Page 11 of Winds of Destiny

Cam

It takes forever to find an excuse to escape the crowd, and even then I don’t get what I really want—time alone with Turo—because my father pulls me away to his chambers to prattle on about “the dignity of our house” and “your cooperation with the prince” and a dozen other things that basically mean “be good or else.”

As if I don’t know that by now. I’ve already given my word, been blessed by my god, and married in the eyes of my city—what more does he want, a blood oath? At least there’s no need to fulfill any sort of wedding-night duties with a proxy marriage—although Commander Kai has been the one note of pleasure in this entire mess. Pleasurable to listen to, to talk to, to look at… Especially to look at.

What would a man like him be like in bed?

Focus, if you please. Right. There was no sign of Turo in the hallway outside my father’s rooms, which means I’m going to have to track him down. When he’s in a mood, this can be next to impossible, but I have the feeling I’m going to get lucky tonight.

I stop by my quarters to take off my fancy overcoat and pick up a sealed jug of my favorite wine, then head for the window. I push the shutters aside and step out onto the ledge, only about as wide as my hand. I’d never do this in poor weather—Turo would have my head—but I’ve been climbing out here to find him ever since we were children. It’s one of the few dangers I court that he doesn’t seem to mind.

I walk along the ledge to where I can get a handhold on my room’s sloping roof, then lever myself up awkwardly, jug in hand. I follow well-worn foot and handholds in the slate tiles, my body working off the memory of a thousand similar nights until I’ve crested the central beam that supports the royal suites. It’s nice and flat, and from here I can walk normally as I make my way to the cupola at the edge of the world.

That’s what it felt like to me as a child, at least. A round, open-sided chamber at the farthest edge of the roof where replacement tiles are stacked tall, the cupola is meant to be a staging point for workers. In truth, it’s been a playground for Turo and me ever since we were old enough to sneak out of my room.

For him, the meaning is deeper—he used to come up here with Doric when he first arrived in Zephyth, whenever this new world pressed too closely against his skin. This is a place of healing for Turo, a spot where he made some of the first good memories he can recall. If he’s looking for comfort tonight, he’ll be here.

Catching sight of his silhouette in the moonlight reassures me and makes my heart miss a beat simultaneously. He’s so lovely. When he sees me coming, he simply scoots over so that I have a place to sit on the sturdy tiles.

I join him, unseal the wine, and pass it over.

He takes it and drinks deeply, far from usual for him. Turo likes to keep his wits about him, but if there was ever a night to want to get drunk, tonight would be it.

I join in, getting a little thrill when my lips connect with the spot where his just lay.

We stare out at the city in silence for a bit. Zephyth isn’t the biggest of the four great cities—the largest is Antasa, fed by fertile grasslands and forests in the south. It doesn’ t have the most wealth, either—for all Kamor and its king bluster about their might, every merchant says they get the best prices from Huridell, whose people trade for everything with metals, gems, and horns from the sturdy mountain rams they rais e. Kamor might have more fighters, desert-toughened and as dangerous as the cobra god they give homage to, but it isn’t a place known for the sweeter things in life.

No, sweetness is the province of Zephyth. There’s a sense of connection between the land and the water here, and the sound of the sea reminds me of being held close by my mother and listening to her heartbeat. My city is not just built from stone, but grown from the sea itself, coral arches crawling up walls to form sculptures no human artisan could ever equal. They stretch into every quarter of Zephyth, adorning the simplest of homes as well as the richest—beauty shared equally, for once.

Zephyth is the city of artists, of philosophers, of dreamers. I love everything about it, from the smell of the brine to watching the shoals of fish that move through the clear water as though their thousands of bodies are one. I love the way the chimes of Ophiucas linger in the air, and how it’s almost never cold enough to make me shiver. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to ride away from it without breaking down.

Turo holds his hand out for the wine. I pass it over and gaze openly as he tilts his head back for another long swallow. He looks so handsome in his spymaster garb, the richness of the dark-blue dye and the severe cut of his clothes indicating that he’s not a person to be trifled with. I want to reach out and pull the high collar of his tunic back, lean in, and press my lips to the pulse lurking just beneath his skin. I want to do so many things. I could—

“I tried to get them drunk earlier.”

I blink in confusion for a second as I reorient my brain. “I’m…not sure I understand.”

“The Dellians. I tried to get the bastards drunk,” Turo repeats with an air of confession. “I plied them with the guards’ strongest rotgut and everything, and they drank it down like water and asked for more.” He glances at me with a wry little smile on his lips. “You’re in for quite a time with them.”

“I suppose so. It’s hard to believe things have gotten this far already,” I say, feeling inexpressibly tired for a moment. “And next…”

“Next, I escort you and the Dellians to the border of their lands.” Right, of course. “Then you go on with Commander Kai and his people, and I… I return here.”

I stare at Turo for a long moment, waiting for him to explain that he’s jus t kidding, that of course he’s not actually going to follow my father’s ridiculous instructions. We’ll get through this like we always have—sticking together at all costs. Surely we can think of a way to let him stay. But the longer I wait, the colder it gets, like I’ve been stabbed in the chest with a frozen knife, ice spreading down my limbs. “Don’t say that. I can… There’s got to be something we can do. A way for you to stay. There has to be. I can— I’ll talk to Prince Eleas about it, we’ll fake an injury or an illness, whatever we have to do, but you can’t—”

“I have to,” he says, his face pained. “Your father has commanded it.”

