59: HIDDEN LOVES

(Kihrin’s story)

I opened my eyes.

Janel and I stared at each other for an eternal second, our faces too shocked to express any other emotion. She still sat next to me on the couch, still held my hand. And we both … waited.

We didn’t move. We barely breathed. Janel was waiting for the same thing I was: Vol Karoth. For the King of Demons to show up again. For him to follow our link back and bring annihilation with him. Shadows from the fish outside slipped across the floor, and all was a heavy quiet, weighted down by fear and dread.

Nothing happened.

I pulled Janel into my arms and held her tight against me.

Janel pulled away to stare at me, wide-eyed. “How can Vol Karoth be S’arric? How? You said Elana pulled S’arric out of Vol Karoth’s body. That Vol Karoth was a separate being, but that’s not…”

“That’s not what we saw,” I finished. I shifted in my seat, tried to slow my runaway heartbeat. “Khaemezra always made it sound like Vol Karoth was a demon possessing S’arric’s body, but that can’t be true. S’arric was corrupted, but there was no demon. So how can both of us—Vol Karoth and me—be S’arric?” I wrapped my arms around my stomach and studied the floor as I swore to myself I would not throw up, no matter how much I wanted to.

“I don’t know,” Janel whispered, “but I’m … C’indrol. Or rather, I was C’indrol. It worked.”

I raised my head. “What? What worked?”

“I remembered what Xaltorath wanted me to forget.” Janel scowled. “Last night—” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Xaltorath hadn’t wanted me to remember C’indrol. She tried to erase the memories.”

I straightened. “C’indrol and S’arric were having an affair.”

“Kihrin, I’m fairly certain C’indrol and S’arric had a child.” She stood up from the couch and paced, shuddering. “I’ve killed that child. Gods, Kihrin. Aeyan’arric.”

“S’arric could’ve just been referring to the fact Aeyan’arric didn’t know S’arric and C’indrol were lovers.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I didn’t believe that. “I don’t … I don’t understand why it was a secret, but we probably thought we had good reasons. But let’s talk about Xaltorath.”

Janel whirled back to face me. “That was Xaltorath in the tent.”

“I figured. But why did she want to help me?”

Janel raised an eyebrow. “Help you? Oh no. Don’t you remember? ‘When your other lover finally breaks free, he’s going to be a problem for me.’ This wasn’t about helping anyone but herself. The whole point was weakening Vol Karoth. She used me because … well. C’indrol had both the motivation and knowledge to weaken Vol Karoth a lot.”

“Why, though? Why would Xaltorath want to weaken Vol Karoth when the demons created him in the first place? Is it because Vol Karoth turned on them?”

Janel started to answer, then she laughed, in spite of herself. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’?”

“You’re thinking demons are organized again, aren’t you? United. That they don’t hate each other even more than they hate us.”

I shut my eyes, rolled backward, and looked up toward where I could imagine fish swimming their merry away along with no idea what kind of chaos and churn was going on underneath them. The few times Janel had described demons to me—Kasmodeus, Xaltorath—they had indeed struck me as more like small bands or groups, with the strong controlling as many under them as possible. So Xaltorath might have plans the other demons probably didn’t know about. The other demons might have plans Xaltorath didn’t know about.

And I had a feeling none of the demons responsible for Vol Karoth had survived to see the sunset that day.

“Yeah, you’re right. What was I thinking?” I sighed and refocused my attention on her. “What does the name Xaltorath mean, anyway?”

“Queen of Demons,” she answered instantly.

I gave her a look. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”

Janel just stared at me and slowly shook her head.

“Oh, well, that’s … horrifying.” I thought back to when my brother Darzin had sacrificed me to Xaltorath, who in turn had offered me an idyllic eternity spent in her bed. I hadn’t thought the offer serious … It probably wasn’t. The only romance ever cherished by Xaltorath started with the word necro.

I stood up and started to pace myself. We both seemed like we were about to duel as we circled each other. I had to think through this.

I’ve spent an eon pretending to be the pretty, stupid brother for the sake of Rev’arric’s vanity.

S’arric hadn’t been as dumb as his brother had thought. Too trusting yes, but not stupid.

