I slept curled against the wall. When I woke to the first blush of dawn, I asked the ishru to pack things for me and opened the door. Zeph, Theron, and Kairos all stood there in the same clothes from the day before, looking haggard and tired.
“Great Skies,” Kai breathed, touching my chin and turning my face a little. I pushed away from him. I hadn’t looked at it yet—I didn’t want to look at it. Zeph and Theron looked mournful, and Zeph opened his mouth, but I held up a hand.
“You should have slept,” I told them. “We’re leaving as soon as we can.”
Zeph straightened. “Where?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Pick a city that my husband wanted me to tour—it doesn’t matter. As long as it isn’t here.”
“Your guard—”
“Take whatever men you need. I’m sure you can figure that out quickly.”
Zeph nodded, and when he turned, I saw Adria standing there, her face pale. “You’re leaving?” she said, and then a second later her eyes fell on my face. “My queen,” she said, her voice soft and urgent. “I heard—I know you didn’t get that bruise on our way home yesterday.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought of her—the one person who would notice, and know. “Adria—” I started, but I had no idea what else to say.
Kairos took a step forward, standing between us, his hand on his scimitar’s hilt.
“I won’t tell,” she said quickly, looking between us. Her eyes met mine, deep with meaning, and she continued. “If you don’t want me to. It’s the sort of thing my father would be very interested in hearing, because of how it might build sentiment against your husband among the vestai. So I won’t tell—unless you want me to.”
I shook my head. That didn’t seem like a solution. “I don’t know what I want. But I’d prefer if you didn’t tell. You should go, Adria. I don’t think it would be for the best if Calix saw you now.”
She drew a deep breath and nodded.
“Shy,” Kairos said, and I turned to him as she walked away.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked him over. “You’re all right?” I asked. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“Not badly.”
I covered my mouth.
“Shy, I’m fine. You’re not,” he said. His voice dropped. “If we’re leaving, we should head north. To the desert.”
I shook my head. “First we leave. Then we’ll discuss what to do next.”
His mouth folded down, but he nodded. “Very well.”
The ishru packed in a flurry while I dressed, and from the small room where my clothes were, I heard voices raised. My heart tightened, and I finished dressing, winding a length of purple fabric around my head to make a hood—for as long as I could, I wanted to hide my face, and hide the marks that my husband had put there.
I opened the door to find my brother leaning casually in the doorframe, facing out, his arms crossed over his chest, standing between me and the rest of the room.
“Kai?” I whispered.
“The queen does not wish to—” Zeph was saying, but Calix tried to push past him and Theron.
“I will cut off your hands if you keep me from my wife,” Calix snarled.
“Don’t do that,” Kairos murmured, even before I moved around him, fury rising within me.
“I have had enough of your threats,” I yelled at Calix, standing well behind Zeph and Theron where I could see him without being close to him. Kairos crossed in front of me like a cat, noting the distance, his hands inching near his scimitar. He was wearing the second one now, something desert men usually only did in war. “How dare you fault these men for protecting me when you assaulted me?”
“Shalia, I need to speak to you without them here,” he told me.
Shame and anger made my throat thick around my words. “Why?” I asked. “You don’t think they know what you did?”
“Shalia, you have to see, it’s not my fault. It’s your family, your damn brother, they come between us at every turn!”
Kairos crossed his arms. “Which brother would that be?” he asked.
“Both of you,” Calix snarled back at him.
Kairos smiled. “There are more where we came from, you know. All sorts of brothers getting in your way. Imagine what my littlest sister could do.”
Calix’s eyes narrowed on him.
“Is that what you think?” I whispered, trembling. “You believe that my family made you strike me? Made you hate the Elementae, made you gouge the eyes out of that guard, made you—you are cruel, Calix,” I cried. “You’re cruel. My family had nothing to do with that. You would rather demean and maim and … and kill people than truly work for peace.”
“No?” he asked. “Rian has undermined me at every turn. It was him, you know. Him who stole her from me. He has always sought to steal what’s mine. But you, my wife—I love you despite these things. I love you and our child more than anything, and I was a fool to be blinded by your brother’s treachery. Please don’t go. Please let me make this up to you.”
