His psyche… his psyche was the shadow of a wolf, huge in size, and it crouched as if preparing to spring, its attention unwaveringly on her.
This was unmistakably one of the two men she had seen in visions for the past several years. She had known he was coming to Calles for some time, but now that he was here, she felt utterly at a loss as to what to do about him.
Holding his scarred hands over the glowing coals of the fire, he said, pleasantly enough, “I presume you have assessed the encampment. That is one of the reasons why you agreed to come, is it not?”
Cautiously, she said, “It is, and yes, I have.”
“Did you learn what you wanted to know?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “We at the abbey have a lot of disparate pieces of information, and I don’t understand how it all fits together.”
He turned to face her fully. It was a simple shift in posture, but the tiny hairs at the back of her neck rose in response.
Perhaps unwisely, she added, “I didn’t sense any weather mages in your camp.”
Destiny was like a golden river, sweeping them all to an unknown shore. Visions crowded at the edge of her eyesight until she wasn’t sure what she might say or do.
Margot was right to be terrified of letting her loose from the abbey. Lily wasn’t fit to go anywhere by herself.
His hard mouth drew tight. “That’s because there aren’t any. Did you really believe I might be behind the intensification of this early winter?”
Forcing herself to stay anchored in the here and now, she lifted a shoulder. “Try to imagine things from our point of view. You know the terrible things we’ve heard about your approaching army. An invading force that would torch farms and execute people might also use the weather as a weapon to subdue a populace.”
He shook his head with a snort. “A decision like that would cripple my troops as much as it would anyone else around me. No general in their right mind launches a campaign in the dead of winter—and right now it has turned so unseasonably cold, that is, in effect, what we’re facing if those weather mages are not stopped. They are trying to force me to halt.”
As she listened, she pressed the knuckles of her folded hands against her lower lip. What he said made undeniable sense. “Do you have witches in your army?”
“None with the kind of skills that the Camaeline priestesses have,” he growled. “Why do you think I came with gifts of manuscripts and gold? If I made a habit of giving away large sums of wealth to everyone I met, I’d have no funds left to pay for my army. My witches have been fending off the weather attacks as best they can, but there are too few of them. They’re exhausted, and we’re still camped in the open.”
The fine skin around her eyes crinkled as she winced. “You need shelter.”
“Yes. That’s why I stayed in town. I met with the inn owners and brothel keepers to negotiate terms so my troops can take time inside in rotation. Tomorrow Jermaine and I are going to hunt for our poisoner among the soldiers who were on the barge this afternoon. I also want to negotiate with Calles’s townsfolk for the rental of their homes. You can take the details of my offer back to the abbey in the morning.”
She frowned. “I can try.”
His expression turned impatient. “Since they’re hiding on the island anyway, there’s no reason they can’t make good coin while they’re at it. My gold is as good as any other.”
“You have a point, but it’s more complicated than the townsfolk just collecting rent while they’re absent from their houses.” Pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger, she tried to think through the issue like Margot would. “I sympathize with the position you are in, but it’s similar to how it would look if the Chosen had accepted your gifts. There’s the politics of it, the appearance of support. Calles would, in effect, be declaring sides.”
“Calles is going to have to pick a side,” he said bluntly. “Guerlan or Braugne. There is no question of that.”
As he spoke, Lily felt a breath of air along her skin, as though she were being brushed by the cloak of someone immense walking by, and she knew the goddess was near.
He was right, of course. She had seen this coming since she was a child.
Like the rocks and sand that shifted on the shore with the tide, the visions had varied over the years, until recently they had become fixed into a pattern of unshifting dichotomy.
A bitter winter after a lean harvest. The kingdoms of Ys filled with unrest.
A darkening over the land, like the sun dying. The clash of swords.
Two men, a wolf and a tiger, slamming together in mortal combat. One of them had an insatiable hunger that would grind Ys to dust.
And the fall of Calles. In every shifting vision, that was the one part that remained immutable.
“No,” she whispered, her heart aching. “We can’t remain neutral, can we? Even though we might wish it.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She forced the images away and plastered a smile on her face. “No ghosts here, only an uncertain path to the future.”
His gaze was too discerning for comfort. Then, deliberately, he lightened the mood. “The future is going to have to wait for a few hours. I haven’t had lunch and I’m starving.”
Pivoting, he strode back to the table, picked up a jar of caviar, and twisted off the lid. Tearing open a packet of salt bread, he unsheathed the knife at his waist, scooped some of the caviar onto the flat wafer, and popped it in his mouth. Closing his eyes briefly, he chewed, pleasure evident in his strong features.
Watching him consume the delicacy with such sensual enjoyment made her skin tingle. It was… erotic. Heat washed over her skin at the word.
“Have you ever tasted caviar?” he asked.
“No.” She looked at the fire in the brazier. “I haven’t tried most things in that shop. Imports from Earth are expensive.”
His broad hand appeared in her line of vision, holding out a wafer with caviar. “Here.”
Surprise flared. Her gaze flew to his face. “Oh… thank you! But I couldn’t.”
He frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take it.”
“I…” As his frown grew fierce, her protest died. Accepting the wafer from his long fingers, she nibbled at it curiously. Briny pearls of flavor and salted crunch filled her mouth.
A gleam of amusement sparked in his dark eyes. “You have an expressive face, but I can’t read what it is saying right now. What do you think?”
She swallowed before she replied. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t have much of a taste for fishy flavors. It’s very interesting. Intense.”
“It’s fabulous. Have more. No? The chocolate then.” Before she could protest, he tore open one of the chocolate bars, broke it into pieces, and offered one to her. As she wavered, his expression turned suddenly wise. “You’ve had chocolate before, and you like it.”
“I love it,” she said on a little moan.
She felt agonized with indecision. Was it appropriate for her to accept it? She wasn’t a reliable source on what was appropriate at the best of times.