Kitabı oku: «The Oracle’s Queen», sayfa 2
“Everything’s ready, Tamír.” Tharin stepped aside to make way for the litter bearers who’d come for Nikides. Lynx followed, carrying Tamír’s discarded armor.
“I’ve assembled an escort for you in the front court and Manies has gone for your horses,” said Tharin. “You’d best wear your armor. The streets are far from secure.”
Ki took the Aurënfaie hauberk from the other squire. Lynx understood. This was Ki’s responsibility, and his honor.
He helped Tamír put on the supple mail hauberk, then buckled on the breastplate for her. These pieces, as well as what Ki, Lynx, and Tharin wore, had all come from the Atyion armory. Wrestling with the unfamiliar buckles, he wondered what had become of the armor they’d left behind in Ero that night. Lost with everything else, Ki thought with regret. His had been a gift from Tobin, one of her own designs.
Tamír, he thought, catching himself. Damnation! How long before that came naturally?
The rest of the royal guard was mounted and waiting for them in the courtyard. Beyond the wall, the Palatine was as bright as day from the fires still burning there. The hot breeze was against them, and ash had drifted over everything like a grey killing frost.
There were at least a hundred riders assembled, many of whom held torches to light the way. Most of the horses had shorn manes, Ki noted. Mourning for the king, perhaps, or lost comrades. The few remaining men from the Alestun guard were at the forefront, still keeping together as a group. Aladar and Kadmen saluted him and he returned it with a heavy heart; too many missing faces there.
Lady Una was there, too, with Iya, Arkoniel, and the ragtag collection of wizards Iya had gathered. The rest were soldiers still wearing the baldric of Atyion, Captain Grannia and her women foremost among them.
Lord Jorvai and Lord Kyman, Tamír’s first allies among the nobles, waited with sizable contingents of their own riders.
Left-handed Manies hoisted Tamír’s tattered banner aloft. It still showed the blended coat of arms of her parents, Ero and Atyion together. A long black ribbon was tied to the top of the staff, out of respect for the dead king.
“You should ride under the royal banner now,” said Tharin.
“I haven’t been crowned yet, have I? Besides, Korin took that with him, too.” She leaned closer, whispering, “So many? It’s less than three miles to Illardi’s house.”
“As I said, the streets are still dangerous. A lot of Erius’ men have refused to join us. They could still be out there somewhere, planning who knows what.”
Tamír settled her sword on her hip and went down the steps to the tall black horse a man still wearing Erius’ colors was holding for her.
“Keep your eyes open and stay close to her,” Tharin muttered as he and Ki followed.
“I will!” Ki shot back under his breath. What did Tharin think he was going to do, go woolgathering as if they were out for a hunt?
As Ki swung up onto his borrowed horse, he saw that Tamír had drawn her dagger. Her horse’s mane had not been shorn. She grasped a hank of the coarse black hair and cut it free, then singed it in a nearby torch. It was a symbolic act, but a worthy one. “For my kin,” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “And for all who died bravely for Skala.”
From the corner of his eye, Ki caught Iya smiling and shaking her head.
Ki and Tamír rode at the center of the column, shielded on all sides by armed riders and wizards. Jorvai took the forward position, and Kyman and his men the rear guard. Tharin rode with Tamír, and the two wizards flanked them. Baldus clung wide-eyed behind Arkoniel, a small bundle clutched in one hand.
With much of the Palatine still in flames, the usual route to the gate was impassable. Tamír and her column crossed the ruined park to a small secondary gate behind the ravaged drysian grove.
This way took them past the Royal Tomb. Tamír glanced up at the scorched ruins of the portico. Ranks of priests and soldiers stood guard there, but most of the royal effigies were gone.
“Did the Plenimarans knock down the statues?”
Iya chuckled. “No, the defenders on the Palatine dropped them on the enemies’ heads.”
“I never went back,” Tamír murmured.
“Highness?”
Ki understood. The night they’d first come to Ero, Tamír had taken her father’s ashes down into the royal crypt and seen her mother’s preserved corpse. That had been the only time she’d ventured into the catacombs, avoiding them even on Mourning Night and the other holy days. Ki figured that after living with Brother all these years, she’d had her fill of the dead.
And where’s he now? he wondered. There’d been no sign of the demon since the unbinding ceremony. All the bits of bone from the doll had burned away with the magic. Perhaps Tamír was finally free of him, as Lhel had promised.