I was trembling, but I shook my head.
“You’re weak, and tired,” he said. “You’re not in any condition to be traveling.”
“I can’t look at you,” I told him, my voice full of steel and ice. Even the light movement of my cheek burned. “I can’t stay here. I can’t listen to you and these awful things anymore. I can’t keep crying because my face is swollen and sore, and I just want to stop hurting so much, Calix.”
He didn’t say anything, and I looked to Zeph. “Please,” I said. “We should leave.”
He nodded once, and he and Theron shifted so Zeph could lead me out and Theron could block Calix.
“Shalia!” Calix shouted, and I flinched away from him. He looked shocked by this, but Kairos put his arm around me, blocking my view of my husband, and shepherded me out.
By the time I reached the courtyard, ten guards, my brother, and my belongings were waiting for me. A saddled horse stood, flicking his tail restlessly, and I hesitated as I got close. Usually I didn’t have any problem getting into the saddle, but I felt weak and shaky still; I didn’t think my muscles would hold.
“Here,” Galen said, appearing from behind me. I jumped, and he glanced at my face and the purple cloth that covered it, but he looked away before he could have truly seen beneath the hood. He knitted his fingers together and held them out.
My heart beat faster as I watched him, but he didn’t lift his eyes to me, just staring at my foot, which wasn’t moving toward his hand.
He cleared his throat, and I raised my foot, putting it into his hands.
I grabbed the saddle and he pushed me up, raising me high and fast so I could mount the horse. “Thank you,” I said, my heart racing.
He nodded sharply and went toward another horse.
Kairos saw Calix before I did, and he moved his horse between me and the wide entrance to the castle. Osmost leaped off Kairos’s shoulder to take to the sky, like he was as ready to defend me as my brother was.
Standing in the archway in his black clothing, Calix looked small and insignificant, like an insect. But I couldn’t help the shiver within me.
“I will give you two days, wife,” he called. “If you don’t return before that, I will bring you back.”
“It will take longer,” Galen said, walking toward him, standing at the bottom of the walkway. “We’re going to Trizala.”
I blinked, looking at him. He was coming with us?
Calix came slowly down the walkway, and I felt every step closer to me like a growing threat. “Pick another city.”
“She’ll like Trizala,” Galen said. “We’ll be back in three days at the earliest.”
Calix glared at his brother. “Fine.”
“Oh, and, Calix?” Galen said, closing the several feet between them. Calix looked at him, and Galen drew his arm back, launching his fist into his brother’s jaw. Calix stumbled back and Galen turned away, shaking out his fist as he went to his horse and mounted it.
Calix straightened and watched me as he wiped blood from his mouth. “I love you, wife. Don’t forget that.”
I turned away.
Galen called for the gates to be opened, and he led us out, guards ahead of me and behind, and Zeph and Theron both exhausted on either side of me.
We rode through the city, Galen keeping a slow pace as we passed a few people, who all shied away from the sight of so many men. It wasn’t long before the cluster of the city faded into farmland, and the road was wider, and we still rode slowly.
“Is there a reason we’re going so slow?” I asked Zeph. Osmost was making lazy circles in the sky, searching for prey, lacking a challenge.
Zeph’s jaw rolled a bit. “I believe out of concern for your health, my queen.”
I pushed my shoulders back. “Then if it’s out of concern for me, we can go much, much faster,” I told him.
“My queen—” he started, but I wheeled my horse to the side of the column and spurred the stallion onward.
Every jarring hammer of the horse’s hooves felt like power, like strength, like something solid and whole. My heart beat stronger with the effort, and I craved it just to remember what it felt like to have my heart race with something other than fear.
My horse thundered past Galen at the start of the column, and I didn’t look at him as I went charging onward. My horse seemed desperate to run, as desperate to stretch his legs as I was to feel that freedom, and he kept on, strong and powerful.
I heard another horse, and I turned to see Galen riding hard to catch me, a stormy look on his face. I turned forward, urging my horse on faster, delaying his angry lecture as long as I could.
