Page 10 of Heart of the Shadow King

But we fell asleep at last. And now, as I wake and turn to the empty spot beside me on my bed, I am filled with the dreadful ache of loss. He must have snuck out very quietly, conscious of my exhaustion, courteous and concerned as always. I wish he hadn’t. I wish he’d woken me with a kiss, whispered that he loved me one more time. Though I might not have let him go if he had.

I stretch my naked limbs, still sore from my ordeal of death and reanimation, but stronger now. Opening my spirit up to Vor, receiving his emotions into me, did wonders for my healing. Memory of our time together fills my head. Is it wrong to dwell on such things after everything that’s happened? All those lives so savagely lost . . . and yet somehow, amid death and destruction, Vor and I have found something beautiful together. If we don’t foster beauty where we can, nurture it and encourage it to grow, what is the point of living? Of fighting?

My body is warm and alive in all the places Vor’s lips, hands, and tongue explored last night. I feel renewed—and not just by the pleasure he called to life in me, though that was certainly wondrous. But this is more than that. The connection between our souls lit me up from the inside.

My smile dims suddenly, some of the warm glow in my chest dulling. He still will not consummate this marriage. Of course, I know why. I understand the reasons and realities, everything consummation would mean. I cannot blame him for making this choice, for holding back and resisting the dangerous trap my father has laid out for him. But can I be satisfied with what we have? Knowing our marriage will have no legal standing in the eyes of either my people or his? A small part of me protests the wrongness of this. And there’s the added sorrow of knowing that, so long as things remain as they are, we will never be able to create life together. Only love.

Is love enough? Is Vor enough?

These questions plaguing me, I rise from my bed and smile ruefully at the gown tossed in pieces across the room. The second time Vor tore it from my body, he’d made certain it would not be going back on again. We’d spent the rest of the night entangled in one another, bare flesh against bare flesh. It felt more right than I can express. I did not feel naked with him anymore. I feltwhole.

Now he’s gone. And I am cold. So, I venture to the wardrobe across the chamber and withdraw a trolde-style gown tailored to human proportions. It’s a deep blue, trimmed in gems that burn with living fire. Worth a king’s ransom in my own world. I pull it on and am just fastening the laces under one arm when there’s a knock on the door. “Enter,” I say, turning.

The door opens. Hael steps through, carrying a covered platter like the one Vor brought last night. “From the king,” she says, her voice dull and deep. “He has commanded that you shall eat this day or heads will roll.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I take a seat at the little table in the center of the room. Its surface is battered by debris which fell during the last stirring, but it’s still serviceable. Hael slides the platter before me and lifts the lid to reveal another human-style meal prepared just for me. I open my mouth, intending to ask Hael about Yrt, my maid. Something about her face makes me think better of my words, however. On impulse I try to reach out and touch her feelings only to be reminded that I cannot. Last night when Vor and I were intertwined, I’d started to believe my gods-gift was returning. In the cold light oflusterling, it would seem I was mistaken. There’s nothing there.

I bite my lower lip and study the meal before me, the fruits and pastries, the soft bread and creamy butter. Though I’d eaten little enough of last night’s fare, and my insides feel cavernously hollow, it’s hard to summon much appetite. I’m supposed to be dead, after all. Dead like Hael’s own brother. Yok. He will never again enjoy the simple delight of breakfast. Why should I?

I shake my head. It will not honor Yok for me to punish myself over the will of the gods. Steeling my resolve I pop a berry onto my tongue, roll it around, crush it with my teeth. Let the juices slide down my throat. Each sensation—taste, touch, smell—is so much more visceral than I recall from before death. I can’t even call it a pleasure, it’s so overwhelming.

“Where is the king today?” I ask once I’ve swallowed.

“Seeing to the needs of the city.” Hael stands stolidly at attention as though waiting to receive battle orders. I nod, though her answer is vague. I wish I could be out there with Vor, could help him somehow. But I know so little of Mythanar and its people, I would only be in his way.

A sick knot of futility coils in my gut. While Vor was with me, while I held him in my arms, I could ignore such sensations. Now I’m left strangely hollow. Why would the gods send me back into this world only for me to return to this same prison-like chamber, waiting for someone else’s permission to act, to live? I hate it, this inadequacy which has dominated most of my life.

But what use has Vor for a broken queen?

“Will there be anything else?” Hael asks, drawing my attention back to her. Her spine is straight as a spear haft, her face carved from a block of granite.

“No, Hael,” I say softly. “You may go.” She turns to leave. Before she quite makes it to the door, I call after her, “Wait.”

She stops. Looks back at me with unblinking eyes.

“I . . . I know what you’re feeling.”

Something almost imperceptible about her expression tightens. She does not speak, merely waits, frozen. I have no choice but to continue even as I curse myself for not holding my tongue. “I lost both my sisters,” I say, my voice little more than a whisper. “They were . . . they were killed. And I was not with them. I had always watched over them, always protected them. But in the end, I was not there. And they were taken from me.” A tear falls from my cheeks, splashes on the table. Hastily, I brush the heel of my hand across my face. “I know what it is you’re feeling. You think if you had been present, surely there must have been something you could have done to prevent his death, some way to turn back the tides of fate—”

“Have you a point to make, Princess?”

I stop, the words on my tongue cut off abruptly. Then I drop my gaze to my hands, folded demurely in my lap. “I only want you to know you are not alone.”

Hael stands before me, a powerful wall of a warrior. Unbreakable, unmovable. To imagine such a woman on her knees, openly weeping is impossible—I’m almost certain I invented that moment of weakness. At long last she draws a breath through her nostrils. “We are all of us alone. The only question is, will we be soft and weak, susceptible to the blows of pain, suffering, and death? Or will we be stone?”

With that, she turns, steps from the room, and shuts the door firmly behind her.

When Vor returns at last,dimnessis already beginning to fall in the Under Realm. I stand in the window, watching the crystals of the cavern ceiling fade out one after the other, idly spinning my pendant around in my fingers. The door opens behind me. I whirl in place. My eyes fasten on his beautiful face.

The next moment, I’m across the room, a glad cry on my lips as he folds me deep into his embrace. He kisses the top of my head, my temple, his mouth finding its way down to mine at last. I hold him close, drink in his warmth and presence. When he draws back for air, eyes closed, he utters a deep sigh. “Ah, Faraine! Now at last I may breathe again.”

I smile up at him. My head throbs a little; our kiss opened the remnants of my gods-gift, and his pain and sorrow flowed straight into me, all the heaviness of the burdens he’d borne throughout the day. It hurts. But it’s a relief to know my gods-gift has not abandoned me entirely, because that means I might be able to help him in turn, might be able to alleviate some of his turmoil.

“Come, Vor,” I say, taking his hand as I try to draw him further into the room, away from the door.

But Vor shakes his head. When I frown, he pulls me back to his chest, wraps his arms around me, and rests his cheek against my head. “Oh, little wife!” he murmurs. “You don’t know how I long to stay here with you thisdimness.”

“Can you not?” My heart sinks.

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