Chapter Fifteen
He wasn’t quite sure he had heard her correctly. “What do you mean, we can’t do it again?” he growled. “Of course we can. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
“Well, what I want to do is go upstairs to my rooms and clean up. I’m starting to get cold, and I don’t want to talk to you like this.” She pressed a kiss against his shoulder.
The caress didn’t make him feel better. Instinct told him not to let go of her, but he couldn’t see any rational way to hold on. “All right,” he said finally. “I could certainly stand to wash up too, so let’s go upstairs together.”
“I need time by myself,” she told him.
Goddamn it, why was she wearing her doctor face? His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Why? I just do, that’s all!” She caught herself up visibly, then said in a more measured tone, “Let’s meet down here soon. We can eat supper and drink some more of those amazing wines you have so kindly shared with me. I’ll be ready to talk then.”
After a few moments, he could unclench his teeth enough to say, “Fine, let’s do that.”
“Good. See you soon.” She kissed him again, swiftly, and peeled away from his embrace. Gathering up her clothes, she strode out the kitchen.
He watched her go. She was a source of constant surprise. With the kind of swift retreat she had just executed, he had expected her to show some evidence of body shame or embarrassment—something that would have explained her behavior.
But there was none of that. Her speed was derived from purpose. She held her clothes in a careless wad in one fist, and her sleek, nude body moved across the open room like exquisite poetry flowing off the tongue. She was completely at home in her own body and not embarrassed in the slightest to be seen nude by someone else.
No, her retreat had nothing to do with her. It had something to do with him.
The only way he was going to find out what was going on inside her head was by getting to the next part as fast as he could. Grabbing up his own clothes, he stalked through the silent palace to his own apartment. Once there, he went into the spacious, richly appointed bath and opened the flue to let water flow into the tub that was so capacious it was really a small swimming pool.
Nearly everyone in Lyonesse with magical capability knew how to heat water. It was one of the first workings of magic they learned as a child, and one of the most useful. After the water had filled the tub sufficiently, he cast a warming spell into it and dove in.
Soaking underwater had the welcome effect of clearing his head.
What he and Kathryn had shared… He had never experienced anything like it before. He had never before been capable of maintaining an erection after having ejaculated, nor had he ever experienced multiple climaxes before, just like every other male he had ever known… except the Wyr.
Had their lovemaking been just as spectacular for Kathryn?
When the Wyr mated, they went through an extraordinary process. While he was fuzzy on details, he had heard it described as a frenzy of insatiable desire.
Yes. That was exactly what it had been like.
And when the Wyr mated, they mated for life.
When the thought occurred to him, he stopped breathing, transfixed. It opened up a whole new vista for him to consider. And he loved every bit of it.
Was that what Kathryn had wanted to discuss… but only after a suitable time had passed and she’d had a chance to get some privacy, so she could erect all her barriers again?
Hurt spread through him like a bruise, but he deliberately shoved it away and reached for anger instead… Anger, his old companion, only this time it wasn’t cold in the slightest. It was volcanic, blazing hot.
Wrestling himself under control, he finished washing and dressed again in plain, unrelieved black—pants, shirt, boots, jacket. The severe clothing suited his mood. Kathryn hadn’t yet appeared, he found when he returned downstairs to the kitchen.
Pouring himself another goblet of the Lyonesse wine, he strode to the main front doors of the palace and opened them wide to the oncoming sunset. Outside, a flamboyant kaleidoscope of celestial colors greeted him.
Nature did not reflect his mood in the slightest. Scowling, he drank his wine and considered turning into the lion for the foreseeable future. He was very tempted to sink deep into the lion’s animal, predatory nature.
Kathryn could do her damned reasonable talking to the cat for all he cared. The cat wouldn’t give a shit about whatever words came out of her mouth and would focus on doing whatever it wanted anyway.
A flicker of movement in the distance caught his attention. At the lower edge of the city, down along the water line, someone—several someones—were picking their way carefully across a broken causeway.
Quickly he tossed back the rest of the wine, set the goblet on the step, and headed for the causeway. He was running by the time he reached the lower city. Just a few more blocks along the high street, then over another two would bring him to the docks.
