The Carnelian Way

34.1

Mai's room was at the pinnacle of his palace, the highest point of Nebia. It was bright and open and white and gave a sense of invulnerability. Rina stretched her arms, grinning. She cupped the swell of her stomach and sent a trickle of power to the child. It moved in answer, and she thought her heart would split open at the fullness.

The mattress was empty beside her. The memory of Mai's brief rest evident in the ripples of the sheet. In the weeks since their wedding, she'd grown used to his sleepless nights.

With a pang of fear, she remembered Martha telling her how as a person aged, their need for sleep diminished. Mai had lived for almost six-hundred turns. No, he wouldn't need much sleep, but the shadows that grew beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin concerned her.

She propped on her elbows and peered across the room to the balcony, smiling when she saw him. He leaned against the railings, dressed only in loose cotton trousers, his form appearing and disappearing through the billowing curtains.

Good morning, my love, he said in her mind, the words tickling up the line and straight to the crystal beneath her skin. He turned, and she caught the flash of a crooked smile and the fan of crows feet shooting from those blue, blue eyes.

Hungry? he asked.

She grinned and nodded, breath catching as he came to her. When his knees reached the mattress, he crept across it, until his nose hovered above hers. He lowered his lips and kissed her, slow and deep, the memory of spiced coffee filling her mouth.

She licked her lips. "So hungry," she said aloud.

"Let me fix that for you," he replied in turn.

She reached for him too late as he left to summon the servants and she groaned, understanding he wouldn't be joining her for breakfast.

A rumble of laughter filled her mind. Forgive me. I need to attend to some matters. Eat, dress, relax, and someone will bring you to me.

☆☽○☾☆

A guard came for her late in the afternoon. He greeted her with a stiff bow, which revealed the beginning of a balding pate amongst cropped salt-and-pepper hair. "Your Majesty," he said in a tone as rigid as his bow.

She gave him a frosty smile and inclined her head a hair's breadth. No more. He'd get no more from her.

Again, she descended into the mountain. Her escort held a spear in one hand, scabbard slapping against his thigh, the creak of his leather armour, and the echo of his boots on stone. Down, down, down they went via snaking secret tunnels. Mage lights winked on as they approached and off as they passed, the damp, dark limestone glistening, the crystal flecks in the rock winking green.

In places, the ceiling grazed her head. Sweat ran down her back. The air was hot and humid, as if since her last descent, the mountain had inhaled the city's heat and held it jealously.

The passage widened, and the unnamed guard stopped and stood to the side. "Your Majesty."

Rina winced as she passed the man, too aware of the way he fought against the urge to squirm and pull away. This man did not like her people. Then she smiled, her incisors digging into her lower lips as she remembered the power she held over him. Now, she was the one who could hurt him. Not the other way.

She knew she approached her destination as the temperature dropped, and the mountain yawned wide. Last time, she had been too overwhelmed to notice the carved engravings around the cathedral entrance. Though she couldn't read them, they seemed as familiar as the back of her hand.