“We know souls can be damaged,” I said. “My souls were damaged when Tyentso ripped away a small section to gaesh me. That’s why I couldn’t remember my dreams. That’s what made me vulnerable to demons later. But I fixed that damage using Xaloma’s heart in the Afterlife. Souls can be damaged, but souls can also heal.”

“Right,” Janel agreed. “Yes. But that doesn’t explain how you and Vol Karoth can both be S’arric. Unless…” Her face scrunched up in frustration. “Unless you both … What if Elana didn’t free all of S’arric’s soul? What if she only removed part of it? Not freed so much as … separated?”

“People take part of a soul when they’re gaeshed, but nobody’s ever mentioned those soul remnants becoming separate entities before. People would have noticed.”

“A gaesh is a minute portion of someone’s soul, the equivalent a little finger. No, a fingernail. I mean something much larger. How large—how small—can the souls be and still have the damage heal? Does it make a difference if the souls in question belong to a god? Might it be possible to end up with two separate souls?”

“We weren’t gods,” I muttered, but it was a semantic rebuttal, and Janel wisely ignored it. “But if Vol Karoth and I are entirely separate entities, why is he so damn eager to get his hands on me? Why would he even care?”

“Oh no,” Janel said. “You might be separate, but only you would be whole. You have had five hundred years to heal, time probably spent in the Land of Peace basking in the tenyé of the Font of Souls, but Vol Karoth? Vol Karoth was frozen in time. Trapped. There’s no way he’s healed anything. He’s broken, and he must know that.” She sighed. “I still don’t know what I did to free you. Even now, I don’t remember. Xaltorath’s buried it deep.”

“Maybe Xaltorath’s afraid you can reverse it and put me back.”

Janel said, “That’s never going to happen.”

I sat down on the bed, elbows on my knees, leaned forward. “Ah, but think how many problems it would solve. No more figuring out what to wear in the morning. Wouldn’t need to shave. Not to mention anything Xaltorath doesn’t want to happen must be a good idea…”

“Kihrin, stop it.” Her eyes widened with alarm.

I chuckled as I looked up at her. “I’m joking.”

“It isn’t funny.”

I held my hand out to her. “Gallows humor, my love.”

She froze, and I wondered what I’d said. Then I realized it was probably that word love. I felt a sense of dread settle in my stomach for a different reason than Vol Karoth. I pulled my hand back.

“C’indrol and S’arric might have been in love,” Janel said, “but how long have you and I even known each other?” She worried at her lip, her expression troubled.

My breath was trapped in my chest. Because the answer was: not long at all. A couple of months at best. Completely out of proportion to her importance in my life. Common sense said I couldn’t possibly be in love with her, and common sense could go jump in the Zaibur River.

“I’m not going to lie about how I feel,” I finally said.

“Oh really?” Normally I’d have found a smile—any smile—on Janel’s lips a welcome sight, but this was too mocking. All of it directed at me. “Then I’m curious: If you’re so in love with me, why was the name you called out last night Teraeth’s?”

No.

“I did what?” I felt my heartbeat race into a fluttery panic. Had I? Oh gods. I searched my memories, trying to pinpoint if I had in fact done that …

Janel studied my face, watched my reaction.

I let out my breath. “I didn’t, did I?”

“No, but the fact you just gave serious consideration to the idea you might have is interesting, don’t you think?”

I glared at her. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny. I just don’t think we should have this conversation without discussing the other person you’re in love with. You have, after all, been in love with him a lot longer than you have with me.” She paused a moment and then shrugged. “In this life, anyway.”

“Can we not?” I growled.

She gave me that studied look again, and I realized what I hadn’t done was deny her words. Deny her accusation about Teraeth. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over me, worse in its way than the memories of Vol Karoth.

“Very well. We’ll not.” The bed sank as she sat down next to me.

“Thank you.” I felt picked raw by the tensions of the day. The last thing I wanted …

Did I have any clue what I wanted?

We just sat there for a few minutes, just watching the shadows move across the floor. The room became an uncomfortable space that I didn’t know how to fill.

Janel reached out and picked up my hand. “I don’t want to sleep tonight,” she said. “I don’t dare sleep tonight. Keep me awake.”

I glanced at her, surprised. I looked down at her hand, ran my thumb over the back of it. She had beautifully shaped fingers, black as a starless night, calloused from sword fighting. “When you say keep you awake, any preferences on how you’d like me to do that?”

