Kelleah found me next. She arrived so hard on the heels of Dafne and Nakoa’s departure that I suspected she’d been discreetly lurking nearby.
“Your Highness,” she called by way of greeting, striding up purposefully. She moved with the vitality of a woman with many things to do, but in a soft, almost dancing way. Her colorful dress swirled around her earth-mother’s body, all of her bouncing with each step—and it made me smile just to see her.
She opened her arms to embrace me, so I stood, letting her enfold me. Kelleah’s hugs aren’t perfunctory—she holds onto you for a while, her abundant affection suffused with healing energy, even when she’s not actively healing you—so I relaxed against her ample bosom, enjoying being held. It felt like being mothered, except I didn’t much remember what that felt like. “You’re tired,” she murmured, stroking my hair.
I huffed out a sigh. “I’m beginning to think that’s my name, everyone keeps saying that to me.”
She laughed, finally releasing me and sitting, but keeping my hand in hers, a steady trickle of vitality flowing from her and filling all my empty places. “I won’t tell you not to do all that you’re doing—I’m sure you have plenty of people to tell you that, and we all know we’re depending on you to do those things—but do keep in mind that you’re only mortal. I can also tell you that the pregnancy is going well, but I know that you’re sorceress enough to monitor that yourself. So why did you want to see me?”
Abruptly I realized I had no idea what to say. My original plan of getting Kelleah to intervene with Rayfe no longer applied. Knowing that Rayfe was compromised by the enemy—and not just being difficult, or moody, or overprotective—changed everything. “I promised Rayfe I’d have you check on me is all.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Old crusty Vanka has been bending his ear with her caterwauling about sequestration?”
Despite everything, I laughed, some of the tightness around my heart loosening. “Of course. I think Rayfe would’ve packed me off up the coast by now if I weren’t needed here.” Or would he—how much of that was him and how much of it the high priestess trying to get me away from the cliff city?
“Vile custom.” She snorted disdainfully. “I look to you to set a new fashion among the Tala women. Sending them off to live in caves where they have nothing better to do than brood and worry serves no one. Except maybe letting the fathers off the anxiety hook. I hope you and Rayfe will set a new example there, too.”
“I’ll do my best,” I replied, thinking it doubtful any of the Tala would follow my lead, presuming that I—and Annfwn itself—survived the war.
She didn’t miss that I didn’t include Rayfe in my reply. “Is our king being difficult?” she asked in a gentle voice, peering at me knowingly.
I nodded, not trusting myself to reply. She’d know if I lied to her.
Kelleah narrowed her gaze. “Specifics, please. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”
Oh, wonderful. As if I hadn’t confessed this painful information enough. “He moved out of our bed,” I said, hoping that would be enough for her to chew on.
“Ah.” Kelleah squeezed my hand, comforting and earnest, then shook her head. “Men. I’ll talk to him, all right?”
“Thank you,” I said, suffusing the connection between us with my gratitude. I doubted Kelleah could do much against the high priestess’s grip on Rayfe, but I appreciated her willingness to try. “I love him so much,” I added, impulsively, and quite before I’d formed the thought to say so.
She put her other hand on top of mine, holding my hand in both of hers, warm green gaze steady on mine. “Of course you do. And he loves you. The love between you two will be the stuff of legends. I believe in that.”
Though I was too choked up to say so, I could only hope that would be true. And that the legend wouldn’t be a tragic one.
I sat there only a few moments after Kelleah left before Zynda arrived, Shaman with her. Belatedly hopping to my feet, surprised enough to be awkward, I inclined my head in formal welcome. “Shaman. How blessed am I that you came to me.”
He grunted in agreement, eyeing me askance, his Tala blue eyes almost black from performing the rites of Moranu. Without access to the Heart, Shaman and his fellows used other ways to amplify and focus magic—methods that also bleached their hair white. Among a wild people, Shaman and his fellows were the wildest. They scorned human vanity, excising the habits of childhood, so they never bothered with niceties like unsnarling hair or manifesting with clean garments when returning to human form.
