Page 40 of A Monsoon Rising

The echoes of that sentiment lingered long after her guests had taken their leave and Jie had run off to send letters back home. When a servant informed Talasyn that Alaric and Sevraim were still sparring, a mixture of curiosity and restlessness led her to ascend the stairs to a secluded tower room overlooking the courtyard.

She gingerly peered out the window. The open courtyard nestled within the granite walls of Iantas was ablaze with the Shadowgate as Alaric and Sevraim, coming at each other again and again, effortlessly switched from swords to daggers to spears. They’d both shed their heavier outer layers; Alaric was down to a sleeveless black undershirt and his usual trousers and boots. Talasyn had seen him wearing less, but she’d been too busy tending his wounds to pay much attention.

Now, however, there was nothing to stop her from looking to her heart’s content.

There was not an ounce of softness on him that she could see—orfeel, her traitorous inner voice reminded her. He had been pure muscle every time he pressed against her, every inch of his body honed into a weapon. A weapon that he was putting to good use as he fended Sevraim off, ducking beneath the arcs of the legionnaire’s blows and retaliating with lethal grace.

It was only then that Talasyn realized how much Alaric held back whenever he sparred with her. This was nothing like their sessions. The two Shadowforged gave each other no quarter and fought like they were going for the kill. Sweat-damp strands of Alaric’s dark hair were plastered to his bare neck, his cheeks were flushed red, and there was a wildness in his silver eyes.The taut sinews cording his pale arms shifted with every thrust and parry, and his teeth were bared in a near-feral snarl as he came within an inch of slicing Sevraim’s head clean off his shoulders.

Talasyn swallowed. Her husband was a dangerous man. Watching him like this, it was so easy to revert to her old ways and think of him as a monster.

So what did it say abouther, then, that a familiar heat was pooling low in her abdomen, seeping beneath her legs?

Memories of her wedding night flooded through Talasyn’s system, each one so strong that the phantom sensations whispered across her skin. Alaric’s lips crushed to hers, his large hand palming her breast, his hardness rubbing against her thigh. She remembered, too, the burning intensity in his gaze, the husky timbre of his voice.

My wet little wife.

Talasyn stepped back from the window, knees knocking together beneath her skirts. Slowly, unsteadily, she made her way to a chaise lounge in the corner and sat down, no longer able to remain upright. Hot. She felt too hot, too consumed by thoughts of Alaric Ossinast, her nerve endings scraped raw by the ghosts of touch. She closed her eyes in an attempt to meditate, to calm and center herself, but the darkness only brought him into sharper relief. She could almost smell him, all sandalwood and juniper and smoke. She could almost hear his harsh, ragged pants in her ear. As though he were there with her.

It was an act of surrender, this hiking up of her skirts. Talasyn couldn’t believe what she was about to do. But her body was on edge, crying out for relief, and it was best not to think about it. She was so tired of thinking. Of living on her constant refrain ofI can’tand her fears for the future.

I’m so lonely.She whispered it into the secret universe of her mind, where no one else would ever know. A lone tear of burning shame welled up in the corner of her eye and she blinked it away as her fingers slipped beneath the band of her undergarments. And began to move.

The eclipse came and the light-and-shadow shield went up over the Eversea. It had been Sevraim’s brilliant idea to have Iantas’s warship fire one void cannon after another at Alaric and Talasyn while they stood on the deck of one of the castle fleet’s smaller vessels. The pleasure yacht was currently encased in a glimmering sphere of black and gold against which amethyst bolts slammed in vain as it hovered in the air, the conflagration reflected like flickering fireworks in the dark and restless waters below.

It was a good exercise. The threat of getting zapped with death magic was all it took for Talasyn to never let her concentration wane, even as she aethermanced by the side of the man she’d fantasized about while touching herself earlier that afternoon.

However, it was still taxing, especially without the help of the amplifiers. Once the last void cannon had been fired and summarily repelled, her legs refused to hold her up any longer, and she collapsed flat on her back, on a cold bed of teak and nails.

Alaric landed beside her with a groan. The two of them lay panting, bathed in sweat. The Eclipse of the Third filled Talasyn’s eyes with its scarlet glow.

When the burning came, she met it with dread but no surprise. Her body had been expecting it, even though her mind had hoped it wouldn’t happen. It spread through her, this heat like needles, and she knew without a doubt that this was howthey’d all felt when they died—everyone she’d ever killed. This was her punishment. Her reckoning.

She reached for Alaric, because she was a coward. His icecold fingers laced with hers, soothing the inferno at the same time that his skin gradually warmed.

“It happened again. Even without the amplifiers,” Talasyn said when she was well enough to speak. “Is it—does this mean that it willalwayshappen from now on?”

“I don’t know.” Alaric sounded as confused as she was. Defeated. Tired. “Perhaps it happens only in the aftermath of casting the light-and-shadow shield. Or perhaps it’s caused by the eclipse. Either way, it’s certainly an effect of the amplifiers. And if it’s permanent …”

“I hope not. We can’t be with each othereveryeclipse from now on.”

And after I betray you, you will probably rather die than touch me again,she added silently, pain stabbing at her heart anew.

The warship returned to the docks, leaving them alone above the open sea. Talasyn hadn’t wanted to risk anyone else, so she’d steered the yacht away from the island herself. Now it was time to head back.

She sat up, fully intending to sail for shore, but something about the look on Alaric’s face as he glanced over at her made her pause. Even if hewasstill carrying a grudge against the Dominion, and consequentlyher, for messing with his aethermancy—

He cares what you think.

There it was again. That dark inner voice. She couldn’t put it aside as she’d done before. There might never be another opportunity like this, when it was just the two of them with no distractions, with no one around to interrupt.

She couldn’t break out Hiras and the other prisoners, but she could still try to help them.

“About the rebels who were captured after the Citadel attack—” It was such a risky subject that she nearly lost her nerve at the clenching of his sharp jaw. “Have you been able to get any information out of them?”

“Nothing particularly useful.” Alaric regarded her warily. “They’re all low-ranking foot soldiers, which I believe was an intentional strategy, given that they never intended to escape. It’s guerrilla warfare, with a lot of different groups at different bases that move around.”

“Then maybe it would be all right to stop the interrogations,” Talasyn said. Thetorturewas what she really meant.

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