But there was the Night of the World-Eater to consider. There was the long game.
And, yet, that wasn’t all that stayed her hand.
Talasyn had cut the Belian sojourn short to stop things from becoming too complicated. Now, looking into Alaric’s silver eyes, looking at his moon-kissed face reflecting the molten panels of black and gold that were swirling all around them, she feared that it was already too late.
She saw the Night Emperor. She saw the boy who had shared her loneliness. She saw the Master of the Shadowforged Legion she had battled on the ice and amidst a ruined city through which the stormships raged. She saw the man who had chucked her under the chin, who had so patiently taught her how to make a shield, whose dry remarks had sometimes made her laugh. She saw her first kiss, the first time someone else’s hands had touched her and made her burn.
She saw danger, in more ways than one.
Eventually, the barrier vanished. Talasyn wasn’t sure whether it was Alaric or an Enchanter or her own self who had lost concentration first. It was just a good thing that the guards on the battlements had already stopped firing.
In any case, Ishan was pleased. “Almost six minutes, Your Grace!” She beamed at Talasyn while Sevraim rushed over to make certain that Alaric was all right. “Of course, on the Night of the World-Eater, the Void Sever will flare for an hour or so, and this entire courtyard is only a fraction of its range, but you will have almost five months to practice keeping up your shields and you may rest assured that we in Ahimsa will use this time to devise even bigger and better amplifying configurations.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s you and your people, Daya Vaikar,” Talasyn said sincerely.
Ishan ducked her head in a brief half-bow, which was how the Nenavarene tended to respond to praise. However, her excitement remained palpable. “I look forward to reporting these results to the Zahiya-lachis.”
Acting on a hunch, Talasyn searched the surrounding towers. There, in one of the highest windows, illuminated by a rectangle of warm lamplight, she caught a crowned silhouette in the act of moving away. “Something tells me,” she said wryly, “that Her Starlit Majesty might already have an idea.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The days flew by, everyone focused on the upcoming wedding. The remainder of the planning passed without incident, save for a minor wrinkle when the subject of the consummation night cropped up. Talasyn felt that she and Alaric would have handled it a lot worse if Prince Elagbi hadn’t warned them in advance that day on the stormship.
Of course, they would have handled it a lot better if they hadn’t gotten started on the consummation that day in the amphitheater on Belian.
“Our newlyweds will leave the feast first, and His Majesty will allot her sufficient time to prepare before following her to her chambers,” Lueve Rasmey was saying.
“Prepare,” Talasyn echoed blankly.
“Well, you will need your lady’s assistance, Lachis’ka,” Niamha Langsoune clarified, “for the fastenings of the wedding gown are difficult to navigate—”
“I get the picture,” Talasyn hastened to interrupt, willing herself not to flush scarlet. Alaric looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. “We can move on.” She didn’t say that they’d already agreed to share her quarters for the night and nothing more. Rajan Gitab was watching intently from behind his spectacles, and Talasyn didn’t want to give the opposition cause to question the validity of the marriage alliance.
Fortunately, at this point, Queen Urduja took over. “If His Majesty wishes to transfer any personal effects to Iantas, kindly inform Daya Rasmey, as she is in charge of coordinating with the steward there. We are almost done fixing up the place and it will be ready to move into after the nuptials.”
Iantas was Talasyn’s dowry, a sprawling castle on a small white-sand island. It had been ceded to Alaric as his permanent Nenavarene residence—and Talasyn’s as well, at least until she ascended to the throne and had to hold court at the Roof of Heaven.
“It will be good for Alunsina to have some experience in running a household,” Urduja continued. “Her upbringing certainly didn’t lend itself to that sort of skill. And she is the youngest Lachis’ka in our recent history to get married.”
Alaric worked a muscle in his jaw, and then he gave Urduja a stiff nod. He was taking great pains not to look in Talasyn’s direction, and that was fine by her. In fact, if they could just ignore each other until Gaheris was taken care of and the Night Empire fell, that would be wonderful.
Like all other major royal ceremonies, the wedding would take place at the Starlight Tower in the heart of Eskaya, and activity in the area increased as it was spruced up and its perimeters were secured. In much the same manner, a veritable army of decorators and cleaners descended upon the grand ballroom of the Roof of Heaven, where the reception would be held, to make sure that no two specks of color clashed and that no single ornament was out of place and that no inch of marble floor went unpolished.
Talasyn spent most of her time attending fittings for her dress when she and Alaric weren’t being walked through each step of the ceremony. Although she kept a composed facade in public, it was hard going as each sunrise brought her nearer and nearer to her marriage.
Marriage. Gods. Every once in a while, she pinched herself, hoping to wake up back in a Sardovian barracks room, but no such luck.
The day before the wedding, several Kesathese officers arrived in Eskaya to join Commodore Mathire and Sevraim in acting as witnesses to the ceremony. High up in a tower, Talasyn watched them disembark from their airships, unable to stop her hackles from rising. These people had been her enemies for five years and she instinctively categorized them as such. All it would take were a few well-placed ceramic shells to wipe out most of the Night Empire’s High Command. Hell, if Urduja gave her soldiers the order to attack right now—
No. It would be for nothing. Gaheris wasn’t here, apparently busy ruling in Alaric’s absence.
There were other ways to wage war.
Talasyn had to be patient.
She continued watching as Alaric strode out to greet his officers. He acknowledged their salutes with a nod and proceeded to talk to them. In their dark, austerely tailored clothing, the Kesathese stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the ornate armor of the palace guards and the glittering outfits of the Dominion nobles.
She would never know if it had been just a matter of horrid timing or if Alaric had felt the weight of her stare in the way that all warriors could tell that they were being observed. Whatever the case, her betrothed suddenly looked up.
Looked right at her.