I’d met him first on the blood-soaked battlefield below Windroven when he married me to Rayfe. Now, as then, the full moon silver disc of his office rested at his collarbone, and the Sword of Moranu rode at his side. He wore loosely connected strips of fur for clothing and his white hair fell in knotted ropes around his shoulders, braided with carved stones significant to Moranu, along with teeth, claws, scales, and feathers. All of it was emblematic of the rites of Moranu where Shaman and the others cut off parts of their animal selves, wearing them as totems on their human forms.
The first time Rayfe had explained this particular Tala cult, I’d been horrified. I’d always been drawn to Moranu’s quiet darkness—never fond of the pink sweetness of Glorianna or the harsh taskmistress that was Danu—but this savage aspect of the moon goddess had repelled me.
Somewhere, deep in my mind, Moranu growled in quiet disappointment. Naturally the many-faced goddess wouldn’t care for me embracing only the aspects of Her that I found comfortable.
“So, Salena’s daughter comes crawling for advice,” Shaman muttered, almost to himself. “The end times must indeed be nigh.”
I looked down at my feet solidly on the stones of the terrace, making a show of it, then folded my hands and lifted my chin regally, very glad that I wore my crown and my mother’s rubies. “You have been long out of polite society, Shaman,” I replied coolly, “if you’ve forgotten what crawling looks like.”
He grunted again, which could’ve been a laugh, then eyed Zynda. “Go away.”
Unoffended, Zynda smiled broadly, then gave me an elaborate curtsey, clearly just to annoy Shaman. “I’m off to deliver a message,” she told me, and I knew she meant to the Hákyrling. “You know how to reach me.”
She became a hummingbird, flew up into the sky, then exploded into dragon shape. Magic oscillated as she changed mass so hugely and so rapidly, ripples flowing outward. Landing on the beach below, she waited briefly as Marskal climbed on to her back, then took off again.
Shaman was eyeing the scene with a mixture of pride and sourness. “Never enough humility, that one.”
I raised one eyebrow. “I suppose the teacher must possess the quality to pass it along.”
“Not true,” he countered, “but well played. So, Salena’s clever daughter, you want me to interpret Moranu’s will for you?”
Covering my surprise, I sat and poured myself tea. “Did Zynda say so?”
He sat and helped himself to my cup of tea, draining it. “She didn’t have to. I already know that you’re not listening to Moranu.”
“I listen,” I replied, a bit stung. Nisia approached, ready to fetch more tea, but I waved her off.
“You don’t know how to listen,” he retorted. “Not your fault, raised among mossbacks like that.”
“I’m so relieved to hear that.”
“You have your mother’s spine, that’s certain. Don’t make her mistakes. Salena tried to handle everything on her own.”
Seemed like I’d been hearing that a lot. “All right.” When he didn’t say more, I asked.
“What does the voice of a goddess in my mind sound like?”
“Like your own conscience.”
“That’s hardly helpful.”
Shrugging elaborately, he grinned with feral teeth. “You want helpful, go be an acolyte of Glorianna.”
I reined in my temper and tried another tack. “What is Moranu saying that I’m not hearing?”
He grunted, this time a sound of approval perhaps, as he toyed with a desiccated fox paw dangling from his shoulder. “All deities require sacrifice.”
“Moranu wants me to shift into fox form and cut off a paw?”
Shaman didn’t appreciate my sarcasm. “Moranu wants nothing, you stupid girl. The goddesses don’t have desires the way mortals do. We must make sacrifices to communicate with the goddess. It’s our failing, not Hers. We must create a wound in order to open a portal, to reach through to Them.”
A chill crawled up the back of my neck. That sounded very like how I’d described the way Deyrr’s magic accessed our minds.
Shaman nodded, as if reading the thought. “You’re going to need Moranu’s help, and she can’t do that if you lock Her out. Offer the sacrifice and She can come into you, show you the way.”
“How do I know what sacrifice to offer?” I was proud of myself that I asked the question evenly, without quaver.
“Your firstborn child is the traditional choice,” he answered, not entirely without compassion. “Fortunately, you seem to have one to offer.”
I froze, simultaneously on fire and frozen. “I’m not killing my son for Moranu.” I hissed the words, feeling the lion’s claws rise to the surface.
