“I… did my best,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t mean to make excuses, but I want you to know I
am
disappointed in myself. You always think you’re tough before you’ve been tested and that you’re too smart to be tricked.”
“Of what do you speak?”
Right, Amaranthe thought, get to the point. As Basilard said, cleaning a fish didn’t get any more pleasant for having put the task off.
“I resisted Pike, but Ms. Worgavic’s assistant had some Kyattese device that got into my head and… ” Amaranthe poked at some of the needles on the boughs beneath her. “I didn’t know how to thwart it. By now, Ms. Worgavic may know and perhaps all of Forge does. Pike certainly did.” She risked a glance at Sicarius.
He wasn’t giving much away, but she got the feeling that he wasn’t certain what she was talking about. He’d heard Pike, hadn’t he? The suggestion that Sespian had never been meant for the throne?
“They know Sespian is your son and not the rightful ruler of Turgonia,” Amaranthe said.
“Yes, I gathered that.”
“You
did
? I mean, I thought you should have, but you didn’t react. You didn’t… ” Amaranthe swallowed. “Aren’t you… angry with me?”
The long look Sicarius gave her reminded her of those she’d often received from the men upon announcing her crazy schemes, the ones where they wondered if her brain existed in the same world as theirs. “You are the one with the right to anger,” he said.
“Uhm?”
“You were captured because of me. You endured
torture
because you held my secrets. All along, your difficulties in achieving your goals—in earning your exoneration—have come because you’ve chosen to associate with me, because you’ve been trying to help me achieve my goal.” Sicarius picked up a branch and prodded at the fire. “In the beginning, I stayed because I thought you could help me with Sespian. Later, when you ceased to simply be a means to an end for me, I thought to leave because I knew I was making your journey more arduous, but I found myself unable to walk away. I… ”
Amaranthe had so rarely seen him uncertain about anything. She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his next words as he nudged one half-burned log closer to another.
“Though I have studied psychology and am familiar with the notion of love, it has always been an academic familiarity, not a personal experience. Perhaps because of this, your loyalty has perplexed me at times. I have not always… appreciated it as I should have. Or, more correctly, I have not always… demonstrated my appreciation of it. But I
have
appreciated it.”
Sicarius captured her gaze with his, and Amaranthe had to fight not to melt into a puddle in his lap. Easy, girl, she thought, he’s not declaring his love. In fact, she was pretty sure he’d just said he didn’t know how to feel love. But from him, appreciation was something, wasn’t it? Especially if he’d never
appreciated
anyone else… .
Sicarius seemed to notice he was fidgeting with the logs and laid down his poker. “I have on occasion admonished you for impulsive actions.”
“I’ve noticed,” Amaranthe said dryly, then wished she hadn’t said anything. He was speaking of feelings, for the first time
ever
, and she was rewarding him with irreverence. “I’ve deserved it,” she added in a more serious tone.
“My reaction, upon finding out that Forge was responsible for implanting Sespian with that device… ” Sicarius’s expression remained neutral, but he took a deep breath, as if struggling to calm himself in the face of the memory. “I had the impulsive thought that I could forgo playing Tiles with Forge in favor of destroying the organization all at once. Or, if that wasn’t possible, I wished to hurt them badly enough that they would consider going after Sespian too much of a risk.”
“I know. I don’t have any children, but I’m sure I would feel similar frustrations if I did. Perhaps not to the extent of, er,
slaying
people, but I can understand impatience and… ” Why couldn’t words ever come out in an intelligent, flowing manner when she spoke to him on important topics? Amaranthe sighed and scooted closer to lay a hand on his forearm. “I might be… distressed by some of your choices, and I don’t expect I’ll ever stop trying to convince you to use more humanitarian means, but I’m not angry with you, nor have these events changed how I feel about you.” There, that sounded halfway decent. Didn’t it?
Sicarius exhaled a long, slow breath, and Amaranthe wondered if he’d actually been concerned about that, about what she would think in the aftermath of Pike’s attention. She patted his arm and leaned against him.