And he’s free, too. Ki still recalled the look of agony on Brother’s face in those final moments. Despite all the fear and pain he’d caused over the years, and the harm he’d tried to do, Ki hoped that the angry spirit had passed the gate at last, for everyone’s sake.
Chapter 3
The city outside the Palatine was in chaos, the air filled with angry cries and the sound of weeping. The rain had lessened, but ragged clouds still hung low over the city. Fires still raged in some of the wards, and an endless stream of refugees choked the streets. Soldiers stood guard outside the gates, trying to keep people from returning to salvage or loot.
Tamír looked around at these people—her people. Most of them had no idea who was passing them tonight. What would they think if they saw her abandoning the capital?
“By the Flame, I’m tired of sneaking about in the dark,” she muttered, and Ki nodded.
Smoldering foundations and lurking freebooters weren’t the worst of the dangers in the ruined city. Hundreds of bodies, the victims of battle and plague, lay rotting in the streets, breeding more disease. Most of the Scavengers who tended to such things were dead themselves.
Tamír’s guard doused their torches once they were free of the city, not wanting to serve as targets for any lurking enemy archers. The north high road was crowded with a dark, seething line of people, horses, and carts of every description stretching away into the night.
Have I already failed? she wondered again.
If the Lightbearer wanted a queen so badly, then why had the Immortal chosen such a dark moment to reveal her? She’d put the question to the Afran priest earlier, but Imonus’ maddeningly serene smile had been her only answer. The priests and wizards were delighted with this turn of events, despite all the suffering that came with it.
And yet the sight of all these homeless people left her feeling very small and tired. How was she to help them all? The burden of this new role, and all the uncertainty that came with it, bore down on her like a great weight.
“Don’t worry,” Tharin said quietly. “Things will look better in the morning. The clouds are breaking up. I can see the stars already. See that group over there?” He pointed up at a constellation. “The Dragon. I take that as a good omen, don’t you?”
Tamír managed a wan smile; the Dragon was one of Illior’s signs. She’d been a devotee of Sakor all her life; now every sign and omen seemed to come from the Lightbearer. As if in answer to her thoughts, an owl hooted loudly somewhere off to their right.
Imonus caught her eye. “Another good omen, Highness. When you hear the Lightbearer’s bird, you salute the god.” He showed her how, touching three fingers to his forehead between his brows.
Tamír copied the gesture. Ki and Tharin followed suit, then other riders around them who’d heard and seen.
Is it because they’ve accepted Illior’s hand in all this, or because they’ll follow anything I do?
She’d always been in Korin’s shadow at court and seen how everyone went along with whatever he did. If that was to be the case, she vowed to set a better example than he had.
Duke Illardi and his mounted escort met them on the road. Tamír and the Companions had guested with him often, during the hot days of summer. He was a pleasant, greying fellow, who’d always reminded her a bit of Tharin.
“Greetings, Highness,” he said, covering his heart with his fist as he bowed from the saddle. “Delighted as I am to offer you hospitality once again, I regret the circumstances.”
“So do I, your grace. I’m told you’re willing to swear fealty to me, and support my claim to the throne?”
“I am, Highness. We’re an Illioran house and always have been. I think you’ll find a good many others around the country who will be glad to see the Lightbearer’s prophecy upheld at last.”
“And plenty who won’t,” Lord Jorvai put in as they set off again. “The Sakor factions who enjoyed the king’s favor won’t so readily see his son displaced. Some have already left the city on account of him.”
“Will it be civil war, then?” Illardi asked.
The question sent a chill through Tamír. Forgetting her resentment for a moment, she turned to Iya. “Will Korin fight me for the crown?”
“With Niryn still alive and dripping poison in his ear? Yes, I’d say it’s likely.”
“Skalans fighting Skalans? I can’t believe that’s what the Lightbearer wants of me!”
They reached Duke Illardi’s estate without challenge. Large beacon fires burned along the tops of the walls, illuminating the archers stationed there.
Beyond lay a pleasant, rambling stone villa set on a promontory overlooking the sea. The Plenimarans had attacked as they passed; black-fletched arrows still littered the bailey yard and gardens, but the gates had not been breached.
Tamír and the others dismounted at the main entrance to the house. Two pillars carved with Illior’s Eye flanked the doorway and a crescent moon decorated the lintel. When they’d visited here in Erius’ time, Sakor’s Flame had been painted there. Tamír hoped Illardi didn’t change his loyalties too quickly, or too often.