Galen’s horse was bigger, and faster, and he caught up to me. I expected him to take the reins from me, to yell at me to stop—something. It never came, and he rode beside me, galloping along the country road until I was heaving for breath, my chest burning for air, my muscles bright and sore, like I was finally alive. Finally awake.
I kept on, even as it hurt and burned, even as I felt every harsh breath like it was fanning the pain in my cheek, my blood rushing doubly hard there.
I only slowed when Galen fell behind. I drew the reins of my horse gently, and he eased out of his gallop. Galen caught up, coming astride me as my horse began to walk. “Three hells,” he said, smiling at me as he panted hard.
Emotions flooded in with that one rare smile. My heart was still pounding; it rushed with something hot and dizzying. But like a physical reminder of the things that kept us apart, when I tried to smile back, the pain forced the look from my face.
My hood had blown back, and he saw how I couldn’t smile, and his eyes rested on my cheek. I broke his gaze, looking behind us to where Zeph and Theron were ahead of the others, but still struggling to catch up. I tugged the hood back up, making sure it covered my face.
“I didn’t know you could ride like that,” Galen said, facing forward.
“I’m not terribly good at it,” I told him.
Another smile came to his face, and I wanted to pluck this off, treasure it, collect his smiles from him. “I’ve never met a woman who wanted to ride so damn fast,” he said with a laugh.
“I can’t stand sitting about,” I told him.
“Which must be why you walk,” he said, nodding.
“I walk for an hour each day. Maybe even less,” I told him. “In the desert, we’d walk for whole days in the hot sun. To go somewhere. For food, water, shelter. For a purpose. There’s no purpose here.”
He was watching me. I could feel it, but I didn’t turn to him. “It’s half the reason I like fighting,” he said. “The practice. Hours a day, moving, hitting, running. Sweating until your heart is pounding,” he said, placing his hand on his chest. I couldn’t help it—I looked at the hand, his broad chest rising under it.
I nodded.
“Court is a little useless,” he admitted.
“I thought I would have a purpose,” I confessed. “I wanted being queen to be about something more than just being his wife. And I understood, when I arrived, that perhaps I could have that, but only if I fought for it. I’m not afraid of that.”
He glanced at me. “You’ve done tremendous things, Shalia.”
I shook my head. “That is not the word for them. I’ve done things—things I am proud of—but I don’t know that they’ve made any difference. I keep waiting for the sands to shift, and I thought that this child would be the change we needed. And then he lied to me, and killed yet more people, and did this.”
He stayed silent, listening to me.
“Maybe I was wrong.”
His eyebrow rose. “About what?”
About telling Rian that his Resistance was foolish. About trying to change Calix. About believing that this country could be saved through peace. I sighed. At least that last one was safe enough to be repeated. “About believing peace is even possible.”
His mouth pursed, and he nodded. “I spent a lot of time reading as a child,” he told me. I tried to imagine the battle-hard warrior with his broken nose in a book. “Histories, mostly. Of war, and such.” His shoulders lifted. “I was meant to be the military commander from a very young age. It seemed wise. But there have been many rebellions, followed by many wars. In the history of our country, and others. The Trifectate started as a rebellion of a small group of people who were thought at the time to be religious fanatics. When there is a rebellion, no party comes out unscathed. The whole country bears a scar so deep that no one in that generation comes out the victor, not truly. They’ve lost so much, even if they won the conflict, that it ceases to matter. Perhaps the next—perhaps the children the survivors sire will have the chance to know prosperity in their lifetime.”
He was silent for a long time, our horses gently clopping along in tandem.
“I know every man in the army. They’ve all crossed my path at least once. If I choose to believe that peace is impossible, I have to be willing to see every one of those men die.” He looked at me, and the green was bright, catching the light of the sun. “Your costs are different, but no less high.”
My hands settled on my stomach, and I thought of all the people I would watch Calix endanger over the life of our marriage. I thought, too, of the people who he would punish if I never returned to the Tri City. Either way there was blood. I shut my eyes.
“Why is it so important to go to the desert?” Galen asked. “With the baby, I mean.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m surprised that Calix took it seriously enough to mention it. He dismissed it when I brought it up.”