“I may never understand why you value the lives of those who have declared themselves your enemies, but… ” Sicarius slipped an arm around her back and pulled her closer. “I
am
sorry that my choice resulted in pain for you.”
Amaranthe felt her eyes widen so far they were in danger of plopping out of her head and into his lap. He had
never
apologized to her. She’d never heard him apologize to
anyone
. From him, it was almost… better than a proclamation of love.
“Thank you.” Amaranthe leaned her head against Sicarius’s chest. “I’m sorry you had to endure Pike’s… cruelty as a boy. No one should have to deal with something like that, much less a child. He’s one enemy I’m relieved to see dead.”
Sicarius did not respond. If it had been someone else, she might have wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but she doubted he would relax that completely while out in the wilds. Or anywhere.
“Are you the one who gave him that scar?” Amaranthe asked.
“Yes.”
Ah, there he was. “The boy got old enough to decide what he would and would not endure?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
Amaranthe tilted her head to gaze up at his face. “You know… when you have a woman snuggled in your arms, that would be an appropriate time to open up and tell stories.”
“
Story-telling
is what a man is supposed to do when he has a woman in his arms?” Sicarius’s eyes glinted.
Heat scorched her cheeks. “Well, I… Uhm.”
Sicarius laid a hand on the side of her face, being careful not to touch any of her bruises. “You have enough horrors of your own in your head now. You don’t need to add mine.”
Amaranthe swallowed. “I was surprised that, after what you endured, you didn’t make Pike suffer more in the end.” She knew it was little of her, but she couldn’t help but feel that a “master interrogator” not only deserved death, but a painful one at that.
“After seeing what he did to you… it
did
occur to me to prolong his death.”
“And?”
“I did not think you would approve.”
“Oh.” Amaranthe didn’t know what else to say. Somehow he thought her a better person than she was. “I wouldn’t have begrudged you some degree of… comeuppance to avenge your past.”
“Actions taken in the present cannot change those received in the past. Hollowcrest was the master smith, forging my destiny. Pike was merely one of the many tools he employed.”
Amaranthe dropped her chin. It seemed strange that an assassin was giving her a morality lesson, but there it was. No, not morality—that had never been a concern for Sicarius—but practicality. A lesson in practicality and moving on with one’s life. She hoped she’d be able to put Pike behind her as effectively.
“Was anyone kind to you as a boy?” Amaranthe asked.
“That was not encouraged.” Sicarius used his hand to lift her chin again. He brushed his fingers across the skin of her forehead, as if to remove the furrow of disapproval there. “Not everyone was like Pike. Tutors came and went, so I wouldn’t form attachments, but most were tolerable.”
Tolerable. What an accolade.
Heaviness weighed upon Amaranthe’s eyelids, and keeping them open was a struggle. But she found herself reluctant to sleep, to miss the moment, the fact that Sicarius was stroking her face and, for once, answering her questions. What if his reserve returned in the morning?
“Amaranthe?” Sicarius asked softly.
She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them. Sicarius had lowered his hand, though he was still watching her.
“Yes?”
“I must speak to you of one more matter.”
“Oh?”
A twinge of concern ran through her body. Such a preamble could only signal bad news. Indeed, wariness had entered Sicarius’s eyes. “It is in regard to Sespian. And you.”
Amaranthe sat up, a jolt running through her body. Meddling ancestors, he wasn’t going to offer to step aside or some other nonsense, was he? She remembered that he’d seen them together on the dirigible, that brief second when she’d grabbed Sespian’s hand. He must think… Emperor’s warts, who ever knew
what
he thought? Now that he was finally showing her warmth and affection, she’d be burned at a funeral pyre before letting him disappear over some misunderstanding.
Amaranthe planted her hand on Sicarius’s chest, fingers splayed. “If this is about the dirigible, I wasn’t holding his hand out of any romantic notion. He’d brought up the fact that he might have a shortened lifespan because of that drug, and I was expressing sympathy, the same way I would if Books or Maldynado had that problem. Let’s be clear on the situation here. He’s a sweet kid, but nothing would happen between us even if you weren’t around.” Amaranthe, realizing she’d been rattling words off quickly, forced herself to slow down and take a deep breath before finishing. “I love
you
, Sicarius.” Odd how saying things like that to him made her feel more vulnerable than lying naked beneath Pike’s knife had. “You’re stuck with me,” she added doggedly.
