The Pages of the Mind (34 page)

I winced inwardly, understanding the whole taking responsibility for him better. “Akamai. I know you were there for the conversation this afternoon. You heard what the king said, that he would not have me as queen.”

“A discreet translator does not remember what is said.”

“You'll be a good spy all right. But I know he said that. I might not be queen.”

“He said you would not have him. There's a difference. However, I belong to you, queen or not.”

I would have to be very careful about this in the future. “I suppose the decision is made. If you can be ready to leave when they sail in the morning?”

“I am ready now.”

“Thank you.” I turned to go.

“Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo? The king likes that you are fierce and as stubborn as he. He respects that.” He grinned. “Not that I remember anything that was said.”

Turning his words over in my mind, I considered my strategy. Despite my delays, I returned to our rooms earlier than usual. If Nakoa held true to pattern, he would not arrive for some time. If he came to see me at all. Inoa stopped in to see if I needed anything, and I couldn't discern from her polite demeanor how she felt, or if she even knew my relationship with Nakoa was precarious. She happily agreed to arrange what I asked for and wished me a pleasant evening.

If I stayed, I would have to devote time to getting to know my sister-in-law better.

The ladies happily prettied me up, including shading in my much-reduced eyebrows and trimming the crisped ends of my hair. I considered wearing the transparent negligee but decided that was trying to distract Nakoa instead of being honest. Besides, if I had to go looking for him, that wouldn't work at all.

Hopefully, however, he would walk into my ambush.

I sat on the balcony, watching the light decline, reading back through my journal instead of taking notes. So much had happened since I'd started it. In fact, it had become so unwieldy that I should start a new one. Apropos for starting a new life. Or perhaps not a completely new life, simply a new chapter. Why hadn't I seen it? Ursula was right—I could continue to do much of what I needed to from Nahanau. I could still write the history I'd been planning. Living in the palace with what might be the most complete library in the world, I'd be able to provide information on a vast array of knowledge. It wouldn't be unreasonable to recruit more operatives like Akamai, or even Jepp and Zynda.

The spymaster operating where she felt most at home—in the library. Not having adventures. Though the adventures had brought me to this place, and I couldn't regret them. It made for a bright future.

If I could convince Nakoa to trust me again.

The doors opened and Nakoa came in, his stride halting as he spotted me, a rare expression of surprise on his face. He hadn't expected me to be there. And Inoa had not told him. She'd known, then—and had acted to help me. Goddesses bless her.

Setting his face into remote lines, he came out to the balcony, taking in the game of
kiauo
I had set up. “What is this, Dafne?”

No
mlai
. My heart ached for it, but I lifted my chin and tried to make sure it didn't show. “I thought we'd play. When I win, I will exact a
kama
from you.”

He lifted his white-streaked brows but didn't smile. “I already gave you what you wish—you may leave. I will not stop you. I expected you to be on your queen's ship already.”

“Not until I've beaten you at this game.”

“The game is not important.”

“It is to me. Please, Nakoa
mlai
.”

“What
kama
? You have already claimed more than I can bear to give.”

I had to press my lips against the tumble of apologies. “You think I will win so easily, then?”

He hesitated at that, stern mouth softening ever so slightly. “You have not so far.”

“Then you have nothing to lose.” I gestured to the other chair and poured some liquor for him.

“I don't agree,” he replied, but he sat, inviting me to make the opening gambit.

The game took hours. I threw every bit of strategy I possessed into it. I'd thought about it quite a bit since our last game. Especially during those long hours wrapped in the rug and trapped in the cave. The game was not only about the pieces and the rules, but knowing your opponent and how he or she thought. Like Ursula, Nakoa tended to be protective of what he considered his responsibility, and his strategy reflected that. I kept him off-balance with erratic moves, cornering him into protecting his most precious pieces out of reflex.

Then I sprang my trap and, in three swift moves, captured the dragon.

He frowned at the board in astonishment. Then at me.

“I win. I am wise in this.”

Conceding the victory, he inclined his head. “The wisdom of dragons, indeed. What
kama
do you claim?” He sounded resigned and challenging at once. For a while during the game, the shadows of disappointment had fallen away. Now he regarded me with a guarded expression, bracing himself.

The moment of truth. The dark corners of my soul cried their cowardice. What if he said no? Any sane man would.

If so, I'd gather up the pieces of my heart and go on with my life. I'd had a good many moments with him, to treasure in my memory forever.

Nakoa eyed me warily as I got up, came around the table, and knelt before him. It took me three tries to find my voice. “I'm asking you to forgive me for breaking my promises. For not believing in what is between us. I want to stay, if you'll let me. You are first with me. You were right, that you weren't before, but you are now. I'm . . . wiser than I was. Even if you say no, you always will be. I didn't see. Or listen.”

He didn't move for a moment, looking like one of his statues. Then he lifted a hand and caressed my hair, running his fingers through it. He smiled sorrowfully, and my heart clutched. Maybe there would be too many pieces to pick up.

“You are not wise in this, it is true,” he said. “You do not see the truth before you, unless it's in one of your books.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “I know,” I whispered. “Perhaps I could stay and we could . . . begin again. Start afresh. Let me try to do better by you.”

“The world does not work this way. What has gone before is always there.”

