~ 12 ~
The Masque in Calles the next evening was delightful in every sense of the word.
Bonfires, placed at strategic places, provided golden light and heat for anyone who needed to warm up in the middle of festivities. The foundling children from the abbey played with the townsfolk children on the ice while smiling guardians watched over them.
Musicians played on almost every street corner, and the food—dear gods, the food. The abbey hauled cartfuls of both sweet and savory pastries across the strait along with roasted turkeys and hams and baskets full of fresh apples. The shops remained open, and the food merchants sold their wares, but the largesse from the abbey was free to all. Everyone assured Wulf that they had cut back on extravagances that year. The inhabitants of Calles knew very well that they were still facing a difficult winter.
But to the men who had been eating camp rations for weeks, it was a veritable feast, and there was plenty of ale for purchase at both inns. Still, eight thousand troops was a lot for a relatively small town to absorb, so the Braugne soldiers passed through in rotation, giving everyone a chance to dance, eat, and drink a little before the night was through.
Not everyone wore masks. Jermaine had forbidden any of the troops to disguise their faces. The security risk was too elevated. But many of the townsfolk, and those from the abbey, wore costumes and masks.
After all, there was a touch of romance to be had in dancing with the butcher’s wife, who pretended to hide her identity behind a pretty mask of peacock feathers. Or the Sea Lion’s innkeeper who wore a horned stag’s head but who still gave himself away with his booming laugh.
The whole event, set against the backdrop of snow, was so damn charming and picturesque Wulf was wild to get out of there.
He was ready to go. His possessions were packed. Both Karre and Mignez had sent the troops they had promised in their treaties, and six thousand men waited for him at the juncture where Calles’s border met Guerlan’s. His own army would march in the morning, but Wulf planned on going on ahead with a smaller party that night.
There was just one thing that kept him from leaving.
Lily hadn’t made her appearance yet.
He stood at the mouth of the alley by the Sea Lion, leaning against the corner of the building, arms crossed, as his restless gaze roamed over the crowd.
Then children ran down the streets, shrieking, “It’s time! It’s time!”
People hurried to move back from the center of the street, making way for the procession of the gods. The person who played the part of Taliesin came first, leaping and twirling as they made their way down the street, dressed in a costume that made them appear to be half man, half woman.
Then the other gods walked past, each in costumes that portrayed their roles—Death, Love, the Oracle, the god of the Gift, and Law.
And last came the goddess of the Hearth, and of course it was Lily. Dressed in a golden gown that simulated flames, her dark hair pinned up behind the mask of a beautiful, smiling woman, she looked otherworldly and magnificent, and the entire crowd—the Braugnes, the townsfolk, and the abbey alike—roared in joy.
Wulf didn’t raise his voice with the others. When he saw her, his chest constricted, and a pain swept over him that was so fierce it almost drove him to his knees.
When Lily walked past, she looked at him, and the gold of her costume caught in her eyes.
He had thought to say goodbye to her at the Masque. He hadn’t taken into account how everyone would swarm her when the procession of the gods had ended. With a slight, bitter smile, he watched the large knot of laughing people. She was lost in the middle of it, too petite for him to see.
Very well, he would write her a farewell letter instead. Perhaps it was better that way.
He said to Gordon, who hovered nearby, “I’m headed back to camp. Tell the rest of our party we’ll leave in an hour.”
Gordon nodded. “Yes, sir.”
After Wulf walked back, he lit a lamp, dug out the chest that contained his writing materials, and sat at the table. For a long while, he stared at an empty page, pen at the ready, but what could he say?
I wanted you more than anything, and then I loved you.
And then I saw how much you love your beautiful home, and I loved you too much to take you away from it.
Closing his eyes, he put his head in his hands.
From the direction of the tent flap, Lily said, “All ready to leave, I see.”
He had heard nothing, not even the sound of the tent flap being disturbed. Her cloaking spell was that good.
Astonishment roared. He surged to his feet. “Seven hells!”
