Текст книги "In the Veins of the Drowning"

Автор книги: Kalie Cassidy

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Not two hours later, I stood in an empty, sun-strewn stall in the stables, shoving a saddlebag full of spare trousers and shirts Theodore had lent me. He’d taken great pains to fold them into small, tidy squares and tie them tightly with twine.

The stable hands had been sent away, and across from me, sullen and edgy, Theodore tacked a horse himself. I watched him—the tight way he pulled at straps and tugged on the saddle. The sullen eyes, the stony set of his jaw.

His mood had begun to devolve the moment we’d returned to the Garden Room and the seemingly endless contracts. He’d calcified further with each point discussed, began to bite on his cheek, tap his fingers on the polished tabletop. I could only assume he regretted his decision to accompany me, and it was his gallingly relentless honor that had kept him from withdrawing.

“Will Agatha and Lachlan be here to see us off?” I asked from where I knelt in the clean straw.

“Yes.” He remained intent on his task.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good.” I tied off the last saddlebag with a jerk. “You certainly seem it.” I hefted the bags toward him, and he snatched one from my grip. “I hope you don’t plan on being this broody the entire time. I’m already aware you’re regretting your decision to accompany me. There’s no need to make it so painfully clear.”

Theodore rounded on me. His green eyes blazed and pinned me still. “You’ve got me figured out, haven’t you?” He took one step closer, and I couldn’t speak. Some emotion had him by the throat. He took another step toward me. Then he raised a strong hand to my stomach and pressed me back against the wall of the stall. I gave a sharp gasp, overcome by him. “Would you like to know what’s actually bothering me, Imogen?”

I managed the barest nod.

“I don’t regret my decision, but I should.” His fingers curled into my ribs, as if he were trying to grab hold of me. Our bond glowed with delicious, glittering heat. It rolled and pooled heavily in my center. “I called you a gnat, and I detest myself for it. I am the bug. A moth. And you are the moon. Drawing me, pulling me. But I’ll never be able to reach you without destroying myself. All I can do is pray for the day.” He gave me a pleading look. “Do you understand? I am doing my very best to keep a grip on myself, to keep my distance, but everything you do seems in service of thwarting that goal.”

My heart rioted. I would have felt less shock had he pulled back the skin of his chest and shown me the fearsome, pulsing parts beneath. But this, his touch, his nearness, his outright admission. “This is a jest.”

He was so close, face tipped down toward mine. I could kiss him if I pushed up onto my toes.

His brow creased deeper. “Gods, I wish it were.”

My frustration rose at his tone of displeasure. “You speak of desire like it’s an illness. Like I have infected you with it.” I shoved halfheartedly at his muscled chest, only to curl my fingers into his shirt a breath later. “How dare you blame me. As if I’ve laid a trap for you, or as if it’s vile to want. I may be the object of your desire, but I am not its source.”

He blinked, mulled over my rebuke, and then fought to straighten himself. His warm hand fell away from my stomach, and I instantly mourned its absence. I released his shirt, but we remained close. Our eyes locked.

There was something between us after all, beneath the discord, the friction. I couldn’t tell if it was simply the bond stoking our attraction, but in that moment, I was desperate to know it. To chisel away at his stony veneer, uncover, explore. From the way he looked at me, I thought he might want the same thing.

He stepped away from me. “Forgive my lapse.” He turned back toward the horse to attach the second saddlebag. “It won’t happen again.”

The wall at my back was all that held me up. He was so adept at locking himself away. Suddenly, he was unflustered, unmoved by what had just transpired between us.

There came the sound of rustling straw and then Agatha appeared in the aisle. She wore a new wheat-colored dress and carried a basket filled with wrapped packages of food and bottles of wine. “There you are.” Her face fell when she saw me. She eyed Theodore, then looked back to me. “Feeling all right?”

I nodded quickly. “Mmm-hmm.”

Her face hardened at my lie. “Your Majesty,” she said, to Theodore. “Princess Halla is here. She’d like to say goodbye.”

Theodore’s shoulders straightened, but before he could leave the stall, Halla was at Agatha’s side. Her white hair was twisted up tightly and studded with sapphire pins. The pale blue of her gauzy gown was a perfect match to her eyes.

She dipped into a low curtsy, smile sweet. “I wanted to bid you farewell, Your Majesty.”