She laughed. “Something stimulating should work.”

I half turned to her on the bed and reached over to cradle the back of her head with my hands. I kissed her forehead and then both her cheeks before she smiled, twisted her hand in my shirt, and pulled me in for a kiss on the mouth.

“Warning,” I said when I took a moment to breathe. “I kick.”

“That’s fine. I bite.”

“Gods, I hope so.” I grinned when that pulled a laugh from her. I wrapped my arms around her body, pulled her against me, heady from the scent of her—metal and skin and flowers from the scented vané bathwaters. Her breathing quickened as I traced my fingers down her back and my heartbeat matched hers. The armor needed to go, on both of us.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Janel said, “finding out what sex with you is like when we’re both sober enough to appreciate it.”

Just the words sent sparks cascading through me. “Oh, I don’t know. Just being this close to you is enough to leave me drunk.” I lowered my head and skimmed the side of her neck, was rewarded by her gasp and the tremble that swept through her.

“You’re terrible,” Janel murmured.

“I’m honest,” I whispered into her ear. “And you are music and songs and the light of a thousand stars. You are storm clouds and velvet skies and brilliant columns of fire. How can I not be drawn to you?”

Janel’s breath grew ragged. She exhaled and drew back enough for me to see the heat in her eyes.

There was a knock at the door. From the other side, I heard Teraeth said, “Hey, Kihrin, you coming out for dinner?”

I glared at the door. Gods damn it. I should have thought this through. Of course Dolgariatz would also have dinner provided, and of course we’d be expected to attend.

“Teraeth, join us,” Janel called out. She paid no attention at all to the betrayed look I gave her.

I fought down panic. Perhaps hiding under the bed was an option. Were we far enough south of the Blight for Thaena to grant my prayer if I asked to die of embarrassment?

Janel grabbed my wrist before I could do anything. “Don’t you dare turn invisible,” she whispered. Her grip would have done a dragon proud.

“Let go,” I whispered.

“No.”

I’d forgotten to lock the door, hadn’t even checked to see if the door had a lock. And you’d think I’d have been more paranoid about that. Nothing stopped Teraeth from just walking right in.

So he did.

He had not come empty-handed, skillfully balancing a tray while he held the door open. He walked a few steps inside the door when his eyes flickered over to Janel, then back to me. No doubt he was noticing other details too: the tousled hair, our swollen lips.

Then a slow, broad smile spread over his face.

He looked delighted.

That hadn’t been the reaction I’d been expecting. Nor had I been expecting what he carried on the tray—food.

“Well, then.” Teraeth carried the tray over to the bed, setting it down on a side table. “You two look like you’re about to start having fun. You have my permission to go right ahead. Pretend I’m not even here. It won’t bother me at all.”

“Teraeth!” I began to scold him, aware I was blushing to my toes. Then my gaze wandered to the food tray, and I blinked.

Three settings. Enough food for three people. Which meant he’d expected to find us together.

“Oh, you brought dinner. You wonderful, wonderful man.” Janel scrambled over the bed to reach the tray.

“You knew Janel was in here, didn’t you?”

Teraeth scoffed. “Of course I knew. I’m not an idiot. It was either your room or hers.” Teraeth lay down on the bed, across from me, crossed one leg over the other, and rested on his elbow. He was all impudent grin and flashing emerald eyes. “It was a trick question earlier. We’re not having a formal dinner, because nobody’s around to attend one. Well, almost nobody. I think Thurvishar is busy interrogating Dolgariatz on pre–demonic invasion social customs of the vané. They’d both probably be available.”

“Why isn’t—” I stopped myself. “Never mind. I’m pretty sure I know.” Doc and Valathea were finally reunited after a five-hundred-year forced separation, and my parents were … well, I wasn’t sure. Aggressively ignoring each other or sharpening their knives. Maybe having angry sex. It could go any number of ways.

In any event, we weren’t likely to see Doc and Valathea for days.

“Teraeth, I realize this is uncomfortable—”

Teraeth leaned over and placed a finger against my lips. “Shh. Don’t make a fuss. We’ll have dinner, then I’ll leave, happy to know you two are happy.”

Something tugged inside me, a pleasant burning spreading out across my lips. That simple touch had been purely carnal, even though I know he hadn’t meant it that way.