He laughed, stoking my outrage and fury. Magic gathered around me, stirring my hair, and he met it with a dark, blood magic of his own. Leaning forward, completely unafraid, a fetid, animal odor wafting from him, he bared his teeth at me. Fangs, all of them. “Moranu doesn’t want your son’s death. There are plenty of dead. She wants his life.”
“I don’t understand what—”
“Figure it out, Salena’s daughter, but do it fast. And stop prancing around the sunlit edges of who you are. Moranu is the many-faced goddess.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Seems to me you’re trying to pick and choose. If you want the power that is your birthright as avatar of Moranu, you must embrace all of Her, every face—not just the pretty bits.” He stood. “Good tea.”
And he vanished. Apparently.
Able to track the magic of his movements, I followed the tiny gnat he’d become as he zipped away. A nicely dramatic trick, though not one I cared to emulate, even if I could shift into something that tiny.
Needing to sort my thoughts, I went to the railing, leaning over it to survey the sights as I also cast my mind over the cliff city and beyond, letting habit guide my mental patrol. All seemed peaceful, with no intruders tripping the various snares I’d laid to alert me.
The harbor teemed with busy action, supplies going out to ships, people and animals climbing the rigging to perform various checks. The level of activity had increased, a sure sign that Ursula was implementing her initial steps to escalate our preparedness.
Farther out, several ships engaged in a mock battle, charging at each other and wheeling away. Tala wizards must be working with them, judging by the puffs of magical colors sparkling into the sky. I leaned farther over the balustrade, observing the guards at the base of the cliff face, ready to barricade the entry to the tunnels below and access to the city above, should we be attacked.
How were they keeping Rayfe occupied? I desperately wished I could discuss Shaman’s advice with him, but even if that wouldn’t be feeding critical information to Deyrr, I wouldn’t have been able to talk to Rayfe about our unborn child, and certainly not in terms of sacrificing him to Moranu.
There are plenty of dead. She wants his life. What did that mean? I’d always known that any child of mine and Rayfe’s would be born to a life of duty, as heir to Annfwn. It wasn’t something I wished for them—and nothing I could save them from, not unless I walked away from my own duties and obligations. Would a life of allegiance to Moranu be that much worse?
Maybe.
Most of all, it didn’t feel like my choice to make—and yet, I might have to. I seemed backed into a corner at every turn, forced to stack up the value of the people I loved against the fate of an entire world. Perhaps Uorsin and Salena had been the smart ones, to isolate themselves from everyone. A sobering thought.
No matter what, however, I was determined to avoid Rayfe until I departed for the Heart in a few hours. I certainly couldn’t tell him where I’d be, lest the high priestess discover our plan or track me to the Heart’s location. I also didn’t want to outright lie to him or deceive him in any way—more than I already had.
I wouldn’t be able to keep Rayfe in the dark forever, and there would be no getting around how angry he’d be with me, but if I could at least plead lack of opportunity to tell him, that would be a mitigating factor for my side of the inevitable argument.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that I seemed to be forever thrown between longing for Rayfe and violently avoiding him.
Brooding was getting me nowhere, so I went to find Ursula. She was busy with Harlan, devising a strategy for engaging the Dasnarian navy and planning defenses against any attacks. Harlan confirmed that they’d arranged with Meg, along with Zyr and Karyn’s squadron of guards, to relocate the children yet again. It was a risky move—if Rayfe found out, the high priestess might know we were onto her. But it was a much greater risk to leave the children vulnerable to her.
Rayfe was training with Tala warrior groups, in the company of several of Ursula’s most trusted Hawks. They knew to keep him focused on that, and to notify Harlan of any trouble. Theoretically, the high priestess couldn’t learn much there that she didn’t already know.
Zynda and Marskal had indeed flown to take a missive to the Hákyrling, telling them to start pulling our ships back from the barrier once Nakoa’s storm began. He’d start the covering rainfall at sunset, gradually intensifying the storm as midnight approached. By the time I moved the barrier and incited the magical aftereffects, they should be largely disguised by the tempest.
