Lonen couldn’t vouch that spiritual healing did anything real. Nothing like what Baeltya did, removing pain and reenergizing his body. But he did feel as if he’d shed his despair. He still wasn’t certain of the best decision as far as remaining King of the Destrye. But he also didn’t feel that bone-deep weariness just contemplating the choices.
And returning to his rooms, seeing Oria, felt more like a delight to anticipate, rather than fleeing to the comfort of her company to hide himself away.
The guards outside his chamber doors bowed to him. As he strode into the outer chamber, however, he would have doubted that Oria was within if they hadn’t said so. The teeming hordes of ladies, maids, and seamstresses who’d driven him out to begin with had all apparently fled. The rooms had been neatened, too, with ashes carried away from the fireplaces, and fresh fires burning, the wood furniture gleaming and furs fluffed.
He supposed they had let it get a bit stale.
“Oria?” he called out, doffing his indoor cloak, tossing aside his wreath of office, and unsheathing his axe to set by the bedroom door. As he entered the room, she rose from her accustomed place by the fire, a lovely flush on her high cheekbones.
“Sorry—I must have dozed off. One day I won’t fall asleep at the least opportunity. I went to the aswae and talk about relaxing. It was so warm and they put oil on you—have you done it?—it’s so purging and—what? What’s wrong?”
He’d been staring. At least he hadn’t let his mouth actually fall open, though his tongue felt unaccountably dry. “Oria,” he breathed. “You look gorgeous. I mean, you’re always beautiful, but—”
She laughed, interrupting the tumble of incoherent praise. Then she stepped out from behind the pair of chairs, held out the skirt of her crimson velvet gown, and twirled. “Isn’t it wonderful? I don’t know how they knew to make it red—maybe from the rags of my robes—but it’s perfect, and I feel almost like myself again.”
She spun again, the full skirts belling out, emphasizing her narrow waist and the elegant fullness of her breasts. The high neckline was trimmed with white fur, framing her delicate jaw, and the long, tight sleeves ended in similar cuffs, with long fringes of fur that trailed over her slim fingers. Her hair hung loose and perfectly straight down her back, nearly to her bottom, not billowing in a cloud as it sometimes had in the dryness of Bára, but in a liquid fall as perfectly shining as a newly forged sword.
“And look!” she was saying. With a bright and saucy smile, she picked up a pair of matching velvet gloves from the table between the chairs, which also held a carafe of wine and two mugs. She drew on the gloves and held them up. “I can touch people without worrying about it.”
She moved to him with something of her old restless energy, that impetuous grace she’d lavished on every movement back in Bára, and framed his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks, smoothing his beard. Her copper eyes, wide and gleaming, full of light, seemed to glow with her pleasure. “I can’t feel, but at least I can touch,” she added, her voice throaty.
He encircled her waist with his hands, brutally aware of the swell of her hips below his fingers, the narrow path of her ribcage that begged him to slide his hands up and cup her lovely breasts, tease her nipples until that teasing pretty mouth begged him both to stop and for more. His cock hardened with almost painful ferocity, his darker nature seething to toss her on the bed and throw up her skirts, plundering her until they both wept with exhaustion.
Oria narrowed her eyes slightly. “What are you thinking? You haven’t said a word since your astonished observation that I look good.”
“Gorgeous,” he reminded her quietly. “I said you’re gorgeous. And you smell of qinn.”
“They put all sorts of stuff on me. I’m not sure which that was.”
He knew. Natly—well, all of the Destrye women—used the spice in their soap and oils. It smelled to him of home and comfort. And it did crazy things to his brain to scent it on Oria.
Clearing his throat, he added, “They made the gown red because I told them to. All of your state garments will be red, unless you request otherwise.”
She blinked long and slow, considering closing of her eyes. Her lashes were copper, too, and long, but rarely showed until she lowered her lids like that, and then they stood out against the faint scatter of freckles on her cheeks, an almost invisible constellation of fawn stars. Then the full sun of her eyes bored into his again. “Why?”
“A sorceress should have her robes, no matter the material. I have no silk to give you, but you wouldn’t be warm enough anyway.”
“True,” she murmured. “Thank you, Lonen.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I wish I could kiss you.”
He nearly groaned at that. ‘Wishing’ didn’t come close to how he felt about it. “We’ll find a way.”
She didn’t smile, exactly, but her eyes danced with amusement. “You always do, my Destrye warrior.”
Which only reminded him. He let her go and stepped back with a massive effort of will. “Shall we have a glass of wine? There’s time before we eat.”
“Yes. And you can tell me what’s preying on your mind. How was the excursion with your brothers?” She poured him a mug of warmed wine and handed it to him, cupping her own in her gloved hands. “Also, you might change clothes.”
He took a swig of wine and set the mug aside. “I no doubt smell of Buttercup, who says hello, by the way.” He’d meant to tease her about her attachment to the warhorse, but she looked pleased, as if the steed really had sent a message. “Where is Chuffta, by the way?”
“Stretching his wings. The aswae made him feel frisky, so he’s exploring. He’ll be back to accompany me to dinner. Enough stalling—what has you worried?”
“What doesn’t have me worried?” he shot back. But he told her about the state of Dru as he shucked the day’s clothes, found the washing bowl and sponged himself clean of the worst of the day’s sweat, then pulled on the clean clothes Alby had left out for him.
