“The king is asking for you, Milady,” Pia announced, popping into my chamber in the early afternoon a week later. My hands froze mid-air, the book I held slipping from my fingers. “He asked that you be present for a meeting with his advisors.”
He is back? I pressed, but she didn’t hear me, of course, and she continued bustling around my chamber as if the king’s comings and goings were of little concern to either of us. I doubted she’d even noticed he was gone.
I tidied my appearance in a rush and flew down the corridors and the main staircase to the room I loved most in the entire castle. But there were others assembled, and as I neared, I modulated my pace and pulled on my composure. I could hear the rumble of voices, and my belly flipped in anticipation.
Tiras sat in the library, his brow furrowed, poring over records and ledgers, Kjell and two other members of the guard seated in front of him. When I slipped inside he greeted me, but didn’t look up. Kjell and the other men rose and bowed before dismissing me as well. I sat in my customary seat, a quill in hand, making primitive notes—wholly insufficient and childlike—as if I understood any of it. He wore riding gloves and boots that rose above his knees, as if he’d come in straight from the stables and gotten to work. No one commented on it. His presence filled the space and demanded attention, and his height and breadth made the room seem smaller and the day so much longer.
We conducted the business of the kingdom for several hours, the stream of people in and out of the library making private conversation impossible, though I occasionally sent Tiras a humorous word or a thought, a bright butterfly to catch his attention. He didn’t acknowledge them, though occasionally his lips twitched and he rolled his eyes, making me believe I’d accomplished my aim.
I exercised patience as he sought advisors, received updates, and worked with all the mania of a man on borrowed time. As yet another meeting drew to a close, Tiras referred to an inspection from the day before—a trip to the kingdom’s vaults and Jeru’s mines—and I sat up straighter, listening even as I grew more and more confused.
When did you return? I pressed, not caring one whit that he was speaking.
Tiras didn’t answer immediately, and I bridled my words, allowing him to finish his instructions to the surveyor of the mines. When his instructions became a new topic altogether, I interrupted again.
“Tiras?”
His golden eyes shot to mine then fell immediately as if the work before him demanded his absolute attention.
When did you return? I asked again.
“I returned three days ago,” he addressed me directly, though those present had not heard my question. “I visited the outposts and spent time on patrol. It had to be done.”
Three days?
My face and chest stung like I’d been slapped repeatedly.
He’d been Tiras for three days. Not Tiras the bird. Tiras the man. Whole. Present. And I hadn’t known.
“There is much to do,” he said flatly, though his eyes narrowed in warning, as if he thought I might start mentally pulling books from the library shelves and winging them at his head. The king’s advisors cleared their throats as if they’d suddenly realized there was a bit of a silent showdown underway.
I swallowed, keeping my words in my chest so they wouldn’t flood my head and become angry spells, but they slithered and snapped, and I stood, unable to trust myself to contain them.
The king’s advisors shot to their feet, parchment and scrolls falling to the floor. I acknowledged them, just a stiff jerk of my head, and moved swiftly toward the door.
“Lark,” Tiras called after me. I ignored him.
I donned my cloak and set out at a steady pace, making my way up the hill that led to the cathedral and beyond to the cliffs that guarded Jeru City. I didn’t wait for an escort. I was not a prisoner anymore. I was partially hidden beneath the large cowl of my cloak, and if anyone noticed me, they kept their distance. I kept my eyes on my feet until I reached the bell tower atop the church then stopped to catch my breath, peering up at it and waiting for the knell of the hour, signaling all was well as the sun sank beyond the horizon.
The air was cold, and the bite against my cheeks matched the raw scrape of my breath. I’d noticed that when I walked briskly, my belly tightened as if to draw my child to me, to brace against the physical demands I was making on myself. It wasn’t unpleasant or painful. But it made me aware. It demanded I pay attention and not ignore the life growing in me, early as it still was. Tiras had the same effect on my heart. It tightened whenever he was away, demanding I remember, that I think about him, that I wait.
Wait for him, the old Teller had said. Her words had been prophetic. I was always waiting.
I felt Shindoh, heard his excitement, his eager happiness at having his master on his back and fresh air in his lungs. I even knew the moment he sensed me and quickened his step toward me. But I didn’t turn to greet him.
“Lark,” Tiras called, the words he exuded very different from his faithful horse. Stubborn and woman were the most prominent ones. I stopped walking and turned on him, not even waiting for him to get abreast of me before I responded to his not-so-private opinion.
I may be a stubborn woman, but you are an insensitive ass.
“And you are the queen. You must think like one. You must act like one. You must do your duty even when you are angry with me.”
You chose me, remember? Me. Lark of Corvyn. I am not a Changer. I cannot transform into a queen.
He ground his teeth. “And where is your guard? You must have a guard when you leave the castle!”
I have no need of a guard. You are just like my father. I will not be a prisoner.
“You also have to stop wandering around at night, Lark. It isn’t safe. Especially when I am not here.”
I turned away and began to walk, frustrated by his imperiousness. With a snarl and a spur of his horse, he was on me, swooping me up with one arm and placing me in front of him on Shindoh, exactly as he had done a lifetime ago.
His fingers spread on my lower belly, testing the way it swelled against his palm. I tossed my head, my hood sliding down my back, and his lips found my ear as if he couldn’t decide whether to nuzzle my neck or berate me. He did both, running his rough cheek against my jaw and along my throat before he spoke again.
“You aren’t invisible. I know you think you are. But someone could harm you.” His tone was hushed but harsh. “Why do you do that?”
What? Get angry when you return and avoid me?
He was motionless, contemplating, and I waited for him to answer.
“No,” he finally whispered, and I felt his remorse drip from the word. I stared blindly ahead, refusing to blink so the angry tears would not fall.
“No, not that. Why do you walk in the forest at night, all by yourself? I see you, even as an eagle. I watch you. And I am afraid for you.” His voice was suddenly so gentle that my will crumbled like the dry leaves beneath Shindoh’s feet.
I know you watch me. That’s why I do it. I am looking for you.
His arm tightened around me and his lips found my ear again, but he didn’t speak, and his yearning covered us both, obscuring everything else.
You have told me to let you in, Tiras. Begged me. And I have. I have opened my doors wide. Yet . . . you stayed away.
He cursed and gripped my jaw in his gloved hand, turning my face toward him so I could lift my eyes to his.
“Don’t you understand? I would do anything to stay here with you. I am losing myself!”
I started to shake my head, pulling on his wrist and releasing myself from his grasp. No.
Indecision matched his yearning before he suddenly swept both away, and with a swift jerk, yanked the thick leather glove from his left hand with his teeth, revealing what was beneath. His hand was still that of a man, but as his fingers tapered at the tips, talons jutted from the very ends. My heart climbed my throat like a caged animal, and I could only stare, transfixed.