I awoke sometime during the night feeling as if I’d slept an hour, maybe two. Henry’s loud breathing was on the verge of snoring but not quite there. I carefully freed my legs from the sheets and brought my feet over the bed. By the time I neared the door, Henry’s breathing hadn’t changed.
I spent a full minute just turning the doorknob, opening the door, stepping through, and closing it behind me. Then I hurried across the cold stone hallway, feeling like a mouse out of his hole as my bare feet pattered along the cold floor.
Shara had left her door unlocked for me. My stomach felt light with nervous excitement as I climbed into bed beside her. I put my arm over her, gently placing my hand on her stomach and moving in to close the distance between us.
“Mmm.” Shara stirred. “Neeko?”
“Yes.”
She put her hand on top of mine. “I wish we could just fall asleep like this and not have to worry about Swenn.”
“Me, too.”
She patted my arm and sat up. “But it’s time to plot.”
I came up with her. Suddenly it was no longer a question of whether I would kiss her but when. Her voice and her scent…my heart beat as though I’d sprinted across the castle to get to her room.
“I’ve been thinking that—”
I interrupted her with a soft kiss to her cheek, holding my lips there and cupping the other side of her face with my hand. I could hear her swallow air as I finished the kiss. She turned to face me.
“Are you thanking me for something?”
“No.” I leaned toward her lips.
She froze, giving me no sign whether she would kiss me back. I paused when my lips couldn’t get any closer without touching hers, giving her a chance to say something, to do something. Her mouth opened slightly, welcoming me.
A feeling of utmost satisfaction—warm and chilling at the same time—came over me as our lips met. The second kiss followed instantly, then a third, then a fourth, our passion igniting. I laid her flat and hovered over her. She took my face in her hands as we shared another flurry of kisses.
Suddenly, she let go of my face and put her hands against my chest. “Wait, Neeko, wait, wait, wait.”
Shame rushed over my entire body. I buried my face in my pillow. “I thought you might feel the same way.”
“I, but I…wait, just wait, Neeko.” I heard the sheets rustle as she turned toward me. I dislodged my face from the pillow just enough to squint at her with one eye. Her beauty only amplified my pain.
“Should we just pretend that didn’t happen?” I asked.
“No.”
So she was going to make this even more difficult.
“Help me understand something,” she said. “Why tonight out of all the time we’ve spent together? Are you itching for an intimate romp and thought, hey, Shara might be interested?”
Oh gods, that was the impression I gave? Panic moved my arm on its own, grabbing her hand.
“No, Shara. Definitely not.”
“Then what? Because I…” She squeezed my hand back. “I’m not sure if you’re aware how easily you could hurt me. I feel as fragile as Laney around you.”
“I would never hurt you.”
She moved her hand up my arm. “Did I change your mind somehow?”
“Change my mind? No. I’ve felt this way for a long time.”
“You…you have?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
We were silent for a while.
“I had no idea,” she said. “Then why wait until now to show me?”
“I suppose it’s because I’m finally in the right place—I’ve finally given myself the chance to feel it. Right here, right now, you and me. It’s just…right. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t hold it in any longer.”
She smiled. I brushed the hair away from her forehead, running my nails lightly down her temple. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“You are incomparably beautiful.”
Her eyes popped open and her smile faded. “I’m sure
that’s
not an exaggeration,” she said with heavy sarcasm.
“How can you not see your own beauty?”
She chuckled and burst into rhyme. “Oh, why don’t I start at the top?” She pointed. “My hair is tangled and looks like a mop. My face is certainly not blessed. My grandmother deserves no thanks for my chest. The coarseness of my hands makes me stressed. And have you even seen how I’m often dressed? My—”
I stopped her with a hand to her cheek. “You’re perfect.”
“No, Neeko, that’s you.”
I sputtered out air to show what I thought of that.
“How can you not see your own beauty?” she mocked me with a low voice.
I kissed her, a long, slow kiss.
The moment I parted, I noticed her longing glance. The rest of the world disappeared as I leaned back down and she took my face in her hands.