She walked in, her expression set. Her hair was still pinned high, but she had shed the golden costume. Like him, she wore black—black riding boots, trousers, quilted vest. Even her gloves and cloak were black.
She tore off her gloves and slapped them on the table. “You were going to leave, just like that—with no goodbye?” Her gaze fell on his pen and paper, and her mouth took on a bitter twist. “Well, maybe a note. Wulf, it’s going to be a long time before I forgive you for that.”
Gods, he needed to kiss her, and kiss her. To tear off her clothes and make love to her with all the anguished hunger in his heart until it wrecked them both.
Spinning away, he ran his hands through his hair. “I was going to talk to you tonight.”
“At the Masque.”
“Yes, but I should have realized how inundated you would be by everyone. So yes, I was going to write you a letter.”
“Asshole,” she whispered unsteadily.
When he looked over his shoulder, she had tears in her eyes and she looked so betrayed it felt like he took a knife to the chest.
Good. Let her feel betrayed. That might put a quicker end to this torture.
“I love you,” he said.
“I know you do!” she snapped. “So what? I love you too, and I would never leave you like this!”
The distance between them grew intolerable. Striding over to her, he gripped her arms and said fiercely into her face, “I love you, and I’m in a war that has only just begun, and this camp? Lily, this camp is the best you will ever see it. It smells clean, doesn’t it? It smells fresh, because everything is frozen. Over the next few years, there’s going to be more mud and blood, and danger and stink, than you can possibly imagine, and the battles are going to be brutal and gut-wrenching. Meanwhile, you have an amazing home filled with a richness of history that you love passionately, and a people who adore you. You have a place, and a function, and your hearth is here.”
As he spoke, the tears in her eyes spilled over and slipped down her face. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I love this place passionately. That’s why I’ve been grooming Margot as prime minister for the past six months—because I wanted to leave the abbey and Calles in the best, most capable hands when I left.”
Stricken, he whispered, “Lily, what are you saying?”
She slapped his chest and cried, “I’m saying you don’t get to take my choices away from me, and I choose you, Wulf! I choose you, and not over Guerlan. Over my home.”
The enormity of that silenced him.
Then he said simply, “You can walk away from the abbey, just like that?”
“Not quite just like that.” The light threw deep shadows under her eyes. “I was up all night, but… yes.”
“My gods, love, that’s so much for you to sacrifice.” Her shining hair was beginning to slip out of the pins. He brushed the fine strands back from her face. “When I began that letter, I was going to ask you to wait for me. If you couldn’t, then I would have to accept it, because this is going to take so gods damned long—”
Nodding, she swiped at her nose. “So I should take my bags and tent, my twenty-five healer priestesses, two assistants, and my two hundred and fifty Defenders, and I should go back home, get over you, and fall in love with another man. Sure, Wulf. Okay.”
Wait, what?
What other man?!
“What are you saying now?” he roared. For the first time, he took in the implications of her outfit. She walked everywhere around the abbey and town, but she was dressed in riding boots. Realization struck. “You packed. You prepared for this. You’re ready to go.”
She met his gaze, her mouth set. “That’s right, Wulf. I’m ready to go. And I’m not going to wait for you. Either I come with you now, or I walk away. I’m not going to sit at home and worry and pine over you for years. You’re a stupid man, so I hate to say this, but it’s your decision.”
“Lily,” he breathed.
Forget about the miracles that danced like fireflies around her. She was a miracle so enormous he clenched her against his chest for fear she might disappear on him again. Her arms wound around his waist, and she clenched him tightly too.
Burying his face in her hair, he said, “You make me want to be better than I am. So I was trying to be a better man.”
“I didn’t fall in love with a better man,” she whispered. “I fell in love with you.”
Faced with the enormity of her choice and the depth of her feelings, there was only one thing he could say. Only one thing he had ever wanted to say.
“Stay. It’s going to be hard, but stay the course, you beautiful, brave woman. Stay with me.” He tilted up her face and kissed her. “You’re so much more than I deserve.”
