Return of the Guardian-King (28 page)

Thus it took him a moment to realize her lips were not stiff and cold but soft and warm and pliant, and that her hand, though it rested trembling upon his chest, did not push him away. The shock of it rolled through him like a thunderclap, unloosing a rush of desire so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. Every inch of his skin felt as if it were ablaze, and by the time he pulled away from her—slowly, gently—he was trembling with the effort to control himself.

She stared up at him, lips quivering, eyes still wide and gleaming with moisture, hand still resting on his chest—a sharp, trembling warmth that fed the wildness in him. It so clouded his thoughts, he felt like a man on a drunken binge, though he’d had but a single glass of wine that night. Mindful of the abuses she’d suffered at the hands of her first husband, and alarmed by the swiftness with which his self-control was crumbling, he forced himself to step back from her and tried to get his mind to work again.

Then the tears that had been building on her lower lashes spilled down her cheeks. He stared at them stupidly. She had responded to his kiss. She had laid her hand on his chest and not pushed him away. Why was she weeping?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She reached up to wipe away the tears. “Everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No. I’m sure you don’t.” She shook her head, tears rolling from her eyes, then turned and fled up the stairs. He reeled in her wake, ears roaring, stomach wrenched into a knot of dismay.
What did I do? What don’t I understand?

At first he had no idea. Then the bitter realization swept over him: She’d not been
responding
to his kiss; she’d been shocked to immobility, horrified the swordmaster’s son would be so bold. Light’s grace! She’d asked him to divorce her moments before! Did he think she hadn’t meant it?

Well, I guess I know how she feels about me
. Gratitude, pity, a measure of respect. But not the love he’d hoped for. Never that. He was a swordmaster’s son, after all. Hardly worthy of being in her presence, much less . . .

The hall grew bright and whirled around him until he had to brace himself on the curved finial at the end of the stair’s railing to stay upright. He had not thought it possible to feel such pain without a physical wound.

When at last he was ready to function again, he went back out the west entrance, where a man immediately stepped from the shadows beside the door into his path and bowed.

“My lord duke.”

Trap frowned, embarrassed and irritated to think he and Carissa had been watched. The man wore the blue uniform of the Chesedhan military, but his accent was Kiriathan. He was of medium height, with straight dirty-blond hair, a mustache, and a pink scar that cut diagonally across his right eyebrow. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Do I know you, sir?”

“I am Captain Hanris Brookes, my lord. You knew me as Lieutenant Brookes. Second in command at Graymeer’s a few years back.”

“Ah yes. Under Commander Weston. You volunteered to serve in Chesedh, as I recall.”

“Yes, sir. Got a promotion for it, too.” He touched the silver bar on his chest and smiled briefly. “We’ve been attached to Prince—er, King Leyton’s company for the last year. Just got into town.”

“I see.”

“My lord . . .” He glanced right and left down the hall. “Might there be some place we could speak privately?”

Serving in her official capacity as a lady-in-waiting to the queen, Maddie sat in the second chair from Ronesca, between Lady Iolande and Lady Locasia. The ballroom was already warm, though they had thrown open all the doors along the filigreed arcade and a breeze now filtered through the wooden latticework.

As Ronesca was already engaged in conversation with the Baron of Bleveny, Maddie was happy to sit and observe both dancers and spectators. It did not escape her notice that there were no Kiriathans in attendance. Indeed, if the crown princess of that country and the former First Minister had been snubbed, no one else was going to receive an invitation. It irked her. Not least because it was so provincial and foolish. Kiriathans were right now dying to protect Chesedhan lands and homes. Abramm had helped these people repeatedly and given up much to do so.

But no, Ronesca had insisted when Maddie expressed these thoughts two weeks ago, Kiriathans were not to be trusted. . . . Just look at how they had behaved toward little Simon, as if he were their king already and the only one worthy of their allegiance. And this new rumor that Abramm had somehow survived his execution and would return to lead them in retaking their realm was even worse. Especially since every Kiriathan exile Ronesca knew was destitute. Where did they imagine the weapons and materiel to fight a war would come from? Did they think Abramm would bring that, as well? No, it was clear they hoped for Chesedhan aid, when Chesedh had all it could do to save itself.

Besides, Ronesca had insisted, Kiriath was doing nicely for itself since Abramm had been deposed—maybe not economically, but they had managed to keep the Esurhites at bay. What difference did it make which of them sat on the throne, so long as they didn’t make trouble for Chesedh?

Giving up on Ronesca, Maddie had tried to take her case to her brother, but he’d put her off until after the coronation—the guest list was Ronesca’s domain, and he was much too busy to trouble himself with such trifles.

Tonight Maddie surveyed the crowd and smiled to think of how all would change when Abramm arrived. She smiled at the recollection of his arms about her the night Abby had been born, and of the many balls she had danced with him in years past. Soon she would dance with him again, and revel in the jealous stares of her peers.

“You look lovely tonight, Your Highness,” said Lady Iolande. “That rose color suits your complexion magnificently, and I am positively astounded at the way you have regained your figure so swiftly. Must be all that riding you do.”

Maddie jerked from her reverie and turned to Iolande. “Actually, I’ve not been riding much lately. Just walking.”

“Well, you are stunning. And everyone has noticed. Especially Draek Tiris.” She leaned closer. “I believe they will be starting one of those Sorian pattern dances shortly. If you give him a wink, he might come and ask you to dance it with him.”

Maddie could not imagine ever, in all her life, winking at a man. Particularly not one so wise and sophisticated as Draek Tiris. Though he was indeed watching her from across the dance floor with those dark, bottomless eyes of his. Meeting his gaze sent a jolt of energy rushing through her that turned her blood to fire. As it burned hotly up her throat and face, she looked away, embarrassed and unnerved by the unexpected reaction.

