“Your Grace, I—”
“You know exactly what I mean.” She raised her brows, stern as any teacher. “Nor is it easy for a woman of station to love a man of lower rank. I should know. It’s a delicate balance. Especially with a man who is a true leader.” Squeezing my upper arm, she made an appreciative moue, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We like our men strong and manly, as much as the next woman, or more. Dominant in the bedroom,” she murmured meaningfully, and I seriously hoped she hadn’t made me blush. “I know how it is. I’m not so old that I don’t enjoy much the same.” She nodded knowingly, her gaze straying to a large man in her personal guard, Dasnarian by his bulk and coloring. The duchess put gloved fingers under my chin, turning me to face her again. “Never think it’s easy for her, to balance that.”
I searched for an appropriate reply and came up empty. The honest truth about Ami was something I’d never betray by speaking aloud. I knew better than perhaps anyone all the opposing forces Ami juggled behind her frivolous exterior. I understood very well how much she struggled to be strong and confident, to compensate for the holes inside left by a mother who perished shortly after giving birth to her, sisters who left her behind, and a husband who died far too young. People looked at her and saw Queen Amelia of Avonlidgh, avatar of Glorianna, and the most beautiful woman alive.
Ami said I didn’t see her, but I did. I knew her heart better than my own. Which meant I understood full well how difficult our love affair made everything for her.
She’d called herself selfish, but that flaw belonged to me. I’d only added to her troubles, wanting to eke out more time with her, when I would have helped her most by absenting myself from the complications of her life.
Ami needed to move on, to consolidate her position as queen, to find her way as a mother, to think about who her king should be. Maybe even some time just to be herself, not to worry about who she danced with or how to balance her loves with her responsibilities. She deserved a man who could be a real husband to her, who could help her rule.
One that her nobles like the Duchess of Lianore wouldn’t have to resort to subterfuges of false titles to accommodate.
I bowed deeply to the duchess, thanking her for her advice—and for her concern.
“We love our queen,” she told me with the fervency of absolute honesty. “Take care of her for us. Promise me, Lord Sousbois.”
I promised I would, not caring for the bitter taste of the lie.
The rest of the journey to Windroven went extraordinarily quickly—so much so that I’d have believed Ami’s claim that Glorianna smoothed our way. One of many phenomena that made me think she might truly be Glorianna’s avatar. Both the woman and the goddess liked to arrange things to suit themselves.
And both seemed to relish their hold on me. Most Tala, even part-bloods, look to Moranu, the goddess of trickery and mutability. But from my earliest days, even before I took my vow to the White Monks, formally consecrating myself to Glorianna, I’d felt the hand of the goddess of morning. My mother had been devout in Glorianna’s worship, as most good country girls were, and I’d put down my own devotion to the goddess as early childhood indoctrination.
With the path my life had followed since… It might be better to say that Glorianna had wrapped one fist around my heart and the other around my cock—merrily leading me by both.
As if she heard the irreverent thought, Ami turned to look at me then, her eyes so blue they pierced me even from a distance. She crooked a finger at me, a slight smile on her face, enjoying playing with me. Because I, of course, hastened immediately to her side.
“We’re here just in time,” she said, gesturing at the mountain climbing against the darkening sky. “Another storm is coming in off the ocean.”
I squinted at the clouds wreathing the turrets of the castle and highest crags of the sleeping volcano. Though I didn’t need to. I’d been watching the storm approach since it first darkened the horizon, like a rippling banner showing where Windroven lay. Some long-ago Avonlidgh royal had decided the quiescent volcanic mountain made the perfect foundation for a fortress. Castle Windroven had been built into and of the stone, so that its towers took the place of the long-gone peak of the mountain. In many places the architecture had been designed so deftly that the walls were indistinguishable from the base of igneous rock.
As a fortress, it worked beautifully. With a sheer drop to the sea at its back, the old volcano enjoyed an unparalleled vista of rich and flat farmland on all other sides. Windroven could not be approached undetected. The steep-sided peak itself defied scaling, leaving the winding road the sole access to the castle. On other occasions, the people of Avonlidgh would be lining that road to shower their queen, prince, and princess with rose petals and adulation. But most of the nearby denizens had fled for the winter, letting their farmlands sleep under the deep snows—and getting as far from the threatening volcano as possible.
Wiser than we.
“Those aren’t only storm clouds,” I told Ami, and pointed at the obscured turrets. “See there? That’s smoke. There’s a column of it rising up behind the castle. Look around you at the snow. It’s gray with ash. The volcano is active.”
“Rumbling only,” she replied. “I’m not concerned. Glorianna will watch over us.”
“Your Highness—”
“Speaking of fretting,” Ami cut me off, “isn’t this your opportunity to leave? No sense making the trip to the top only to go back down again.” She gestured to the road that curved to meet up with us again. “In another hour’s ride you could be at the inn at the crossroads. I’d hate for you to be traveling still when the snow hits.”
I’d stiffened, stricken with the imminence of parting, a stinging retort ready on my tongue until that last. Ami meant it. Despite her hurt and anger, she didn’t want me at risk. Her eyes told the tale, even as she firmed her trembling lips and looked away to stare at the belching mountain. Perfectly apt that the home she’d so readily adopted was both spectacular and treacherous.
“I’m safe at home, Ash,” she said. “I won’t keep you from your life’s path any longer. It would mean a great deal to me, if—” She swallowed hard against something. More tears, maybe. But when she met my gaze, her eyes weren’t damp, but hard and bright as Lianore’s diamonds. “I’d like to know that you’re safe, too. I know I might never hear from you again, so let me imagine that. You, warm and fed—and just at the inn down the road. Where I can pretend to myself that I could go. Take an hour’s ride, and lurk in the shadows, and just…reassure myself.”
“Ami,” I said, my voice more broken than usual. Words as always escaped me.
“A silly fantasy. I know you won’t stay there or anything.”