When he raced past the last of the warehouses and into the open, the group of people had finished crossing the causeway. They must have heard his approach, because several of them lifted their heads as he appeared.
One of the nearest was a tall, older male who was a mixture of Demonkind and Dark Fae, with long white hair tied back from wicked, saturnine features. When he looked at Oberon, his expression filled with incredulous joy. “Sire?”
It was Owen, the castellan of the palace, and one of his oldest friends. This time when emotion welled up, it threatened to split him in two. “Owen,” he said deeply, striding forward. “Gods, it is so good to see you, old friend.”
Owen sprang to meet him. They didn’t so much hug as collide together. Dull pain bloomed in Oberon’s chest, but it was only a warning. He hadn’t done any real damage, so he ignored it.
“Your majesty,” Owen whispered, tears standing in his eyes. His pupils were slitted like a goat’s. “For so long I had hoped for a day like this….”
“What are you doing here?” Letting the other man go at last, Oberon looked around at the rest of the group. There were almost seventy people now standing around him in a great circle. “Elias—Edric!… Brielle and Zara. And Alden, Isla… Elliana…”
Beaming and wiping tears from their cheeks, they greeted him as well with multiple hugs, shouts of delighted laughter, and exclamations. The others of the group who were not in his inner circle bowed deeply or curtsied.
“Where have you been?” he asked Owen. “And how did you know to come back?”
“Some of us stayed with family and friends, scattered across various farms, but most of us had evacuated to a new settlement at Raven’s Craig,” Owen told him. “The flooding had gotten very bad, and Raven’s Craig is some of the highest land in Lyonesse. When the weather changed, we knew something important had happened.”
Raven’s Craig was also much closer to the city than the crossover passageway where Annwyn and her group were traveling from, so of course Owen’s group had arrived first. If Oberon hadn’t been so focused on himself, he might have considered that as a possibility.
Before the surgery, he… hadn’t cared. And afterward he had been totally consumed with Kathryn.
He clasped Owen’s shoulder. “You knew I had either died or gotten better.”
A shadow passed over Owen’s expression. “Yes, your majesty. A group of us gathered together, and we decided to hike back to the city to discover what had happened. Seeing you looking so robust and well—it’s everything we had dreamed of, and more. How did you recover?”
“I had some much-needed help from a wise physician,” Oberon told him in a loud enough voice that it carried to the others in the group. “Without her intervention, there’s no doubt in my mind I would have been lost. She’s at the palace now, so you’ll get a chance to meet her. Her name is Dr. Kathryn Shaw, and I think quite highly of her. I’m sure you will too.”
“The physician is here?” Owen turned to indicate one of the women, whom Oberon realized was leaning heavily on the male who stood beside her. “Isla took a bad fall and needs medical attention.”
“We will get her help.” Everyone in the group looked tired. They had clearly pushed to get here as quickly as they could. He almost stepped forward to offer to pick the woman up and carry her, but at the last moment he remembered Kathryn’s sternly worded instructions.
So instead he hooked an arm around Owen’s shoulders and turned with him in the direction of the palace, and the others fell in line behind them.
As they walked, he said quietly, “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you and to hear your voice.”
“It is the same for me, your majesty. The same for all of us, but most especially me.” Owen’s expression fell as they walked through the city streets. “The damage is quite extensive. I had not realized how much.”
“It’s just damage. Nothing more.” He let his conviction sound strongly in his voice. “We are going to rebuild and repair everything, and Lyonesse is going to be better than it has ever been. That’s my promise to all of you.”
And he felt that promise. He felt every word. It would be a joy and a privilege to see that it came to fruition.
As they climbed the hill to the palace, he asked Owen some quiet questions about various individuals. A few had died. Still others had emigrated to England and other countries.
But many of his people, by far most of them, would be flocking to the city as word spread of his recovery. Some of the males in this group were part of the palace and city guard, but he wouldn’t get a true reckoning of the state of his army until he talked to either Annwyn or another senior officer.
As anxious as he was to hear what Annwyn would have to say, that reunion would be coming soon enough, so for now he focused on the people who were right in front of him.
