The council meeting is quick, though not quick enough for my tastes. Will I ever get used to this? Talking about little details of government that others consider important, like what party we need to throw next or who to invite, I could do without. Some things I know are crucial, such as hearing updates on the people and how the guard’s training is going. Even then, I can only listen to so much of it, and I’m afraid I tuned most of it out. I need to get better at this, which might happen with time. I know I can if I set my mind to it.
The halls of the palace are clear of anyone except Nash, my escorts, and me. The steady sound of our footsteps echo, bringing some life with them. It would be nice if we could pass a window where I might look out over the guard, but that’s on the other side anyway.
As we head deeper in the building toward the dungeon to take care of something I should have a long time ago, I think about replacing my lost council member, Borkus. Head of Design isn't a position I feel I need to fill, but the council is asking for it. If only he hadn’t been disloyal.
I sigh.
“Everything all right?” Nash asks.
I grin at him. “Dandy.”
Unless you count what I'm about to do. Interviewing prisoners is not my favorite thing. It reminds me too much of what Daros did to me. I have to, though. Have to see if they're ready to give me any answers. None have been forthcoming to my guard, but maybe a personal touch is needed.
I trudge down the steps, not caring if my dress drags behind me. Despite where we are, the place is kept clean and well-lit by many torches, casting flickering lights across the brick walls. Not a spec of dirt on the floors or cobwebs on the walls.
The jailers get to their feet and bow. One of them, a woman with a rich voice and sharp features says, “Your Majesty, the prisoners are ready for you.”
“Thank you.”
Nash leads the way to Borkus's cell. When we get there, Wilric hits the bars with the hilt of his sword. “Borkus, you have a visitor.”
Borkus rolls over on his bed, turning his back to us. There's not much in his room—a bucket in the corner and a bed that's probably softer than he deserves.
I've been in worse places.
“Tell me why you wanted Jem on the throne,” I say.
There's no response.
“The queen asked you a question.” Nash is tense by my side, his hands on his hips.
Borkus rolls over and lowers his feet to the floor. He doesn't look up. “If you want answers, you should be asking Ranen. He was the one behind this.”
This is more of an answer than I've ever gotten. I wonder if being locked up is getting to him.
“Why did you go along with it?” I ask.
“Because Ranen promised me I could assist with the government’s fashion. That I would be the leader of fashion. That he'd help increase my popularity with the Kurah, so they would come to me for their needs.” His voice is weary.
A lot more reasons I thought, some better than others. “And you thought that was worth my life?”
He slouches his shoulders more than they already were.
I wait, but he says nothing further.
I nod for Nash to take me to Ranen. He's several cells over, far enough it would be hard for him to hear what Borkus said so the two of them can't conspire. He's also nowhere near those he hired to bring me to my death. I'm not sure what to do with them all. I don't want to kill them, but I hate leaving them here, when at any moment they could escape like Daros. Though there are less ways to do so now that we’ve upped security, but the thoughts still creep in.
I'm grateful Daros didn't take any of them with him.
Thinking of Daros while down here is the wrong thing to do. I shiver.
Nash pulls off his coat and hands it to me.
“Thank you.” I'm careful to not touch his hand as I take it and wrap it around my shoulders.
I wasn't cold, but his coat is warm with him. The exact comfort I need.
When we reach Ranen's cell, he's standing against the bars like he was waiting for us. I've interviewed him before, but at random times, though you lose track of time in situations like this.
I always did.
“Look who's come for a visit.” Without his tasseled hat, Ranen is bald. He's thinner than he used to be too, though not because we don't feed him. His dark gaze takes in everything about me, lingering on Nash's coat.
“I want to know why you thought you could control Jem if she was on the throne.” I sound firm. In control. Good.
“Are you missing someone? Another prisoner perhaps?” he asks.
A chill sweeps through me, but I keep my voice steady. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Oh, come on now. People talk, even down here, no matter how hard you try to prevent it.” He sounds as haughty as always.
It takes a lot of willpower not to clench my jaw, pinch my fingers together, or show him any other sign of being upset. “Tell me about Jem.”
“You won't get what you want from me. Not now, not ever.”
There are many things I could threaten him with. Take away his food. His bed. His water. Torture him within a breath of his life.
I won't.
I'm stronger than that.
But—oh—how I want to. “Why did you think you could control Jem?” I want to know if I can trust her or not, but I should have known I wouldn't get an answer from him.
Ranen narrows his dark eyes at me. Suddenly, he pushes against the bars with such force that I jump back. He laughs like he isn't the one trapped in this dungeon.
I give him one final glance before turning back toward the entrance. I won't bother with him again for a while. I'll have to judge Jem for myself.
