Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

TANYL

I woke and immediately tensed, my ears pricked for the sound of the attack horn. My heart thumped as the edges of furniture emerged from the shadows.

Siltmark. The manor house was far from the rivers—and the Scarrok.

Sylvie lifted her head from my chest, her mouth soft with sleep.

“It’s all right,” I said, brushing her hair back from her face.

She sat up, and the sheet slipped to her waist. Hints of sunlight teased the windows, the pink glow gilding her shoulders and the tips of her breasts.

“Where’s Briar?” she asked.

A sigh built in my chest. “Probably at prayer.”

She turned toward the windows. “It’s nearly Eura.” She looked at me, worry in her eyes. “Does the manor have a temple?”

“No,” I said, unable to keep a smile from my lips. And I was unable to stop myself from reaching for her, my hands fitting perfectly around her waist. I pulled her astride me and then smoothed my hands up her sides to her breasts. “Country folk are too busy tending fires and feeding animals to keep the Hours, Beauty. Which is a neat bit of irony. Those who most need the gods’ help are the least privileged to ask for it.”

Reproach shaded her eyes as she rested her palms on my chest. “Everyone needs the gods.”

“Perhaps.” I captured one of her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers. “I’m going to look for Briar. Will you come with me?”

Her expression turned inscrutable. Then she gave her head a little shake. “Not just yet.”

Surprise flitted through me. “You’re certain?”

Something tender and knowing gleamed in her eyes as she tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Go talk to him. Remind him why he came to Spring.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak, my surprise turning to gratitude so immense it stole my breath. I sat up, and I wrapped my arms around her and buried my nose in her sweet-smelling hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’ve said that before,” she said, amusement in her voice as she stroked her fingers down my back.

“Mmm, you’ll also recall I said I’m keeping you.” Something fierce surged within me, and I pulled back. Shifting her on my lap, I took her face in my hands. “I pity anyone who tries to take you from me, wife of mine. They would discover the depths of my depravity, which are bottomless when it comes to you.”

“Go,” she murmured. “Find him.”

I kissed her forehead, then left the bed and dressed quickly, my thoughts turning to Briar. The manor was quiet as I made my way through the narrow corridors. The servants probably could have pointed me in the right direction, but I’d paid them to leave after dinner and stay away until we took our leave. Sunlight stained the floorboards orange as I checked sitting rooms and alcoves, searching for a spot suitable for prayer.

The parlor yielded nothing, nor did the library with its tufted footstools and proud shelves of books. The dining room was empty, our meal cleared and the table polished. When I entered the garden, bands of pink and gold spread across the horizon. Dew sparkled on the grass and dampened my boots.

I found Briar in the stable. He stood before one of the stalls, his forearms resting on the gate and a horse’s muzzle pressed against his palm.

I paused, admiring the way his shoulders strained the seams of his shirt. He wore his merchant’s trousers, the leather hugging his ass and thighs. His nape was golden brown, and it was such a simple thing to make desire unfurl in my gut.

“The servants left oats for the horses,” he said without turning around. “But we should probably put them to pasture before we ride back.”

I crossed the stable, stopping at his side as the horse snuffled at the oats in his hand. “You didn’t pray Eura,” I said.

Briar kept his gaze on the horse. “No.”

“Why not?” I asked, hope a tentative, cautious thing in my chest.

The horse finished the oats, and it snorted, nudging Briar’s hand for more. When it found none, it swished its tail and swung away. Briar wiped his hand on his trousers and faced me at last, his expression so unguarded it hurt to look at him. And I wanted to rail at him to hide, to protect himself from those who would see his openness and seize it for themselves.

To protect him from me.

“It didn’t feel right,” he said finally, his eyes downcast. “Not after everything I’ve done.”

“Briar—”

“I don’t want the things I’m supposed to want.” He looked up, his eyes the color of rain. And the intense emotion in them raged like a storm, the force of it so fierce it almost pushed me back a step.

“What things?” I asked instead. “What do you want?”

He looked away, his jaw working. “I wish I could pray that you and Sylvie would be happy together, a husband and wife joined as one flesh and heart. That the gods might forgive me for wanting what isn’t mine.”

The hope in my chest grew wings, and they beat faster as I stepped close. “What do you want that’s not yours?”

His eyes met mine, the gray dark with longing. “You know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Tension hummed around him. His restraint was so thick in the air I could almost taste it. He curled his fingers over the stall’s gate, his knuckles white like he clung to the side of a mountain.

“You,” he rasped. “I want you. And her. Both of you. The three of us together.”

His restraint was admirable, but mine wasn’t. It snapped, and I reached for him, palming his nape that had no right to entice me. To make me want to push and push until he knelt in the dirt and bared it to me.

“Who says you can’t have these things? Who’s telling you no?”

His chest swelled as he dragged in a breath. “The gods. The law.”

“I’m the law in Spring,” I said, “and fuck the gods.”

“Tanyl—”

“You don’t have to abandon them,” I said. “You can still serve Perun without being a priest.”

He froze, eyes wide. “What do you mean?” he whispered.

“Stay here,” I said, a plan taking rapid shape in my mind. “Bind yourself to me, and you can live in the Spring Court for the rest of your life.”

He frowned. “You mean…”

“Become stormbound. Stay in Ishulum and live as an elf.”

Shock washed over Briar’s features. “I…can’t. The binding is for humans. I’m a halfling.”

“It should still work.” Probably. No, it would . “Humans bound themselves to elves before we raised the Covenant. You have human blood. Why shouldn’t the binding words work on you?” I moved my hand to his shoulder. “You can stay here, Briar. You don’t have to return to Mistport or the Citadel or a life you don’t want.”

He stared, his unguarded face letting me see every emotion that chased through his eyes. Denial. Confusion. Fear. Want.

The last made me tug him closer, our hips brushing as I palmed the side of his neck. “You would be mine. Legally. Magically. In every way that matters.”

His pulse jumped beneath my fingers. “And Sylvie?”

“Would be happy,” Sylvie said. Briar and I turned as she stepped into the stable, her slender body wrapped in the dove gray gown. Her hair was loose, the ends reaching her waist. Sunlight framed her, turning her into a shining goddess.

“You want that?” Briar asked, his voice rough with disbelief.

Sylvie moved toward us, her skirts stirring the hay strewn across the stone. “Of course I would.” When she reached us, she took Briar’s hand. “Weren’t you paying attention last night? We both want you.”

Hunger flashed in his eyes. Then he sobered. “But the binding?—”

“Would make you Tanyl’s in the eyes of the law and everyone in Ishulum.” Sylvie lifted her chin, the possessiveness in her eyes heating my blood. “And what’s his is mine.”

Briar swallowed. Conflict played across his face, hope warring with doubt, desire with duty.

I stared at my wife—at the woman I’d wanted since I faced her across a stark chamber on the Isle of the Gods, the sea through the window beating a timeless rhythm against the shore. I was never meant to have her. But I’d taken her, and the gods hadn’t stopped me. I’d take Briar too.

“Stay in Spring,” I told him. “Bind yourself to me. To us.”

Silence held, the three of us balanced on an uncertain edge. Waiting. Dust motes floated in the air. More sunlight spilled over the ground. The day approached, reality and duty with it.

“What will people think?” Briar asked, and relief and triumph coursed through me in equal measure.

I smiled. “I’m the king. They’ll think whatever I tell them to think.”