Theodore was silent, but he stepped forward, took her hand, and placed a quick kiss to it.

Halla’s gaze narrowed with confusion when it landed on me, still standing with my back to the stall wall. “I didn’t realize Lady Nel would be accompanying you to liaison with your war captains.”

Theodore glanced at me, then back at Halla. “Her family lives near one of the bases.”

“How convenient.” Her smile grew strained. She rose onto her toes and placed a lingering kiss on Theodore’s cheek. “I’m eager for your return.”

Theodore only gave a curt nod in response.

After one last glance in my direction, Halla hurried from the stables with her head bent. Guilt swarmed, and then Lachlan was bustling in, carrying bedrolls, and additional packs of provisions. I didn’t miss how his wary stare cut between Theodore and me.

“Help me with these, Imogen,” Agatha said, gesturing to the food packs she held, then to the stall behind her where our second horse waited to be prepared.

She began filling a bag at the horse’s rump. She looked over her shoulder before whispering, “Let him help you.”

I tugged on the belt I wore. The trousers I’d borrowed from Theodore were too big and folded uncomfortably at the waist. The wool felt strange around my hips and thighs. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, distractedly.

“Listen to me.” She glared, eyes deep with emotion. “You both seem determined to keep your horns locked, but that will only make what lies ahead harder. Let him help you. Let him comfort you and care for you.” She shoved down a rise of emotion. “The Mage Seer and her ritual are dangerous. If you try to go it alone, I fear you won’t come back.”

“Agatha—” I shook my head. “I’ll do my best.” Accepting his care would be difficult now that I knew it filled him with such resentment.

My gaze slipped across the aisle to Theodore. He wore a clean but dirt-stained brown shirt, with patched trousers and scuffed boots, claiming it was best to look unassuming in the Varian wildlands. The lack of finery did nothing to diminish him. In fact, I preferred him like this. With his waving hair catching the light, and his threadbare clothes draping over his lean muscles.

In silence, Agatha watched me. “I’ll warn you… it won’t be a clean separation.”

My attention snapped back to her. “What do you mean?”

She spoke in a whisper, brow rippled with empathy. “I see what’s between you two. It’s barbed and messy, but there’s something there.”

I bit at my lip, determined in my avoidance, and shoved the hem of my overly large shirt into my trousers.

Agatha’s look of empathy morphed quickly to one of harried pity. She huffed a breath. “Maybe you’ve deceived yourself, but not me. Not Lachlan either.”

“What does it matter?” I asked, tense and quiet. “He’s a king. And I’m…” I gave an angry laugh. “What am I? An orphan, a murderer. He’s going to be married to a princess who is beautiful and perfectly suited to him. And even if our circumstances were different…” An unbidden memory of Evander, bent and submerged in my tub, flashed through my mind. I rubbed my eye, wishing I could tear the memory out. “Theodore will bring me back from the Mage Seer alive, because it’s his duty to do so. Then I’ll say my goodbyes and be off on my final task.”

Agatha reached for me. “Imogen—”

I strode away, out into the stable yard where Theodore and Lachlan led the first horse. Agatha wanted to mine my emotions like they were jewels, precious and worth inspecting, but I was happy leaving them buried deep. I’d be damned if I complicated things further. “Are we ready?”

“Almost.” Lachlan strode past to retrieve the horses’ reins.

Out in the bright yard, Theodore didn’t even acknowledge me. He’d slipped deeper into some unyielding, stolid exoskeleton of despondency.

I shifted in discomfort. “Should we eat before we go?” I asked, trying to cut through the unease.

Theodore tested a saddle strap with a tug. “You can eat on the horse.”

I was tempted to meet his rough mood in equal measure. I raised my chin, then stopped. Perhaps… perhaps if I became like water—if I curved around him, wore him down—we might both survive the coming week. “That’s a good plan,” I replied, softly.

Theodore’s jaw feathered. He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted in one graceful movement.

Agatha was at my side. “Be safe.”

I nodded. “See you in a week.”

My mare was pretty and shining black. I stood beside her and tried to mimic Theodore’s easy mount, but I got my boot into the stirrup and froze. “I… I’ve never ridden alone before.”

Lachlan let out a defeated breath. “Fucking Gods, you tell us now?” He strode toward me and stood close. As he tugged me around the front of my horse he spoke low, so only I could hear. “Be patient with Theo. He’s as scared as you are. Maybe more.”

