Tranquility's Grief Page 22

  “It’s me,” Bethany replied. “Mind if I clean up? You have the tub and I’m filthy.”

  Arrago snorted. “You gonna strip it all off for me, are you?”

  Bethany bit back the first remark that came to mind. Instead, she pulled her sword scabbards off her back and dropped them to the floor, the metal clattering. She wrestled out of her too-small jacket and threw it on the bench. She untied her leather toggles and pulled her vest off. Blood splattered all of it. Sir Eli’s, her own, countless Magis that she’d slain.

  Too much blood.

  On the floor, she noticed Arrago’s bloody clothing. She glanced sidelong at him and guessed he was naked.

  She dipped her hands into the tub of murky water and her knuckles stung. She’d scrapped them against Sir Eli’s teeth. She scrubbed her face and immediately was grateful for the refreshed feeling it gave her. Clean always improved her morale.

  “I hate your hair short.”

  Bethany glanced at him while unbuckling her belt, her shoulders slumping from the extra weight on them from the mail. “Your hair keeps getting longer each time I look at you.”

  He let out a snort, and Bethany relaxed. She knew the relaxed, casual manner in which she treated him was what he needed.

  “We Taftlins do like our hair long.” Arrago’s mouth quirked upward, though he tried to wipe away the expression. “Do you like it?”

  “I think I do,” she said, her voice huskier than she would’ve liked.

  Arrago stared at her, fingers wrapped around his bottle. Then, he stood, the blanket falling from his shoulders. Bethany gulped; Arrago was naked underneath. A chill that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature coursed through her.

  He reached out and touched her hair. “You look like an orange dandelion.”

  “It was too cold to keep shaving it,” she said with a laugh. She tried turning her face away from him, but he cupped her scarred cheek. “No matter. You are still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you are drunk,” Bethany said, forcing as much mirth into her voice as she could muster. “I want to wash up. Go sit before you fall down and hurt yourself.”

  “You’re really bossy,” he said, but staggered to his bed and plopped down on it.

  Bethany looked away, but the image of his semi-erect manhood flapped against his body kept repeating in her mind. She gritted her teeth. She’d expected him to keep brooding and the overtures threw her off balance. Nevertheless, she didn’t go there to seduce the poor man, only to comfort him. A dark part of her whispered that sex was the greatest comfort she could offer him. She drowned the voice by splashing more water on her face.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, keeping her voice as soft as possible, all the while her heart thumping. She untied her neck guard, and wiggled out of her too-loose mail, the metal tunic plopping to the floor. She rolled her shoulders in relief.

  A bitter laugh escaped Arrago. “Drunk.”

  “Is it helping? The booze, I mean.”

  “It just makes the self-loathing bearable.”

  “I really know that feeling,” she said. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Face the other way. I want to peel out of these clothes.”

  “Since when are you shy?”

  She rolled her eyes, and gave him a forced smile. She peeled her tunic off and tossed it to one side, wincing at her own stench. “When this war is over, I’m going to burn all of my clothes. I’ll never get the sweat smell out.”

  “I’ll never get the blood out,” Arrago said quietly.

  “Oh Arrago,” Bethany said and walked over to him. She was about to crouch down, when she realized what would be at face level, and opted to sit next to him. “Eventually, the blood fades.”

  He stared at his hands. “I killed him.”

  “You did. You gave him a heroic end.”

  “Fuck heroic,” Arrago snarled. “Fuck war, fuck death, fuck Apexia and her—” He stopped abruptly. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  Naked or not, stinking or not, Bethany reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. Arrago squeezed. They sat there like that for several heartbeats. Emotions warred for dominance. She could pretend to be cold and unfeeling, but the fact remained: she still loved Arrago Cedar. For all the betrayal and hurt, she still loved him, and it was killing her to see his heart ripped apart.

  “You smell really bad.”

