I waited, knowing he would explain.
“I heard the words yer mother spoke that terrible day. I was afraid the king would strike her again. I threw me-self over her.” Boojohni’s voice grew high pitched with suppressed grief, and emotion swelled in my chest.
“Do you remember what she said, Bird?”
She told me not to speak. Not to tell.
“Yes,” he whispered, nodding. “She did. She knew your gift was dangerous. She told ye to wait until the hour was right.”
When will the hour be right?
“Yer using yer gift now, Bird.”
Then why can’t I speak?
“Maybe ye . . . can.” Boojohni was almost pleading with me, and I could only gaze at him in disbelief.
“Ye were a wee child. Ye saw something terrible.”
I began to shake my head, but he didn’t stop.
“Ye blamed yerself. Ye became afraid of yer words.”
No! I can’t speak, Boojohni. Don’t you think I’ve tried? I can’t speak!
“Shh, Bird!” he said, wincing and patting my cheek. “There, there. Yer gonna make my head explode.”
I was going to make my own head explode. I laid it back down gingerly, focusing on slow, deep breaths, and after a moment, Boojohni resumed his gentle strokes with the brush, as if the conversation were over. I was too nauseated to pursue it, too troubled to dwell on it, and regardless of what Boojohni suggested, I still couldn’t speak.
He started to hum again, but this time I didn’t join him, letting the melody drift around me. Before long my stomach settled, and my drowsiness returned.
“What word did ye give the prince that day, Lark? I’ve always wanted to know,” he muttered.
I was sure I hadn’t heard him right, sure it was just the pull of dreamy sleep, but in my mind a memory swelled and kissed the backs of my lids, a memory of an enormous horse and a black-haired, dark-eyed prince.
I awoke to a different set of hands in my hair, hands that caressed with careful strokes and eyes that reminded me that time was fleeting.
“I should have let you sleep, but I missed you,” Tiras whispered, apology written all over his face. I would have smiled at his sweet remorse, but he looked so desolate I reached for him instead, pulling his mouth to mine and relaxing his bleak expression with soft kisses. He returned them eagerly, and for a time we lost ourselves in the desperate reacquaintance of our mouths.
“There is much to do,” he whispered finally, and I sighed against his lips, hating those words, hating even more that I could feel his anguish and his desire to remain exactly where he was, with me, lying in our shadowy chamber, hiding from everything but each other. There was much to do, and my king did not want to do it. Yet he did, and it was one of the reasons I loved him so desperately.
If there is much to do, then we must do it.
He pressed his forehead to mine, and his gratitude and relief billowed around me, making my eyes prick with tears.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
When do we leave for Firi?
He stilled, raising his head slowly. His relief became trepidation once more.
“I cannot take you to Firi, Lark. I will not take you into battle again.”
Tiras, you know you must.
“I won’t,” he shot back, adamant. “Do you really believe I would take you to Firi to face the Volgar? That I would let Lady Firi huddle in my castle whilst I sent my wife into battle?”
Yes.
“No, Lark.”
We dressed for dinner in silence, and when we descended the stairs toward the Great Hall, he held me back and drew me close for the space of a heartbeat before letting me go again.
Kjell was waiting for us, pacing restlessly, and when we entered the hall and Tiras pulled the heavy doors closed behind us, Kjell glowered and folded his arms across his chest.
“What is the plan, Tiras? Firi is under attack, and we dress for dinner? We sleep yet another night in our own beds?”
“Quiet, brother,” Tiras said without heat, and Kjell sighed heavily.
“I will go,” Kjell said. “I will take two hundred of my best men. The Volgar cannot have recovered their numbers in so short a time. We will secure Lord Firi’s fortress and gather what information we can on the Volgar’s numbers. We will burn nests and destroy eggs. And you will stay in Jeru City with the queen. It makes the most sense,” Kjell summarized neatly.
“I am going with you,” Tiras said, and Kjell’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He eyed me speculatively then searched his brother’s face once more.
“What if you don’t come back?” Kjell asked softly. Tiras closed his eyes and bowed his head, as if searching for the courage to continue. Dread coated my hands in perspiration. When he opened his eyes, they were as blank and hard as gold coins.
“Tonight I will acknowledge you as my brother,” he said to Kjell. “I will claim you. You will be Kjell of Degn, and as my brother, you will be in line for the throne.”
There was a moment of blaring silence. Then Kjell began shaking his head, and he took a step back.
“I don’t want to be king, Tiras. I won’t do it.”
“It is not about what we want, Kjell,” Tiras exploded, his calm sizzling in the face of his desperation. “Bloody hell! Save us all from our desires! None of us here can have what we want. None of us! This is about the future of Jeru. Do you want Corvyn or Bin Dar or Gaul to get their bloody hands on the throne?”
“I don’t care,” Kjell snarled. “I have never cared. My loyalty is to you, brother.”
“And my loyalty is to Jeru. I have sworn an oath to protect her. I can’t protect you or Lark if I don’t protect Jeru. I can’t protect my child if I don’t protect Jeru. Don’t you understand?”
“You don’t have to atone for your father’s sins,” Kjell said, pointing a shaking finger at his brother.
“Yes, I do!” Tiras answered. “Since I was thirteen years old my life has been about nothing but atonement.”
“So you married a Teller. Put a child in her belly. Outmaneuvered Corvyn. And now you want to position me in the wings?” Kjell raged. His eyes shot to mine, and I read the apology even as I flinched, scalded by his fury.
“I don’t want you in the wings. I want you at the helm. You and I will go to Firi to fight the Volgar. And I will meet my end,” Tiras said evenly. “It is time.”
Kjell and I both stared back at him in horror.
“What are you planning, brother?” Kjell gasped.
“I can’t continue to disappear and reappear. You’ve said it yourself. The people will lose faith in me, and eventually—sooner rather than later if my hands are any indication—I am going to change and never come back again. What then?”
“Your queen will rule, just as you intended. And when your child is of age, he or she will rule,” Kjell retorted.
“I have left Lark unprotected. I have left her vulnerable,” Tiras said.
I began to shake my head. No. No. No. This is not what I’d intended at all.
“She can protect herself, Tiras. She brought down the Volgar with mere words,” Kjell argued.
“She has no voice. You will give her one. And you will give her the protection of your presence. You will give my child a father.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“You will be king. And she will be queen.” Tiras didn’t even look at me. My legs became liquid and my belly floated away. I wrapped my arms around the small mound of my abdomen, sheltering the life that grew in me, even as Tiras was being ripped from me.
“No. I won’t,” Kjell whispered, incredulous. “You can’t do this, Tiras. You can’t manipulate and maneuver and will me to comply.”
My voice felt heavy and black, and it pulsed behind my eyes. I have bowed to your will over and over again, Tiras. But I will not be passed to your brother like an inheritance. I am going to Firi.
“No Lark. You aren’t. Kjell and I will go.”
We will all go! I’ve faced the Volgar. I will do it again.
“That was before.”