Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

61. Source of Enlightenment

I didn't expect anyone to be in the library on the night of my wedding. It turned Char-Kermen upside down. By now everyone should have been drunk or sound asleep. Yet, the light spilled from under the door and pooled on the floor in front of the library.

Of course, there were young souls in my household who didn't partake in the festivities and were devious enough to use the laxity of their teachers to sneak around at night.

"Xenophonta, daughter-of-mine!" I shouted, swinging the door open. "I'm very disappointed that you're not in bed. If you're reading anything your father wouldn't approve of—"

I froze with my foot hovering over the threshold. A merry orange twinkle of a single lamp illuminated the immense oak table. It was strong enough to bask half of it and the matching high-backed chair on one side. The rest of the room hid in the shadows. Somehow, this looked far less cavernous than the library did in the daytime, when the shelves blocked the light from the windows.

The trespasser wasn't my six-year-old zealot of the forbidden knowledge. It was her father.

"K-kozima?" I asked as if I hadn't recognized my husband of thirteen years. Did Divines' providence positioned my consorts at every corner of my house? Whom would I find in the kitchen? That pretty Saffic from three years ago, when I had given into Miccola's nagging and went carousing with my officers?

"Ismar?" Kozima lifted his head from a thick tome. He rubbed his eyes. "Is this a dream?"

The gesture was so sheepish, I joined him in the cozy circle of light, instead of leaving him to his reading. Pushing the pile of papers to one side, I sat on the edge of the table. The venerable oak top didn't even creak.

With nothing better to do, I studied my first husband in the candlelight. He swapped his wedding finery for a tan kaftan open at the neck. However, his hair was still braided at the temples with a gold thread to follow this year's fashion. I noticed that it was longer again, curling at the base of his neck whenever he moved.

I didn't need to ask why he was sitting in the library, despite all the blessings he had bestowed upon Parneres. I stroked his cheek. The new stubble prickled already, reminding me that the night was growing long. "Your moods?"

His eyes hooded. A chuckle flared out his nostrils, before his face stilled again. "Moods..."

We sat in silence. I should have left, but once I stood up, heart-twisting curiosity weighed my legs. "Have you never been tempted by another woman, Kozima?"

Instinctively, he caught my hand, leaning his chair's back to keep me in full view.

"You already know of the only time I sought another woman's attention. Anastasia. On the day I had received your letter about Ondrey. Except, what I wanted was for that letter to have never arrived. So, I ran away. The rest of them..." he shrugged. "I know why they want me, and it's not love. Not even lust."

"The rest?" I lowered myself onto his lap, because my stomach lurched unpleasantly. The rest?

A sigh raised his chest, followed by a lingering exhale. "The other women are happy to dance at your wedding, but you're not well-loved. You're a mercenary who makes no secret of putting war above peace. You flaunt your humble roots, throw your blood-earned money around. The noblewomen would love nothing more than to humiliate you. And while you are away fighting, I'm here, conducting trade under a token guardianship."

My mouth gaped. "A lonely husband, left behind while Ismar gallivants around with the junior one? Is that what they say behind my back?"

He looked straight into my eyes. "Yes. And yes, I had been approached, both subtly and not so subtly."