Age of Valor: Blood Purge Page 8

  “Blissful,” she murmured, her eyes half closed. “I almost can't feel a thing in my leg.”

  “I feel almost nothing in my hands.”

  Cailin lifted her head a couple of inches to peer back at him and giggled. “What?”

  “Apparently there is a numbing element to this ointment.” Lifting his gaze, he chuckled. “Well worth it. Have you ever had anyone massage your injury?”

  “No. It was suggested to me, but I was too afraid to try.”

  Wessely rose from the chair he'd pulled over and picked up a towel that rested on the tea tray to wipe his hands. “I think it should be done at least once a week, more if you are on your feet as much as you have been.”

  “And can I count on your help with that? It isn't as though we're both rich with spare time here or at home.”

  “We can make time.” He tossed the towel onto the table and crossed back to the bed. “It is important. I do not like seeing you in pain.”

  “It's part of the job.”

  “It does not have to be.” Again, without invitation, Wessely lay down beside Cailin and looked up at the ceiling. He breathed out as though expelling all the cares he'd been carrying. Cailin watched him silently, so many things she wanted to say and do moving through her tired mind, but she couldn't even bring herself to reach over a lay a hand on his chest. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked as tired as she felt. “What a long day.”

  She gave a quiet laugh. “Yes, I'm sure you must be exhausted.”

  Hearing the teasing in her soft voice, Wessely turned his head to look at her, faking hurt. “I was part of the second melee.” Turning back to the ceiling, he ran a finger down his cheek, just above where his beard began. There was a wound she hadn't noticed before. “I took injury.”

  Cailin's fingers ran over the injured skin as his just had. “I see that. Would a kiss make it better?”

  “There is only one way to find out.”

  It took a moment, but she summoned every ounce of energy she could to raise herself up on her elbows and lean over to kiss his cheek. When she began to pull away, Wessely touched her face as he had earlier and pulled her back again, this time taking her kiss on the lips. She scooted closer to him to let him wrap his arms around her and gave herself over to the moment. These were the times she savored, the ones she tried to memorize so when the inevitable argument came afterward, it would soften the hurt of the words left hanging in the air.

  Pulling back, she looked down into his face, his smile impossible not to mirror. As he swept a strand of her hair behind her ear, he said, “You make me feel young again.”

  “You speak as though you were an old man,” she teased.

  “Old enough to be your father.” His brows came together as he thought. “Almost.”

  “Almost is not the same, and that hardly matters to me.” Her eyes traveled down the length of his face, taking in the smile lines and the subtle hints of silver highlighting the gold of his beard. Age never even crossed her mind, only his heart. “I wish this didn't have to end.”

  “Marry me,” he whispered, “and it would never have to.”

  There is was. This was the moment where everything would shift. She felt her muscles contracting as though she could pull into herself for protection or at least pull away, but Wessely was prepared for such a reaction. He linked his hands together behind her back, effectively holding her in place against him. It made her angry. “Please don't,” she replied, pained voice just as quiet as his. “Please don't ruin this moment.”

  “What woman in her right mind would consider a proposal ruining a moment?”

  “What man would keep proposing to a woman who keeps refusing him?” She pressed her hands into the bed on either side of him, lifting herself up, and he let her go. Careful to keep her leg from touching the blankets, Cailin rolled over and scooted to the edge of the bed before standing up and pacing to the window. “How many more times do we have to do this?”

  “As many times as it takes.” Wessely sat up, disappointment in his blue eyes. “Are you truly happy like this? Stealing through the halls when we are certain people are asleep, returning before anyone is awake...it is not enough. I want to be able to hold your hand as we walk down the hall or kiss you when I feel like it. I love you.”

  “And I love you,” she confirmed, “but it can never work. Your castle will be rebuilt soon, Wessely. That means you will leave Altaine and no longer be her steward. You'll return to a place where you rightfully hold the throne.” Her anger drained as quickly as it had flared, replaced with a sadness that wound around her like an unbreakable cord. Walking back to the bed, her shoulders drooped. “My place is not on a stone chair with a crown upon my head. It is walking the ramparts, making sure the men who answer to me are doing their duties to the full extent of their abilities, keeping Ashlynn and her family safe.” She sat back down and pressed her hands to her heart. “I love what I do. It brings me more joy than I can tell you. It gives me purpose.” Letting her hands fall slowly, she looked at her tattoo and traced it absently. “With the recent increase of dragon and Gael slayings, the Keepers will likely be called back into active duty. What good can I do from a throne room?”

  Wessely was silent for a long stretch of time. He looked down, sorrow etched into the fine lines around his eyes. He swallowed whatever he wanted to say, keeping his thoughts to himself, but eventually reached for her hand to thread his fingers with her own. The simple action, the touch that conveyed both love and sorrow, made her want to weep again. For so long, all she had wanted was for Wessely to see her as more than the girl who used to serve him. Now that she had that, now that she had his heart, it could never be anything more than these stolen moments, and it hurt worse than she could have ever imagined.

