~ 3 ~
Echoing the blackness of my mood, the clouds drew in dark and forbidding by late afternoon, a biting wind whipping up to slap my face. Much as Ami had wanted to do. Upon reflection, I wished she had. The chill formality of our fight hadn’t been like either of us. Better if she had raged at me.
But perhaps it made sense. Always we’d been easiest with each other when flush with passion, caught up and not overthinking anything—whether it was sex or the battle to save Stella. Perhaps an affair born in fire inevitably died in the grip of ice.
Ami had stayed in the carriage all day, making me wonder how they kept the twins occupied. Sleeping, most likely, which boded ill for any inn we stayed at. And we would have to stop for the night. The impending storm and our slow progress demanded it. Even if we pressed on, we wouldn’t make Windroven before the early hours before dawn at our current rate.
“By the look of those clouds, we should be looking for a place to stay the night,” Lieutenant Graves remarked, pulling his steed up behind mine. He nodded unnecessarily at the storm building on the southwest horizon, obviously steaming in our direction. “Those aren’t Mornai clouds to my eye, but that’ll be a decent enough blow that we don’t want to be caught out in it, if you want this Avonlidgh farmboy’s opinion, sir.”
I glanced at him wryly for the sir, and for his diffidence. Graves and his men had served Amelia from the beginning, at her father-in-law’s behest, and they all knew exactly who I was. Graves had probably recognized it in me even before he saw the scarring from the prison lash, long before Ami ever knew the truth about me. Why he hadn’t called me on it back then—or reported my escaped prisoner status to anyone—I didn’t know. I’d appreciated the courtesy, as well as getting to keep my head attached to my neck. And now with the High Queen granting pardons for Tala prisoners, I didn’t have to worry about that aspect anymore. Still, calling me “sir” went a step too far.
But then Graves and his men were so intimately involved in their queen’s protection and in her daily life that there were some things they couldn’t pretend not to see. Ami and I had never been good at keeping our hands off each other, even when we tried to maintain proper decorum. I’d muddied the waters considerably for these good men, who’d shown me the greatest kindness by not turning me in, by allowing me to linger in their mistress’s presence with such unclear status. They deferred to me as they would a prince, an affront to them as men of honor.
Yes, I’d let this go on far too long, steeped in dithering and inaction.
“There’s a good inn up ahead that we stayed at before,” Graves continued after a pause, making me realize I’d failed to answer. The habits of silence ran deep. “But with Willy and Nilly, I don’t know…”
“Definitely not a good idea,” I agreed, smiling a bit that the men had picked up on our nicknames for the twins, calling them Willy and Nilly for their reckless and unpredictable behavior. It made for a good code, too, since not everyone needed to know the location of Princess Stella and Prince Astar, heirs to three thrones and counting, including the High Throne of the Thirteen Kingdoms. Traveling with Ami, however, made all such precautions moot. She was unmistakable under any circumstances, her face better known than the High Queen’s, thanks to all the artists who vied to make their fame with her face.
“I don’t like going to an inn, either,” I continued. “Though the Thirteen are slowly learning not to hate shapeshifters on sight, the more rural we go, the more likely we are to encounter old prejudices, I’d think.”
I posed it as a question, and Graves nodded. “Ayup. There’s knowing your prince and heir to the Avonlidgh throne has shapeshifter blood, and there’s seeing him tearing up the curtains as a black bear cub, breaking everything in sight looking for sweets.”
We shared a grin for that—as that very thing had happened more than once—and it helped lighten my morose mood. “Other suggestions?” I asked.
Graves squinched an eye at the clouds, pursing his mouth. “Her Highness has stopped on other occasions at the Duchess of Lianore’s manse. She’s a good lady and loyal. Tolerant,” he added with a grimace.
“All right,” I agreed, “I’ll speak to the queen about it.”
He saluted—which he shouldn’t, but it would have been churlish to say so. Removing myself from this equation would solve a great deal for everyone. I guided my steed alongside the carriage, rapping the back of my knuckles on the window frame.
The curtains whisked open and Ami glared at me, then set her expression in impassive lines. When she spoke, she used regal tones. “What do you need?”
She’d been weeping—again or still—her eyes uncharacteristically puffy with it. When I’d first met her, she’d been paralyzed with grief for Hugh and hadn’t been able to cry. I supposed it said something that she was able to shed tears for our imminent parting. Better and healthier for her. No reason the sight should make me angry.
“Graves suggests that we ask the Duchess of Lianore to let us stay the night, Your Highness,” I told her, submerging the anger under icy formality. Two could play that game. “There’s a storm coming and with Willy—the twins, it would be best to avoid inns.”
“Lady Veronica?” She brightened a little. “An excellent idea. I’d love to see her.”
“All right, I’ll send ahead to let her know of our arrival.”
“Fine,” she replied. Then raised her brows. “Anything else?”
I looked past her to Stella, asleep with her two smallest fingers in her mouth, draped over her mother’s lap. I couldn’t see Astar, but the lack of ruckus indicated he was also sleeping. “We’ll never get them to sleep tonight if you let them nap all day.”
It was the wrong thing to say. One of many reasons I took refuge in saying nothing. Ami’s cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed almost luminescent, like the toxic violet gases in the marshes of Biah. “That strikes me as something that is not your problem,” she answered, voice colder and more biting than the wind that tried to snatch at my cloak.
I blew out a breath. “Ami, I only meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant.” She rubbed her eyes and looked away. “I’m tired and I’m willing to face a long night for a few hours of peace right now, all right? It’s not like I’ll be doing anything else with my time. At least I won’t be distracted by you.”
I stiffened at the well-aimed jab. Finding time alone together had become a challenge, even with the Tala nurses and other retainers. The twins loved being with their mother best, especially Stella, who seemed to understand she’d been unfairly deprived of Ami’s loving care for that first month she’d been in her abductor’s hands and was determined to make up for it. If they couldn’t have Ami, they wanted to be climbing on me, showering me with affection that warmed even the burned-out coal of my heart. It struck me then that I’d be losing Astar and Stella, too, when I left.
They would be too young to remember me. Much better for them, as they shouldn’t be warped by my presence, seeing a man like me as some sort of father figure. A bitter comfort.
Still, I’d thought Ami enjoyed the sneaking about, finding places to be together where we wouldn’t be discovered. Especially when I put my hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure, and sternly ordered her not to move. All for discretion’s sake—but also a game that excited us both. The memories of those stolen moments sent a shudder of need through me, and I wanted her with as much helpless lust as ever. The thought of never touching her again…
“Ash,” she whispered, her eyes dark on my face before she determinedly averted them. “Don’t look at me that way. I … can’t.”
I nodded stiffly and tried to think of what I should say.
“Would you—” She held up a hand alongside her face, as if shielding her eyes from the sun. “Would you please just go away?”
I nodded again, even though she wouldn’t see it, and rode into the wind to tell Graves of the decision.