Page 190 of Prize for the King
I can’t help wanting his touch and the relief it offers. I spread my legs wider, try to hump his palm, but Arvi pulls it away.
“Tell me. Are you capable of controlling Magnar?”
He slaps my flesh, and I cry out. “No! I can’t, I can’t!”
“Then why do you feel guilty, sweet?”
Another slap. I stop crying and just let the pain spread through me, wave after wave of heat, of relief.
“Because I love him. Because he’s mine. Because they can’t have him!”
“True,” Arvi murmurs, massaging my skin. “But none of what happened is your fault.”
“If I were smarter…” I sob, beating the couch with my fists. “If only I were better, and kinder, and prettier, and nicer, and more obedient, and… None of this would have happened!”
I cry, a different kind of pain flooding my chest, something old and wounded, something unbearable. Gentle hands lift me, settling me against Arvi’s chest, and he slides onto the floor, where Raduna and Khay join us. They hold me, murmuring softly, caressing my back, my hair, my arms. I cry so hard, I begin to hiccup. It lasts for a long time until all the pain spends itself, and I grow numb and heavy. My sobsquiet. My heart slows down.
“Do you believe bad things happen because you aren’t enough?” Arvi whispers in a soft, loving murmur.
I nod with a shaky sigh. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
And it does in a strange, dreamy, magical sort of way. If I had been different, better, if I had been the way everyone wanted me to be, my mother wouldn’t have died, my father wouldn’t have touched me, none of that would have happened. There had to be a reason, I think bitterly. And the reason was me.
Only… It sounds soridiculouswhen I put it into words.
“My mother fell off a horse when I was nine,” I say hoarsely after Raduna hands me a handkerchief, and I blow my nose. “She broke her neck. It… It had nothing to do with me. But ever since then… If I disobeyed, or made a mistake, or fidgeted too much… My governess would say… She would say…”
Tears flood my eyes, and the wound reopens, more pain coming out from deep nooks where it lay buried for years.
“That if… If only I was a good girl… Smarter… Nicer… My mother would be alive!”
I howl into Arvi’s chest, and they hold me, and stroke me, and keep me from falling apart. I feel like I’m made of agony and guilt, insubstantial, broken. Their arms hold the pieces of me together. Their compassion pulls me out of the deep well of hurting.
“That was a lie, Caliane,” Raduna murmurs softly. “They lied to you. It was a lie. Of course, you believed it. You were a child. But you don’t have to believe it anymore. You don’t have to.”
I shake my head. My mind is broken, and I cannot think anymore. All I can do is hold on, their bodies warm around me, their hands gentle. I fall asleep, spent and exhausted.
And time flies.
When I wake up, it’s to afternoon light flooding the room. I’m stillin Arvi’s lap, and he holds me loosely, my naked body covered with a blanket.
I blink a few times, breathe, and wonder. My mind is clear, clearer than it’s been in ages. I sit up and look at my knight, who watches me with soft, curious eyes.
“EdB,” I whisper. “Egerd de Bloom. I think I need to serve some tea.”
LVII Politics
Sidonius stands in front of the door, waiting for me to join the Gathering. He looks grim, unusually serious, and when I approach, he gives me a firm nod. I exhale in relief. His support will make my coup as seamless as possible.
“Everything is in motion,” he murmurs, while the corridor behind me resounds with quick footsteps. “As we agreed, Caliane. You will reinstate the old laws and exclude the Citadel from all tariffs.”
I nod, searching his face. “Are you certain, Sidonius? There is no turning back if you do this. You know what will have to be done.”
He sneers, casting a scornful look at the closed door behind him. “I’ve licked their boots for years, and for what? They humiliate me and never pay attention to what I say. The title of Master of Peace used to mean something. It was an honor to bear. Now? I am but a puppet in their hands.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “When they brought the Agnidari women here after Magnar took Zanvar, I refused to sponsor a brothel. I knew then, just like they did: whether in five years, ten, or twenty, the Tyrant would take what’s his and slaughter those who wronged him. Theodore sent his flotilla to choke my port. There was food rotting on ships that couldn’t get out, merchants clamoring for their wares. I lasted a week and had to break, like always. I want this in ourtreaty, too. Blocking the Citadel’s port shall be unlawful.”
I nod. “Agreed. We need a Master of Peace who will have privileges and power as well as duties. You shall be a true overseer, not just a pleasant host.”
