“Someone’s offering you affection,” he said.
My head ached. “It still depends. Will I be punished for saying no, overtly or covertly?”
He sounded sad when he said, “No.”
I didn’t believe him, and wasn’t that a strange thing to realize?
Partly to ease the ache in my hip and partly so he stopped breathing into my ear, I turned onto my back, but then I had to figure out what to do with my hands. “What of you?” I asked him, deciding to clasp them on my belly. They sat there awkwardly.
He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “Yes is harder,” he said around a yawn. “Not by much nowadays.”
“Why?” I asked as he shifted to prop his head up on his elbow. I’d had Isolde in my ear since the start telling me I was allowed to say no. “Why is yes hard?”
“Lots of reasons,” he replied around a half-muffled yawn. “Enjoying affection is giving someone leverage over you. It can be taken away as punishment or quoted as a favor they’ve done you. It can be held up like a cube of sugar.” My heart ached, and he just yawned again, blinking. “Then there’s the back-of-your-brain worry you don’t really deserve it, that they’ll flee once they understand who you are or what you’re doing.”
I struggled to draw in breath. He’d summarized it so easily.
“Haven’t felt that way myself for a long time,” he said, settling in. “But I understand why some might.” And he looked at me, not waiting for confirmation or denial, just simply stating facts. “Kadan was probably the first safe person I met.”
“And I took you from him.” The words were out before I could snatch them back.
He let out a breath. “I chose hope,” he said quietly. “Over doom or death, I chose hope. I chose you.” Tears sprang into my eyes, and I looked away, my full heart aching in my chest. The reality was he’d ended up with deathanddoom. “This isn’t how any of it was supposed to go,” he said quietly. “But I’m glad this beekeeper built his home here, and I’m glad you’re here with me. I like this bed the best of any I’ve slept in since I arrived here.”
Desperately, I grabbed for the offered distraction in his words, knuckling away tears and trying not to unsettle the blankets in the process. “We haven’t slept enough. I ought to let you rest.”
“Quality, Embers, not quantity.” He shifted a little more. “Can I put my arm around you?” I nodded and then lay still as he did exactly that, no more or less. Exhausted, sick, and far too vulnerable, I shut my eyes to give myself some time to sort through the messy whirlwind inside myself.
“I’m going to point out that if thereissomething you want from me, tonight’s probably an excellent time to ask for it,” Chay said, the words soft in the darkness.
I’d already reasoned my way to that conclusion, but I’d also circled back to the thought that once he’d been a little boy who’d been made to feel like kindness was a danger. I wanted to lean into him and not entirely for warmth. He didn’t seem to mind, so I closed the tiny gap between us, my heart aching.
I knew that child. I tucked my head in beneath his, surrounded by his warmth. “I’m glad you found Kadan.”
“I’m glad you found Isolde,” he said without hesitation, and there went any shred of doubt that he knew exactly how relevant all his comments were. “I haven’t seen much kindness from her, but she’s always got your back.”
The thought of kindness didn’t match well with Isolde. The kindness she showed wasn’t what the Wife had taught us it ought to be. She’d sacrifice, but not without limitations. She’d encourage, but not without pointing out flaws, sometimes at length. Her softness was a limited resource.
And perhaps that was why it felt authentic. Because I could trust her to never follow unthinkingly.
“It might’ve been Luca,” I said into the quiet. “For me.” I shook my head, though, because he wasn’t safe. Not properly. “When I was eleven, I went to Raa’shi to marry him. Obviously that didn’t happen, but I still attended a number of parties and feasts.” I looked above me and saw the line of his jaw, his eyes on the fire, his expression intent. “I had to dance with him at one of them, and I didn’t know the dance. They’d cleared the floor. It was in front of everyone.” I felt the echoes of that shame years later. I’d stood there, holding his hand, and felt like someone else steered my skin while I screamed inside. “He told me to stand on his feet. It was the first kind thing I can remember. That sounds ungrateful, and it isn’t supposed to.”
“It sounds like what it is, which is sad,” he told me. “I’m glad he did that.”
“For years,” I said on a bit of a laugh, “I thought it was the most romantic thing in the world. He’d saved me, in that moment. But then, when I was about his age, we had a delegation from the Citadel attend, including a young cousin of the prince they’d been flaunting under my father’s nose. I thought of that child, standing up in front of all the adults, being humiliated, and I would’ve done the same thing. For a child I didn’t know and probably wouldn’t even like, I would’ve done the same.”
Chay let out a long breath. “Yeah. It does sound like he gave you some basic decency.”
My heart twisted at his tone. I couldn’t figure out what it meant, but it wasn’t the easy give and take from before. “My apologies. I know he’s your friend.”
“Acquaintance,” Chay said without hesitation. “Ally, certainly. But friend?” He lifted his hand, wavering it back and forth. “I did hear about that time, though, that you went to Raa’shi. He caused quite the stir at court. Apparently, the basic decency of not marrying an eleven-year-old was shocking.”
I hated to recall my own disappointment. My life might’ve been better, had Luca been around. But I didn’t want to be shackled to him. “I owe him.”
Chay let out a small, hard laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far. For someone who’s sworn you a Blood Oath, I haven’t seen much of him.”
Shock rippled through me. I shifted away. “He told you that?” I asked, which was ridiculous becauseobviouslyhe had. “He told you about treason, and you’re hisacquaintance?”
“He and Kadan are close,” Chay told me, a little uncomfortable. “Luca thinks they’re very close. If you know what I mean.”