“No—people have no trouble lying to me. The hard part is making me believe. So, what happens next? What are your plans…for me?”
Nyphron ran fingers through his hair, leaving his hand to linger on the back of his neck. “Okay, I was planning to tell you this in a more appropriate time and place.” He looked around the steps and shrugged. “But since you insist…it was my hope to marry you.”
Persephone’s mouth dropped open. Conquering the premier Fhrey stronghold in a matter of minutes without the loss of a single life paled in comparison to her shock at that single sentence.
“Marry me?”
“You do that, right? Rhunes have marriage?”
“Yes, we do, but we”—she once more toggled her finger between them—“don’t.”
“Why not? Don’t tell me there is a Rhune law against that, too.”
She opened her mouth, but the number of possible ways to answer that question jammed in their flood to escape, leaving her speechless.
“In Fhrey society, most marriages are arrangements of convenience. They advance social status, grant access to certain circles, form needed alliances. Rarely are they romantic. This is what I’m proposing.”
He’s proposing!
“To win this war, we need to join forces. I need credibility in the eyes of the clans. Without it, I have no means to fight. You need the support of the Instarya, which I can obviously provide. My recognized authority will bring all the Avrlyn outposts to heel. Our marriage would bind these two otherwise antagonistic groups into an extremely effective and overwhelming force. Your numbers, my guidance and resources”—he wove his fingers together in front of him—“together we would become the knot at the confluence of two ropes, forming a line strong enough to pull up the whole world.”
“Or enough rope to hang ourselves with.”
“That too.” He smiled. There was an amazing power about him, and his smile was warm, friendly, inviting.
But is it genuine? Well, at least he’s not treating me like a child anymore.
“There’s no need to give an answer now—I’d prefer if you didn’t. Like I said, this wasn’t the time and place of my choosing. Let’s get settled in, get to know each other better. Then we can revisit the topic.”
Revisit the topic? He’s really pouring on the charm.
And yet, she found his practical approach appealing. She had rejected Raithe’s overtures because they were based on selfish desire. He wanted her all to himself, for them to run away and live a fantasy on a hill overlooking the Urum River. She had no doubt Raithe loved her. She remembered what that looked like, how it felt. But love was for the young, the innocent, and the stupid. She couldn’t see herself putting those blinders on again. She had a job to do, and that was more important than her own happiness.
She held no illusions about Nyphron, and he appeared to see her just as clearly. Persephone had little interest in being a wife again, but a partner—an equal partner—that was something else.
She looked at the Fhrey lord appraisingly. He was more than attractive; he was beautiful, godlike, and yet if he tried to kiss her, she thought she might scream. They weren’t even the same race. The whole idea was absurd, and yet his logic was irrefutable.
“C’mon,” he said. “We need to get back. I don’t want Moya hunting me down with that giant bow of hers.”
“Thank you,” she told him.
He paused, puzzled.
“For telling me the truth,” she explained.
He smiled again.
A nice smile.
* * *
—
“That’s where I used to live.” Malcolm pointed at a beautiful home, its door ornamented with a bronze handle and a decorative knocker in the shape of a sword striking a shield.
Raithe had never seen anything like it—aside from the countless other homes they had passed. The street was perfectly straight and paved in flat stones with such precision that no weeds could grow between the cracks. The only visible dirt to be found was packed in planters, which produced vegetables and herbs.
“You lived there?” Tesh asked.
“That’s Shegon’s old house. Meryl and I both worked here. He didn’t need two servants after his wife left, but he kept us both on anyway.”
“You lived here, and you ran away?” Tesh’s eyes widened. “Is the inside a fancy torture chamber or something?”
“The inside is lovely—an artful clover motif reflected in the curved archways as well as the spring colors.”
Tesh just stared at him.
Malcolm chuckled. “I wasn’t there long. I used to serve in the fortress.”
They both looked up toward the Spyrok; that’s what Malcolm called the insanely tall watchtower linked to the Kype by a giant bridge. Upon seeing it for the first time, Gifford had described the tower as looking like Mari had been tending her garden and left her shovel jammed in the dirt. That’s what the potter meant to say at least, but because of his inability to pronounce the R sound, what he said was: “Looks like Ma-we left a shovel in the ga-den.”
“That’s where they tortured you?” Tesh asked. “In the fortress?”
“No one mistreated me.”
“Didn’t even beat you?”
“No.”
“Starved you?”
Malcolm shook his head and frowned.
“They must’ve done something pretty awful for you to run from this. I know families who’d sell their firstborn to live here.”
Again, Tesh looked at Raithe, who supported him with a nod. Having already gone through this conversation with Malcolm, Raithe wasn’t as shocked, but there was a difference between what he’d pictured and reality. Usually, Raithe’s imagination outstripped the real world—not this time.
Tesh had worried eyes, as if this was the part in the dream where monsters closed in and a door to safety refused to open. He’d had that look ever since they’d crossed the Grandford Bridge. The kid was swimming in a pool of deadly snakes, waiting for the first one to bite. Raithe understood. He felt it, too. These were their enemies, the evil gods who’d butchered their people, and he and Tesh were strolling their streets as if they owned the place. They didn’t. The ten clans had done nothing to earn this right. The Fhrey had invited them in. Spiders did the same to flies.
“How many families lived there with you?” Tesh asked.
“None,” Malcolm replied. “Just Shegon, me, and Meryl.” The ex-slave tilted his head with a puzzled look. “The plants are doing well. I wonder who lives there now?”