  Bethany glared at him before cracks shattered her façade and they both roared with laughter. She threw her head back and howled with laughter. “I really do.”

  Arrago let out a short sound before saying, “Oh, I shouldn’t laugh.”

  “You should. The living laugh.”

  “I don’t want to be one of the living,” Arrago muttered.

  “Not tonight perhaps,” she said, rising, “but tomorrow you’ll be happy that you are still drawing breath.”

  She took the rag from the side of the tub and dipped it into the water before rubbing as much of her torso as she could that wasn’t covered by her breast bindings.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he commented.

  Bethany stared at his bronze torso. “You haven’t,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face.

  Arrago looked at her, a grin on his face that never touched his eyes. “Tromping through the woods has been good for me.”

  Bethany reached out to a particularly vicious scar across his bicep, but she pulled her fingers back. He was no longer hers to touch. “Not that good for you.”

  He looked at the scar, still red and angry, but now closed. “That hurt less than the one in my thigh.”

  “At the temple, you mean?”

  “No, I took an arrow in the leg. It leaked for a month before I got it under control. You have no idea how hard it’s been finding a healer after the war was declared.”

  “That’s why I travel with several healers.” She gave him a grin, trying to force as much idle chatter into their conversation as possible. Talking was good for Arrago.

  “The next time I start a rebellion, I’ll remember that.”

  She pointed at him. “The next time you start a rebellion, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered before turning his attention back to the fire.

  Bethany’s breath hitched in her throat and she looked away, going back to washing away the grim and sweat. Words could not describe how empty her life had been without him.

  “I suppose you’re still quite angry at me.”

  She let out a sigh. It was inevitable that the topic would drift back to what they’d shared. “Arrago, you’re drunk. You’re hurting. Let’s not venture down that path.”

  “You’ve changed.”

  Bethany let out a snort. “Not as much as you. My Goddess, Arrago. Trying to become King. If I wasn’t standing here, I would not have believed it.”

  “I don’t believe it myself most days.” He stretched out his hands, and Bethany averted her eyes once more. “Who would’ve thought I was the elf king of prophecy?”

  Bethany ignored the comment. He was too drunk, and she was too on edge to deal with those thoughts. She looked at him and sighed. “I’ve missed this.”

  She turned her back to him and ran the cloth inside her trousers, washing as best she could without being too obvious. She dropped the cloth in the tub and turned to pick up her tunic. Arrago grabbed her. He wrapped his fingers in her damp hair and grabbed a fistful. He pulled her to his mouth and kissed her so hard that her lips ached.

  Bethany gasped, unable to control her breath. She had never felt this way before, not even the two times they had been together back at the temple. Before, that was gentle, sweet. Now, in the midst of the war, and blood, and horror, she did not have time for gentle and for touching that part of her soul. She needed the groping, grasping, grappling love. She needed sex. She needed Arrago.

  He had changed.

  She feared loving him even more now.

  And she had to stop thi
s. Now.

  “Stop,” she forced out, stumbling out of his grasp. It was wrong to let her wants take advantage of him.

  He whispered into her ear, “Come to bed with me.”

  “You’re upset.” Bethany closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, ignoring her own desires. “You will regret this.”

  He kissed the tip of her ear. “Please,” he urged. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Bethany slipped her hands to his chest, to push him away. But once her hands pressed against his warm flesh, she could feel his beating heart through the muscle and skin. She missed the sensation of both their hearts pounding together, as they wrapped leg and love around each other.

  She missed him.

  “This would be for all the wrong reasons,” she whispered through her tight throat.

  He pulled back enough to cup her face in his hands. “I need to feel that someone can love me. Please.”

  Bethany knew if she gave in, it would not be for Arrago’s pleading; it would be for her own base needs. She would be taking advantage of someone she’d once loved.

  No, that wasn’t right. She still loved him, perhaps more than ever because the shine of the spring love was gone. There was no newness, no smiles, and yet she yearned to stay by his side for the rest of his short life, and mourn him for centuries. She wanted to share her sorrows, her joys, failures, and triumphs with him.

