Page 22 of Angel in Absentia
She gasped awake, sweating in the darkness of her room, her covers coiled around her body, pillows cast aside. She still clutched the necklace, reliving the dream in such vivid detail it felt more real than the room she rested in.
That, she knew, had been a dream of the forest, but the problem was, she wasn’t in the forest any longer. Her skin still felt hot and tender to the touch. Her mind gasped for air as if she’d nearly suffocated in her sleep.
She looked out the dark window, praying for dawn. Her heart drummed. The sensations still coiled through her, wrapping every bone and organ, and just as the moon exposed the truth of the forest, it dared to expose a truth in her, for it seemed even within the walls, the dreams had now come to call on her.
She ran her fingers along the warm gold, swallowing as she eased off the bed and steadied her breathing. She looked through the glass out beyond the walls, and therein was the reason for her plight. A full moon.
Ryson had done his best to save her life, and toward the end had infected her with something ravenous that came to gloat when the moon was full and silver. It had gotten worse over her campaign. She’d become convinced that returning to Loda would solve her problem.
Here was her answer, and the dream she’d just awoken from was more vivid than all the rest. She was almost tempted to call on him now somehow, to reach, perhaps, through those dreams. There was something deep inside her that knew he would respond to her call. Without reason, suddenly, she was convinced he would come. She was convinced that he would not be able to resist, and the darkest part of her thoughts savored that.
Disturbed by the sensations and her own willingness to tempt such an act, she retreated back into the darkness of her room and away from the moonlight. She removed her clothes as she strode into the bathroom and lit a candle. She looked at her body by the candlelight, the pale lines of her healed illness evidence of him. She watched the mirror, tracing the lines with her fingers, her shoulders down to her thighs.
The lines were the shape of curses, like tree branches winding over her body, and she felt the roots again, even now, coiling through her. Ryson was not a healer, and as she looked at her skin now, she wondered if he’d truly removed everything from the curse, tearing it from her body with his own energy.
Hurriedly, she climbed into the frigid water of the cooled bath. The servants would be up in the early morning to drain it, but Clea called on the biting cold as she sank her body into it, sitting in the darkness as she tilted her head up and back against the polished stone.
As her body cooled, she felt her mind return to some level of normalcy, and she stirred in the water, restless in the wave of a dream that had felt more encompassing and more seductive than the rest. She winced, taking in a deep, shivering breath to clear any thoughts that followed. She could sense the early morning. Tonight, she would perform a healing that would ask everything of her, and if the traces of her illness did indeed represent a crack in her sense of self, then the gravity of tonight’s healing would shatter her. This would be the test. She was convinced either she would break or the curse would.
Maybe both, but she’d broken so many times before. It wasn’t the breaking that scared her, only the coming together again, as if one day she would no longer recognize the pieces, and if her dreams were a foretelling, then somewhere out there was a version of her possessed, the dream of Ryson only a cautious substitute to the man who perhaps had the potential to break her forever.
She dunked her head under the cold water, and in the cover of the dark bath, she opened her mouth and released a loud and frustrated shout as long as her lungs would permit. She hoped none of the servants would hear her, and yet struggled to care if they did.
†††
When the morning came, she dressed in white, and in the formal royal attire, it was hard to be inconspicuous. Her hair had been intricately braided with gold, her shoulders and chest painted up to her neck with white lines meant to symbolize blessings. Her dress was stark and brilliant with intricate gold weaving that matched her long earrings, bracelets, rings, and anklets. Her fingertips had been painted white. When she arrived for the afternoon’s Victas Day preparation performance, the others in the small auditorium stared.
Catagard eyed Clea from a booth of the ceremonial theater as they all prepared to watch the annual performance of the Great War that was conducted several days before Victas Day. Dae and his family were in attendance along the left wall of the stone theater along with the other officers of the Golden Army. Clea was surprised when she saw the prince of Ruedom, Idan, sitting in the stark, navy uniform of his people.
He smiled when he saw her approach, rising to meet her and giving her a slight bow before offering the seat next to him. There was both warmth and cunning in his smile, eyes dark and playful as she sat next to him in her formal, royal persona, her hands folded delicately in her lap.
“You look more beautiful than the sun your people worship,” he whispered. Easing down beside her and then leaning slightly toward her, he added, “Am I allowed to say that?”
Clea bit down a smile, but he seemed to notice and only smiled brighter. “I might refrain from saying I’m more beautiful than what we worship,” she whispered back, eyes still forward.
“I see. But I am allowed to say you are beautiful still, or does that make me vain and focused too much on external appearances?Now that we are to be wed, I must know how to compliment you. I’ve made mistakes before.”
“We much prefer compliments of strength or character. Tell me that my sense of nobility and integrity is brighter than the finest jewelry and you will be a bit closer,” she said, trying to sound scolding but hardly able to maintain her ruse. “You might want to straighten your posture. You’re being watched,” she added, eyes forward as the Lodain councilmembers continued to glance back at them from Catagard’s booth.
“They don’t notice me. They’re hypnotized by you. You can’t walk into a room of men who worship the sun, dressed like their holy messenger in white and gold, and expect them not to stare after nine months of your absence. I’ve heard stories from my father that your mother’s entrance dropped men onto their faces. You’re quite capable of melting their minds. They’re looking at you while trying to remember why they’re here.”
Clea resisted another smile, instead correcting him. “They’re staring because they’d rather I prepare myself to withdraw from the battlefield and become incapacitated with children and bound to the castle for the rest of my days.”
He didn’t lose a second, lowering the whisper of his voice as he leaned over slightly. “Assure them that if it weren’t for all of their formalities, I’d incapacitate you promptly, especially if you continue to grace this drab room like a goddess sent to rescue me from the gray torture of politics.”
Clea nearly snorted and had to stifle it with a subtle cough that she promptly recovered from.
Idan scratched his face to cover a broad grin before pushing a strand of sandy-brown hair from his face and surveying the rest of the room cautiously.
Clearing her throat, she whispered back, “My father would be ashamed to know that he’s arranged a marriage with a Ruedain man who seems to exhibit Ruedom’s worst qualities of lack of decorum and disrespect of tradition.”
Idan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him as he wrapped his humor into a contended, unassuming smile. “I pay homage to any man capable of maintaining either of those things in your presence.”
“I’m afraid you’ve fallen for a trick,” she said, eyes still set on the empty stage in front of them and the brown curtain beyond. “I don’t even recognize myself when I wear all of this and catch a mirror. I’m convinced you’ve never actually seen me.”
“Then trick me please. Oh, you must know, people love to be deceived.”
“What is it with people being so content to be lied to?” she said flatly.