“Do you know why you’re perfect?” I asked, our noses rubbing.
“Tell me.”
“Because you’re you. All of those
faults
you described are just who you are. And they aren’t faults to me.”
“Something is wrong with you to think they aren’t faults.”
“Maybe. But I don’t care.”
She gave one quick laugh. I leaned in and we settled into a dance of our lips.
When I finally drew back, she didn’t have the same longing look as before. Her eyes showed pain.
“I hate to say it, but this isn’t what we should be doing right now.” She reached up to play with my hair.
“Right. Let’s discuss Swenn.” I sat up.
She did as well but then threw her arms around my neck and pressed her mouth against mine again. Our lips moved in a steady rhythm, speeding up as our fingers entwined. My body started to burn. I could feel the same passion in Shara as her chest heaved with each labored breath.
Soon she was taking off my shirt. She locked her lips back on mine and stroked her hands from my chest down to my waist. I reached for the straps of her nightgown, but she put her hand on top of mine to still it and then pulled away.
“I’ll take the blame for that,” she said, “but I’m also taking the responsibility to stop us.”
“Swenn…right.”
Her lips pursed as her heated gaze roamed my body.
“Either you need to put your shirt on or I need to look away.”
She didn’t look away.
I laughed and took her in my arms, spooning her as I had so many nights before. But I felt closer to her this time, like I didn’t need to speak for her to understand my thoughts, the tight hold of my arm telling her everything I wanted her to know.
“Before I forget,” Shara said, “as soon as I can trade in one of my dalions for a hundred silver, I’ll give you the four I owe you.”
“I don’t care about four silver. Keep them.”
“I was looking forward to paying you back.” She ran her nails along my arm. I could never tire of the sensation it created. “It’s an excuse to kiss your check as thanks for lending me the money.”
“You don’t need an excuse anymore.”
She rolled over to face me, my arm still around her. We were so close, I could feel each of her warm yet gentle exhales. It took all of my willpower not to kiss her.
“We really should talk about Swenn,” she whispered.
“We should.”
Her gaze shifted to my lips. I stared at hers. “I can’t even think about him right now,” I admitted.
“You should’ve waited until after to kiss me.”
“I should’ve.”
We fell silent, my mind keeping Swenn out. A whole lot of anger awaited the moment I had to consider what to do about him and I just couldn’t put myself there, not right now.
Apparently Shara couldn’t, either. We just stared, yearning but not acting.
“We could always talk about him later,” she suggested, a wry grin forming.
I felt the hair on my arms stand up. We shared a quick peck. It forced my mouth into a smile. We shared another, then I shifted on top of her as we kissed.
She pulled away. “Wait, listen.”
Then I heard it as well. Someone was trying to get through the locked door.
“Damn!” I whispered with fury as I heard a key being inserted.
Soon, Henry—shirtless, gigantic Henry—stood in the room with his arms folded,
tsking
me with clicks of his tongue.
“Go away,” Shara tried. Of course it didn’t work. Henry walked to our bed and got in, the mattress undulating violently with his movement.
Shara and I sat up, glaring at him. He put his arms behind his head, a relaxed look on his face.
“Come here,” Shara said, pulling me with her to the other side of the bed where she turned and faced me. “If we whisper, we can still speak without him hearing.”
But Henry scooted over, the bed shaking noisily until he settled just beside me, his arm uncomfortably against mine.
Shara put her hands around my ear and whispered so quietly I barely could hear her. “Just speak like this.”
I nodded. Henry sighed and sat up. He grabbed my arm and started to pull me away from Shara.
“What are you doing?” A pointless question. I was already back past the center of the bed.
Henry rolled over me, forcing the air out of my lungs along with a loud grunt. He made himself comfortable between us, fluffing his pillow and then putting his arms behind his head again, his bare armpits in our faces.
I scoffed. “Damn, Henry!”
He pushed out a fart as if in reply.
Shara really scoffed.
We lay there for what felt like an hour, Henry soon falling asleep while Shara and I listened to each other rustling on opposite sides of the bed. Eventually I heard her get up.