“Over what? He’s not the one going through the severance.”

His gaze grew dark, sobering. “He’ll have to be the one to tell you. When he’s ready.” Then he stopped me beside Theodore’s horse.

I gave Lachlan a panicked glare. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” Lachlan patted Theodore’s knee apologetically. “Theo will give you a lesson.”

“No. No, thank you—” But Lachlan was already forcing my foot into the stirrup, hefting me up into the saddle in front of Theodore. Clumsily, I threw my leg over the pommel and settled into his lap. Both of us went rigid.

Agatha put a hand to her temple and watched us with a grimace. An uncomfortable grin spread over Lachlan’s mouth. He patted the horse’s rump twice and said, “There’s extra wine in the saddlebags.”

With my mare’s reins in Theodore’s hand, he led us out of the stable yard and onto the road that carved through the outermost gardens. Sea mist swirled in over the palace grounds. I sat straight-backed, every muscle tight.

Theodore spoke over my shoulder. “You’re too tense.”

“Seeing as how you are doing your best to maintain some distance from me—” I noted the press of his body against mine. His chest and stomach were solid and hot. My backside filled his entire lap. “—it feels unwise to relax into this position.”

“Is it really that difficult for you to focus on our task rather than our bodies?”

“Excuse me?” I craned to scowl at him over my shoulder. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” he said, quickly. “Just focus on the damned horse.”

I faced forward again in a huff. “Asshole.”

He spoke near my ear in a low, rumbling voice. “Sit straight. Let your hips find neutral. You need to balance and feel the horse.”

I blew out an annoyed breath and tried. We jostled over the dirt-packed road that led from the palace grounds into the tree-spotted meadow just beyond it, and I slowly loosened my muscles.

He gave an approving grunt. “Better.” The encouragement was breathy and low, and an unbidden thrill fell through me. I slammed my eyes closed in annoyance.

The road grew uneven, and he tapped my hip twice, a reminder to feel the horse’s shifting. I obeyed with my tongue between my teeth. “That’s good.” When he picked up the horse’s pace and I began to lose my balance, he clamped an arm around my waist. “Got you.”

He kept us like that, bodies pressed tightly together in a bumping trot, with his strong arm around me. My heart hammered at our nearness, and I wondered after all the loathsome thoughts that must have been running through Theodore’s mind. In time, I eased into the faster pace, keeping my posture and balance.

“Take the reins.” Theodore pressed them into my hand, and I led us through a curving dirt road lined with small yellow flowers. They swayed and bounced in the wind, as if dancing to some gusting melody I could not hear. The corner of my mouth lifted as I watched them, entranced.

“They’re so pretty,” I said softly, letting the thought slip past my lips.

“They’re weeds.”

“Bloody Gods.” A shot of anger rang though me. “They’re still beautiful.”

He was silent as we wound away from the flowers into a green swaying field. I wished I’d held my temper, though it was not my fault that the man was a maddening, close-minded snob. Finally, and to my surprise, he leaned in close. His cheek pressed to my hair. “You’re right.” He sounded apologetic. “They are.”

I wanted to see his face, his eyes. I wanted to see how they changed when his voice sounded like that. I kept my gaze ahead, but that single moment drained all the remaining strain from my body. Despite myself, I rested against him fully, and we moved atop the horse as if we had fused.

Halfway through the field, Theodore pulled hard on the horse’s reins. We stopped and I sucked in a silent breath when I realized why. I could feel him, long and hard, straining against my backside.

Neither of us moved for a beat. My entire body rushed with fire, but I did my very best to douse it. Neither of us spoke as I ungracefully dismounted. When my feet were finally on the ground, I glanced up at him. His face was flushed, his lips pinched, and a part of me wanted to leave him alone with his mortification, but I shook my head in mock disappointment instead, and said, “You should have just focused on the horse.”

He dropped my horse’s reins and spurred his own down the road.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Aren’t you going to wait for me?” The bond was starting to stretch with nauseating discomfort. “It was a jest!” I clambered into my saddle and by some miracle got my horse to follow.

It wasn’t long before my body began to ache. My mind, too, grew troubled. It filled with a maelstrom of worries and questions and thoughts, one circling the next, dragging me down and down. Not even the arresting beauty of Varya could soothe me.