“So what if he has?” I snap. “It’s not like we always follow his every word. We’ve gotten out of things plenty of times before.”

Turo shakes his head. “This time… It’s not the same. My duties have changed—”

“Your duty is to guard your prince! And since I am your prince—”

“Cam, he’s my king . What kind of subject would I be if I disregarded his will?”

I’ve gone from weary to furious so fast I’m shaking with it. “This is just guilt,” I say flatly. “You’re letting my father’s words about Doric get into your head. There’s no reason for you to feel guilty, Turo! You don’t owe my father anything—you’ve more than paid him back over the years with your service.”

“Zephyth is in a precarious position without Doric,” Turo points out. “Huridell is protected due to its location, so you’ll be safe there. But until Huridell sends the reinforcements they’ve promised, the only one who’s trained to run the spy network is me. Asking anyone else to do it would be suicide.”

“So?” I know I’m being irrational, but I don’t care. I’m about to lose the home and family I love. I will not survive losing Turo as well. “Let our people stay safe inside the city until they send soldiers!”

“What about our caravans?” Turo asks sharply. “Who will scout whether the route is clear for them? Would you let King Embros’s forces fall on them like a pike on a school of guppies? Will you leave your people so undefended? Would you leave Gilraen undefended?”

That shot brings tears to my eyes. It’s not fair.

“You’re not responsible for my sister’s safety, you’re responsible for my safety,” I shout, any composure long gone. I grab him by the arms and shake him, my grip hard enough to hurt. Let him feel a fraction of the pain I do right now, maybe it will help get my point through his thick head. “You can’t leave me alone with them. You can’t. I love you. I can’t do this without you, Turo, please!”

He looks agonized. “We have to learn to let each other go.”

His quiet in the face of my fury is maddening. I want him to lash out, to show me the heat and the passion and the need for me that I’ve always, always known he has in his heart. I want him to choose me .

“You’re as good as married,” he goes on, as though marriage would ever be enough to keep me from loving Turo. “You’re going to be someone else’s to protect—”

“I’m yours. I’ll always be— Argh! Why are you so thickheaded?” I yell the question at the night sky before turning back to him and pinning him with my gaze. “I want you. You know I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve loved you for so long.”

I lean in, touching our foreheads together.

This is as far as we’ve ever gone before, so close to a kiss but not quite there.

No more.

“Just love me back,” I whisper, then tilt my head and bring our lips together.

Oh… Oh . It’s as good as I’ve always known it would be. His lips are soft against mine, but there are teeth, too, nipping as I open my mouth and let him in. He clutches the back of my head and drags me in deeper. I’m surrounded by him, weak against his ferocity and the adoration I always dreamed about. This is everything I want, this is everything —

He pulls away.

It’s like being dunked into a cold bath—I can’t breathe, and everything suddenly seems chilled.

“We mustn’t do this,” Turo pants. His lips glisten in the moonlight, wet from my tongue.

I can feel the spot where he bit my lip. I want to feel it again. I want to push, but…

“We mustn’t,” he says again, letting me go this time. The blade he stabbed me with a minute ago expands sharply, a tiny paring knife grown to a five-foot broadsword in the space of two words.

“Turo.” I breathe his name like it’s a prayer, like this is my last hope for salvation. It is. Please don’t do this to me . “Come to Huridell with me. Stay with me. Please.”

“We can’t,” he says.

“We can!” I insist.

“ I can’t!” he finally shouts.

And that’s it. I’m done.

The ache is a wound now. I’m bleeding inside, all the love I feel for him used against me. It’s killing me to look at him, to be with him right now. I have to go. I press to my feet, wavering a little.

Turo reaches out to steady my leg, but I wrench it away from him.

“Fuck you,” I spit at him. “You don’t get to care for me anymore.”

“Cam…”

“No! You steal my heart, you tell me I’m everything to you, and then you give me up without a fight? Fuck you , Turo Detyrr.” I turn and stalk away across the rooftop.

He’s on his feet, too, shadowing me, trying to keep me safe. I don’t want to be safe, not if it means looking in his traitorous face. I’d rather fall to the cobblestones far below us than have to bear his hands pulling me to safety right now.

I get inside without a problem. It’s only once I’m there, safe at last, that my legs collapse and I lean against the wall beneath the open window, sobbing my heart out.

The black pearl resting on my chest seems to throb in time with my misery. These pearls are meant to connect me to my loved ones, to let me sense their hearts and know their minds. If I gave it to Turo, what would I feel right now? Would I still ache? Would I sense his misery? Or would his damnable sense of duty shield me from the worst of it?

I make sure the pearl doesn’t touch my skin. I don’t want to feel anything else right now—not Kai, not Turo, not myself, nothing. I’m already as broken as I can be without withering into a heap on the floor and never rising again.

I hear a shift on the ledge, and I know without looking that Turo is right there, a nearly silent sentinel. Silent and spineless , the bastard. It’s a good thing he’s not trying to come in, or I’d kick him out.

Tomorrow I’ll try to get over it. I’ll harden my heart and ignore Turo to lavish my attention on people who are more deserving, people who are not afraid to fight for me.

Tonight, though, I’ll give into my grief and let it chew me up inside until there’s nothing.

No love.

No hurt.

No Turo.