Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [53]
Twilight knew that Taslin did not weep as a champion of Corellon Larethian, or as a mighty priestess, or even as an elf who had seen more than three hundred winters. In that moment, Taslin was merely a woman, crying from her heart for the man she had loved-still loved, though he was gone.
And through it all, Twilight felt again the terrible pain and anger in her own heart, boiling and festering like a sore, a canker that would never heal.
Never would she let herself weep for love. She had known too much treachery for that. It was an aptly named sword she carried, Betrayal, its blade dyed the dusk of stone after the darkness that had bled from her pierced heart into its steel.
Twilight was so lost in her rage that she almost did not notice when Taslin turned in her arms. She did notice, though, when the sun elf bent in and pressed her lips to her own. For a single, stunned breath, Twilight did nothing but let Taslin kiss her.
Then hot blood flowed through her veins. She looked into green-gold eyes and saw there the light and hope she wanted-desperately needed. Her hands clasped both sides of the priestess's face and pulled her deeper into the embrace. As though Taslin suddenly realized what was happening, she tried to break the kiss, but Twilight clung to her, pulling her and throwing them both to the stone.
Then the priestess let out a muffled gasp and Twilight felt her surrender. Supple arms wrapped around her back, and she felt nails through her blouse but she was hardly aware of the world outside the kiss.
All of Taslin's fiery passions poured into that kiss-all her wrath and rage about Asson's death, all her determination and love. She kissed hard, violently. Her hands gripped Twilight's arms with white-knuckled force, the nails nearly drawing blood.
Then it was broken. Twilight rolled away to lie beside Taslin, both of them panting heavily in the murky torchlight. The two women looked at each other for many heartbeats, neither speaking. They merely breathed.
Twilight's heart raced so fast it scared her. No, she thought. No!
Then Taslin made a sound that made Twilight's heart fall back into shadow. It was a mere giggle at first, but soon it became an outright laugh.
She laughed alone.
How much the mirth stung startled her. Twilight felt like weeping, for she had been wrong about Taslin, but no-no tears. Instead, she bound that hurt deep inside.
While the priestess seemed capable of letting it pass, Erevan's servant was not so carefree. Perhaps the Maid was toying with her again, or even the Trickster himself. He had ruined everything else in her life, why not this?
"My thanks," the priestess said. "Perhaps there is more to wisdom than holding it all within the heart." Then she smiled innocently, and her eyes softened.
Twilight wanted to agree-she wanted to reassure Taslin, to tell her all would be well. She could see that Taslin needed only those words and her heart would be whole once more. It should have been so easy to give her those, to give her the comfort and love she needed. Even if Taslin did not want her as a lover, Twilight should have been able to take Taslin into her arms and let the sun elf weep on her shoulder, sharing the pain.
But it would've been a lie-an inward lie. She could not tell Taslin that grief had to be entrusted to others-she did not believe in trusting others. And the priestess, much as she possessed the warmth Twilight's cold heart craved, did trust, and that made her a fool. More than that, she was stupid enough to want Twilight for a friend.
Twilight believed in only three breeds of people in the world: lovers, enemies, and those who were both. That left no room for something so naive as friendship.
All trust and friendship had earned her, in her young life, had been more than her years' worth of heartbreak and loss.
Without a word, Twilight stood and