  So, she could share his hurt and if wrapping her naked body around him and enjoying the comfort of the man she loved was wrong, then, she could live with that, too.

  ****

  Through the haze of liquor and heartache, Arrago knew deep down that he was taking advantage of Bethany. He knew her well enough to pull on her sympathy. He knew how to touch her, how to whisper to her. He felt dirty for trying to coax her into his bed, and yet he did not stop touching her.

  Kiner had been right; the liquor took the edge off the agony in his heart. It gave him just enough strength to stuff the anguish in a trunk and hide it in the storage room of his mind for a time. It would never go away, of course. It would always scream for release, always pound to be let out, and he believed Kiner’s warning that Sir Eli’s death would replay in his dreams for the rest of his life.

  He needed something else to replay as well, or else everything he’d done was worth shit. He wanted to touch, to love, to feel like someone wanted him. And he knew that Bethany still wanted him. Did she still love him? He didn’t know, though he suspected that the hatred she felt for him could only be so hot because she still loved him somewhere deep inside her.

  “Please,” Arrago whispered and ran his right hand down her naked back, still damp from washing. “Just this once. I’ll never ask again.”

  Bethany did not answer him, but she slowly, carefully, wrapped her arms around his waist, cold hands pressing against his skin. He shivered and fought the tears that welled in his eyes. He loved her so much.

  He planted kisses on her cheek, her neck, and her closed eyelids. Her fingers tightened and her breath quickened. Mustering his courage, he lifted his mouth and brushed his lips against hers. Bethany dug her fingertips into his skin and he grabbed the back of her neck, pressing his naked flesh against her.

  His spare hand ran down the length of her body and her skin turned to goose flesh. How he’d missed the contours of her body. He kissed her harder, as if she could steal the very hurt from his mind.

  “Please,” he whispered between kisses, their breath creating clouds of steam in the cool air of the sparse room.

  Bethany gulped and one of her hands slid down his back and cupped his naked ass. She dug her nails into his back and whispered between gasps, “Arrago, this is a bad idea.”

  But it wasn’t a no. He tugged at her silk trousers until they passed her hips. She wiggled to help, but all that did was drive him mad. Arrago pulled her down to the bed, and Bethany kicked one leg out and wrapped it around the back of his thighs, locking one of his legs in place.

  Kissing, groping, biting, he sunk himself into her. He clasped her tightly, fearful that she’d escape from him.

  “Ease up.” Bethany’s breath was jagged. “I can’t breathe.”

  He kept moving his hips, holding her, tasting her lips, her tongue, her breasts. He’d missed her so much. He thought he’d never ever get to touch her again. And today. Oh today. He needed someone to love him, to let him know it was going to be all right, that Sir Eli didn’t die in vain...

  “Shh,” Bethany whispered. “Arrago, shh. Don’t cry. It’s all right. Shh.”

  He looked up at her, her face blurry through his tears. He wanted to speak, wanted to be angry, but all he could feel was the rising wave of grief once more.

  Pity filled her eyes, but she reached up and touched his face. “You are, and always will be, a good man.”

  Arrago collapsed on Bethany’s naked chest, burying his face in the warmth and damp of her skin. He tried so hard not to cry. He did not want to cry. Crying would make him weak. Didn’t soldiers never cry? Didn’t men never cry?

  “It’ll get easier,” she whispered and she wrapped naked limbs around him, rocking him. “You’ll see, Arrago. You made the right choice. You’ll see. You’ll recover.”

  “I’m sorry,” Arrago forced out through the sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t even know what exactly he was apologizing for, but he was sorry for it all. Every failure, every misstep, every regret flooded through him like snow in winter.

  But she did not turn from him. Bethany held him tighter and whispered, her own voice cracking, “I forgive you.”