The sun finished setting during the short walk back, and true night set in. Kathryn had made herself busy, he saw, as she had lit all the outside witchlights that were still whole around the palace. When they neared, he saw her slim, straight figure standing in the open doorways of the palace’s main front entrance.
She looked refreshed and composed, smart and beautiful, with her shining hair pulled back in a simple braid. She wore trousers and a warm, cream-colored tunic.
Hunger and anger surged at the same time as he looked at her, and both feelings were so similar to how he had felt before the surgery it jolted him. She looked from him to Owen and back again, smiling.
“You found some of your people,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you. This is Owen Margeld, the castellan of the palace. Owen, this is the physician who saved my life, Dr. Shaw.” He waited until they had greeted each other, and then he added, “Kathryn, they have an injured woman. I assured them you would help her.”
Her expression changed. “Of course I will!”
The male who had been assisting Isla had carried her up the hill. As they stepped forward, Kathryn greeted them and then turned her attention to Isla.
Oberon knew what it was like to be the sole subject of her considerable focus and attention. After a few questions, a quick scan, and a smile of reassurance, Isla and the male both visibly relaxed, and all three turned to go inside.
Oberon touched Kathryn’s arm as she passed. When she looked at him in inquiry, he told her, “Feel free to use my office.”
Her expression brightened. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He couldn’t bring himself to return her smile, and hers faded as he turned away.
They would still have that damn talk, but for now he had other things to do. He told Owen, “There’s some food already prepared in the kitchen, but it’s not going to be nearly enough to feed everyone.”
Owen replied in a low voice, “Food would be good, but my main concern is where everybody is going to sleep for the night. Many of those buildings we passed didn’t look safe, and I don’t think inspecting them in the dark would be wise.”
“Nobody is going anywhere.” He looked around at all the exhausted faces. “There’s enough room here to house everyone safely. Brielle, you know where the palace kitchen and pantries are. I want you and a team of others to go and prepare a meal for everyone. Owen, you and Edric need to decide which rooms would be suitable to use for the night. The past couple of days have been warming up, but it gets cold after dark. Be sure there are fireplaces in the rooms you choose and check to see that the weather hasn’t damaged the chimneys. I know you’ve all had a long day, but Alden, you and some of the others need to bring in plenty of firewood for each room.” He smiled. “You have just a bit more work to do, and then you can eat and rest.”
“It’s glad work, and we will have a good night ahead of us!” Owen said. “Thank you, sire!”
As people divided into their work groups, he felt the impulse to join Alden and the other strong bodies who would be carrying in the firewood, and frustration surged once more as he remembered he couldn’t.
Again, Kathryn’s words came back to him. She had known what kind of frustration he would be facing. She must have seen the same thing in dozens of patients before, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Finally he chose to go with Owen to help inspect rooms. When there was a break in activity, he said quietly to the older man, “Tomorrow after everyone is well rested, take a cleaning crew down to the crystal cave. Don’t be alarmed by what you find down there. Kathryn had to perform surgery to remove the bastard’s assassination spell.”
Owen gripped his forearm and switched to telepathy. But you are well?
Rest assured, I am well, he assured the older man. Frustrated because I can’t lift anything right now, and I have to be mindful of a few other restrictions for four weeks, but I’m very well.
Owen relaxed. His Demonkind features could be frightening to those who didn’t know him, but for centuries Oberon had seen nothing in his expression but love and kindness. Then nothing else matters.
He forced himself to kick thoughts of Kathryn into the background and smiled. You’re right, nothing else does.
* * *
At first when she realized Oberon had left the palace, Kathryn had been worried. He’d been baffled and angry at her earlier, and with good reason. She had coupled with him like a wildcat, only to withdraw so completely afterward it gave her whiplash. He had to be feeling it too.
It was far outside her own normal behavior, and it wasn’t fair to him. But when Wyr entered the state they had slipped in to, they tended to be unpredictable and sometimes dangerous. Not knowing what else to do, she had activated the witchlights outside, watched, and waited.
Now, with the arrival of the group, everything had changed as she had always known it would.
A male named Jorrend carried Isla as he followed her to Oberon’s office. They both looked around in awe, and with a rueful, inward smile, she realized how quickly the palace had become familiar surroundings over the past several days.
