She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “He wanted more for Caiden than me.”
Wen’s brow creased. “He’s wanted the two of them to marry all their lives. It wasn’t about you.”
But it was, and they both knew it. Blaive had lands and wealth and social status. Talia had nothing.
Wen shifted where he sat. “He asked her to come here with that specific end in mind.”
Talia leaned her head back against the wall, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. Everything seemed far away, now. Her mother. Rahn’s Hall. The cursed Billow Maidens.
She shut her eyes, listening to the wind roaring outside the Ruen-Dahr and blowing snow over the stones. If it weren’t so cold, if the ship were repaired, if she had the right supplies—if only it wouldn’t take time to prepare everything, she could leave tonight and never have to see Caiden again.
“You would have inherited in his place. You would have become Baron.”
Wen shook his head. “I’ve never wanted that. I don’t want it now. To be tied to the Ruen-Dahr and my father’s sorrow—I couldn’t handle it. Caiden was born to govern Ryn, and it suits him, far, far better than it would suit me. But I’m sorry, Talia. I’m so sorry.” He sounded miserable.
Talia opened her eyes. “Why?” She saw in his face the boy who had pulled her from the temple, the boy who had showed her the answers in the mirror room and asked for nothing in return. The boy who heard music in his head, like she heard it in the waves.
For a moment he didn’t say anything, the muscles in his jaw tightening and then relaxing again. “Because it isn’t fair for you not to be happy. You deserve happiness, after everything you’ve gone through.”
She could see in his eyes that there was more he could have said, but he didn’t.
“Are they—are they really getting married in three weeks?”
Wen nodded.
“And did—did Caiden … tell you all this?”
“I spoke to my father.”
“I see.” Talia watched the lamp on the table, the light soft and flickering. She traced a pattern in the dust on the floor. Her throat hurt. “Thanks for telling me. Thanks for showing me the mirror room and saving me from the temple and—” She looked up into his face, saw his steadiness, his strength. “Thank you for caring.”
“Always.” He scooted a little closer to her, and she shifted out from between the chair and wardrobe, leaning her head on his shoulder. His breath was warm at her ear. Comforting. She almost told him everything, but she held back, screwing her eyes shut and trying to hold tight to the last frail threads mooring her to the earth.
She stood outside Caiden’s door and knocked, three times. There were things she had to say to him. Things she needed him to hear. Light from the hall lamp pooled on the crimson carpet, and her breaths came quick and short.
Talia knocked again.
She thought she heard steps from inside of the room, but they didn’t draw any closer. The door didn’t open.
“Caiden?”
No answer.
“Miss Dahl-Saida?”
Talia jerked around to see Ahned standing in the hall, an oil lamp in one hand. He frowned. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I came to speak with Caiden.”
The steward’s frown deepened. “Miss Dahl-Saida, please return to your room.”
She stood straight and still, clenching the skirt of her violet gown. “Will you tell him something for me?”
“If you wish.”
Talia jutted her chin out. “Tell him congratulations,” she said viciously.
She swept down the hall, not turning her head even when she heard Caiden’s door open, his tread on the carpet, his voice speaking quietly to Ahned.
Chapter Thirty-One
CAIDEN STOOD WITH HIS BACK TO HER at the window of the dusty ballroom, his shoulders rigid, the muscles in his neck taut. He held a goblet of wine, but did not raise it to his lips.
She’d followed him in here from the dining room, her mind bursting with the things she had to say before tomorrow.
Before he was married and she couldn’t in good conscience say them at all.
The three weeks had passed swiftly, the wedding everywhere: Blaive, handwriting invitations in the dining room, expensive cream paper and bottles of blue ink strewn all across the table. Meetings with a chef, a team of seamstresses, a florist who kept a hot house for just such winter flower emergencies. Caiden, riding back and forth to Shold to discuss arrangements with Blaive’s father.
Talia had hidden upstairs between meals, scouring the library for books on shipbuilding and sailing, and any references she could find to Rahn or the Hall of the Dead. She wanted to be ready when the weather grew warm enough, and she had no desire to go blindly into the sea goddess’s domain. She was close to uncovering something she felt sure was important—the dates of the myths and the Billow Maidens’ nine-hundred-year curse. She even found a handful of prophecies predicting Rahn’s return from the sea to rule the world that the goddess believed was rightfully hers. But Talia hadn’t found everything she needed to pin down the timeline completely.
And none of that had distracted her wholly from Caiden.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” said Talia, stepping up beside him at the window in the ballroom.
The snow had stopped for the time being, and a pale sun was sinking westward through ragged clouds. Out over the sea the sky was edged with liquid gold.
He fiddled with the rim of the goblet. “I have nothing to say.”
She wasn’t about to be put off so easily. “Yes, you do.”
His jaw tightened. The sun slid from view beyond the western hills.
“Do you want me to apologize?”
He still wouldn’t look at her, but she didn’t take her eyes from his face. “I want you to explain.”
“I’m going to marry Blaive,” he said to the window.
“Why?”
“Because I love her.”
The words fell flat and Talia felt empty. “No, you don’t.”
“I didn’t make you any promises, Talia. I was flirting with you. That’s all.”
“That isn’t all,” she said fiercely. “And you know it!”
He jerked away from the window, wine sloshing over the rim of his cup. “You were betrothed to Wen from the beginning. I was always meant for Blaive. There never could have been anything between us.”
“You said you’d talk to your father. Get him to call off my engagement to Wen.”
“It was nothing more than a meaningless dalliance. I was angry with Wen, and I wanted to hurt him. Anything that happened after that—gods.” He cut himself off. “I’m sorry if you took it for something more than that, but that’s all the apology I can offer.”
“You bought me Ahdairon. You kissed me. You promised to help me reclaim the gods-damned Empire. You told me you loved me—”
“I never loved you.”
“You said—”
“I. Never. Loved you.” Every word was hard as flint. “I love Blaive, and I’m marrying her in the morning. That’s the end of it.”
She set her jaw. “Blaive was right, Caiden Estahr-Sol. You always do what your father tells you.”
His eyes burned holes straight through her.
“I wish you much happiness,” she choked out. “Both of you.”