  Arrago closed his eyes and let her words soothe him. Then, he pushed himself up off her. He loved her so much. Even now, she could still show him the comfort he needed but did not deserve.

  “What?” she asked, a soft smile forming on her lips, red and swollen from where he’d bruised them.

  He reached across the floor to where her Blessed Blades lay in the puddle of her clothes and pulled them to within arm’s reach. “I know you won’t relax unless they are near you.”

  She cupped his face in her hands and smile. “What now?”

  Arrago kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Let me be weak tonight.”

  “Arrago Cedar, I have never thought you weak.” She hesitated before saying, “And I still love you.”

  Emotion exploded inside Arrago. He wept from grief, anger, and relief. One of Bethany’s strong, calloused hands pressed tightly against his back while the other fished around for the blankets.

  “I love you,” Arrago choked out and wept in the arms of the only woman he’d ever love.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Diamond will not hide from the darkness. She will stand or the world will fall.

  -Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  “Lady Bethany! Rider!”

  Bethany grabbed her sword scabbard and rushed outside. Dogs howled and barked as a messenger arrived, covered in frost and snow. He stopped his sled steps from the temple, his dogs collapsing in pants, their breath creating a small patch of fog around them.

  The man, in not much better shape than the dogs, approached Bethany. He tried to speak, but he was shaking so badly that his words were lost in the chattering of his teeth.

  “Let’s get him inside,” Bethany said. “I need a healer and food for him.” She looked at the dogs. “Get someone who knows about dogs to look after them. Come on,” she said, and opened the door to her cottage.

  Jackson and Erem dragged the half-frozen man inside and in front of the fire.

  Lendra came hurrying out of her room and exclaimed, “Is he dead?”

  Bethany shot her an annoyed look. “Get Arrago, oh there he is,” she said as the door flung open and Arrago looked frantically around the room. She didn’t meet his eyes. They had not talked about what happened two days before, nor would they if she had her way. Talking was for people like Eve, not for her.

  “Hawkfeathers!” Arrago exclaimed and rushed over to th
e man, dropping to his knees. “We have to get him undressed and into blankets.”

  “I’ll fetch blankets,” Lendra said and ran upstairs to the rooms.

  “He’s your man, right?” Bethany asked.

  Arrago nodded. “Jay Hawkfeathers. Best dog rider we have. He’s a childhood friend of Edmund’s.”

  Bethany nodded. “Jay, can you hear me?”

  The man nodded his head, his teeth still clattering. “I—I—They—”

  “Be calm,” Arrago said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Be calm. You’re safe. Let’s get you bundled into dry clothes. The cold will wear off soon.”

  “Why is he shivering so bad?” Erem asked. “It’s not that cold outside.”

  Arrago motioned for Bethany to help him tug the man’s sealskin coat off, the inside fur soaked with perspiration. “Not good. Erem, he’s probably not slept in days except for when the dogs were too exhausted. Make sure someone looks after the dogs, too. They’ve been with him for a long time.”

  “Already looked after,” Bethany said, but she did turn and say, “Jackson, go make sure.”

  “Right away,” he said and jumped up to leave.

  “I like him,” Arrago said, smiling at Jackson. “He makes a good aide for you.”

  “He’s also illiterate,” Bethany said through a grin. “He’s even more useless with paperwork than I am.”

  They worked quietly, stripping Jay Hawkfeathers naked. Erem raided their beds and bundled up blankets, furs, and wools to make a litter. Bethany stirred the fire, sparks flying up.

  Lendra burst into the room with an armload of blankets and stared at the naked man on the floor. Her mouth dropped and her cheeks flushed as she stared at his naked bits, before dropping the blankets on the table and hurrying off once more.

  Arrago raised his eyebrows.

  Bethany sighed. “I believe the urge has come in.”

  “The urge?”

  Erem answered. “You know when you hit fourteen and all you wanted to do was find a hole to stuff your goodies into? Elves get that around a century.”