Page 76 of Angel in Absentia
Iris watched in silence.
“The city is already his anyway, Iris. What does formalizing it really do?” she pushed.
Iris didn’t respond.
“What?” Clea pushed again, getting more restless.
“Say all of this happens,” Iris said, “what you’re suggesting is potent for you both. You—” Iris paused. “You love him, don’t you?”
“I loved, Ryson. Not Alkerrai,” Clea started.
“But—”
“They aren’t the same,” Clea said resolutely. “They are different people now. I just…my heart will catch up in time.”
“But even then, in such a setting. He has been nothing but kind. You’d spend the entire evening together. Drinks. Dancing. He acts, speaks, and remembers like the man you loved. You would be expected to retire together.”
Clea released an exasperated sigh. “Do you really think I’m that pitiful, Iris? He can’t even touch me. He’s sifted. The ansra in my skin dispels the cien in his. My touch would cause him great pain. He can get no pleasure out of it until I heal him.”
Another full pause.
“I need to embrace my nature. You lure out a lion by becoming a lamb. I am not so foolish; I will not be the vulnerability. He isn’t who he was. I will make myself the apple, and when he bites, I will be poison.” Clea rolled back into bed with a sigh. “Besides, unless I can figure out what my own illusion is, I am useless to defend myself. I must strike first.”
At last, the night grew long and the fire low. They lay in the same bed, close and comfortable as the city slept outside.
“So,” Iris whispered, “after all of this, if you didn’t have to think about anything else—what do you want? Your vice. What is your best guess?”
Clea didn’t hesitate. She knew the answer, or one answer, in the marrow of her soul.
“After all this,” she whispered, “I think I want things to be this way forever. Is that wrong? Or is that right?”
There was a silence so long Clea thought Iris had fallen asleep. But then:
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Chapter 23
The Solar Solstice
LEA WAITED IN TENSE anticipation for the Solar Solstice Celebration. They were perhaps nine of the longest days she’d experienced in a while. On the day of the celebration, the city of Loda hummed with preparations. Garlands of preserved ferns arched over the streets. Musicians plucked ancient strings, tuning traditional melodies. People swept their thresholds clean, and white banners hung from every window.
Inside the upper chambers of the palace, Clea sat barefoot on the warm stone as Iris knelt behind her, threading gold pins through her hair. The mirror across from her showed a woman both regal and exposed—her skin painted with delicate white lines, sharp and ceremonial, winding across her shoulders and arms like frost on stone. The dress, layered in white and gold silk, shimmered with every breath.
“I imagine you will lure him into a sense of security,” Iris said, breaking the silence as she slid the final pin into place. “I’m just not convinced it won’t be false.”
“Iris, I’ll do whatever I need to do for my own people,” Clea said softly. Her voice was as calm as it was resolute. “He wants to gain my favor so badly, and I need to know what happens when he thinks he has it. And the feast is tradition. Our people need to see that we still believe in tradition—no matter who sits beside me.Seeing us acting amicably puts them at ease. He’s consenting to the Lodain way of life. I want him to feel that he has at last fooled me into believing all his good intentions.”
“It’s going to fool everyone else too.” Iris rose and came around, adjusting the wide gold band at Clea’s wrist.
“People will believe what they want to,” she said. “I’m sure they will see the strategy for what it is.”
Iris didn’t answer. She had questioned the plan a couple of times since Clea had first proposed it, but Clea had at last thought Iris a reluctant participant. Something was different today.
“What?” Clea prodded.
Iris sighed, her hands hovering over Clea’s painted skin as she cleaned a small line that had been painted astray. Clea looked down, the white paint gleaming along her collarbone.
“Maybe they will,” Iris said, folding her arms and sitting back against the dresser as she inspected Clea closely. “There are some, however, who think that your bond with Ryson is what secures the future of the city. Announcing this event has caused stirring whispers. They believe he has been so taken with the glorious Heart of Loda that it has transformed his nature.”
