I don’t know how to make it possible.
When the doors close behind Cal, I walk to the fireplace, though it’s cold and dark, ash from earlier in the day lying in subdued drifts. Cal lights two braziers with the taper he’s carrying, so we can see each other.
“You’re free,” I say, but before I can say any more, Cal steps toward me and pulls me into his arms. In an instant we’re kissing each other, his mouth soft and warm against mine. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the tight muscles of his back, the firm, slim shape of him. When we press against each other, I want to swoon, though I’ve never been the fainting type. I’ve missed him so much. I’ve missed us so much.
With this kiss, this embrace, it feels as though all these weeks of frustration and jealousy, of our being kept apart, are melting away. But I have to say something. It needs to be said aloud.
“Cal,” I say, pulling back, still close enough to feel his breath. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” he says, and we fall together again. It’s late and I’m tired, or at least my body is tired. Inside I’m exhilarated, tingling. I want to stay like this forever, my face pressed against Cal’s.
The doors fly open with a crash loud as thunder. We spring away from each other. Though the room is cold, I can feel my face burn.
It’s Hansen, his face grim, staring at me with ice-blue eyes.
“Out,” Hansen says to Cal, his voice tight. And in an instant, just like that, Cal leaves the room. He says nothing. I say nothing. It all happens so quickly, I can’t think. And Cal, I know, cannot disobey the king.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Caledon
Cal spends the next several days and nights journeying to Renovia to present the scrolls to Queen Lilianna. Now he has returned to Montrice for a sleepless night. For a long time he lies awake on his pallet topped with straw, listening to the quiet night noises of the castle—a hooting owl, horses snuffling in their stalls, a guard calling to another when the shift up on the battlements changed. Soon the rude calls of early roosters warn him of the coming sunrise. It should be the most peaceful place in the four kingdoms now that King Phras has been vanquished and the scrolls found. Cal has finished his task, has been released from the blood oath. His life is finally his own, but there is no joy in him. For Cal there’s nothing but turbulence and fear. He’s made things bad for Lilac. Very bad. He can only hope that Hansen hasn’t been malicious toward her, and so far Cal hasn’t heard that the king has taken vengeance for finding her in Cal’s arms.
There’s his own fate, of course, but Cal is resigned to whatever is flung his way. He’s been imprisoned before and survived. Or with the Aphrasians conquered at last, he might need to oversee a new beginning for operations in the obsidian mines of Renovia, checking all the passages and tunnels to reassure miners they’re safe. Strange to think of doing this alone, without Jander, and maybe without Rhema, since the king has asked for her to be part of his personal guard.
Cal doesn’t care. As long as Lilac is protected and respected, he can be sent anywhere and ordered to do anything. Their vision of a secret life together was always just a dream, a fantasy. They were lucky to have a few months together. As she told him last night, and he told her, they never stopped loving each other and never will. But the affairs of state—and the rules of this royal game—had to interfere at some point, and bring an end to their dream.
In his fantasy, Lilac would ride away with him and turn her back on all the insanity and hypocrisy here. With the Aphrasian threat gone, they could escape into the Renovian swamps and live by their wits in the endless forest. But he knows, deep down, that that won’t happen. Queens can’t run away. And the Chief Assassins sworn to serve and protect them can’t run away either.
He has his entire life ahead of him, unencumbered by the blood oath that hung over him since he was a child, and yet he does not feel free.
When the sun rises, Cal’s eyes feel dry and itchy. He hasn’t slept this little for a