Oria listened gravely, asking questions here and there. Finally, she gave him a considering look. “All of this is serious news, but none of it is new. You knew all of this when you left this morning. Before you left to confront me in Bára, in truth.”
“I didn’t know the exact extent of it,” he argued, knowing as he said it that it wasn’t the full truth. He had known. Somehow hearing the dire facts recited by his older brother, all of them laid squarely at his feet as if he’d created the situation from his utter carelessness as king, made it all that much more painful. He reached for the wreath of metal leaves, realizing he’d left it in the other room. Some king, forgetting his crown.
Then Oria was in front of him, a staying hand on his arm. “Talk to me, Lonen.” Her lush mouth curved in a sly smile. “We’re in this together.”
He shook his head, laughing under his breath at her ways, then indulged himself by sliding a hand through the sheet of her hair. The ladies had oiled it—probably the source of the qinn, then—which gave it that heavy, silky feel. She gazed up at him, her face so magically lovely that he hesitated to say anything that might dim her regard for him.
“You can’t say anything that will make me think less of you,” she said softly.
“Reading my thoughts, sorceress?” The prospect, which had once made him uneasy at best, strangely heartened him.
She looked thoughtful. “Not the way I used to, but… some? Maybe. I felt something today, something in the trees…” She shook it off, her hair sliding thick through his fingers. “Never mind that. Tell me what has you so churned up.”
“I think,” he said slowly, searching for a way to articulate his turbulent thoughts. “Maybe I should abdicate to Nolan. Or to Mago, with Nolan as regent.”
“Because of me?” She asked it evenly enough, but he scowled at her.
“No. Because of me. Because I’m … I’m not a good king, Oria. I was never meant to be one. The Destrye deserve a good king. Not me. I’m careless, undisciplined, reckless, my head always in the canopy.”
She tilted her head, considering. Then shrugged. “I don’t know this man you’re speaking of.”
“I’m trying to explain that this is who I am. You haven’t known me long, but I—”
“Oh nonsense!” She broke in and broke away, once again that imperious princess who’d laid out his options with ruthless clarity while the quiet towers of Bára stood sentry around them. “I’d venture that I know you better than anyone else, just as you know me. We’ve crossed the desert together, nearly drowned in the bore tides together, fought back to back, saved each other’s lives and listened to each other’s deepest fears when things seemed bleakest. You have flaws, Lonen—I won’t deny that. You’re ridiculously stubborn, won’t leave well enough alone. That you remain so optimistic in the face of impossible odds never ceases to amaze me.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” he said drily. “And the point is that I’m not feeling that now. I’m not sure… Oria, I might not be up to the task.”
“All right then,” she said, pouring them both more wine, then clinking her mug against his with a sunny smile he could see right through. “Back to the oasis then? Or to one of Bára’s sister-cities? It might not be so bad crossing the desert this time, if we actually take some water and food along.”
“That’s not what I—”
She set down her mug, threw up her hands, and began pacing. “Oh, you mean stay here? What a great idea. You can let Nolan lord it over you for the rest of your days that he got you to knuckle under and admit he’s the better ruler. That will be fun.”
The image made him want to growl. “I never said he’s the better ruler.”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” she snapped back, skirts whirling out as she reached the wall and spun to pace in the other direction. “Whether you step down for him to be king or regent, it would be an admission that you think he’s the better man.”
“Maybe he is the better ruler!”
“Fine.” She shrugged elaborately, like it didn’t matter a whit to her. It rankled a surprising amount.
“That’s it? No sage and wifely advice to offer?”
She paused, giving him a long look. “My advice? I think, Destrye, that it was easier for me. I had no doubt that Yar would be a terrible king. My potential inadequacies as queen blew away like so much sand in the face of what his rule would mean, for both Bára and Dru. I don’t know Nolan. I barely recall him from when he rescued us. Certainly I owe him my life, but other than that, he’s a cipher to me. I’m very interested to take his measure tonight. I do know you—and you’re none of those things you cited. You are canny, wise, deliberate, noble. Even from the beginning you’ve never been anything but careful with me. You act decisively, yes, but never recklessly, with the possible exception of when you decided to sacrifice yourself fighting an army of golems to save my life.”
“I visited Arill’s Temple just now, and wondered once again if She sent you to me as a blessing or a punishment,” he said in a wry tone.
She beamed with impish glee. “Can’t I be both?”
He strode to her, catching her by the hips. “You are both.”
She sobered, her gaze intent on his. “And you are King of the Destrye. Accident or challenge from your goddess, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to think about if you’re good enough to be king, because you are king. More—you’re the best warrior I’ve ever seen and your people need a warrior to lead them. You and I both know the war is far from over.”
“Yes,” he agreed with regret. “Which Nolan doesn’t see.”
“Maybe he can’t. He missed so much. But you see and you know. If you need to worry about something, worry about being the best king you can be. The best man you can be. Though you’re already the best there is, to my mind.”
“In all the world?” he teased, to cover how much that touched him.
“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t seen all the world. Once the war is finally over, maybe you can show me.”
When the war is finally over. “Do you think we can truly end this conflict and find peace for our people?”
Her smile dimmed and she regarded him seriously. “I think we have to. Or die trying.”
Her words riffed over him with premonition. “It could come to that. If Nolan challenges me, I could lose. It would mean my death.”
“Then if it comes to that, we’ll have to make sure you win.”