Janel’s brows knit together as she watched us. She played with the food on her plate for a moment before letting a roll drop from her fingers and forcing a smile on her face. “Honestly. What am I going to do with you two?”

Teraeth laughed as he stared fondly at her. “I could make suggestions if you like.”

Her mouth twisted into a wry grin as she ate. Teraeth had brought us leftovers from lunch—all finger foods that could be eaten without too much bother. No doubt just in case he’d found us in a state less dressed than our present condition. Considerate of him.

Teraeth glanced in my direction and then looked again, longer. His expression turned to concern. “Kihrin?”

I shook my head and turned away, slid my legs over the edge of the bed and bent my head.

What was my problem? Shame? Guilt? Pride? I lied to myself every damn time I said I wasn’t attracted to Teraeth. I’d been denying it for years. And it was more than attraction. I remembered the few days I’d been separated from him, when I’d left for Jorat to find Janel and he’d gone to sea. I remembered the emotions I’d felt when I thought he’d come back, the crushing disappointment when I realized it wasn’t him. I thought about how infuriating he could be and how I didn’t mind, because he was equally astonishing.

I thought of all Darzin’s horrible tortured views of how a real man behaved—his messed-up conviction masculine was a synonym with cruel. How thoroughly he’d screwed up his own son by insisting Galen measure up to a standard that guaranteed a boy who should have been a poet would never be happy or at peace with himself. How I’d seen kids in the Lower Circle do just as thorough a job messing themselves up, so convinced their sexual attractions were weakness, they overcompensated with the violence Quur labeled as strength.

Was I really going to let the Capital’s idiot views on what makes a man worthy control me? After all the things I’d done or those damn prophecies said I’d do, that was going to be the chain I kept? Nope, sorry, I reject all your views on women and slavery and who can use magic, but I’m totally down with the idea two souls can only love each other if they’re born in bodies of the opposite sex?

I could hear Darzin laughing at me. And Janel just being disappointed.

I’m honest, right?

At least Teraeth was. He’d been honest enough to admit how he felt, refused to treat those feelings like a crime. That was a hell of a lot more than I could say.

And damn, I knew I wasn’t a coward. Vol Karoth? Sure. I had good reason to be afraid of Vol Karoth. But I had no damn good reason at all to fear this.

“Kihrin?” I heard footsteps as Teraeth circled the bed. “I apologize. I didn’t realize my visit would bother you this much. I’ll leave you two—”

I stood up, grabbed him by the front of his robes, and kissed him.

He must have figured out what was going on, since he didn’t stick a dozen daggers into me, which was his normal response to sharp, sudden movements in his direction. And if that kiss might have proved intent—some way to know I wasn’t imagining how I felt—well, that kiss was perfect. It lasted forever; it was over in a second.

When we parted, he just stared at me in mute astonishment.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m a fool, and I should’ve figured things out much earlier—”

Teraeth grabbed me and kissed me back. His fingers tangled in my hair with insistent urgency as I felt his warm lips, his tongue. I was sinking and floating upward all at once, the whole world dampened into silence. I breathed him in. His mouth smiled against mine just a moment before he bit down on my lower lip with a sharp, exquisite sting. I laughed but didn’t stop.

Fabric rustled as a plate was set down. We both broke off the kiss to see Janel walking toward a window. She paid no attention to us, but instead tilted her head to the side as she stared out the glass. There was a small thump and then another. And another.

“Much as I hate to interrupt you two—” Janel pointed.

A white flash impacted the glass, too small to do any damage. More flashes followed, each causing a small, sharp thump.

Bones.

Small fish were slamming themselves against the glass. Except they weren’t fish exactly. Rather, they were all sharp teeth and delicate skeletons. Even as they smashed themselves to shards, more dead fish swam up to take their place. Then more still, larger ones.

But still dead. Animated dead.

I felt cold. What a fool I’d been, to think Vol Karoth hadn’t responded to what Janel and I had done. If he couldn’t come himself, he could most certainly send a messenger in his place—Vol Karoth controlled the dragons too, didn’t he? And Rol’amar, the undying dragon who animated the dead by mere proximity, was closest.

“What the hell?” Teraeth stared.

“Grab your things,” I said. “We need to leave right now.”