Page 90 of A Monsoon Rising

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

“I have checked in with the Allfold as per your request,” Surakwel’s voice was soft in Talasyn’s ear as they waltzed. “The Amirante has bade me tell you that she sprouted a new white hair the Night of the World-Eater, but otherwise everyone is fine.”

“Thank the gods,” Talasyn muttered. The Sardovian remnant had not evacuated from the isles of Sigwad, purely because the risk of discovery by unallied Nenavarene was too great. She couldn’t even imagine the terror that they all must have felt.

“You’re in Nenavar, Lachis’ka. We thank the ancestors here.” Surakwel said it with only the barest hint of teasing. He’d been markedly cooler after witnessing her bargain for Alaric’s life. “I have your new orders, by the way.”

Talasyn’s skin crawled with dread. “And they are?”

“The Amirante wants you to go back to the Continent. Find out how Kesath is supplying their warships with the limited pool of void magic from the moth coracle that Ossinast stole.” Surakwel spun Talasyn around in time to the music, her skirts swirling over the marble, and then he brought her close again.“Vela has been discussing this with Daya Vaikar’s people. They think that all of Kesath’s void hearts are connected to a single power source that can somehow replenish itself. It would be very helpful if you could find a way to disable that source before Sardovia attacks.”

“And how is she proposing I do that?”

Surakwel shrugged. “You’re the Night Empress, and you’re a Lightweaver. Usethat, and do it fast, because Midzul and the other allies are en route. I’m only an eagle away if you need my help.” He blinked at something over her shoulder. “I have to go now.”

“Not much for parties?” Talasyn acidly quipped.

“I have been known to enjoy them on occasion,” he said slowly, “but this hasty exit has more to do with the fact that your husband is approaching us with murder in his eyes.”

With that, he deposited her at the perimeter of the dance floor and disappeared into the crowd with one last courtly bow. Talasyn whirled around; sure enough, Alaric was bearing down upon her, paying no heed to the numerous guests who hailed him as he passed.

“My lord,” she said, through gritted teeth.

“My lady,” he replied in kind.

His fists were clenched and his gray eyes were dark with barely contained anger. An anger that hadn’t been there earlier. This wasn’t a continuation of their current spat, but something new.

And because she hadjustfinished talking to Surakwel Mantes about the Sardovian remnant, Talasyn was plunged headlong into white-hot terror.Alaric knows. Someone overheard us and told him. Or one of Urduja’s allies has finally turned against her and told him.It was irrational, but she couldn’t let go of it, that piercingWhat if?She was numb all over save for the tightening in her chest.

“Lachis’ka!” Ito Wempuq of the Silklands materialized at her elbow. The rajan had opted for a goat costume on his ample frame, and the horns protruding from his mask nearly poked Talasyn’s eyes out when he bowed to her. He also bowed to Alaric, albeit with far less enthusiasm. Saving Nenavar from the World-Eater had clearly not endeared the Night Emperor to Wempuq in the slightest.

“I hear Oryal called on you a while back, with the other ladies,” Wempuq said to Talasyn. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“Your daughter is as charming as you are, Rajan,” Talasyn assured him.

Wempuq’s chest puffed up with pride. “May I say, Lachis’ka, that you look heavenly tonight, a vision of resplendent loveliness—”

“Er, thank you,” Talasyn said, more preoccupied with the wrathful way Alaric’s brows had knitted at this interruption.

“Your butterfly costume isdivine, and so fitting for a creature of sunlight and summer and heavenly grace—”

“You usedheavenlytwice,” she couldn’t resist pointing out. It was easy to banter with Wempuq whenever he laid it on thick; he was one of her father’s oldest friends, and perhaps in a life where she’d grown up in Nenavar she might have considered him an uncle.

Wempuq slapped a palm against his forehead in mock chagrin. “So I did! Perhaps you could allow me to expand my vocabulary as we dance.”

“She’s already spoken for.” Alaric shouldered Wempuq aside, grabbing Talasyn’s arm.

Talasyn had enough presence of mind to glance back at the rajan with an apologetic smile as she was ferried away. And then she narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Harassing the guests at a partywe’rehosting is shockingly poor form, even for you.”

“And shockingly enough, I don’t care.” Alaric led her to the antechamber through which they’d entered the ballroom. The orchestra struck up the opening notes of a popular, fast-paced jig, and as the younger nobles swarmed onto the dance floor, laughing gaily, Alaric and Talasyn were able to leave relatively unnoticed. It was a struggle for her to keep up with his long strides, and by the time the curtains swung shut behind them, she wasquiteput out. But at least a bit more rational than before.

There’s no way he knows.She took a deep, calming breath.

He leaned down and kissed her so savagely it made her head spin.

Oh.

It was always a shock, that initial press of his soft lips against hers. But Alaric didn’t give Talasyn time to luxuriate in the sensation—instead, he swept his tongue into her mouth again and again until it felt not so much like a kiss as a taking. She kissed him back, determined not to lose whatever new game this was, pouring into it all her grievances. Their heavy, elaborate masks were in the way, however, and it wasn’t long before she had to pull back because the butterfly’s gold filaments were digging into her cheek.

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