Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

62

The night after he and Ealin had first become lovers, Uachi had not slept. He had made his confession to Matei, and then he had spent the night alone, wandering wakeful through the empty gardens under the blue light of the moon, unable to ease his troubled mind. He was confident he had not coerced Ealin. Still, the guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders—guilt at having betrayed Matei's trust and guilt that he had allowed himself to become lost enough in his tender feelings for Ealin that he'd been so foolish.

But Uachi's conflicted state of mind was due only in part to his shame. There was something else, something he considered at length that sleepless night.

In Ealin's arms, Uachi had been weak. Vulnerable. He had not been so defenseless since he'd been a boy of sixteen, and he had spent years cultivating a physical strength and a cold perspective on life that would prevent him from being hurt, in body or in mind, ever again.

Yet he had lain next to Ealin, unarmored, unclothed, without any weapon to hand. As he had lain aside his dagger, so had he lain aside the shield that had covered his heart since his boyhood.

He was not given to pondering feelings very much, was Uachi. Had Matei asked him what he felt about the path he now walked, he would have answered with a scowl—or, if pressed, he might have muttered about tender feelings and left it at that. But there was something else, a more urgent emotion that distracted Uachi from his mounting affection for Ealin, something he would not have named even to his best friend.

Uachi was not stupid. He never would have said it aloud, but he knew the feeling, and the feeling was fear.

Matei was to grant Ealin her freedom, and when she heard she was no longer bound to remain in the palace at Matei's pleasure, she would leave the palace. And when she went away without a backward glance, she would leave Uachi alone, and he would mourn.

That—what he  would become without her—was what terrified him.

***

Uachi lay on his back, his eyes closed, the perfect silence of his stone-walled bedchamber surrounding him. The cool air kissed the skin of his naked torso, and he considered pulling up the blanket, but he could not will himself to move. It was dark; he had not lit the lamp.

A touch like the trembling brush of a feather trailed from his navel up his torso, over his ribs, the dip of his collarbone and the vulnerable column of his throat. The sensation stopped just beneath his chin, and gentle pressure coaxed his head back, tipping his face up.

He smiled at the brush of her lips against his, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. The bed shifted as she climbed in, leaning over him, one knee on either side of his hips.

"I knew you weren't sleeping," she whispered. "You could hear a shadow breathe. I was trying to be quiet."

"You were quiet." At last he opened his eyes. It was so dark he saw her face only as a shadow, and yet he knew it perfectly. "I hardly heard the door close—but you smell like...I don't know. Something sweet."

"Madam Gella asked me to help her in the kitchen." Ealin raised her wrist to her face, inhaling with a thoughtful expression. "Cinnamon, I think."

"It's just as well I don't sleep deeply, if there are mischievous women prowling around in the night, trying to catch me off guard."

Ealin cocked her head, putting both hands on Uachi's chest. "Women?" she echoed. "I do not like the sound of that, Uachi."

The implication of his joke had been unintended, and for the briefest of moments, a different face rose in Uachi's mind, a face he would do much to forget. He pushed it aside and propped himself up on one strong arm, silencing Ealin with a slow, fervent kiss. She leaned in, taking his face in her hands, her silken hair sliding over his chest.

Uachi slid one arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him as he pushed himself up to sit. Her ankles tangled in her skirts, she shifted her weight, and her fingertips blazed a trail over his shoulders and down the length of his arms, tracing the lines of his muscles and the veins in his forearms. She took his wrist and guided his right hand to the back of her gown.

Uachi's hands were still unpracticed. They traded sweet kisses and the moment stretched on, Uachi fumbling with the fastenings. At last, Ealin's stifled laughter broke their embrace. His cheeks warm, Uachi let his hands fall away. "I'm sorry—"

Ealin caught his wrists and lifted his hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "Shh, my darling. Light the lamp," she whispered, "and I'll show you."

It was easier in the light.

***

Uachi had lived alone since he had lost his brother and left his mother behind. While circumstances had occasionally necessitated that he share space with others, they were usually fighting men, as content to leave him to his own devices in the silent hours of an evening as Uachi was to ignore them.

Now, living with Ealin, he had found that there was a variety of things to learn and unlearn as they wove their lives together. He could no longer leave his boots in the middle of the floor, for example; she had woken in the middle of the night and had scraped a knee falling over them, which had resulted in sincere apologies and muted, late-night laughter.

He had also long since stopped sleeping with a knife under his pillow. It wasn't practical when he shared a bed, although he still kept his dagger close at hand.

And he no longer wandered under the light of the moon when he could not sleep. In the darkest hours, troubles—past or present—might weigh on his mind, keeping him from sleep, but Ealin's slight shape curled at his side anchored him in the moment.

When he held her, the whole world, with its worries, its horrors, and its pain, seemed very far away.