He’d always been a kind host to the Companions, however, and he seemed sincere now as he bowed and said, “All that is mine is yours, Highness. I’ve ordered a bath and food prepared. Perhaps you’d prefer to take them in your chambers?”
“I would, thank you.” Tamír had suffered through enough formalities for one day.
He led her to a set of rooms on a terrace facing the sea. Baldus clung to her hand, and Ki and Tharin followed. In addition to the main bedchamber there was a sitting room, dressing room, and antechambers for her guard. In the heat of summer these rooms had been pleasantly cool. Now they were dank despite the candles and hearth fires burning there.
“I’ll leave you to rest and refresh yourself, Highness,” said Illardi. “My servants will bring you anything you require.”
“I’ll see the men settled in,” said Tharin, discreetly withdrawing to leave her alone with Ki. “Come, Baldus.”
Baldus looked panicked and Tamír nodded to him. “You’ll attend me.”
The child gave her a grateful look as he scampered to join them.
Despite the damp, the hangings were warmly colorful, and the bedsheets were clean and smelled of sunshine and wind.
Baldus looked around the unfamiliar chamber. “What do I do, my lady? I’ve never attended a girl before.”
“I have no idea. Help me off with these boots, for starters.”
She sat down on the edge of the bed and chuckled as the boy struggled with her boots. “I think we could fit your whole family in this bed, Ki.”
He dropped into a chair and grinned. “And the dogs, too.”
Baldus gave the boot a final yank and tumbled back, his already dirty tunic covered in mud.
Tamír regarded her filthy sock and the rest of her stained clothing with a wry smile. “I don’t look much like a lady, do I?”
“I don’t imagine Queen Ghërilain looked much different, after her great battles,” said Ki, as Baldus wrestled off her other boot.
“I stink, too.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Ki’s hair hung in dirty tangles around his haggard, unshaven face, and the tunic over his hauberk was filthy. They both reeked of blood and battle.
Baldus hurried over to the washstand and poured water into the basin. Tamír washed her face and hands. The water was cool and scented with rose petals, but by the time she was done it was stained the color of rust. Baldus emptied the basin out the window and poured fresh for Ki.
“Maybe he shouldn’t do that,” Ki warned. “It might not look right to people, him waiting on your squire, too.”
“People can go hang,” Tamír snorted. “Wash your damn hands.”
Trestle tables were brought to the terrace. Tamír and her people ate with the duke and his two young sons, Lorin and Etrin. Ki had played with them on their previous visits and found them to be good, solid sorts, and smart.
Lorin was a tall, quiet boy a few years younger than Tamír. His brother, who was of an age with Baldus, stared at her wide-eyed throughout the meal, as if expecting her to change form again before his eyes.
Baldus staunchly carried out his duties here, too, until Tamír coaxed him into sharing her bench, and made him eat a few morsels from her portion.
As soon as the meal was done servants cleared away the dishes and Illardi spread out charts of the harbor to assess the damage.
“The Plenimarans knew their job. While the land forces attacked the shoreline, their sailors cast burning pitch on every vessel they could reach and cut the mooring lines. I’m afraid all your warships are at the bottom of the harbor now, or burning on the far reach. Only a few small carracks escaped. Twenty-seven enemy vessels were captured.”
“Any word of how many ships escaped?” Tamír asked.
“The lookouts at Great Head claim no more than ten.”
“Enough to carry home word of their defeat,” Jorvai noted.
“Enough to carry word of Ero’s weakness, too,” Iya warned. “We cannot afford to be taken by surprise again. I have several of my wizards watching the sea, but without knowing where to look, they may not find them. Tell the lookouts to be vigilant, especially in foul weather.”
Illardi and the others left at last. A large bathing tub had been carried in and filled as they dined and Ki eyed it enviously. They’d lived in the saddle for days.
“Baldus, go into the corridor and keep watch with the guards for a while,” said Tamír. She flopped down on the bed and nodded toward the tub. “You want first go?”
“No, you go on—That is—” A week ago Ki wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Now he could feel his face going warm. “I should step out—shouldn’t I?”
It seemed a logical enough conclusion, but Tamír suddenly looked close to tears. “Do I disgust you that much?”
“What? No!” he exclaimed, astonished both by the sudden change of mood and that she’d jump to such a harsh conclusion. “How can you think that?”