Following her instructions, Jorrend set Isla carefully into one of the armchairs, and Kathryn eased the injured woman’s leg onto the footstool.
After deeper examination, she told Isla, “You didn’t just hurt your leg, you hurt your back. But the good news is, you don’t need surgery.”
Isla blanched. “I might have needed surgery?”
Jorrend exclaimed, “You’re lucky to be alive!” Turning to Kathryn, he said, “She hit her head and lost consciousness.”
“I saw that,” she replied, keeping her tone calm and reassuring. “But there’s no lasting damage. Isla, you have deep bruising at the back of your head, and you may have headaches for a few days, but there’s no skull fracture and no concussion. You have torn ligaments in your knee, but I think the most painful thing right now must be what happened to your back. You have what is called spondylolysis, which is a stress fracture at your vertebral arch.” Turning, she pointed to her own back to give them an idea of the area she was talking about. “I’m going to treat you with healing spells to address the fracture and the torn ligaments. You might feel achy for the next few weeks, which is to be expected. I don’t think you’ll need a brace after the healing spells, but you mustn’t do any heavy lifting until all the pain and achiness is gone. Understand?”
Isla nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome.” She cast the spells in rapid succession until Isla’s body wouldn’t take any more. Then she finished with a deep pain-relieving spell that should last well into the next day. When that was completed, she sat back on her heels and grinned. “You’re going to feel really good until that wears off… Don’t let it fool you into thinking you can do more than you should.”
“I won’t, I promise.” Isla smiled. “When his majesty said he thought very highly of you, I knew everything was going to be all right.”
“He said that?” A welcome warmth stole through her. Perhaps what he thought of her shouldn’t matter so much, but it did, especially since they appeared to be at odds again. And she really didn’t want to feel estranged from him. There was a hollow place in her middle where a warm glow had resided earlier. She murmured, “That’s good to know.”
Since she was done helping Isla, she went to look for Oberon, but there were people everywhere, and he had disappeared somewhere with his castellan. Not knowing what else to do, she made her way to the kitchen to help with the cooking.
Brielle, the woman in charge of the cooking crew, greeted Kathryn warmly. “Your food is set aside over in the corner, love. Nice job on those pies!” Leaning closer, she whispered, “Both bottles of wine are over there too. Goodness, that must have been a treat.”
She laughed. “It was. And that’s everybody’s food now. Please add the roasts and pies to what you’re feeding people.”
Brielle nodded, looking pleased. “With your permission, I’d like to cut up that venison roast and throw it in the stewpots.”
“I’ll cut it up for you.” Rolling up her tunic sleeves, she got to work.
Tired people cycled in to be fed, and Brielle cooked hot oatcakes to stretch what they had for dinner and help fill hungry bellies. Kathryn created a quick syrup to pour over the oatcakes, made with honey, dried apples, spices, and pecans. Even though she made a large pot, the syrup was gone within minutes.
“Well, I misjudged that,” she said with a laugh.
“You’ll have to make more in the morning.” Brielle licked her spoon with an expression of bliss. “That was sublime.”
“I would be happy to,” Kathryn told her. She frowned. “I haven’t seen Oberon in a while, have you?”
The other woman shook her head. “I would have noticed if his majesty had come in for some supper. We all would have.”
Of course they would have. To Kathryn, he was just Oberon, but to them he was their king. She wondered how often he would have entered the kitchen before. Probably not very often.
“I’m going to look for him. He needs to eat too.” Grabbing two of the last pies, she wrapped them up in a cloth and set them on a tray with a bowl of stew. After adding the partial bottle of salveri, she headed out.
This time she found him easily enough in the first place she checked. He had gone to his office and was sitting close to the fireplace, contemplating the flames. He didn’t look around when she entered.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Not now, Kathryn,” he replied.
She didn’t budge. “You didn’t show up in the kitchen, so I brought you some supper.”
He still didn’t look at her. “Leave it and get out.”
This was very bad. His anger toward her was a palpable thing. Pursing her lips, she closed the door behind her and, after a moment’s consideration, turned the lock. No doubt in the normal course of things, his palace staff was very protective of his privacy, but these were not normal times, and exhaustion and excitement were running high for everyone. Right now, people were more likely to do something they might regret.
