Threads of Desire (Spellcraft) - By Stone, Eleri Page 0,29
offered his hand to help her up and she took it, smiling.
Chapter Ten
The center medallion was complete. Three feet wide and ringed with golden thread, it depicted the emperor’s seal—a lion, fangs bared, claws extended. Around the beast’s neck was the Xara’s medallion, symbol of Luthalia, the small southern nation ruled by his wife, the empress.
In the morning, Ily would begin the pattern that formed the bulk of the rug. She could see it when she closed her eyes, at night before she slept. It would have to be worked in a single sitting. The thread was prepared and laid out on spindles surrounding a large cushion at the center of the room. She planned to sleep alone tonight and wake early. She’d told Kal about her plan this morning and so was surprised when she turned toward the door to find him standing there.
He was dressed in finery. The tunic he wore was a deep twilight blue with a soft sheen. Finely tailored leggings and polished boots. It took her breath away. So easy to forget he was an aristo when naked he was only another man.
“I’ll be going out tonight, I wanted to let you know.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
The skin tightened around his eyes. “Rael will stay here. If there’s anything that you require, ask him and it’s yours.”
“You’re very generous,” she murmured, crossing the room. Kal blocked the door.
He cradled her jaw and searched her face for a moment. “The emperor hired a troop to perform for him months ago, brought them in from Turan. I have to go.”
She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? He had to go and she wouldn’t be welcome there, had no desire to go. None at all.
“It’s a new moon tonight,” he said, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone. His jaw was clean-shaven and set in a determined line, but the look in his eyes was soft.
She knew what day it was—the festival of blind god—when the creator turned his face away. “An excuse for licentiousness.” Her brows arched. “As if you needed one.”
She started to draw away, but he held her. “I will do nothing to dishonor you, Ily. My vow to you.”
“I didn’t...” She shook her head.
“My presence is required, nothing else.”
He kissed her, a dry brush of his closed lips against hers. Possibly the most chaste kiss they’d ever shared and still her body responded, sparking to life like he held a burning match to her. She breathed him in...bergamot and sandalwood. Warm and familiar. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist but she held them stiff to her side.
He withdrew far too soon. “Tomorrow, then.”
She nodded and he was gone, striding down the long hall with the loose confidence she admired and despised. Envy welled up inside her, along with a red thread of shame. Despite his promise, she was jealous of every woman who would look upon him tonight.
She didn’t need him. This empty feeling...she’d find someone else to fill it after she was gone. Two weeks, maybe three. Her work would be done and she’d be able to leave.
And when she did, she’d walk away as easily as he did now.
* * *
Down the corridor, a curving set of stairs that let directly into the courtyard. Kal snagged an orange as he passed one of several fruit trees planted at regular intervals along the high plaster walls and paused beside the fountain. Haran was notoriously stingy in the food he provided to his guests, at least those not in the inner circle. Despite Ily’s elevated view of his position, Kal was a small fish in a very large pond. He was content with that. His wealth afforded him many advantages, but he wasn’t greedy for more. He did enough to ensure he stayed in the good graces of his emperor and did his best to stay out of the political maneuvering of the other families. He had few enemies, people in general tended to like him. At court, he was called a natural peacekeeper. He was known to be charming.
The sharp, sweet scent of the fruit reminded him of Ily, spread on his table. The oranges shaking from their bowl and rolling to the floor. The twilight reminded him of Ily because he usually waited for the first star to appear before seeking her out, knowing that she’d be finishing her work then. The crystalline sound of the fountain, Ily straddling him in their bath.
He could still turn around.
But if