The Healer froze, undecided or perhaps trying to pick apart their answers. In the end, it seemed that Kai’s wishes as a king held less weight than the command of a Vanjir, and the woman edged into the room, eyeing the wet table wearily as she looked for a spot to set down her satchel.
“Here,” said Al, drawing back his chair and gesturing to the dry seat. He stepped out of the Healer’s way, catching Kai’s eye over her head as he moved. “We should step out. Continue this back at the manor when you’re finished here.”
“Please,” Kai agreed.
Alun bobbed his head, then turned to Ceri and held out his hand. She blinked at him; Kai blinked at them both. But Ceri took Al’s hand and let him guide her into the hallway, neither of them turning to catch the flicker of confusion that ghosted over their King’s features.
Over the rustle and clink of the Healer sorting through her bag, Adeline drew close and lay her hand on Kai’s arm. His brow smoothed as he turned to her, but his eyes were wary; it hurt to see. She swallowed past the sting, the lump it raised in her throat.
“I need you to promise me,” she said, “that this conversation isn’t over.”
His eyes flicked over her face, but he didn’t say anything; didn’t nod or shake his head. The only tell that he’d heard her at all was the slight stutter of his chest, his breath interrupted.
“Kai—”
“Your Highness,” said Oswalt.
Adeline’s hand tightened reflexively around Kai’s arm, but she fought the weary flutter of her own eyes, fought the sigh that pressed on her lungs. She turned an expectant gaze on Kai’s cousin, polite as she could manage.
He bowed his head, wooden as a doll, with features just as blank.
“With your permission, might I have a moment alone with my King?”
She held her ground a moment, but when a familiar warmth settled over her hand, she met the brush of Kai’s gaze.
“I’ll find you,” he said quietly.
She couldn’t say why that promise made her heart sink. Why she felt her face fall in the split second before her limbs propelled her against his chest, reaching up for the nape of his neck to drag him into a brief but bruising kiss.
“Youswear,” she said, pulling back.
He nodded, his nose brushing over hers. She would have liked verbal confirmation, would have pressed for it, but Oswalt’s stare was boring into her back. The Healer had stopped her rustling, and Adeline could feel her behind them, waiting patiently to attend to Kai’s shoulder.
So she released him.
???
The darkness of the hallway was a blanket to Adeline’s senses; black and silent. The dining room, with its sparse candlelight and smoke-tinged breeze, had existed in some liminal space. Outside its bounds, she realised with a jolt how deep they’d sunken into the night. There must be hardly a soul awake in the palace, court and staff alike, dreaming peacefully, unaware of the smog and devastation still hanging over the bay.
Her eyes took several minutes to adjust, and even when they did, she couldn’t quite find her bearings. She felt her way along the walls, in the general direction of her room, but more importantly, away from the distant hiss and snap of Kai’s conversation with his cousin.
And toward a second pair of voices, just as quiet and perhaps twice as taut.
“—can’t go. Youcan’t.”
“Why not?” said Ceri, defiance raising her voice above Al’s whisper.
Alun’s laughter was not the same sunny, carefree sound she’d come to expect from him. It was dry, abrupt, little more than a huff of breath in the dark.
“Am Iallowedto tell you why not? Are you going to listen this time?”
Shit,thought Adeline. She froze where she stood, just a few strides before the shadowed outline of Ceri and Al, anddeliberated wildly. The catch of Ceri’s breath was too intimate; she didnotwant to be here.Shouldnot be here, witnessing this private moment. She glanced over her shoulder, the archway distant but still lit by the dim yellow candlelight of the dining room. She didn’t want to bethere, either, but she would take Oswalt’s obvious disdain over—
“Stay with me,” said Alun. His voice was low and intimate, meant for no one but Ceri. “Stay in Nua Laune. We might not grow old, but we can grow scaly together. I’ve loved you for years, Ceriwyn. I’ll love you with webbed feet, too.”
Adeline shifted slowly backward, masking her footfall under the watery swell of Ceri’s laughter.
“I love you.”
