Page 97 of Angel in Absentia
“I suppose that’s why she wants the clothes.”
I meant your laughter.
“Prince,” Ryson said more firmly, and Prince consented. Soon, Ryson peered under the covers with a change of clothes and Prince dissolved. She snatched them, changing furiously underthe blanket as she whispered, “I’m acting like a coward. A foolish, naked, coward—”
“You certainly weren’t last night,” he said, and she tried to kick him, but he caught her leg and pulled her toward him, trapping her back under his arms as his face hovered over hers.
“You’re leaving?” he asked and kissed her.
“Of course, I am,” she whispered back, straightening the top of the robe under the blanket before reaching for the rest of it. He pulled her under him, redirecting her arm and pinning it next to her head.
“And what will you tell them upon your return?” he asked as Clea tried to reach for the bottom of her robe with her other hand.
“That I failed,” she said sternly, already breathless again, her fingers snagging the corner of her dress and drawing it down as he wrapped her legs around him.
“And that I let you live?” he growled, almost laughing with pleasure before curling his fingers through her hair. “Maybe they’d believe you,” he said, his hands exploring. Clea fished a tie of her dress across her stomach just as he pulled it back over her arms and undid her progress.
A groan of exasperated protest quickly became breathless as he took her again, hands coiled through the linen of the new dress.
“Just a few more minutes,” he begged playfully.
Promptly after the feigned plea, she lost words again and the animal was back.
There was no longer a world outside of the temple, and when it returned, she was staring straight at his chest.
“I’m not so naive to not know what you think of me,” Clea said, and he pulled her chin up to his. Her body felt ragged and hopelessly relaxed. Now their time here was truly beyond explanation.
What would they all think?
“When we met, we were in many ways the same. Now, we couldn’t be any more different,” she said. “I’ll spend my life making up for this, I’m sure. This—this, whatever this was.”
“You think me so indifferent?” he asked, puzzled.
She sat up beside him, sliding her legs over the side of the bed as she continued braiding her hair furiously. “You are indifference. All of the power in the world and without an ounce of will to use it. I forged myself for years for a moment like this and failed. You won your war, and at the peak of your reign, you slept. This grand game has ended for you, but for me, cast still in the throws of it, carrying the burden of thousands of people aching to live normal, safe lives, I’ve failed, and I will have to lick my wounds and stand up again. We are bound, you and I, and I did not succumb to this illusion, but what about the next one? And the next one? I’ll fail one day. I can’t live like that. And the curse, the Insednian curse,” she said.
“Princess, you aren’t in this alone, and the Insednian curse applies to your eyes, perhaps to your will, but it will not convert you into a Venennin.”
“Not yet! And yes, we aren’t in this alone. Yes, you too are a victim of these same things and now so am I!” she said.
“There is a way for both of us,” Ryson replied firmly.
“Then prove it,” she demanded, looking over her shoulder at him. He was sitting up now, the blanket still covering his body. “Make my dreams your dreams. Help us secure humanity’s future.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not convinced it should be secured,” he said.
She swallowed hard, unable to hide the fact that those words painted the deepest picture of her doubts. Some had once speculated that The Decline was a natural process, that humanity was meant to die out. She couldn’t blame him for aligning himself with such a belief. He was, in many ways, an embodiment of death. He would see no crime in it.
She swallowed as she finished her braid, staring down at her lap and feeling defeated.
“That said,” he replied, “you can’t leave this room without something.” His arms wrapped around her and pulled her back into him. He invited her back into a timeless oblivion where she had forgotten about the war, and struggle, and pain altogether. She wanted to fall asleep against him and rest forever.
“Even if you’re not convinced it should be won,” she whispered back, “fight it anyway. That is my ask. It’s the only thing that I want, and to deny me that is to deny me everything.”
He hissed through his teeth as if wounded, but then she felt him smile against her neck.