  Uncaring about her leg, she curled up beside him, seeking comfort from the very person she knew she was hurting. He hardly hesitated in taking her back into his arms and holding her as close to his side as he could. An odd silence settled on them, not uncomfortable, but not without tension. Cailin wondered if he'd fallen asleep after a time, but his breathing remained even and shallow enough to tell her he was as awake as she. “I'm sorry,” she managed weakly. “I am being cruel and unfair.” If she was strong enough, she would get up that instant and tell him to go, but as she'd said before, she was weak.

  “I could have walked away long ago.”

  His words were heavy with emotion, making Cailin raise her head to look at him. “Why didn't you?”

  He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, a sad smile forming on his lips. “I told you...I love you.” Gentle, his hand went around the back of her neck and pulled her close to his face, kissing her again. As much as her head told her to resist, to push him away and cut him off for his own good, her heart wouldn't let her. She melted into him, fingers winding into the fabric of his doublet. Even when she pulled back, she didn't untangle herself. “Tell me to go,” he whispered, “and I will go.”

  This was her way out. He was giving her permission to make him leave not only her room, but whatever complicated mess she'd gotten him into. She knew that if she told him now that it was completely over that he would leave without another word. That was the kind of man he was. If it meant taking the burden of his affection from her, he would do so, and bear the pain in private. Cailin knew what she should do, what she had to do. Once again, however, her heart wasn't paying any attention to her head. “Don't go,” she breathed. She leaned into him once more and his arms wound around her. There would be time later to reap the consequences. For now, all she wanted was this.

  Chapter Four

  “Cailin? Are you awake?”

  She wasn't sure at first if the pounding on the door was part of her dream, so she rolled over and fought against the pull from sleep to wakefulness. It wasn't until she heard Killian's voice that she bolted upright in bed, clutching her blankets to her.

  “Cailin?”

  “I'll be out in a minute!”

  Bes
ide her, Wessely was already reaching for his clothes.

  “It's before sunup,” she spat, climbing out of bed and throwing on what she had worn the night before. “Don't worry,” she whispered to Wessely, loud as she dared. “I'll go with him and the coast should be clear for you.” He nodded wordlessly, but slipped on his trousers anyway and helped Cailin dress. She wove her hair into a messy and uneven braid as Wessely fastened her belt and sword around her waist. When she was finally ready and out of breath, he took her face in his hands to make her focus on him for a moment, then kissed her. She smiled up at him, then opened her door enough to get through, and was gone.

  Killian greeted her with a mug of something steaming. She didn't ask questions, only took the offering and smelled it before taking a sip. Hot coffee ran down her throat, diminishing her annoyance only slightly. After swallowing another sip, they fell into step together and walked down the hall. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “I do. Thus, the peace offering.” Killian subtly looked her over. “You missed a button.”

  Looking down, she realized there was a gaping hole in the front of her overcoat where the buttons had been misaligned. Heat crept into her cheeks, but she did her best to hide it as she handed Killian her coffee so she could fix her clothing. “One of the perils of getting dressed in the dark.”

  Killian handed her back the coffee when she was done and said nothing.

  “Why are we up so early?” she asked, looking to redirect the attention on something else.

  “Well,” he said, taking a sip of his own coffee, “it seems there will be another busy day ahead of us.” As he explained what had been discussed after she'd left the night before, Cailin listened, all the while keeping her eye out for anything unusual or anyone out of place. She knew full well that this was the hour when people would be stealing through halls thinking everyone still asleep; she'd done it herself enough times to know. In the castle it was cause for less alarm. Court was a place people found it exciting to carry out illicit affairs, as though it held more danger and intrigue. Here, however, where every room was filled with someone she knew personally, someone out of place would be a definite cause for alarm.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Cailin blinked and swiveled her head in Killian's direction as they moved to the second floor. “I'm sorry. I was listening. We're doing rounds early so that we can help get an idea of the majority feeling toward the recent killings. They want us to cover both Sinessian households as well as Ibayish.”

  “If we see familiar Ibayish families, yes.” Killian held open the door to the outside walkway around the house for her before passing through himself. “You look to be walking better today than you have all week.”

  She had almost forgotten about her leg and the pain that seemed constant. It was true, her limp was hardly noticeable, and the tenderness she felt was more from her muscle being so deeply massaged. “Oh,” she said softly as they moved. “Yes, apparently there's a merchant here selling all sorts of things to cure what ails you. I tried some last night and it seems it works.”

  They paused at one of the outlook posts to peer out over the dark village. A thin line of magenta was etched across the far horizon, a colorful announcement of the rising sun. There were a few people moving down below, all men and women both of them had become familiar with over the week as they, too, sought to protect those precious to them.

  “I am certain a good night of rest does wonders as well.”

  Cailin glanced quickly at him and nodded. She raised her mug to her lips and said, “Yep,” before finishing her coffee.

  “Cailin...”

  “Please don't start.” She fought hard not to sigh. “You have told me how you feel about this and I listened to what you had to say.” She looked down and shook her head sadly. “We both know it can never work, and yet we cannot stay away from each other.” Her lips pursed, uncomfortable with her vulnerability. “At least I have only one lover.” The words weren't meant to be accusatory, but they came out harsh and she cringed at her own statement. Killian said nothing, however, and remained as stoic as usual. “Are they surrogates?”