She slipped a hand to the back of his neck. “That goes without saying.”
He kissed her again, and again. The soft, rich curves of her mouth captivated him. “Are you going to be scolding me for a while?”
She met him kiss for kiss. “That too goes without saying. It might take me a month or two.”
“Whatever you need to do, my love.” Unbuttoning her jacket, he cupped her soft breast and gritted his teeth. “Gods, I want you.”
“I want you t—” she began, but just then the tent flap lifted.
“Sir, we’re ready to go,” Gordon said as he stepped in. “Did you know we also have quite a few priestesses and Defenders waiting at the edge of… camp…?”
Wulf froze, then withdrew his hand slowly from her breast. Looking deeply into his eyes, Lily smiled. She said telepathically, This is only the first of many, many interruptions I foresee in our future.
Thank the goddess I’m in love with a woman who knows how to protect her boundaries. As her smile widened, he turned to Gordon and said aloud, “Change of plans. We will head out in the morning with the rest of the troops. Please see that the priestesses and Defenders are given a suitable area to camp for the night. Her grace will need some of her people nearby, but we’ll figure out where everybody belongs in formation tomorrow. That will be all for tonight, Gordon.”
Ducking his head, Gordon said to the ground, “Good night, sir, your grace.”
Wulf looked at Lily. “I just disposed of you again.”
“Clearly you’re going to need some training…” She gasped as he hauled her against him and drove his mouth down over hers. He delved deeply, spearing her with his tongue, while urgency beat in the drumming of his blood.
Her tongue dueled with his as her fingers flew over him, first unbuttoning his coat, then his shirt. Pulling away, he yanked them off. The tent was cold, the braziers unlit. His bed had been stripped, the blankets and furs rolled. Everything about this was raw and inelegant, and none of it mattered.
While he grabbed a rolled-up blanket and shook it out, she tore out of her clothes. She turned to him, completely nude, and the sight of her gorgeous body made the flames of his hunger leap hotter, higher.
Wrapping her up in the blanket, he grabbed both their cloaks and steered her backward to the bed pallet while her hands roamed greedily over the bare expanse of his chest.
He was so hard and aching and hot for her. He said between his teeth, “Tell me now, love—how careful should I be?”
For a moment her face went blank, but then she grasped his meaning. “I’m no virgin, Wulf. You don’t need to coax me along.”
That’s what he needed to know. Thrusting her backward onto the pallet, he fell on top of her. Good gods, how had she not been snapped up by someone else? He was going to find every single one of her ex-lovers and grind their faces into dust—no, wait, that was probably unbalanced…
He had to touch her everywhere, taste every curve and hollow, and while he feasted all over her body, she undulated underneath his hands, grasping and stroking and licking him until the fire burned so hot he could only quench it by penetrating deep within her.
They discovered their own rhythm together, and it was the best of all dances, and the give and the take, the gasp of breath, the exquisite peak of pleasure and sigh of release, all of it played the beat to which they danced.
He was shaking when he finished. She had gone before him, and so she held him with her whole body, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. As he looked down into her eyes, he stroked the damp hair off her face.
Heart still pounding, still inside her, he whispered, “I’ll hurt you again, but I will always be sorry when I do it. I’ll try not to, but that’s not how life works.”
“No, it isn’t,” she whispered back.
“I will swear to you this—I’ll always be true to you.” He stared down at her fiercely. “Always.”
As she stared at him, he had just enough time to wonder what she saw. When a smile brightened her face, it was like watching the sun rise in the morning.
“Yes,” she said. “I can see that you will.”
He could do no less. She was his miracle, and the gods only knew, not very many people got the chance to have one.
Using both cloaks, they settled together as tightly as they could. Tomorrow there would be challenges. A war to fight, an empire to build.
But there were always challenges.
There would also be the chance to dance with her again.
And before he fell asleep, Wulf wondered if maybe there wasn’t an end to any story.
Maybe there is only, ever, just the beginning.