He stayed silent, his stony face impassive, and I wondered if Calix had passed it on the same way.
“It’s a blessing,” I said after a moment. “The clans—we’re nomadic people. We travel the desert for weeks, months at a time. But when there’s a new clan member, they need to know the way back to Jitra. They need to be able to find their feet, and find their heart. So we journey to Jitra, and before they’re even born, they’re blessed in the water there. With all the clan around, so they will know family, and home, and love. No matter where sands and stone take them, they will know these things.”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “That would be a beautiful thing to give to any child.”
I sighed. “He won’t consider it. He knows it’s important to me, and he won’t consider it.”
His mouth opened, and it closed again, and he squinted into the distance. Several moments later, he didn’t turn to me, but he asked, “Do you love him?”
Heat rushed to my face, but I wasn’t sure why. It seemed like such an easy question, but it wasn’t a simple answer. “Sometimes I think I cursed myself,” I admitted. “I saw Calix, in Jitra, before the wedding, and he was handsome. I wished …” My embarrassment, my foolishness choked my words. “I wished for him. For him to be my husband. Because I thought it was that easy—I would marry a handsome king and love him. Why would I not? I’ve never met a married couple who were not at least tremendous friends, if not deeply in love. And I thought it would feel powerful, and overwhelming, like a sandstorm.” I flushed, thinking of the jolt in the earth when Galen removed my veil. “And then I understood that I had only a sheltered young girl’s idea of love, and more likely, love is something that grows between two people. And there are moments when he’s kind to me, or thoughtful, and I feel something like hope—but I hate those moments more than any other, because they mean that I am beginning to mistake the absence of cruelty for love.”
His throat worked, and he looked down and back up again. “You know the difference,” he said. “You can’t possibly care about people the way you do and not understand what it means to be truly loved in return.”
I laughed, embarrassed but warmed by his words. “I don’t know. But I do believe that my parents are very lucky. They love each other so very much.”
“Was their marriage arranged?” he asked.
“Of sorts,” I said. “My father was about to become the leader of d’Dragyn, and he wanted to marry. There were only so many suitable women across d’Falcos or d’Skorpios, and my mother was the sister of the man who would become the Falcon.”
“So the position is passed from father to son?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Well, in a manner. The clan leader will groom someone for the position; often it is a child of theirs, but not always. The clan leader must be the strongest, the most fit to lead. It doesn’t happen often, but if need be, the leader will select someone outside his family.” I smiled. “So I suppose you could say their marriage was arranged.”
“So was there ever someone else?” Galen asked, and his mouth teased at a smile.
“For my parents?” I asked, horrified. “No. They loved each other from the start.”
He laughed, and it was unexpected. “For you,” he said. “Surely you can’t have grown up thinking you’d marry Calix. What plans did you have for your life?”
“I thought I’d be just like my mother,” I admitted. “There’s a d’Skorpios boy around my age, Alekso. He was being groomed, and my brothers had met him and said he would be a good leader. I figured that was all there was to it—he would be my husband, and as soon as he removed my veil we would fall wildly in love and have seven children.” Even I had to laugh at how that sounded now, and Galen chuckled with me. The laugh stung my cheek, and I sobered. “How life has changed in a few short months,” I said.
But he had caught the bit of information I had accidentally betrayed. “Your husband is meant to remove the veil?” he asked.
Blood rushed into my face, pounding beneath the bruise. “Yes,” I said, glancing at him.
He met my eyes. “No one told us that.”
“They wouldn’t have,” I said. “Certainly not after it happened. The unveiling is supposed to be a spiritual connection—a binding. Some higher power. It’s supposed to be the husband who unveils his wife, revealing her to him. The start of their life together. The forging of their bond.” I gave him a sad smile.
“And I unveiled you,” he said, his voice low. “Not my brother.”
His eyes met mine. They looked bright and unnaturally green, regarding me in a way that made my skin tingle and shiver, the sensation as delicious as it was dangerous. I tore my eyes away from him. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No,” he said, and I glanced back to him. He was gazing ahead, sitting straighter, with a ghost of a smug smile on his face. “I’m glad you did.”