Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 68 - Aster

Reyan points at Leavi. "You can keep going."

She bristles but looks to me, and I sigh, releasing her hand. "Go ahead."

Her concerned eyes search my face, and I give her a subtle nod. Her lips twist, but she leaves. I face Reyan. My knees tremble from all the standing and walking, and I lean against the wall.

His jaw tightens, probably at what he takes for my nonchalance. "Tell me those papers weren't real."

"They were fully legitimate."

He turns away, cursing. When he looks back, he shakes his head. "What were you thinking, Aster? Could you not at least wait until your dead wife's family had gone home?"

I cringe, the words a slap. "It is what it is, Reyan." I start to turn down the hall.

He grabs my wrist. "You just alienated however much of the court you had won to your side, potentially lost us our foreign allies, and it just 'is what it is'?"

His tight grip feels like burning needles. "I wouldn't have gotten married to another Retran raenette either way."

"You would have if they asked it. We need their troops, Aster."

My head shakes as I look away, and I try to pull my wrist from him. He relinquishes it. "It's not simply a personal decision, Reyan."

"So engaging that foreign servant girl was your princely duty?" He scoffs.

My eyes close. My head is light, and the muscles in my legs feel like they might give out any second. I lean on the wall again. Softly, I say, "That's not what I meant."

His arms shoot to the side. "Then what is it?"

Frustration bursts in my chest. "It's that I won't be alive to!"

He falters back a half-step. "What?"

My shaky arms cross, and my voice drops again. "I was poisoned with the same substance Mother was. Ask Sela if you don't believe me."

All the fire extinguishes from his face. "Aster, why—why aren't you in the infirmary?"

"When I found out, we still had a siege to break."

"We don't now."

"I don't particularly want to waste away with everyone's pitying eyes on me. I don't know how long—" I look away. "There still might be things I can do or help with. The war isn't over." I could mention the magic, but I don't want to raise false hope. If it was anything but a last-ditch attempt, a refusal to just lie down and accept it, then I would speak. But even if I can figure out the right spell, and even if I, of all casters, manage to cast it correctly on the first try, nothing promises that it won't be such a strong spell that the effort of casting just sucks me dry. I'm tossing a rock into the sky and hoping it lands among the stars. If I really believed it possible, this argument wouldn't be happening.

His lips curl, but more, I think, in sympathy than disdain. "Even so. What does that have to do with the servant girl?"

"I know you dislike her. For what reason, I'm not entirely sure, since you know nothing about her other than that she didn't grow up in Morineaux. But I meant everything I said in the dining room." I don't know how much longer he's wanting to have this conversation, and I lower myself to the ground to sit cross-legged against the wall. His jaw tightens, and I look away. "You may not trust my integrity, but I do hers. And I want her to be taken care of, not thrown out just because of your bias. When I'm gone, I won't have a say in the matter. Now those papers that you wish were fake will speak for me."

To my surprise, he sits in the floor across from me. "If you weren't dying," he says, trailing off. His hand traces the sheath of his blade. "And if you didn't have to consider politics..." His finger slides up and left, down and right, in slow, wandering arcs.. "Would you still have married this girl?"

I watch him, wondering if what sounds like a surprisingly sentimental question is somehow a trick. That's never been reality, never even been close to a glimmer of it. Why ask something impossible? I want to be angry at the idea, but instead, it takes root in my mind. If my country weren't at stake... if I could marry whomever I wanted... Even though I've already been wed and widowed, it doesn't seem like it counts, and I still feel too childish and independent to marry. I've been enough of my own ruler that anything else leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

But I also can't stand the idea of forsaking her when all my excuses in the past month are taken away. I ache for what could have been if I weren't dying, for what would never be if I hadn't known I was.

Either way, for her sake, Reyan needs to see her as my wholehearted decision. "Without another thought."

His lips press together, and the silence weighs on me. Then he nods. "I'll do what I can for her."

I glance up, surprised. I wonder if the women of the court fool him as easily, and my heart twists to know that I won't be there to intercede. "Thank you."

He stands. I try to gather my legs under me, but when I push up, they falter, and I sit back down, hard. My head jars.

Reyan crouches in front of me. "Do you need help?"

My lips twist. I don't want him to have to pull me up, don't want him to have to walk me. I don't want him to look at me and see a boy that's falling apart. I suppose it's too late for that, though, and I also don't want to sit alone in this hallway.

Silently, I nod, and he helps me to my feet. As I stand, black crowds my vision, and I stumble. He holds me steady until my sight clears, but my head is still light.

"Are you sure you won't go to Illesiarr?"

Slowly, I step away from him. "He's already seen me. There's no reason to."

He frowns. "At least let me walk you to your room."

"Fine." I'm not sure I could make it there without him.

We go, and once he leaves, I don't bother getting Ollem to help me change into the less formal clothes I wore this morning. I just lie down, the bed enveloping me in warmth. I relax into its cushion, grateful to not still be holding myself up. Until morning, I get to be free from worry and free from the strain of moving. Until morning, I can rest.