“Shara?” I sat up.
“Push him over here.” She grabbed Henry’s arm and started to pull. I pushed him from the other side, unsure what she was doing but trusting her judgment.
He awoke with a snort, his battle reflexes kicking in as he grabbed our arms.
“Ow!” Shara squealed. It hurt me as well. “Let go.”
He unlocked his grip and appeared startled.
“I can’t sleep,” Shara told him. “We won’t whisper, so please just let Neeko lie beside me.”
Henry whistled.
“Yes.”
Shara came around to my side of the bed. I happily put my arm around her. She kissed my hand and then let out a relieved breath.
Soon her shoulders twitched, sleep taking her. I fell into a sound slumber right after.
Breakfast the next morning was the worst meal I’d ever experienced, but not because of the food. We had hot soup with bits of chicken, yet I could’ve been eating a cut of the finest steak and still wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it, not with the constant harassment.
People I’d never met shoved my back as I was about to put a spoonful of broth in my mouth, causing it to spill. They kicked my chair, called me a no good thief, and laughed to each other. I almost lost my temper when one person crossed behind Shara and muttered, “And look at the ugly hag with him.”
I stood, ready to fight him if that’s what unfolded after I said nasty things about his mother.
Shara grabbed my arm. “It’s not worth it.”
We both ate as quickly as we could, but hot soup wasn’t the easiest meal to devour. Falister sat down in front of me. I gritted my teeth as I expected the cruelest harassment yet from the king’s squire.
“I heard what you are.” Falister spoke quietly.
“I’m not.”
His confused expression confused me in turn. “You’re not?”
“No.”
Falister glanced around. “No one can hear us. You can tell me the truth.”
“I’m not a thief.”
“He’s not,” Shara echoed.
“A thief? Of course not. King Quince wouldn’t recruit a thief. He told me you’re a pyforial mage.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
“I didn’t know there were pyforial mages who weren’t dangerous, and I didn’t know that you saved the king from another pyforial mage. I’m sorry for the earlier judgment.”
I was confused, honored, and speechless. Falister reached across the table for a handshake, which I gave, still half expecting this to be some deceitful act, its overall purpose just to demean me.
But no, he smiled and that was it. I looked to Shara. She shrugged.
So Falister wasn’t told the same terrible lies as everyone else. Was it because he was close with the king and Swenn knew not to let these rumors get to Quince?
Henry finished his third bowl of soup and stood, pushing out his chair with the back of his knees. He pointed at me, then to his eyes. With just one look over his shoulder, he strode out of the great hall, probably to see Swenn.
“I have to go,” I told Shara, slurping down the rest of my soup.
“Where?”
I lowered my voice. “I need to train to lift myself with py while Henry isn’t watching me. Eventually I’ll be good enough to get into Swenn’s room through the balcony.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
She didn’t need to know I was going to see if I could make it onto his balcony this morning. She would just worry, and I already was worried enough for the both of us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The northern inner courtyard was empty. I would be here again after lunch, training with Jaymes Jorgan, yet I dearly hoped no one would come before then.
I felt a surge of joy when I got on the bed of py with my first attempt. Even better, I could hold myself without too much strain. I found it interesting how some skills tended to improve between practicing, not always during. Manipulating pyforial energy had always been that way for me.
I let the energy dissipate, catching myself with my hands.
Now for the next step
. It was time to see what rising into the air was like.
I positioned myself where I figured I’d be practicing until lunch, almost directly beneath Swenn’s balcony. It was just about high enough where a fall from there certainly would break bones but probably not kill me. I made the bed of py, the phrase “deathbed” not lost on me, and got myself onto it, my arms and legs spread to distribute my weight.
I figured I could hold myself for about a minute, but that was just supporting my weight. I still had to lift my body into the air. I tried to ignore the worry that I would have no idea whether someone was watching me, for I couldn’t exactly look around while lying flat against the energy.
I willed the energy straight up. A childlike laugh burst out of me as I shot into the air with tremendous speed, my stomach fluttery.