She slumped forward with her face in her hands. “Because that’s how I feel. Ever since Atyion, I’ve felt like I’m trapped in a bad dream and can’t wake up. Nothing feels right! I have this empty feeling in my trousers—” Ki saw color rise in her cheeks, too. “And these?” She glared down at the hard little points under the dirty linen of her shirt. “They ache like fire!”
Ki found himself looking anywhere but at her. “My sisters said the same when they ripened. It passes as they grow.”
“Grow?” She looked horrified at the prospect. “But you want to know the worst of it?”
She pulled the shirt off over her head, leaving herself naked from the waist up except for her parents’ rings on a chain around her neck. Ki hastily averted his eyes again.
“That. You can’t even look at me, can you? Every day since Atyion I’ve seen you flinch and turn away.”
“It’s not like that.” Ki faced her squarely. He’d seen naked women enough growing up. She didn’t look any different than one of his sisters, apart from the mottled bruise on her shoulder where she’d been struck during the first attack on the city. It had faded to a green-and-yellow blotch, stippled at the center with the purpled imprint of the chain mail that had stopped the arrow. “It’s—Damn it, I can’t explain it. Fact is, you don’t look all that different than you did before.”
“Lying doesn’t help, Ki.” She hunched in on herself, arms crossed over her tiny breasts. “Illior is cruel. You wouldn’t touch me when I was a boy and now that I’m a girl, you can’t even look at me.” She stood and stripped her breeches off, angrily kicking them aside. “You know a hell of a lot more about girl’s bodies than I do. Tell me, do I look like a boy or a girl now?”
Ki shuddered inwardly. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with what he saw. The dark sprinkling of hair covering her cunny looked the same as any girl’s. No, it was knowing what used to be there that made his belly clench.
“Well?” She was still angry, but a tear rolled down her cheek.
The sight of it made his heart ache; he knew how much it took to make her cry. “Well, you’re still skinny, and your ass has always been kind of flat. But lots of young girls are like that. You’re not so old yet to be—ripening.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “That is, if you—”
“Bleed with the moon?” She didn’t look away, but her face went a darker shade of scarlet. “I did, sort of, before the change. Lhel gave me herbs that stopped it, mostly. But I suppose I will now. So now you know it all. These past couple years, you were sleeping with a boy who bled!”
“Damn, Tob!” This was too much. Ki sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. “That’s what I can’t fathom. The not knowing!”
She shrugged miserably and reached for the dressing gown someone had left across the end of the bed. It was a lady’s gown, velvet trimmed with silver lace and embroidery. Tamír wrapped herself in it and huddled against the bolsters.
Ki looked up and blinked in surprise. “There now, that makes a difference.”
“What?” Tamír muttered.
“It makes you look more—girlish.” This earned him a dark glare.
Determined to make things right between them, he looked around and spied an ivory comb on the dressing table. This must have been a lady’s room, or else Illardi’s duchess had taken pains to equip it properly. There were pots with fancy lids and little odds and ends he couldn’t guess the use of.
Taking up the comb, he sat down next to her on the bed and forced a grin. “If I’m to be your tiring woman, Highness, can I fix your hair?”
That got him an even blacker look, but after a moment she turned her back to him. He knelt behind her and began working at the tangles, taking it in sections like Nari used to.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“What am I up to?”
“Currying the skittish horse?”
“Well, it needs doing. You’re all full of knots.”
He worked in silence for a while. Tamír had thick hair, and it was almost as black as Alben’s, but it wasn’t as straight as his. When he was done, it fell in thick waves down her back.
Gradually her shoulders relaxed and she sighed. “This isn’t my fault, you know? I didn’t choose this.”
“I know that.”
She looked back over her shoulder. With their faces mere inches apart, he found himself lost for an instant in those sad blue eyes. The color reminded him of the Osiat, the way it looked on a clear day from the headlands at Cirna.
“Then what is it?” she demanded. “It feels so different between us now. I hate it!”
Caught off guard, Ki let his mouth run away with him and spoke the truth. “Me, too. I guess I just miss Tobin.”
She turned around and gripped him by the shoulders. “I am Tobin!”
He tried to look away, to hide the tears stinging his eyes, but she held him.
“Please, Ki, I need you to be the same!”
Ashamed of his own weakness, he pried her hands from his shoulders and held them tightly between his own. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. But now, you’re—”
“Just a girl?”