“I told Jepp to be prepared for your mental contact,” Ursula added, frowning at a map Harlan handed her.
“Excuse me?” I replied, a bit sharply, because she looked up.
“As we discussed,” she said, setting the map down. “You said you could go into someone else’s mind and speak to them.”
“Yes, but we discussed asking permission.”
She waved that off and picked up the map again. “Jepp is an excellent scout and a disciplined warrior. This is a critical link in our communication. She may not be officially a Hawk any longer, but she’ll do as I ask.”
“As you command, you mean.”
She made a note on the map, then handed it back to Harlan, who studiously examined it, pretending he didn’t hear us. Ursula steepled her fingers and leaned her chin on them. “What’s the problem, Andi?”
“You don’t order someone to allow their mind to be invaded by another person, Essla,” I ground out. “That’s an invasion of the most intimate privacy there is.”
“You’ve done it before,” she pointed out.
“With my husband, and with permission.” As I said it, I felt my moral high ground crumbling.
“Even this morning?” She showed no remorse, sliding her argument through the chinks in my armor, neatly skewering me.
“You know that was different.”
She nodded. “I do know that, because this is war and we’re fighting an enemy with no such scruples. If we want to win—or escape this scenario with something less than utter defeat—then we must abandon some of the niceties.”
Ursula’s words uncannily echoed Shaman’s. You must embrace all of Her, all the faces—not just the pretty bits. “I like Jepp,” I said, realizing that the comment would sound random.
But Ursula seemed to understand. “I like Jepp, too. She has a clear head and good boundaries. She can handle this, Andi. That’s one reason I chose her. Let her be good at her job.”
I nodded, too, but vaguely. “This is a line I thought I’d never cross.”
“I know. Blame me, if you need to. That’s my job—to push you all to your limits, and beyond. It’s necessary, Andi.”
“I know.” But did I? “I’m going to the breakwater for a while. Let me know what Jepp says.”
“She’ll say yes,” Ursula replied crisply, giving me a level look. “Make contact with her when you’re ready.”
I spent the next few hours on the breakwater, tracking futures until my head ached. Then I switched to looking through the eyes of northern Tala, verifying my landmark for the new barrier position. Then I returned to my lonely bedroom, changed out of my fancy dress, jewelry and crown, and napped for a few hours to build up my strength.
When I emerged—after first checking to make sure Rayfe hadn’t returned to our rooms—I went to the window to do my habitual scan that all remained well. I still had time to spare. Traveling to the Heart of Annfwn requires very little preparation. Part of why this last remaining font of magic has remained so well hidden all these centuries—except, perhaps, from clever but discreet librarians who understand geometry—is because it’s deceptively simple to access.
As long as you’re a shapeshifter capable of taking multiple different forms over a short space of time.
Also, I didn’t have to be there precisely at midnight. There’s no particular magic to the stroke of midnight, no matter what the stories say. It’s just that Moranu’s power waxes greatest at the farthest point from her sister goddesses. Just as Danu is strongest at the bright light of high noon, and as Glorianna holds sway at the twin cusps of day and night, Moranu belongs to the darkness and shadows.
If I had time for it, the ultimate time for any sorcery would be in the middle of the night during the fullest of the new moon. But a new moon, like the full moon, occurred once a month—and that wasn’t now. Also, though the new moon, again like the full moon, truly lasts about seventy-two hours, having the exact peak occur in the middle of the night is even more rare. The Tala shamans and wizards chart that assiduously for their rites.
One advantage, at least, of inheriting my mother’s sorcery and having access to the Heart, was that I didn’t need the magical boost the others did. It would be nice, but it would also be nice if the high priestess drowned herself in the sea.
So, I figured on getting to the Heart a couple of hours before midnight, which meant leaving an hour before that. I considered leaving even earlier, but the Heart could feel like a prison, a sealed bubble that trapped me away from the world.
Which is why I tried not to contemplate the last resort solution too long. An eternity in that… I shuddered and pushed the thought away.
“Andromeda.” Rayfe’s voice behind me almost made me jump out of my skin. I whirled, heart pounding furiously. “You’re still awake. You waited up for me. Thank you.”