Theodore rode ahead of me, our horses close. “Have you been to the Mage Seer before?” I finally asked.

He scrubbed a hand through his windblown hair. “Only once.” The words were clipped. Final. He didn’t want to talk, but the festering silence between us was eating me alive.

“And? Is it as awful as Agatha says?”

He adjusted in his saddle. Let the quiet stretch and stretch until I was certain he wouldn’t answer. Then, “Yes.”

Cold, choking dread overcame me. My fingers gripped the reins so tightly they locked up. I asked no more questions. I only watched his tense shoulders and cursed beneath my breath, hating that Agatha was always, always right. The thought that Agatha might also be right about us, that whatever simmered between Theodore and me might leave me permanently marred, was too dismal a thought. I wanted to be free of him entirely. And days spent with him like this, terror-riddled and unspeaking, would drive me mad.

“Let’s have it out, then, shall we?” I waited for his reaction. Finally, he glanced at me over his shoulder, a question in his hard gaze. “Let’s get it all out of our systems. Everything that’s got you in a piss-poor mood. Everything we hate about each other, every grievance, so that when our bond is severed, we’ll be properly purged of each other.”

Theodore let out a low whistle and rode for a few more paces. “That sounds like an awful idea.”

We’d crossed into a vineyard and a warm sea breeze rolled through the wide grape leaves. I spoke loud enough for him to hear me over their rustling. “You scared?”

That did it. He pulled in a deep breath, then slowed his horse until we were ambling side by side. He eyed me sidelong. “I’ll go first.”

I rolled my shoulders, readying myself for the blow.

“Your lack of responsibility astounds me,” he said. “I’ve struggled to understand how someone so entrancing—the daughter of such a stunning, powerful goddess—could have spent her life contentedly curled up in the mountains, like a lazy, overfed cat. Willing to marry that captain. No—you seemed eager to marry him.” Each word grew heavier and heavier with scathing anger. “Clinging to him, pressing your lips all over him when he’d done nothing to deserve you. What’s worse—I’m inexplicably envious of the dead bastard. He killed Sirens, and you would have him anyway, and it gnaws at me.” He took in a gulp of air, but it did nothing to quell him. “I struggle to understand why you wouldn’t want to hone your power, to use it to help. Why you wouldn’t be desperate to claim the lost seat of your mother’s queendom for yourself. You’re cowardly. And selfish. You gave your blood and prayed for the end of your own kind. You’re only concerned with the parts of the world that touch you. You lack mettle and foresight and yet…” He clamped his jaw to stop himself from saying more.

I tried to blow out my hurt and embarrassment, my shame, but my throat had grown too thick.

He dragged a hand over his brow. “I used to stare up at that statue of Ligea as a boy. Lit candles at her feet and asked for the kind of courage the stories and songs about her told. Then I saw you, her very image, and I—I wanted… It’s been a disappointment to learn that you are a beautiful shell of her.”

The horses clomped over the dirt road as I tried to steady myself. My tight chest only let through short, shallow breaths. It was a long moment before Theodore finally looked at me. I kept my eyes on the road ahead.

“My turn,” I said, when I was finally able to speak. “You’re a pompous ass. You’re so self-righteous that it’s made you callous and closed off. You lack empathy. For me. For anyone who wasn’t given choice and power and gold from their cradle, like you were. Your ridiculous sense of duty does not make you better than me. It makes you see in simple shapes, in black and white, and so it’s made you see only pieces of me. And I hate that even though you are sanctimonious, and stubborn, and have treated me unkindly, I desperately want you to see me as I truly am. To see that just because my courage does not look like yours, or Ligea’s, does not mean I lack it. You wish to control me, and you’re hardly better than Nemea for it.” My voice became wobbly, and I spoke in a rush. “I’ve heard you laugh once, and it was to scoff at me. I’ve only seen you smile genuinely at your dressmaker. For fuck’s sake, you think that simply thinking me beautiful might besmirch your hallowed name. And Gods forbid the paeans that will no doubt be written about you might mention you being virile. No, the great God-king Theodore was unplagued by evil desire. He made beautiful women wear sacks—”

“All right.” Theodore’s voice was desolate.