“No. You’re to be queen, Tamír. You are already, by right.” She tried to pull away, but he held on. “A queen this grass knight can’t sleep close with on cold winter nights, or swim with, or wrestle—”
“Why not?”
It was Ki who pulled away this time, unable to bear the hurt in her eyes. “It wouldn’t be proper! Damn it, if you’re to be queen, you have to act the part, don’t you? You’re still a warrior, but you’re a woman, too—or a girl, anyway. And boys and girls? They just don’t do all that. Not nobles, anyway,” he added, blushing. He’d made do with servant girls, just like everyone else, but he’d never felt ashamed of that until now.
Tamír sat back, lips set in a grim line, but he could see the corners trembling. “Fine. Leave me, then, while I bathe.”
“I’ll go see how Nik and Tanil are doing. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.”
Ki headed for the door. She didn’t call him back, just sat there glaring a hole in the bed. Ki slipped out and set the latch softly, his heart in turmoil, then turned to find Tharin and Una watching him expectantly.
“She’s—uh—going to bathe,” Ki mumbled. “I’ll be back.”
Ducking his head, he brushed past them. As he strode away, it felt like a door of a different sort had slammed shut between them, with him on the outside.
Tamír fought back more tears as she undressed and slid into the tub. She ducked under the water and briskly rubbed the soap over her hair, but she couldn’t escape her thoughts.
She’d always been odd, even as Tobin, but Ki had always understood and accepted her. Now it seemed he could only see the stranger she’d become—a homely, scrawny girl he was too embarrassed to look at. She slid a finger through the ring that had been her mother’s, gazing down at the profiles of her parents. Her mother had been beautiful, even after she’d gone mad.
Maybe if I looked more like her? she wondered glumly. Not much chance of that.
She wanted to be angry with Ki, but this sumptuous room suddenly felt too lonely without him. Her gaze strayed to the large bed. She’d seldom slept alone. First there’d been Nari, her nurse, then Ki. She tried to imagine replacing him with Una and cringed, remembering that embarrassing kiss the girl had given her, believing Tobin was just a shy, backward boy. There’d been little time to speak with her since the change, but thanks to Tharin and his organizing, it would be hard to avoid her now.
“Bilairy’s balls!” she groaned. “What am I going to do?”
Survive, Sister. Live for both of us.
Tamír sat up so abruptly water sloshed over the side onto the floor. Brother stood before her, a faint but unmistakable shape untouched by the fire or candle glow.
“What are you doing here? I thought—I thought you’d gone on.”
It was hard to look at him now—the image of the young man she thought she’d be. He was as pale as ever, his eyes as flat and black, but otherwise he looked as he would have in life, right down to a faint tracing of dark hair on his upper lip. Suddenly shy under that unblinking gaze, she wrapped her arms around her knees.
His hard, whispery voice invaded her mind. You will live, Sister. For both of us. You will rule, for both of us. You owe me a life, Sister.
“How do I repay a debt like that?”
He just stared.
“Why are you still here?” she demanded. “Lhel said you’d be free when I cut out the piece of your bone. The rest of you burned up with the doll. There was nothing left, not even ash.”
The unavenged dead do not rest.
“Unavenged? You were stillborn. They told me.”
They lied. Learn the truth, Sister. He hissed the last word like a curse.
“Can you find Lhel for me? I need her!”
The demon shook his head and the hint of a smile on his dead lips sent a chill through her. The bond of skin and bone was sundered. Tamír could no longer command him. The realization frightened her.
“Are you here to kill me?” she whispered.
Those black eyes went darker still and his smile was poisonous. How many times I wanted to!
He advanced, passing through the side of the tub to kneel before her in the water, face inches from her. The water went achingly cold, like the river below the keep in spring. The demon grasped her bare shoulders and his cold fingers bit into her flesh, feeling all too solid. See? I am no helpless shade. I could reach into your chest and squeeze your heart as I did to the fat one who called himself your guardian.
She was truly terrified now, more than she ever had been with him. “What do you want, demon?”
Your pledge, Sister. Avenge my death.
Dreadful realization penetrated the haze of fear. “Who was it? Lhel? Iya?” She swallowed hard. “Father?”
The murdered cannot speak the name of their killers, Sister. You must learn that for yourself.
“Damn you!”
Brother was still smiling as he slowly faded away.
The door flew open and Tharin and Una burst in, swords drawn.