Like the bones of Castle Columba, forever buried beneath Ordnung. I sighed for the truth of it. For my aching heart and how I'd bungled everything. “I withdraw the claim to my
kama
, then.”

“Yes. That is for the best.”

I stood, my legs like waterlogged sand, and started to step away. He stopped me, putting his hands on my hips.

“Dafne,” he said in patient tones. “You are
mlai
. This means I am always yours. You do not have to ask for me. Here I am.”

The tears welled up, blurring my vision. “But you said to take back my
kama
.”

“Yes.” He spread his knees and drew me between them, using his thumbs to wipe away the teardrops. “So you can use it for something else. What do you want to do to me, my dragon queen?”

31

M
uch later, we lay in the dark of night before moonrise, skin to skin. Though it had been my
kama
to claim, Nakoa had been the one to plunder me, taking me over and over with a thorough ferocity that left me in no doubt of how he felt.

“I love you, Nakoa
mlai
.” I whispered it, in case he slept.

“What does this mean?” he asked, stroking a hand down my back, and I realized I'd said it in Common Tongue.

“I answered the question in my heart.”

“I know.” He laughed softly when I thumped his chest, capturing my hand and lacing my fingers with his. “I heard it all along. You were the one who did not hear.”

“Oh, hush.” I kissed him, drinking him in as I had the life-giving rain. He returned it, holding me tenderly, as if I were precious to him. I supposed I was. He'd told me as much.

But, for the first time, I truly knew it. It felt good, to lie there with him in our bed, as if I'd come home at last. I would learn the place as I'd learned his body and his moods.

“What is that chirping sound—the high one, there. Birds?”

“No,
mlai
. Like
mo'o
, only small, bright as jewels. As a boy, I would capture them and keep them to sing in my rooms.”

Frogs? How interesting. “Will you show me?”

He kissed my hair, smoothing it. “Of course, Dafne
mlai
. You have only to ask.”

“Then I have one more thing to ask.”

He waited silently.

“I must get up and write some letters to go with the ship in the morning, but I don't wish to disturb your sleep. Still . . .”

Growling low, he wrapped a hand in my hair and tugged my head back for a long and thorough kiss. “Write your words, over there, where I can see you if I wake. Otherwise I shall sleep, knowing you are here, with me.”

“Always, Nakoa
mlai
.”

The morning dawned bright, Glorianna's sun shining on the harbor as we bade Ursula and Harlan farewell. Nakoa had seemed amused when I asked about sending Akamai with them, saying that he was already my responsibility. I did not mention my plan to extend my network of information with others. With Nakoa it worked best to give him information in small doses.

I blinked my eyes against the grittiness of the long night. It had taken hours to complete my letters—the most difficult explaining to Ami about a possible dragon under Windroven and what might be done about it. When I returned to bed, Nakoa had pulled me sleepily into his arms and . . . well, there had been no sleeping for me after that.

“I have a gift for you, Akamai.” I took out the bit of silk and handed it to him.

His eyes widened in astonishment. “For me? I am overwhelmed.”

“You might need them. When you meet Jepp, ask her to teach you how to use them.”

He unwrapped one of the silver daggers and held it with reverence, studying the script etched on.

“In my language, it says, ‘This is why it's perilous to ignore a librarian, ' ” I told him. “Use them well.”

“I will, Queen Dafne Nakoa KauPo.” He bowed several times, then hastened onto the ship with a last wave, leaving the four of us there.

“I still have the others, and this one, of course,” I told Ursula, putting my hand on the ruby-hilted dagger.

“Good.” She nodded, then gave Nakoa a flinty look and said in Dasnarian, “Use it on my heart-brother, if he doesn't treat you well.”

I choked on my laugh, shocked both that she knew the words and that she said them to Nakoa. He gave her a thunderous frown, then released it, his smile breaking through like the sun through clouds.

“If I do not treat my queen well,” he replied in careful Dasnarian, “I deserve the knife, Heart-Sister.”

“I'm glad we understand each other.” She handed me a scroll with a wry smile. “All in writing, so you can put it in your library, as I know you like to.”

By mutual accord, we did not linger at the harbor. Instead Nakoa and I walked back to the palace and ascended the tower where we'd watched the
Hákyrling
sail away an age ago. When Ursula's ship passed through the great dragons guarding the harbor, Nakoa lifted my chin to survey my face.

“No weeping this time?”

I wrapped my hand around his, holding it while I placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist, one of few places he did not have tattoos. “No. I am happy. I am where I want to be. You are precious to me, Nakoa
mlai
. My home.”

He smiled, close-lipped, but radiantly enough to banish all the stern lines. Almost as carefree as in sleep. “You are my treasure, also, Dafne
mlai
.”

The word he used and the way he colored it.
Treasure.
Not at all the same as the Dasnarians used it. The pieces shifted in my head. Moving into new patterns.

That scroll I'd seen back in Annfwn, with its vivid illustrations—and the unlikely one of the dragon and human, heads bent together over a scroll.

“The library,” I breathed. “That's the dragon's treasure. Knowledge.”

“This sounds true—this is yours to know.”

“Kiraka can teach me to read N'andanan. She was a scribe. She holds the key to translating all of those books!”

He mock scowled at me. “Now I shall never pry you out of the library.”

“Yes, you will.” I stood on the low wall, to be eye to eye with him, giving him a long, heartfelt kiss. “You'll just have to make it worth my while.”