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To more threats, to more injuries. My arm ached at the thought and I shifted with a hiss, the Boy sitting up straighter as he once again leaned closer, his hands raised in the familiar gesture of question and concern. For the briefest breath of a moment, I thought he would talk, or click or gesture, but he dropped his hands, leaning back in the seat with nothing but the creaking of his leathers, the slow beat of his breathing the only sound in the carriage as he sat forward, each of his breaths the slow metronome of our defeat.
Sagging against my seat, I turned back to the window, to the gilded carriage and the mass of peasants who still stood there. Most were on their knees now, mumbling and praying to the temple and to the Goddess, but that cloaked man still stood. His tattered cloak billowed behind him, his curls whipping over his face as he turned. His eyes were so bright and blue I could see them from where I was across the clearing. He wasn’t looking at the line of carriages, or the servants.
He was looking at me.
Zings of energy ran over my skin, every inch of me prickling in a wave so familiar, yet so foreign.
It was as though my magic recognized him. I hadn’t felt that since… since…
Tobin?
It was impossible. I knew it was. The thought vanished as his mouth turned up. It wasn’t wicked like the grin Mother would give me, but it was dangerous, full of something that I didn’t quite understand.
Something that I could have sworn tugged at me.
“Boy–” I began, my voice shaking as I leaned away from the window. The Boy rushed beside me, hand already drawing his sword. By the time he reached me, the man was gone, only the praying worshipers remained, all of them facing the temple and the carriage that was now being moved closer to the largest of the domed houses.
They were all covered in dust, their too big clothing revealing half-starved frames and pale skin. They didn’t seem to care about any of that, however, they only moved toward where Aeinya had been taken as they prayed and worried. Still, it was more than my brother had done. It wasn’t the people who were praying to the sky at the front of the group that caught my eye, however, it was the children in the back.
The children who laughed and played and danced in the dirt, their bare feet pink in the cold, not that any of them noticed. They were happy. So, happy.
Even those who prayed and followed after Aeinya were smiling. I had never seen such joy.
The Boy gestured to them, pulling my focus from the children as he sat beside me gesturing in question as to what I had seen.
“I don’t know…” I began again, my words stumbling around a body that felt far too heavy as I sat there, staring at the pilgrims. Watching them pray and whisper and dance.
My mother would pray to the Goddess almost daily, she would go to worship with her ladies’ maids in the small chapel in the Runturin. I had been required to go with her for a time as a small child, but the devotion I had seen in her then was nothing compared to this.
Nothing compared to that freedom.
Watching them, I knew what I had to do. I had planned for this, but now I knew the exact path to take. It was almost as though the Goddess herself was laying it down before me.
The Boy sighed and made to move back to the other side of the carriage but I grabbed his arm, holding him in place. He stiffened below me, his body growing rigid as I leaned in. I was well aware that if anyone was standing outside would see us, but I really didn’t care. I clung to him, my grip tightening and he tried to pull away; although the motion grew lax as I pressed my cheek against the dark fabric that covered him. His breathing was deep and warm against my ear as his cheek pressed against mine. I leaned into him, his warmth like a fire even through the fabric.
“I’m leaving with them,” I whispered so low that I wasn’t sure he could even hear me. Even if he knew who I was talking to. I would only hope he would piece it together. “Tonight, after the ceremony. I’ll slip in with them. Come with me. Please. Your mother will understand, we can’t live like this. We can find another way to fight my mother. We can find a way to save them all.”
He said nothing, he didn’t click, he didn’t even move. He sat there, his cheek pressed against mine, his breathing slow and stuttered in my ear, as if each breath hurt him. As if each one was pulling something out of him that could not be replaced. As if each one was attempting to strangle that hope that had risen in me.
“Please. Come with me,” I whispered again, his body stiffening before he shifted away. His deep shaking breaths caught as his hand wrapped around my waist, the wide pressure of his palm firm against my back as he froze. Without warning, he pulled me into him, so close his shoulder was against mine. Everywhere his body pressed against mine that feeling of starlight and magic rumbled underneath my skin, begging me to move closer.
Oh, how I wanted to move closer. How I wanted to feel his arms around me, his body pressed against mine. Every moment that need grew into a volatile desire, and sitting so close, after so many days with him far from me that sensation was agony.
We sat there, the cushioned seat bowed below us as he held me to him, his body firm against mine, his breath warm and broken in my ear. Every inch of my body was hot, that prickling heat growing as I waited for him to whisper his answer; waited for him to promise that he would come with me.
Instead, he moved away, his cheek pressing against mine as he shifted back, his hand still against my waist, his body still so close to mine.
He didn’t leave completely.
His breath rattled over my cheek in a shaky exhale of hot heat that flowered over my jaw to my lips. My breath caught at the feel of his breath on my lips, my stomach tightening into a knot as I suddenly fought the will to breathe. I stared into the black mask that covered him, that shadow that was him. Before I could move, before I could react, he leaned in, pressing his covered lips against mine.
The fabric that kept him from me remained between us, the constant barrier unmoving. For one brief moment, however, I swore it had vanished, that it was nothing but his lips pressed against mine. That there was nothing between us, and I had seen his face every day of my life, that I had known every inch of him. That I knew each scar, and the way he looked when he smiled, or when he cried. It wasn’t true of course, the shroud was still there, but it didn’t matter because I knew him, without even seeing, I knew him. All that mattered in the world was this kiss, was him.
Screw breathing, I would breathe him in for the rest of my life and be completely satiated.
The entirety of the Realm fell away into smoke and light, leaving only the two of us in that carriage as his lips pressed against and danced with mine. Heat flared over my skin as he pressed against me, held me, as everything in the world went taut and perfect.
His hand pulled me into him as he deepened the kiss, the pressure of his lips firm against mine, his touch soft as he kissed me again and again. My lips, my jaw, the corner of my mouth where the sighs of shock and need and want that were escaping me sounded more like sobs.
