Page 94 of Minor Works of Meda

I nodded slowly, feeling more confused than ever. He clapped me on the shoulder and led the way up the stairs. I thought Oraik might want to have another night of fun and drinking, but he walked straight into his room and closed the door behind him without a word. Frowning, I knocked on Kalcedon’s.

He didn’t answer. I waited a moment and knocked again.

“Kalcedon?” There was no answer. I tried the knob—unlocked—and let myself in. The room was empty, the window shutters open.

I poked my head out of the window, peering down into the dark fragrant garden below. It seemed like the sort of place Kalcedon would go. I called his name hopefully.

“Up here,” came the reply. “On the roof.”

I twisted in the window and blinked up. It was a short climb; we were already on the top floor. I hauled myself up onto the sill and stood shakily, slowly, pressing myself as close to the wall as I could. Inching out sideways, I grabbed the finger holds in the limestone brick and hauled myself up.

Kalcedon came to the edge and reached towards me. He wasn’t wearing the mask. I took his hand, and he hauled me up onto the building’s flat roof. We were alone on the city’s empty skyline.

I seated myself beside him. From up here we could see not just the little garden of the inn, but a stretch of the city. A narrow glimmer of the ocean rose over the lowest harbor rooftops. It was dusky twilight, a single bright star visible through the Ward.

He said nothing, just wrapped his arms around his knees and stared moodily out.

“Oraik wants to go to Rovileis, but he doesn’t want you to know.”

Kalcedon glanced at me and drew a deep breath.

“That’s what you came up here to talk about? Oraik?” I shrugged, and he shook his head. “Fine. Why doesn’t he want me to know?”

“Because he’s embarrassed to change his mind,” I said. “Be nicer to him. Please?”

Kalcedon clenched his jaw.

“God’s peace, Meda. Just because you’re friends with him doesn’t mean I have to be.”

“I thought you wanted friends.”

“I’ve learned I don’t like sharing,” Kalcedon muttered. He stared moodily off. I poked his calf with my foot, and he turned to look at me, his gaze intense.

“Still, you can’t go around telling people I belong to you. And maybe you wouldn’t mind so much if you were friends with him, too.”

“Tempting though it is to have a friend who despises me,” Kalcedon drawled. He sighed and released his long legs, stretching them out in front of him and leaning back on his elbows. He stared up at the single star for a long moment, then spoke again. “I… might have overreacted. About him being Colynes. He’s not so bad, but you can damn well wager if he treats you wrong…”

“For your information, he’s going to Rovileis so we aren’t in danger.”

“Do you have to keep singing his praises right in front of me?”

“Horns, Kalcedon,” I snapped, shoulders rising. “D’you know you’re impossible? Oraik was right. Falling in love with you was a stupid choice.”

The silence that followed almost broke me. Kalcedon stared straight at me, his gray face ashen and his dark eyes wide.

“You don’t love me,” he breathed, the words softer than the seeds of a dandelion, falling apart the moment a strong wind brushed it.

“I do.”

“But you can’t love me,” he said, the words firmer now, with more conviction.

“Yes, I can. I do.”

“Meda.” His eyes roamed my face, one hand rising slowly to brush my arm.

Then he was moving quickly, as if the hesitation had been stripped from him, the fear and disbelief, leaving only raw hunger. Kalcedon turned onto his knees, rising over me. His hand slid up my jaw, fingers lancing power through me as he cradled my head, tilting my lips up to his.

The kiss. Deep, and slow, his heat poured into me. With a shudder I lay back against the hard surface of the roof, drawing Kalcedon’s weight over me. Braced on his elbows, his other hand found mine. His fingers pushed between mine as he drew my hand over my head. His tongue slid between my teeth.

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