“I had already decided that while I was coming to find you.”
Amaranthe watched him through her lashes, wary but hopeful as well. “That… you’re stuck with me?”
Sicarius’s eyes were half-lidded as he gazed back at her. “That I was unwilling to let someone else have you.”
The blunt statement sent a little shiver through her. The words, “It’s about time,” floated through the back of her mind, but the intensity of Sicarius’s eyes squashed any inklings of flippancy. “All right,” she whispered.
“When you have recovered, and you are ready, come to me. I’ll be waiting.”
Amaranthe didn’t move a muscle, but her heart was beating against her ribs so hard Sicarius must’ve felt it. She wasn’t sure if he’d made a request or issued an order, and she didn’t care. She was suddenly hyper aware of his body next to hers, the honed steel of his torso, the fact that she was almost in his lap. Her body had to be crazy to respond this way, after all it had endured. She doubted Sicarius would accept an entreaty then, even if she made one, but it was with the squeaky hoarseness of a titillated teenager that she uttered another, “All right.”
Sicarius brushed the backs of his fingers along her jaw, and his gaze drifted to her lips. Amaranthe held her breath. A kiss? Was that what he had in mind? A little promise that there’d be more later? Yes, after the pain of the last week, it’d be nice to experience something pleasant. More than pleasant, she thought, cheeks flushing anew at the memory of the single kiss they’d shared in the Imperial Gardens that summer. She parted her lips, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes.
“You should sleep,” Sicarius said abruptly.
“Huh?”
He removed his arm and slid away from her, leaving Amaranthe alone on the hard, poky boughs. He tossed a few branches onto the fire. “I will stand watch.”
Before she could object, he disappeared through the cave opening.
“
Sleep
?” Amaranthe said, not caring if he overheard. Though she might have been weary a few minutes ago, sleep was the last thing on her mind now. She swatted at one of the roots dangling from the ceiling. “How am I supposed to
sleep
when you took my pillow? Impossible man.”
Only the drone of cicadas answered her. Amaranthe flopped onto her back on the boughs.
At least he’d offered something more definite than the “later” on the dirigible. Once she’d healed and they’d finished the mission—or at least made sure the others were safe—she’d pounce on him. And she’d make sure she kept him too busy to think of fleeing the cave. No, not a cave, she decided. The baths perhaps. A
private
bath overflowing with bubbles. Or maybe the training ring after a particularly sweat-inspiring workout, one that encouraged the removal of shirts. Yes, she liked that idea.
When Amaranthe finally dozed off, she slept well, the nightmares of the previous nights replaced by more pleasant, if rather erotic, scenarios.
B
rynia tried to seduce Maldynado three more times on the way to the wheelhouse. Had it not been for his current interest in Yara, he might have propelled the woman into a closet and given her what she was asking for. She
was
a beauty after all. But what she was asking for probably involved distracting him long enough to yank out his knife and stick it in his belly.
Raindrops splashed onto the damp deck and pattered onto Maldynado’s reclaimed hat. Though he should have appreciated the warmer climate, Maldynado found himself homesick for his haunts back in Stumps. He wondered if the first snow had fallen yet and if Yara would find it romantic to stroll along the canal on Third Avenue, listening to music flowing from the numerous waterfront hotels, dance halls, and drinking houses.
“You don’t really want to take me to see that boy, do you?” Brynia purred.
Maldynado chastised himself for letting his mind wander. The woman might have wriggled free and escaped again right there. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re hesitating.”
“I was thinking.” Maldynado pushed her toward the stairs leading to the rooftop and the wheelhouse.
“I was given to understand that you didn’t do that much.”
“Good.” He hoped she’d been flummoxed when he hadn’t walked into her trap. “Why’d you kill my sister-in-law anyway?” Maldynado threw it out there casually, hoping he might startle a response out of her.
“Why,
I
didn’t, my lord.
You
did.”
Maldynado halted. “What?”