It fled as swiftly as it had come, leaving her befuddled and uneasy, so that when young Duke Somebody-or-Other bowed before her and asked for the next dance, she turned him down a bit too abruptly. Hastening to cover her terseness with an apology, she explained that she hadn’t had so much excitement in weeks and it was taking its toll.

“Perhaps another time,” the duke suggested.

And she smiled gratefully. “I would count it an honor, sir.”

He stepped away and suddenly Tiris was there. “Perhaps you would prefer a walk around the arcade,” he said in his wonderful voice. “The night is clean and exceedingly pleasant. The fresh air will surely revive you.”

“Yes,” Iolande agreed. “I was just out there, and the weather is perfect. They’ve even got the fountain working properly.”

Maddie glanced through the open doors to the quadrangle outside, and sure enough the fountain’s jets were all arcing in perfect symmetry from its central fluted column.

Tiris dropped a bow and offered his arm. “May I have the privilege of escorting you, madam?”

Having spent the last six weeks trying to convince him she was not interested in being courted, she intended to say no. But before she could speak, Ronesca intruded. “Don’t even think of turning him down on my account, Madeleine. I want you to feel free to accept whatever invitations come your way. And you look a little pale. A walk would do you good.”

Tiris flashed his gorgeous white smile at the queen first and then at Maddie. When she accepted his invitation, his expression grew unabashedly triumphant. As he tucked her hand between his arm and side and walked her toward the nearest door, he murmured, “The queen, at least, seems to think I still have a chance with you.”

“I mean no offense, sir, but she lives in delusion.”

Outside, in the spacious courtyard that opened off the ballroom, the breeze had died to a gentle fillip and the night air hung mildly about them, redolent with the fragrance of the jasmine that draped the arcade. Kelistar garlands glittered amidst the white blooms, while larger orbs floated in the fountain at the rectangular court’s center.

They walked a round of the quadrangle in companionable silence, and Maddie felt the tension that had wound itself around her begin to dissipate. The air did clear her head, but so did the relative silence and the sense that she was no longer the center of attention. Finally they stopped where a railed balcony overlooked the waterpark and the South Pavilion, aglow beyond it.

She let go of his arm to rest her hands on the stone balustrade. Below, the palms that lined the promenade served as stanchions for the garlands of kelistars that looped along both sides of the walk. More garlands illumined the network of paths meandering amongst the waterpark’s streams and ponds, reflecting here and there off the water’s surface. “This is nice,” she said. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“It is my profound delight, Your Highness.”

She huffed softly. “You calling me Highness! I’m sure in your homeland, it would be quite the other way around, hmm?”

He smiled and shrugged. “We aren’t in my homeland, though, are we?”

She turned toward the view again and loosed a long, low sigh as she watched the river traffic glide up and down the gleaming Ankrill out beyond the park and crenellated wall, illumined by their deck lights.

“The view is lovely.”

“It certainly is.”

Something in his tone made her glance at him again. He’d turned his hip toward the railing and now gazed shamelessly at Maddie herself. Her face warmed and she turned back to her view. “It’s not polite to stare, Draek Tiris.”

“I’m not staring. I’m appreciating. You’re fairly glowing tonight, my lady. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more beautiful.”

Her cheeks grew positively hot. Feeling like a little girl wanting to hide behind her mother’s skirts, she forced a casual chuckle. “It must be all the dancing.”

“Mmm. I’m fair certain it’s not the company.” He turned to face the railing alongside her, so close his arm just brushed her own. “I’ve missed you these last six weeks,” he said soberly. “Was even beginning to think I’d done something to offend you. You don’t answer my notes, refuse all my invitations . . . and I’ve not even seen your lovely little Abrielle, though everyone says she’s beautiful. Blond and blue-eyed as her brothers.”

“I can’t believe you of all people don’t know why.”

“You speak of the rumor that you were reunited with your husband in some inexplicable way.”

She nodded, disliking how close his tone came to condescension. “I know no one believes me.”

“You were in great pain and duress that night—your delivery, your battle with that strange spore. . . .” Seeming to sense her rising annoyance, he trailed off. “I understand Ronesca still struggles with it. That it gives her blinding headaches and strange dreams. Dreams that become waking delusions.”

“Of which the most absurd is the idea that I’m going to marry some Chesedhan courtier before the summer’s out.”

“Are the rumors untrue, then?”

Maddie sighed. “The headaches are real. And the nightmares. It’s hard to say about the things she’s claimed to see at night.”

“Yet you suffered from the same spore—”

“And purged it. The Light was on me. It was real, Tiris. I was with him. And no matter how much you try to pick at it all, you’re not going to shake my confidence. I know what I know.”

Memory of her disastrous attempts to convince Trap—and Carissa—that she spoke the truth still filled her with dismay. Both had strongly rejected her claims from the moment she’d spoken them, and it had hurt. A lot. She’d expected them, of all people, to trust and believe her, yet they had been her most resolute skeptics. Trap had gotten so agitated the last time they’d spoken of it, he’d begged permission to retire from her presence and hadn’t brought the subject up since.

“So . . .” Tiris began tentatively. “The way it was told me, you believe he came through the Kolki Pass and has been delayed by the winter. Now that the snows are melting, you expect him to arrive at any time.”

“And now that I’ve admitted it all to you, you can tell the tale at your next salon gathering and have much amusement at my expense.”

“I would never laugh at you, Your Highness,” he said softly. He paused, thought a moment, then gave her a sly look. “But I might encourage others to do so, just to make them all look foolish when you are proven right.”

“I would prefer not to make anyone look foolish, Tiris. It only breeds ill will.”