“If I were to come to you in the night…would I be welcome?”
I can feel my jaw drop open. I didn’t honestly expect there might be an opportunity for more indulgences between the two of us, though it is very,verywelcome.
I nod, not caring how eager I seem. Playing coy or denying is pointless now. “It would be my literal pleasure.”
He seems to breathe a sigh of relief, as if he wasn’t sure if I would say yes to him. How could he think anything else? Especially after the day we shared?
As I suspected, the warriors are waiting for us just beneath the waves. They don’t seem suspicious in the slightest about what kept us for half the day. Perhaps they don’t want to know, or think it’s better if they don’t ask questions.
I hold my head high and act casual as we return to the castle. With a nonchalant farewell, Ilryth and I part, going our separate ways. It takes every bit of my control not to look back at him when we do. Not to hope that he might already be swimming back to me.
It is too soon for it, I know, yet I can’t help myself. I can’t stop my hoping for his arrival as the remnants of the day slip into night. I wait on the balcony, ignoring Krokan churning up the currents of rot below and instead scanning the waters above, searching for any sign of Ilryth instead.
But there is none. The night comes and goes, dawn breaks, and Ilryth is still not here. I remind myself that he said he wouldn’t be able to come soon without arousing suspicion. Moreover, I am sure he has many responsibilities to attend to beyond me. I insist to myself that I will not think too much or obsess over his absence.
I spend my time dedicating myself to what I’m supposed to be doing—working on the hymns of the old ones. I sit on the balcony railing, where Ilryth and I sat the other night.
Alone, I sing.
The words come from low in my stomach, are drawn up through my chest, and pull up to the top of my mind. As they drag through my thoughts, they pull parts of me with them. Stripping me away from the inside out. It’s harder each time to pick memories than the last. Briefly, I consider sacrificing the memory of Ilryth’s and my passions…but I don’t. I want to carry that with me for as long as I can.
Instead, I pick memories of council meetings. The last vestiges of the man named Charles. Those can burn away. Whatever happened with him is of no consequence to me any longer. It feels so vastly unimportant to where I am now.
The notes rise, lighter and lighter with every thought I let go. It feels as if my soul is soaring with them, unhindered for the first time in my life. I try to sing with all my chest—to reach the tallest boughs of the Lifetree that sways above me. But the words are weighted by the still, heavy water, pulled down into the clotting rot.
My song sinks into the Abyss. I can almost hear a faint echo resonating back up to me. The sound is lonely and far colder than I feel. I still, tilting my head slightly. I sing another note. The reply is filled with longing and pain.
I pause my song, trying to make sense of what I heard. Was it merely an echo? Or was Krokan singing back to me? Closing my eyes, I try to repeat the sound in my mind—to understand it—but I’m interrupted.
“Your Holiness?” Lucia calls up.
“I’m here.” I push away from the railing, drifting into my room as she arrives.
She knows instantly what we’ve done. I don’t know how she knows, but she does. The moment she swims up through the tunnel she halts, staring at me. There’s a sudden shift to her expression from wide to narrowed eyes.
I stand a little taller and I give her a slight smile as though I am acknowledging that she knows without needing to say a word. Lucia shakes her head and crosses, giving me a pointed look of disapproval. I hadn’t expected her to say anything about her brother and me. But, apparently, I was wrong.
CHAPTER37
She grabs my hand.Her words are hasty, whispered even though she’s speaking directly to my mind. “I worry for you both.”
If not for my years of training, I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face. “What are you talking about?”
“You…and my brother…” It takes her a second to formulate the words, as if she can’t believe she’s saying them at all. Or perhaps she’s inwardly cringing at the notion of her brother being intimate. Either is possible.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I continue to play dumb, wanting her to elaborate and tell me exactly what she knows—what she sees or hears—so that I might hide it better to protect Ilryth.
“Your markings have shifted a bit.”
“They have?” I hold up my arm. The tattoos appear mostly the same as always.
Lucia inspects the markings as well. “Yes. Somewhat on your skin. Definitely in the song your soul resonates with—it no longer quite matches what we’ve inked. I can only assume it was quite the monumental shift to adjust your duet so significantly.”
“I heard Lady Lellia’s voice.” I offer the explanation to see if it’s a viable substitution to her suspicions in case someone else notices.
She stills, eyes darting up to me. “You did?” Her voice is still a whisper, but no longer one of fear and worry. But, rather, awe…and a fleeting hope as delicate as the words.
I nod. “I’m certain of it. Perhaps that was the cause of the change in the markings?”