He smiled at me, eyes lighting with affection and sensual promise, with that hint of a wicked edge to it that I’d always found so appealing. I risked a quick brush of his thoughts and detected nothing of Deyrr. That told me nothing, however, as I hadn’t sensed anything like that from him before either. The high priestess had been terribly clever in leaving little trace of her work.
Rayfe prowled toward me, the natural predator, sexual and gorgeous. I still wanted him, craved his touch—and I couldn’t let myself lower my guard. He might be himself for the moment, but for how long?
“Ah, no,” I made myself say. “I was just going out.”
Stopping a formal distance from me, his smile faded to something more tentative. “I thought we were going to talk.”
Oh, Moranu curse it, I’d forgotten where he’d mentally left our argument this morning. Because, of course, I’d wiped his memory of what came after. “I don’t have time right now. I have to go do some things,” I said, not quite able to meet his eye. “I only stopped by for a bit.”
“You have things that must be done in the middle of the night? You know you need adequate sleep, Andromeda. Now more than ever.”
“I also have tasks to take care of, now more than ever. I can sleep later.”
I started to slip past him, but he caught my arm. We stood there a moment, facing opposite directions, looking past each other, my arm caught in his gentle grip. All I had to do was turn and I could be in his arms, something I wanted—no, needed—with a physical ache.
And couldn’t afford.
“Are you avoiding me, Andromeda?” he asked quietly.
Yes. “No. I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to talk to me?”
I should say yes. I should cut him off and say I didn’t want to talk to him. I took a deep breath to say so… but I couldn’t hurt him. “Now’s not the time.”
“Then when?”
Moranu, I wished I knew the answer to that. This situation was simply unsustainable.
When I didn’t reply, he took a quiet, determined breath. “I know you’re angry with me, and I deserve that. This morning… I can’t account for my behavior.” A wealth of emotion made his voice uneven, ragged regret coming from him that I found it nearly impossible to resist. This was all him. I didn’t know how it worked, the high priestess’s influence and control, but surely she couldn’t guide every word and gesture. Her attention had gone elsewhere. But I still couldn’t speak to him honestly, because she almost certainly could read his memories when she returned to his mind.
“We both said angry things,” I replied. “No need to resurrect them. Let’s put it behind us.”
“I don’t want you thinking that I despise you.” He turned to face me, turning me with hands on my bare arms, stroking. The deep blue of his eyes caught the gold of the lamplight, like a harvest moon glinting off a tranquil sea. “I love you, but more than that—I admire you. You know that. How many times have I told you so? And I’ve always, always believed in you, even when you, yourself did not. Remember?”
“I remember.” My voice came out in a whisper.
“I told you in the very beginning that you could speak to me of your thoughts—and you’ve never shied from doing so. Even when I didn’t like what you said.” He tried a smile, but I couldn’t make myself return it. “Won’t you talk to me now? We’ve never not been able to talk things out.”
He sounded so humble, so hurt and bewildered, that I nearly caved. I’d have to give him something. Karyn had said she’d felt like she was losing her mind. What if Rayfe tore his own sanity apart, trying to reconcile the disparities between his own thoughts and what the high priestess put there? I’d have to forge some kind of truce between us until I could rid him of her taint. Ursula truly did not know what she asked of me in letting this horrible situation continue.
“I hate what’s happened to us,” I said, a tremble in my voice. “The distance… You hurt me.” That cursed distance that created an opening for the high priestess’s opportunism. Maybe if our marriage hadn’t been already broken and bleeding, she wouldn’t have been able to scavenge the bones to make her puppet.
Rayfe nodded. “It’s my fault. I know that. I’ve been…” He took a breath and set his jaw. “I’m so sorry, Andromeda,” he breathed, “that I said you were acting unhinged. You’re not, but I have been.”
“No…” I protested, but without vigor.
“I have no excuse. All I can say is that I love you so much.” He swallowed hard, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I know I haven’t been reasonable, but if I lost you, the world would turn to ash.”