“What’s wrong?” asked Tharin.
“Nothing,” Tamír said quickly. “I’m fine, just—just thinking out loud.”
Tharin nodded to Una and she retreated and closed the door. Tharin swept a suspicious eye around the room as he sheathed his sword.
“I’m almost done here,” she told him, hugging her knees to her chest. “I told Ki he could use the water when I’m done but it’s gone cold.”
Brother had stolen the last of the heat. No, don’t think of him right now, and what he’d hinted at. She’d had too much to bear already, without looking for murderers among what was left of her circle of trusted friends. She clung to the fact that Tharin had not been anywhere near her mother that night. But Iya had, and Arkoniel. Perhaps there had been someone else? It was too painful to contemplate.
“That’s a long face.” Tharin helped her from the tub and wrapped her in a large flannel, rubbing her hair with a corner of it.
Tamír dried herself and put on the robe again, not looking at him as she let the flannel drop.
When she was dressed, he urged her into bed and pulled the comforter up around her, then sat down and took her hand. “That’s better.”
His kind, knowing look undid her. She threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against his chest, not caring that he still stank of blood and smoke. “I’m glad you’re still with me!”
He rubbed her back. “As long as I draw breath.”
“I’m going to make you a prince of the realm when I’m queen.”
Tharin chuckled. “Bad enough you’ve made me a lord. Leave well enough alone.”
He stroked a wet strand of hair back from her cheek and gave one braid a tug. “You’re worried about Ki.”
Tamír nodded. It was half the truth, anyway.
“He didn’t look any happier than you when he left.” She felt him sigh. “You’re determined to keep him by you, aren’t you?”
“You think I’m wrong?”
“No, but you might consider the boy’s feelings.”
“I’d be happy to, if he’d tell me what they are! He treats me like I’m someone else now.”
“Well, like it or not, you are.”
“No!”
Tharin patted her shoulder. “Maybe just who you were, then, with more added on.”
“Tits, you mean?”
“You call those little flea bites tits?” He laughed at her outraged look. “Yes, your body’s changed, and that’s something that can’t just be pushed aside, especially not by a young man with Ki’s hot blood.”
Tamír looked away, mortified. “I want him to see me as a girl, to like me that way, but then again, I don’t. Oh, Tharin, I’m so confused!”
“You both need time to know your hearts.”
“You always treat me just the same.”
“Well now, it’s different with me, isn’t it? Boy or girl, you’re Rhius’ child. But you’re not a little one anymore, for me to carry on my shoulder and make toys for. You’re my liege and I’m your man. But Ki?” He picked up the discarded flannel and rubbed it over her dripping hair. “I know what your feelings for him have grown to this past year or so. He knows it, too.”
“But shouldn’t that make it easier?”
He paused in his drying. “How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and Ki was a girl?”
Tamír blinked up at him through her tangled hair. “It’s not the same! That would make things harder between us, like when I was a boy. This way, we can—have each other. If he wants to!”
“First he’ll have to stop seeing Tobin every time he looks at you. And that won’t be easy because he’s still looking so hard to see him.”
“I know. Who do you see, Tharin?”
He patted her knee. “I told you. I see my friend’s child.”
“You really loved my father, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “And he loved me.”
“But he left you for Mother. Why didn’t you stop loving him then?”
“Sometimes love can change its form rather than end. That’s what happened with your father.”
“But your feelings never changed, did they?”
“No.”
She was old enough now to guess at what he was leaving unsaid. “Didn’t it hurt?”
She’d never seen the sorrow more clearly in his face, or the sharp edge of anger that came with it when he nodded and replied softly, “Like fire, at first, and for a long time after. But not enough to drive me away, and I can say now that I’m glad. There was a time when I’d have answered differently. I was a grown man by then, and I had my pride.”
“Why did you stay?”
“He asked me to.”
She’d never heard him say so much before. “I always wondered—”
“What?”
“After Mama got sick and turned against him, were—were you and Father ever lovers again?”
“Certainly not!”
“I’m sorry. That was rude.” Still, something in that last response intrigued her—a flash of pride. She wondered what it meant but knew better than to ask. “So what do I do about Ki?”
“Give him time. Ki could never have loved you the way you wanted as Tobin. It just isn’t in him. But he suffered over it, and now he’s suffering over the loss of who you two were together.” He draped the flannel over her shoulder. “Let him heal a while. You can do that for him, can’t you?”
