Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [31]
She drew in a sharp breath and touched his cheek. “I—I cannot.”
Pain cut through his heart. He shut his eyes against it. “I know.”
“I am not free. I belong to Kostimon.”
“Is your heart his?” he asked fiercely, suddenly furious. “Is it?”
At first she was silent; then she said very quietly, “You know that does not matter. My vows were spoken. I belong to him.”
“But not forever,” he said grimly.
“Don’t speak of that,” she said in sudden fear. “Don’t foretell his death. Let that not be between us, ever.”
His arms tightened around her in hope. “Then you do care?”
She remained silent, but she did not resist when he kissed her forehead and eyes. Her tears tasted warm and salty on his lips.
“You are too stubborn,” she said unsteadily. “As my official protector you could have been with me daily, hourly.”
“No.”
She pulled back to look into his eyes. Her own were frowning. “You say it would not have been honorable. Is this better, when you seize me like a bandit?”
“It is on my terms,” he said angrily. “As a man, not your adoring servant.”
Her eyes dropped, and she seemed to shrink a little. “Oh.”
He let her go then, and stepped back from her. She continued to look at the ground, her hair half across her face.
After a moment she said in a soft, shy voice, “Then some day ... perhaps ... you would be my consort?”
His heart tightened. She had just offered him everything ... and nothing. After all he had said to her, she still did not understand. Regretfully he shook his head. “No,” he said with pride, “I will not.”
They stood in the shadows, facing each other, trying to find a way to cross the barriers.
“Because you cannot serve an empress?” she said softly, un-happiness layered in her voice. “Am I so horrible? Does my offer insult you so greatly?”
It was Caelan’s turn to avert his face from her gaze. “No, there is no insult. You are wonderful.”
“Then why? You know who and what I am. My destiny has brought me to the throne. Unless the empire is truly lost, I will rule after Kostimon. What do you ask of me?”
“Nothing,” he said swiftly. “Nothing ... except your heart.”
“And if I gave it to you ... someday,” she said hesitantly, “you still would not stand with me?”
His heart thudded with anger. He did not want to explain. There was too much confusion still inside him, too much new ambition, too much stubbornness. Why could she not leave well enough alone? She always pushed him, goaded him. Perhaps it was time she heard the truth.
“First protector, now consort,” he snapped. “I can carry a sword or I can wear a little crown. Either way, Majesty, the position you offer is still the same one. No, thank you.”
Looking as though he had struck her, she drew back. Inside, Caelan’s entrails felt as though they were being twisted into a knot. She had offered him a future beyond what most men dreamed of, and he had flung it back in her face. She would hate him now. Could he blame her?
“I see,” she said. Humiliation burned in her voice. “You have made things quite clear.”
He sighed. “Please. I didn’t mean—”
“You have said enough,” she told him with a gesture of dismissal. “This incident is best forgotten. We will not discuss it again.”
His dismay grew. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I—”
“Please do not apologize,” she broke in, her voice cool and haughty. “As you said, you are no longer my guardsman, or my protector, or my friend.”
“That isn’t what I meant—”
“I think it was precisely what you meant.”
He opened his mouth to protest when he heard a sound, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. It was a voice, calling to him.
His blood froze in his veins. Turning his head, he looked down at the ruins and saw the mist curling back, parting to reveal an enormous mound of earth in the heart of the city. Fragments and rubble lay strewn around it.
Caelan’s vision suddenly leaped. Disoriented, he realized he could see every detail of those