“And our child…” He slid his hands down to my wrists, holding them out and dropping his gaze to my pregnant belly. Making himself look, but then his steely expression softened. “How can I love him so much already? All these feelings—I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t know I’d be so torn.”
I almost couldn’t speak through the tears rising to clog my own throat. “I understand,” I managed to say. “Zynda explained. I know it’s hard.”
He met my eyes again, a rueful half smile on his beautifully carved lips. “She explained that I’m an idiot?”
Now I did laugh a little. How I loved him. How I’d missed this. “Basically, yes.”
He sobered. “That excuses nothing, though. I let you down. I let you believe that I don’t want you, that I don’t want this.”
“No, I always knew that you want this,” I said, but the tears had spilled over and my heart ached like it might break in half. “It’s all right,” I managed to add.
Rayfe lifted his hands to my cheek, wiping the tears away. “It’s not all right. Not even close. But I want to make it up to you. Never, ever doubt how much I want you, my queen.”
He slowly closed the distance between us, brushing my lips with his. So sweet. So full of love, rich and full. I gasped a little at the sheer humming pleasure of his touch, of the returned flow of love I thought I might never feel from him again. He gathered me close, deepening the kiss, running his hands over me in exactly the way he knew I loved. And I arched against him, purring like a well-fed cat. He trailed kisses along my cheekbone, taking my earlobe in a light, teasing bite that sent a bolt of arousal straight down my spine, fountaining in my sex. My body knew his so well that I opened like a flower to him.
“Kelleah talked to me,” he murmured in my ear.
I made some inquiring humming noise, my mind whirling with desire that crowded out thought.
“She wasn’t afraid to tell me I’m an idiot. She said what you did—that it’s good for us to be together, that it won’t hurt the child.”
“What?” I opened my eyes, heavy lidded as his wickedly clever mouth worked its magic on my throat.
“It was wrong of me to move out of our bed, to abandon you like that,” he said huskily. “I was a coward. I can’t even explain what I was thinking. Tell me it’s not too late, that you can forgive me. That I can mend what I carelessly broke. Come to bed with me. Let me love you.”
“Oh, my wolf.” The sob caught in my throat, fortunately sounding like a groan of desire, not despair. A day ago, even this morning, I would’ve given most anything to hear those words from him. And now…
Now I had to say no. Wildly I sorted options. I could go to bed with him and sneak out later. I could move the barrier tomorrow night, or even in the morning. But no—too many messages had gone out, too many people awaiting the moment. Nakoa had been brewing his storm for hours. People could die if I didn’t come through on schedule. I could tell Rayfe the truth and hope that the high priestess… no. Too dangerous.
Especially for solely personal reasons. My duty to my people, to everyone, was far more important than my love life. I had to do this, but what could I tell him? I needed to make some excuse. Go and come back.
But he’d know the moment I moved the barrier—and that I’d deliberately withheld my plan from him—and I’d lose him forever. Any softening of his heart now would only make my apparent betrayal wound more deeply.
Rayfe slid the narrow shoulder of my shift down my arm, following with his mouth until he reached the upper curve of my breast. I shivered at the hot caress of his lips and tongue, my nipple peaked with anticipation. I threaded my fingers through his long, silky hair, holding on, savoring the scent and feel of him. I could… I could lose myself to this. Sate our mutual desire and reforge the connection between us. It wouldn’t necessarily take long. And then I could use mind magic to put him to sleep while I—
While I violated his trust yet again. He wouldn’t know it yet, but I’d have to confess someday. And he’d still know that I’d moved the barrier and kept the plan from him.
“Andromeda?” He lifted his head, looking at my face. I’d hesitated too long. “What’s wrong? Come to bed.”
“I can’t.” The words wrenched out of me, staggering in their regret. Silently I begged him to understand. To give me one more chance. Moranu, please, don’t make this be my last chance.
His winged brows drew together. “Surely whatever you need to do can wait until morning. We’ve been slaves to this war. Let’s take an hour for ourselves. To enjoy each other, to remind ourselves what we’re even fighting for.”
