Page 84 of A Monsoon Rising

And it was almost that same light, constellations of it, that exploded across Talasyn’s vision when she came, her body twisting in fierce undulations before she collapsed, boneless, over the sheets. The bed creaked obscenely as Alaric bent to close the distance between them, capturing her lips in a filthy kiss, folding her in half as he chased his own release, his large fingers tangling in her hair.

Too close. Too much. She should have shied away. She very nearly did, but then his hips stuttered and he was saying her name in a quiet grunt, the shape of it muffled into her neck. There was a rush of warmth as he spent inside her, followed by the full weight of him, briefly, making it impossible to breathe.

He rolled onto his back, and for a while the two of them did nothing but stare up at the tapestried canopy, shoulder to shoulder, their racing hearts calming and perspiration cooling on their bodies.

Eventually, his hand found hers. She was too tired to pull it away. At least, that was what she told herself.

His voice broke the silence, gruff at the edges, low with melancholy. “Sometimes I wish—”

He hesitated, and that in turn made her own courage falter. She’d faced down Bakun without batting an eyelash, but she was a coward when it came to this, when it came to what achingly tender kisses and caresses had unearthed.

She didn’t want him to say any of it. Not when her judgment was clouded by near-miss and nearness.

Not when they’d both agreed that there was a certain point where they could go no further.

Talasyn turned on her side, flinging an arm and leg over Alaric’s body. She’d banked on this move to surprise him enough to shut him up, and it worked a little too well. He shifted so that she could use his bicep as a pillow, gathering her close.

“Goodnight,” she muttered against his skin.

He didn’t say anything in response, but his fingers danced along her bare shoulder, tracing drowsy patterns, until she fell asleep breathing him in.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

As one of the last Nenavarene to depart, Urduja was among the first to return. Talasyn saw this as a calculated act of statecraft: the Dominion needed to be assured that things were back to normal, and what better way than for them to find the Zahiya-lachis happily reigning from the Roof of Heaven when they got home?

But Talasyn was also of the opinion that things would never be normal again. Not when the Void Sever had turned out to be the breath of a gigantic dragon lying beneath the earth.

“Areallthe Severs like that, I wonder?” mused Niamha Langsoune. “Wind and tempest and rain and the rest—have we been harvesting dragon breath all along?”

“I should hope not,” said Kai Gitab, the Rajan of Katau. “Else I’ve no idea what we’ll do iftheywake up.”

Urduja’s council was in session, two days after the Moonless Dark. Talasyn had finally left her bed to attend, but she was still a bit drained. Alaric hadn’t even so much as stirred when it was time to sail from Iantas to the capital. She hadn’t had the heart to force him to accompany her to this debriefing,especially when he would need all his energy to deal with her court at the masquerade the next night.

“It’s a kind of estivation, what the World-Eater is doing, I believe,” said Ishan Vaikar. “A reduction in metabolic processes, perhaps to extend life span? Prior to this, the oldest dragon ever recorded fell just shy of nine hundred years … And I suppose that Bakun wakes once every millennium, only for an hour, but expelling more and more magical energy each time. Then the cycle begins anew. Although that wouldn’t account for all the other instances of the Void Sever activating before then.”

Ishan was trying her best to reconcile science with folklore. But Talasyn knew only what she’d seen in the World-Eater’s eyes. “It breathes out the Voidfell every time it dreams,” she said. “Of battle, and of her.”

The other people at the council table looked uneasy. Lueve Rasmey, Surakwel’s aunt and Urduja’s right hand, wrung the opal rings on her fingers. “If there truly was a battle, how did our ancestors manage to drive such a beast into the volcano?”

“We had other aethermancers in Nenavar then,” said Gitab. “Not just the Enchanters. That might be how.” He pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps we should just kill it.” He glanced at Talasyn, almost hopefully, in a way that reminded her of his promise of alliance back when they stood in that dim hall lined with portraits.

“Out of the question,” said Urduja. “We need the Void Sever. It is our greatest weapon, unique in all of Lir.”

“It ishardlyunique anymore, Harlikaan,” Gitab argued. “May I remind you that Kesath has gotten their hands on it—”

“We still don’t know how they’re maintaining their limited supply,” Urduja countered. “What happens if the Void Sever disappears for good and Nenavar’s aether hearts run out? The Night Empire will then be the only nation in the world thathas that technology. I refuse to give anyone that advantage over us, ally or otherwise.”

Especially since we’re planning to betray the aforementioned allies,Talasyn thought but didn’t say out loud. Gitab was the only noble present who didn’t know about Nenavar’s deal with Sardovia. It had to stay that way, or he and his faction of dissenters would use it against Urduja somehow.

The thought of the war to come hollowed out Talasyn’s stomach. But her conversation with Alaric on the bridge before the eclipse had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to consider peace with Sardovia, and it was likely that he never would be. The best she could hope for was to save his life.

A life that wouldn’t include her, not after what she was going to do. Would have to do.

Talasyn willed herself to put Alaric in a little box in her mind and seal it shut for now. The important thing was to keep moving forward. There was a council she needed to get through.

“We don’t have to kill anything,” she declared. “We’ve learned that Bakun can be reasoned with. We just need to keep that knowledge alive for … for next time.” Her voice wavered a little. A thousand years was so far away.

“But can it be reasoned withbeforeit breathes on the night of the sevenfold eclipse?” Gitab asked, and it didn’t escape Talasyn’s notice that he addressed her more gently than he did Urduja. “Or will our descendants still need eclipse magic to stop Dead Season? There is no assurance that we will be in possession ofthata thousand years from now.”

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