When we get to my sitting room, I invite Nash in. It's almost dinner time, and I have a meal planned with the council and some of the upper class that's sure to be a doozy.
“Did you need something?” Nash asks.
I take his coat off and hand it back to him, though I have the desire to keep it and sleep in it. Wear it whenever I need his comfort but can't have it. But there's no way I can.
“I don't know what I need.” My answer surprises me.
“I wish I could help you. Give you whatever it is you do need.” He sounds so sincere. It makes my eyes prickle.
“You give me more than anyone else. You give me everything.” It's not something I should say.
I glance up at him through my lashes, grateful we're alone. That I can smell the scent of him—metal and earth. See into his hazel and blue eyes. He's captivating and watching me as closely as I'm looking at him.
“I don't give you nearly enough.” His voice is a whisper across my skin. “Tell me what's bothering you. Open up to me. Let me help.”
Can I? It's not something I like to do; people betray you when you open up to them. But this is Nash. He's proven himself to me time and time again. I don't think he'll betray me. But that's the problem.
Think.
It's such a little word, but one that makes me hesitate. I can face fighting men twice my size, but I can't stand putting myself out there. This is silly. I can be brave enough. It's Nash.
When the words come, they’re small. “I'm scared.”
His arms are around me, pulling me close. I rest my head against his shoulder and place a hand on his chest. His comfort envelops me. Makes me want to be with him more. Makes me want to give him everything I can.
“Tell me about it.” His voice is soft but firm. Reassuring.
“It's Daros. He's after me—I know it. I worry for me, for you…for everyone around me. I don't know what he's going to do next. What's going to happen to me or those I care about. It feels dangerous. Precarious.”
“I won't let anything bad happen to anyone.”
I want to believe him. Ache to. Only— “No one can stop Daros when he puts his mind to something.”
“You did once before. We can stop him again.”
It's what the First Queen said, but can it be true? I don't know. It's hard to believe. Hard to follow.
He cups the back of my head. I close my eyes and ease into it. It's soothing. Calming.
But I have those fears biting away at me.
We pull apart enough that we can look into each other’s eyes.
He says nothing more. He doesn't have to. It's in his eyes.
On his lips.
I lean in.
He moves closer.
I close my eyes.
His lips brush against mine. Soft at first—a feather against my skin—and then harder. Firmer. Stronger. Everything I want in him. In his kiss.
As the pressure on my lips increases, I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. He threads his fingers through my hair, pushing me to him. I savor the taste of him. To enjoy the way he feels against me.
We should have kissed long ago.
There was no point waiting after our first kiss or of becoming cold with each other. We belong together. It is a fact I believe in more than anything else. This is true and right. The way his lips move beneath mine is like a shining beacon of hope into my soul.
We belong together.
We are together.
The kiss is perfect. Even better than the first one. It's soft and kind, yet hard and demanding. Everything I wanted without realizing I wanted it.
I don't know how much time passes before the kiss ends, but it doesn't feel like enough. We break away, and I'm breathless. By the way he's gasping for air, he feels the same. I don't know what got into us, but I want it to happen more often.
Except that it's against the law.
I'm not allowed to have relations.
It could get him killed.
I jerk away, unwilling to lose him just because of my desire. It's not what I want for him. For us. I want so much more than to see him ripped away from me.
But that kiss… Oh, that kiss…
I need it again.
By the heat burning in his eyes, Nash needs it too.
His gaze molds across my lips, caressing my skin. I press my lips together, as if that will somehow fix what I can't have.
“We shouldn't have done that.” Nash's words tear my heart into little pieces that are whisked away into the wind. “But I'm glad we did.”
I close the distance between us, the guilt about touching him warring with my need for him and the desire to be comforted—to be healed by him.
“No one ever made me feel like this before.” The words are out before I can stop them.
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
He brushes a hair out of my eye and caresses my cheek with his thumb. “I do. I wouldn't change it for anything.”
He caresses my cheek with his thumb. I lean into the touch, not wanting him to ever stop, but things will get in the way. “We have to be careful. I don't want anyone to hurt you.”
“I know.” He sighs as he moves away.
We're inches apart. Not far, yet we might as well be on opposite sides of the greatest chasm in the world.
“Your Head Advisor shouldn't act like this with you. No one should, according to the law, but especially me.” My heart sinks at his words. “Yet I can't seem to help myself.”
“You know this is good between us. We just have to be cautious, so no one finds out.” But what about the First Queen? She's sure to know. What will she think of me? And what about my stained soul? Will it rub off on him? Affect him?
He takes a step back and rubs his shoulder. “We shouldn't do that anymore. But know that, if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here. I will always be here.”
My heart warms at the thought, even as it cringes.
Despite not being able to touch him—to kiss him—I am not alone.