunity to do, and as if I could somehow see into him if I looked long enough. It felt oddly peaceful, just to be near him, listening to the rising chorus of birdsong out the windows, so unlike any others I'd heard before. Along with that strange chirp that I felt sure wasn't a bird, but kept forgetting to ask about.

I was tempted to touch him. To reach out and establish some kind of physical contact to bridge the distance between us, if it could be bridged. I stopped my hand before I touched him, letting it fall to rest between us. What I truly needed to do was think about what I could say to him. But, as they had been doing lately, words evaded me, fading before they formed, leaving my mind as empty as a blank page.

Nakoa opened his eyes. Such a deep color in his still peaceful face. He didn't seem at all surprised to see me watching him sleep. He simply put his hand over mine where it lay on the sheet between us, lacing his fingers between mine.

We stayed like that, neither of us speaking the words that would break the peace of the moment. Though we'd have to. The sounds of the palace rose beyond the windows, a different kind of song, and a reminder of the world we were obligated to rejoin before much longer. Still, I clung to being silent. Maybe if neither of us said anything, if we simply stayed in that moment, we could work a magic to let us stay there forever.

Nakoa shifted, parting his lips. But not to say anything. To kiss me. He drew me to him, kissing me softly, speakingly. I answered as best I knew how, pouring all of the love I felt, but could not responsibly confess, into returning the kiss. He let go my hand to cup my head and I indulged in touching him then, smoothing my hands over the intricate scales of his tattoos.

Brushing the narrow straps of the sleeping gown from my shoulders, he slid the fabric down, slowly, almost lazily, then followed the path with his hands, stroking my skin as he revealed it. I reveled in it, drinking in his touch, as thirsty for this as I'd been for water. It quenched something in me in a way I feared nothing ever would again.

Feeling desperate for him, as if we'd already parted, I pressed myself closer, crushing my bared breasts against his chest, the fragrance of bruised petals from my garland entwining with the scent of him, filling my head. His heartbeat thudded through me and, as if he understood and felt the same way, he pulled off the rest of the gown and held me tight against him, his big hands splayed on my back and bottom.

“Nakoa
mlai
,” I gasped, and he murmured something, a phrase I didn't recognize. He coaxed a hand over my bottom, lifting my thigh over his hip, fingers dipping into my cleft from behind. Finding me more than ready for him, he slowly entered me, eyes black as a moonless night boring into mine. He filled me deliciously, and my heart ached with it all. Where I'd been thirsty, now I swelled to the breaking point. He rocked his hips and I cried out with it, the pleasure so exquisitely intense it was nearly painful. More than that, though. He was so much bigger than I that we'd never been so face-to-face as in this position. The intensity of the connection seemed deeper, sharper than ever before. Maybe he did see into me, because I felt laid bare, unable to look away, even when I came apart.

We finally untangled ourselves and Nakoa got up to bring me a cloth, watching as I cleaned his spilled seed from my thighs. He took it from me when I finished, wordlessly wiping himself off. Then tossed it aside and looked at me, both of us naked, most of the bed between us.

“I suppose it's time for us to discuss now,” I said, the waiting more painful than the dread.

“Yes. Put your gown on. We will talk over breakfast.”

“I'm not really hungry,” I said to his retreating back as he went to the door. He only threw me a look, some of the forbidding frown returning to his brow. Fine, then.

I dressed and brushed my hair. Soon the servants streamed in, bringing all manner of food and drink, setting it up on the balcony. Obediently I sat and filled my plate. Nakoa did likewise and the silence stretched on. No longer peaceful, but full of all the words we both hesitated to speak.

Deciding not to wait for him to voice whatever accusation lurked behind his increasingly stony expression, I took the initiative. “I did not leave you, Nakoa. You were sound asleep and I was awake. I went to the library to study.”

He sighed. Broke a roll in two and handed me half. “There is no blocked-up cave. None of Tane's men missing. No sign you were in the library.”

“So they cleaned up!”

“No one saw you go.”

“I was wrapped up in a rug. Ask the servants if one is missing.”

His jaw took on a stubborn set. “How did I not awake? I am trained as a warrior. None can sneak up on me.”

“You sleep very deeply, Nakoa.”

He shook his head. “I do not. Never have.”

“You do with me. Look at this morning.”

He didn't reply to that, simply simmered.

“Fine, then. What is your explanation for what happened?”

“I don't have one. However, I do not disbelieve you. The details will sort out. You were hurt, but not killed. Tane may have challenged you, but the win is yours.”

I hadn't thought of it that way. I suppose I had defeated Tane.

“This is not the most important problem between us,” Nakoa added.

The water I'd guzzled turned chill in my stomach. “What is?”

He set down the roll and wrapped his fist in the other hand, leaning his chin on them, regarding me soberly. With sorrow, even. “Perhaps I was wrong to make you stay.”

I didn't need anyone to tell me he didn't admit to being wrong easily. I wanted to tell him he hadn't been wrong, but he had. At the same time, I couldn't blame him for his actions. Not in the same way I once had. Tongue-tied, I gazed back at him helplessly.

He nodded, confirming something in his own head. “You never wished to be with me. I see it in your face. All along, even when you are closest to me, you think of how you'll leave. You promised I would be first with you, but I am not. Your queen is and you wish to return with her.”

“Nakoa . . .”

He waited, but I couldn't think of what else to say.

“Do you deny it?” he asked gently. “Is there another truth I'm not seeing?”

“I—I can't be who you want me to be, Nakoa. I never was that person. I never would have . . . accepted your garland if I'd known what it meant. I'm not meant to be a queen or work magic or talk to dragons. I'm good with books, history, knowledge—not this.” I waved a hand between us. My fumbling through this conversation was a perfect example of my lack of ability in this arena. “I'm too old to have babies. All my life, I've known my place. And . . . this isn't it.”

“You feel nothing for me. I am not
mlai
.” He said it neutrally, no question in it, his face an implacable mask.

I wanted to tell him I did love him. I wanted to weep. All along I knew it would come to this inevitable conclusion, but with the moment staring me in the face, I wanted to fight it. I could. It would be easy to tell him I wanted to stay. But then I'd have to break my promises to Ursula, destroy her faith in me, after all she'd done for me. Not something I could do, however much I wanted to. This was what I'd worked for since we arrived on Nahanau and I had to take it.

“I will help you seal the bond with Kiraka. I think I understand what she needs. When we've finalized the discussions with Her Majesty, I'll go to the library. I might know where to look for clues to the treasure. I won't leave you with your throne in question.”