  “No.” For the quickest moment, he looked as though he would turn on Cailin in anger, but the change in his expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

  “How do you do it, Killian? How do you see Ashlynn day in and day out, feeling for her as I know you do, and not do anything about it? Not that I'm advocating that you should. I love Jaryn.”

  “As do I. I love both of them, which makes doing nothing that would harm them or their relationship easy.” He bowed his head, sorrowful. “Jaryn reminds me of my brother. In many ways, I think Jessiah would have grown to be a lot like him, and it has only served in deepening my loyalty to him. I would never try to steal the affection of my brother's wife. Ever. I can love Ashlynn, too, in my own way, by protecting her.”

  Cailin's brows came together. “And that's enough for you?”

  Looking up at the stars, he said, “It has to be.”

  All morning long, Ashlynn did her best to seek out lesser royals from Siness to initiate conversations and find out where they stood on the issue of the dragons and the Gaels. With more of the athletic competitions being held before the joust that day, many of her countrymen were there to watch. This was where she thrived, weaving her way through the crowds to speak with people individually, on their level. It took the pomp and frill of throne room politics and put it on a level where there was more a sense of equality.

  With Jaryn watching from the grandstand with Lochlainn and a few others, she hardly gave the games a second glance, single-minded in her task. As the weight over bar competition ended and the athletes were getting ready for the hammer toss, the crowd became a little denser and more difficult to pick her way through. Had she been on her own it would have been a much simpler task, but there were guards with her as well. All week long, she'd felt much safer having them with her, but now she wondered if they were a hindrance to her mission.

  A familiar face, half pale skin, half covered in dragon scales under a mop of blue hair, popped up before her. “Elas! Good heavens, what are you doing?”

  Her brother-in-law grinned from both sides of his face. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Jaryn said I should come get you. He did his fair share of campaigning this morning and said there aren't many left here to reach. There was also something he wanted you to see.”

  The slight laughter in the way Elas spoke made Ashlynn suspicious. Her eyes narrowed. “Should I be afraid?”

  The amusement came through as a low chuckle. “Trust me, you're going to want to see this.” He fell into step beside her, his hand resting at the small of her back as he led her through the people, half a step ahead of her to make sure the way was clear as her guards followed closely behind. “How did you do?” he asked, eyes vigilant as they swept over the crowds they were passing through.

  “I think I did well. Of the seven lesser kingdoms in Siness, five agreed to stand with us. Two of them, Jaryn had already spoken to and found it amusing that I should come to them without communicating with my husband first.”

  “And the other two?”

  “One flat out refused,” grumbled Ashlynn. “King Maikah from Haatheil said he felt standing with us would put his people in danger. He had a convincing argument, which was quite annoying, let me tell you. Have you ever tried to argue with someone you knew was wrong but was so convinced they were right that their logic even sounded plausible to you?”

  Elas laughed again. “Is saying ' every time I talk to you' unfair?”

  She grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny.”

  “I'm learning.”

  They broke through the thickest part of the crowd. Elas led her to the steps of the grandstand, allowing Ashlynn up first before following behind. All of the men rose as she approached, sitting again only when she had found her seat between Jaryn and her father. “Five total,” she reported.

&nbs
p; Jaryn nodded. “That's a majority, which will help a great deal.”

  “Killian and Cailin have been rallying quiet support as well,” said Wessely. “I spoke with Killian only minutes ago and he said that lines are rather clear. Either people are for the Gaels and dragons or they are against them. The margin in between is thin.”

  “Which could work in our favor or against us.” Ashlynn frowned and watched the first athlete pick up the hammer without really seeing him. “Do you know if they were able to make any Ibayish connections?”

  Wessely shook his head. “Killian did not mention any, and I have yet to see Cailin.”

  Jaryn rested his hand on top of Ashlynn's. “There will be some time before the joust once these last two competitions end. We'll have time to rally the troops.”

  She smiled briefly and squeezed his hand, but said nothing. Nuala was sitting nearby, with Lucien and Lochlainn in chairs beside her, their attention on the field unbreakable. Elas and Kenayde sat behind her. When she glanced back at her sister, Kenayde reached a hand forward to squeeze her shoulder, an unspoken question as to how she was feeling. Ashlynn gave her sister a more genuine smile than she had her husband and bent her head to kiss her sister's hand. They had grown so much closer over the past few years. Kenayde no longer felt like her baby sister, but truly her very best friend. Facing the struggles of conceiving together had formed a tight bond between them, one Nuala shared as well at times when she lamented not being able to have her own child with Cavalon.

  “So, what was it you thought I should see so much that you sent Elas out into the wilds of the audience to fetch me?”

  Jaryn's serious expression turned into a wide grin. “Just wait for it.”

  Now that her curiosity was piqued, Ashlynn had a hard time simply sitting and waiting. Her eyes scanned the field before her, pausing momentarily on every face, looking at the various kilts to pick out which families she recognized and those with which she was less familiar. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.