That thought echoed back at her, and she knew very well that it applied to her too, but it wasn’t going to stop her from acting. Feeling regret was often in line with asking for forgiveness, and she would far rather ask for forgiveness than for permission.
She deposited the tray on his desk, then walked toward him. “We should have that talk now.”
“For fuck’s sake, what did I just say to you?” His growl shook the floor as he sprang from the armchair and rounded on her with an enraged expression.
She felt herself flinch as it whipped across her face. As angry as he had been with her in the past, he had never sworn at her before. “I heard what you said,” she replied quietly. “But you’re going to get busier now that your people are beginning to arrive. We should finish what we—there are things I should tell you….”
“You mean you want to lecture me about the Wyr birds and the bees.” After his first growl, he spoke just as quietly but with a vicious bite in each word. He advanced on her, aggression in each tight muscle. “I’ll save you the trouble. There only one reason you think we shouldn’t make love again—we’ve begun to mate. Because there’s only one reason I should suddenly gain the ability to climax multiple times… and I know you were right there with me the entire time. Weren’t you, Kathryn?”
Even though she’d known he was clever, she hadn’t foreseen that he would have figured everything out on his own. Shaken by his words and attitude, she backed away as he came closer, until her calves collided with something hard.
Thrown off-balance, she began to fall backward. He lunged to catch her by the shoulders, but instead of helping her regain her footing, he yanked her against his chest. She clutched at his waist as she collided into him, looking back for what had tripped her. He had moved the footstool away from the armchairs and she hadn’t noticed.
Then, as she felt his body against hers and smelled his scent, the visceral memory of what they had done together stabbed her low in the gut. Her traitorous body flared with renewed hunger, clashing with her more sensible instincts.
He shook her, a single, quick jolt that snapped her gaze up to his fierce expression. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong!” she gasped. Gods, what he had done to her with that outrageously sensual mouth. What she wanted him to do to her again. What she wanted him to do that they hadn’t yet explored together. “Wyr who have started to mate can stop in time if they recognize the symptoms early enough…”
He let go of her suddenly as if she had burned him. “If they recognize the symptoms early enough,” he spat out. “Well, I’m sorry you find the prospect of mating with me comparable to a disease.”
“I don’t!” she snapped as she ran shaking fingers through her hair. This had gone wrong so badly, so fast, she struggled to think of a way to bring them back onto a kinder, more reasonable course. “Oberon, we had to stop. We had to. You deserved to know what was happening to you—what nearly every other Wyr learns about before they ever hit puberty, because mating with someone is irrevocable. Do you hear me? It’s a life sentence. There’s no greater tragedy than when a Wyr has mated badly, because it can kill them. And your emotions have been numbed for so long, and as for me…” For a moment her voice failed her. “I never expected anything like this to happen.”
“No,” he agreed bitterly. “And as you’ve said before, you have a full life waiting for you back in New York. Friends. Lovers. You’ve made it quite clear from the beginning that your biggest goal was finishing here and going home.”
“I don’t know anybody in Lyonesse,” she whispered. “I know you, and Robin, and I’ve had two conversations with Annwyn. I’ve seen the bones of a ruined city, and that’s it. And this has hit us with lightning speed—you and I have known each other for less than a week. This is so far outside anything normal or comfortable for me, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
He was silent for long moments, big hands resting on his hips. He had angled his face away while she spoke, his long body taut with rejection.
“I agree with you. This is happening far too fast, and the timing could be better—but it’s still happening. And while I appreciate you were trying to look out for me, I figured things out on my own. I can look after myself and make my own choices. I don’t need you to make them for me.” He paused, then asked, “You know that bedroom you woke up in, the morning after the surgery?”
He had switched gears on her again. She felt as if something fragile inside her was grinding as it worked to switch focus with him. “Yes. It wasn’t your normal room.”
“No, that was the queen’s suite.”
Queen? He had been married before? An insane beast of jealousy roared up inside her, and her hands tightened into fists as an avalanche of questions hit her. She felt her talons come out. The tips punctured her palms.
Who—when—who? Nobody had said anything about a queen. Had he loved her? Had she died? Was she still alive, and were they still married?