“I wish I could,” I said fervently, meaning those words more than I’d ever meant them in my life. I took his hands in mine, extracting myself from his embrace. “Rayfe—I want nothing more than to be with you right now. And forever. I love you with everything in me. But, I swear to Moranu, there is something I must do.”
He didn’t pull his hands away, but suspicion flickered in his gaze. “You’re being very careful not to say what it is, my queen.”
I caught my breath, trying to quell the panic. Cool and calm. “I don’t want you to be angry is all,” I temporized, willing the wheeling birds of my scattered thoughts to align into some plan.
“Try me,” he said tightly.
“I… promised to consult with Ursula. She won’t sleep until I do.”
He relaxed. Smiled. Ran a hand over my tumbling hair. “Is that all? I’ll come with you. I should probably apologize to her, too, for my behavior earlier today.” A faint, puzzled frown bent his brows again. “Though I can’t quite recall why I have that feeling.”
Moranu save me from this. I felt so ill that bile rose in my throat. And guilt clearly writ itself across my face, because Rayfe took a sharp breath, dropped my hands, and stepped back.
“You’re lying to me.” He sounded incredulous. “Why would you lie to me?”
“Rayfe,” I said helplessly, reaching my hands for him. Dropping them when he looked at me with clear disgust.
“Never mind,” he bit out. “It doesn’t matter. Here I’d been thinking all last night, all day today, of how I could mend things with you—and you don’t even care.”
“I do care!” I nearly shouted at him. “I care so much that this estrangement has nearly broken me, and I—” I cut myself off, belatedly remembering the power I handed to my enemy with those words. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go.”
His expression had gone cold, the fine bones sharp as glass, his blue eyes arctic. “Is there someone else?”
“What? No!” I ran my hands over my pregnant belly without thinking. “When would I even—”
“I imagine that’s my fault, too,” he interrupted bitterly. “You made your demands clear and I refused to bend. Because I cared about you and our child! Can’t you get that through your head, Andromeda?”
“No. I mean, yes. I understand, but I never—”
“Who is he? Or she? Some old mossback lover come to slide into your cold bed, eager to take advantage of what I treasured too much to risk injuring?”
“No! Rayfe, I don’t understand how you could—”
Oh. I mentally sighed for my stupidity, for how easily I’d been baited into a fight yet again. “If this is how you’re going to be,” I said, chilling myself and pulling poise around me like a tattered cloak, bit by bit, and still not enough to cut the bitter wind, “then… I…” I stuttered to a halt, physically unable to deliver the appropriate ultimatum.
“Don’t fret yourself, Andromeda,” Rayfe replied icily. “I won’t importune you again.” He took a breath, considering, then pierced me with his gaze. “There could be other women, you know. They offer. I’m a proven breeder after all.” He gestured at my belly, laughing harshly. “I’d said no to all of them, because I didn’t want them. I only wanted you. What a fool I’ve been.”
With a clap of dark wings, he became his favored raptor form, arcing out the open window and dissolving into the night.
A lone black feather lazily spun to the stone floor in the wake of his passage. Stunned, shattered, I picked it up, remembering that first time when he flew through Glorianna’s rose window at Ordnung, coming after me, and left a feather in his wake. Even then, knowing nothing, I’d taken it for a message, a promise. I’d pocketed it, fingering its glass-edged, obsidian lines, wondering at this man who so compelled me.
Until Ursula had made me burn it to prove a loyalty that had already begun to shift away from her and our father, and to the land I’d been promised to before birth. I took one more precious moment to carry the feather back into my bedroom. I couldn’t look at the bed, where—but for excruciatingly bad timing—I might even now have been entwined in the arms of the only man I’d ever loved. Going to my jewelry box, I laid the feather inside, then carefully shut the lid.
After a moment, I also put the high priestess’s topaz in there. I didn’t like to leave it where it could be reclaimed by one of her creatures, but I worried more about taking it inside the Heart where she could potentially track it. I’d underestimated her too many times.
Taking a few deep and calming breaths, I cleared my mind. Concentrate. Focus.
Becoming an owl, in deference to the night, I flew out the window also, and out over the dark sea. Though the waxing moon picked out glimmers on the waves, all the water was black, no hint of blue anywhere.