“I went out the back passages, through the servants’ stairways, and into the woods by the lake. I came in when I heardscreaming, and acted shocked. Claimed I had been so startled by the screams that I had shifted and clawed my own eye while fighting through the branches to get to the palace. In all the commotion with a dead queen and my father on maneuvers, no one worried about my eye.”
“But your father—”
“I told him. Months later, after the funeral, when he kept saying something didn’t make sense. He was saddened by the loss, yet he was relieved she was gone, I could tell. He was more clear-headed, but also more deeply in mourning—for my mother. For both. For the future he could have had. When I told him of her plot, of how she had repeatedly offered me food and wouldn’t let the servants take it to the kitchen when it was uneaten, he said it was a lie. A crazy tale I made up out of fear and spite. I never... I never thought someone who loved me as my father did could say such hateful words to me. I had no reason to lie, not if she was gone, not months later. And I saw that when a man loves someone, he isn’t safe. If it is a woman, his yearning for her will put him in danger. If my father had lived longer than Ciara liked, I am quite sure she would have poisoned him, too. He trusted her, unthinkingly. She had been drugging him, I am sure, and she could have poisoned his child. If I were gone, and she had a son, and say... say my father disliked something she did. She might have turned against that child, too.”
“I’m not like her. I will never be. For one thing, I am not a witch; I’m a mage. And for another, my healing potions and ointments have been sold in the family shop for years. I—”
Girion took her hands. “I know. I know I am weak. I am weak to fear love. But I knew today, watching you walk towards me, that I could trust you with my whole heart. I had no fear of you—and that somehow made me more afraid of myself. Am Ibecoming weak?” he whispered, looking at her with desperation written on his face.
Jocasta slowly shook her head. “You are just sure of your ally. I will guard your flank. Forever.”
“Oh, Jo! Jo, I’m so glad you’re mine!” He burst into a mix of laughter and wet sounds that made his eyes sting and shamed him. He grabbed her face to cover it in kisses, mainly so she wouldn’t see that his eyes were damp. “Do you forgive me?”
Jocasta nodded. “I’m not sure there is anything to forgive, Girion.”
“I made you cry. That is unforgivable.” He landed a kiss on each eyelid, then her lips.
“If you let me get out of these damp clothes and into a warm bed, I will forget all about it.”
Girion nodded and released her so she could change. His mouth dried out when she picked up the thin, sheer garment from her side of the bed.
Everyone claimed he had been generous to his bride. They had no idea how truly generous she was to him.
JOCASTA STEWED ANDstormed in the bathing chamber, washing her mouth and teeth, changing into the garment she was expected to wear. It was almost translucent. The dark swells of her breasts and their hard nipples showed through it, as well as the dark curls between her thighs.
That poor little boy. Feeling all alone in the world. Believing that everyone he could trust and love was gone, or no longer loved and trusted him.
He trusts me. To him, being able to trust and not fear a person is as dear as love. Perhaps it is even the same thing.
All at once, Jocasta pictured Girion standing at the base of a mountain, her and Caledon on one side, and a mighty avalancheracing down toward them. Girion stood in the gap, holding back the avalanche, a protector between.What we arebothafraid to feel.
He cried tonight, and smiled and laughed.
And I cried. And smiled and laughed.
Love is a strange name for what we have, but I think it is the seed of it. I think it will grow, even if we refuse to name it.
She cautiously poked her head through the door. The lamps were out. Girion was in bed. The glow of the hearth made everything warm and shadowy, and she slipped to the bed and then down under the covers, barely breathing.
“Sleep well, dearest Jo, Queen of Caledon,” he whispered.
“Sleep well, dearest Girion. Girion the Great. Protector of Caledon. Protector of all.” She kept her back towards him, eyes open in the dark, staring at shadows thrown by firelight.
“I am only sorry that I failed to protect you from my words. I could not stop them from falling; I could not stop myself from thinking them. I... I was thinking that my feelings are boulders in an avalanche—”
Jocasta let out a little gasp, but he kept speaking.
“I cannot stop them, cannot stop myself from feeling more and more drawn to you, but I have been in love, not like this, and so,” he let out a weary sigh, “so I am trying my best to limit the damage my words may have caused, that my clumsiness brought on you. I wish I could repair the trust I must have broken.”
Jocasta reached back, her hand brushing a bare arm, and making her jump. His hand came up to clasp hers. “Whatever you feel, I feel. We can face the avalanche together... or maybe together we will melt the worst of it, and just create a thaw.”
“Our world is already warming. Although you cannot be warm in that little thing you’re wearing.” Girion let go of her hand and drew the covers up over top of her shoulders. His arm brushed her bare skin.
Jocasta wiggled back towards him. “I think warming each other is a good plan. On a night like this. It’s still Caledon. It’ll never be properly warm, will it?”
“It’s a land made for those who can stand the cold.”
“But without breaks from it, we don’t survive.”