“No, I’m not done. You could use a Godsdamned fuck. A good, long one. Hopefully your new wife will enjoy your chaste kisses and rigid embraces and the fireworks you shoot off for her in the bay, because that’s the most warmth she’ll get.”

My anger was vivid and beating and I wanted him to know it, but I’d spewed a half truth. I’d felt his warmth before, many times. Even now, the memory of his strong hand against the plane of my stomach filled me with a heavy, fiery ache.

Sullen, Theodore moved back into the lead. We rode through vineyard after vineyard without speaking a word. The sun curved in its wide arc over the sky, and as it fell back toward the horizon, Theodore pulled us off to the side of the road.

Jaw tight, he dismounted and rummaged through the saddlebag. He pulled out a bottle of wine. Wrestled the cork free. “Did that make you feel better?” He took a long swig.

“No.” I threw my leg over my horse and winced as I fell to my feet. I groaned and met his glare. “I feel worse. You were right, it was an awful idea.”

He huffed an agreement. Took another deep drink. He came closer, too close, and I stiffened. “Here.” He stared down at me with heated, narrowed eyes as he waited for me to take the wine.

I took a long drink, my gaze stuck to his as I did. It was the same wine I’d drunk at the table in the Garden Room. Sparkling and sweet. I took another drink. “It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you make it?”

He nodded. “The grapes came from two vineyards back. I tend to them.”

I smirked. “You garden?”

“I do.” He gave me a smile, though hurt still swam in his gaze. “Maybe they’ll add that to those paeans they’ll write about me,” he said in a glum tease. “King Theodore, the gardening prude.”

I returned a smile. “Lachlan told me you weren’t always.” His dark brow quirked. “He told me about your nights on your ship filled with women.”

Theodore gave a deep laugh. It was husky and dark and I stilled at the sound of it. “I thought he might have. Fucking Lachlan.” His cheeks were full of color, and an errant smirk curled his lips. He checked the deepening sky, the small clouds starting to grow over it like scales. “About a mile up there’s a caretaker’s cottage. They’re open for travelers and land workers.” His gaze locked with mine. “We can sleep there tonight.”

I nodded and a peal of anticipation rang through me. When I tried to lift my aching leg into the stirrup, it slipped, and I nearly stumbled. A pained groan filled my chest, but Theodore was at my back, hands encircling my waist. He tightened his grip like he was readying to lift me, but he leaned in instead. His hand traveled up so his knuckles just grazed the underside of my breast.

His lips were at my ear. “If I had known you then…”

Heart on a rampage, I looked up into his eyes. “Yes?”

I couldn’t breathe. He furrowed his brow, pressed his mouth shut, like he’d thought better than to speak the words that sat on his tongue.

“Tell me.”

Slowly, he spread his fingers wide and dug into my ribs, as if he wanted to touch as much of me as possible. “I would have worshipped you,” he said, husky and slow. “Laid you out over my bed like a goddess on her altar and gotten on my knees before you. And when we were done, after a very long time…” He brought me tighter to his chest, and I all but melted into him. My nose brushed his chin. “… I’d thank you for tearing me to ribbons with those pretty talons of yours.”

Abruptly, he pulled away. He lifted me up into the saddle so quickly that my head spun. A protesting, throaty moan slipped past my lips, forcing an embarrassed flush to my cheeks. He looked up at me with a cocky smile.

“You’re an ass.”

“Yes, I know,” he said through a chuckle. He mounted and clicked his tongue and both horses started down the road. For the first time, his body had relaxed, strong shoulders sloping with an easiness I’d never seen him wear.

“You’re looking very self-satisfied,” I snipped.

“Easy to do when you get a woman to make that sound.”

Theodore kept the horses at a slow walk, and thank the Gods, because every muscle in my body hurt. As did my ego. But the air between us was clearer, less charged.

“I wouldn’t have torn you to ribbons,” I finally said, coyly. “I’m not that wasteful.”

“Oh no?” That chuckle again. “What would you have done?”

“What any Goddess worthy of devotion would.” He looked over his shoulder expectantly, heat and amusement in his gaze. “I’d have demanded you worship me a second time. And a third.”

A grin spread over his face as he turned away from me. He tipped his head back toward the sky like he’d been swept into a pleasant daydream. I thought I heard a low, satisfied hum fill his chest.

I spent the rest of the short ride lost in a daydream of my own.

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