She opened her mouth to say something, but his words left her speechless. He sounded reasonable and fair. He made her look selfish.
“I’ve known him for a long time, and I think if he had a choice between being dragged back here to do even more until it killed him again, or having someone work for the benefit of the kingdom using what he taught them, he’d choose the latter.”
His sharp words were meant to shake her, to make herquestion her choices, but instead they helped her make up her mind. For the first time that evening, her thoughts were settled, her goal clear.
“You knew him well, but not as well as I did,” she said. “What does a secretary know about his master’s heart?”
Her words landed like a slap.
“You may care about the politics, about the kingdom, about which spoiled young man is going to rule this city,” she continued. “I don’t give a damn about it. But I do care about Amron and I’m not going to allow the gods to decide his destiny on a whim.”
“But, his letter—”
“What about it?” she cut him off. “If I’d said to him,don’t go to Myrit, do you think he would’ve listened? It’s a wish, not a command.” Hollow, bleak laughter rasped in her throat. “Of course I’m going to fight the gods for him. If I could make them bleed and burn, I’d do it. It’s my choice to make.”
He stared at her in silence. It was strange how they couldn’t really be allies, not even now. She did not question his grief nor doubt his will to do something. They just couldn’t agree on what it should be.
Perhaps her idea was selfish. She was a selfish person, that’s how she survived.
“You always do whatever you damn please,” he said.
“Is there any other way to get what you want?”
“You know,” he said, “I’ve watched you get what you want every time, and I’ve watched him forgive you. Your stubbornness, your inflexibility, your unwillingness to accept the rules of the world you chose to inhabit. It hurt him, because that world you rejected was his birthright and duty. And you left him to face it all alone.”
She stared at him, too shocked to reply. She thought Telani’s disapproval of her was general, since he was as immune to her ashe was to any other woman. Apparently, it wasn’t.
“And if you get to him, he’ll forgive you that as well,” he continued. “But you won’t be doing it for him, you’ll be doing it for yourself.”
“That may be true,” she shot back. “And yet, you’ll be the coward who stayed here and wasted your time on politics, and I’ll be the one who went and tried to get him back. Thank you for your advice, I’ll be leaving now.”
“Don’t be rash, Liana. At least wait until the morning, it’s miserable weather outside.”
The patter of rain on the roof emphasized his words.
“My mother likes miserable weather,” she said, “and the sooner I get to her, the better. I have some accounts to settle.”
• • •
Liana abandoned Telaniwith his schemes, left the town that had been her home for over a decade, and climbed the steep road in the darkness, oblivious to the rain and cold. She hiked through the forest of evergreen oaks as the moonlight pierced the canopy, speckling the brown carpet of leaves with silver. Hands raised, palms turned outwards, she touched the curtain of the mortal world, the gossamer reality that bound every living creature to its fate, and pulled it aside. Time slowed down, impotent and ignored in this place where fate was created rather than endured.
Weight fell off her shoulders, tiredness evaporated as the divine blood in her veins sang with joy. A strong sense of belonging filled her with warmth. This was the realm of the beautiful, immortal, and strong. This was home.
A blazing lick of fire singed the soft skin between her breasts. She yelped and tugged at the chain around her neck, pulling out the silver medallion.
“Liana, you dolt,” she whispered to herself. Silver burned her fingers, reminding her that she was a half-breed. Human enough to fall under the spell of this place, divine enough to get burned.
“Mother, I’m here,” she called.
The stag did not make a sound as it approached, moving as softly as a cat on thick carpet. One moment, all Liana could see were the dark trunks and the dappled shadows, and the next, the majestic Lord of the Forest stood before her.
“Come,” she whispered and offered her hand. A cautious sniff, and then a hot tongue licked her singed fingers. “You remember me, don’t you?”
The stag pushed its nose into her hair, rubbing its cheek against hers in mute greeting. She patted its large head, relishing the silky touch of its coat.
“I need you to take me to my mother.”
The stag knelt down before her, allowing her to climb onto its wide back. As Liana gripped its antlers, a memory hit her: She had been a tiny thing, light as a leaf, flying through the forest faster than a gale, holding on for dear life, shrieking madly with terror and excitement.
