The plains to the south were brighter, if just by a hair, but it was enough for him to see to the horizon. Somewhere beyond his sight were the mountains, and then Eregoth and Nimea, stretching all the way down to the Midland Sea. What was Josey doing right now? Did she worry about him?
A soft light showered across his shoulders and pooled around his feet. “It may not be a fancy hotel, but at least we can be alone up here.”
He braced himself as Kit's ethereal arms wrapped around him. Her lips made little electric jolts on the back of his neck. “You okay, Caim? You've been quiet lately.”
“I'm just tired. I'll be all right.”
She floated around to face him. “You always say that, but you never let me in.”
He looked past her. Through her. Seeking something else to focus on. How to explain what he felt inside? He didn't understand it himself. “Things are changing, Kit. Everything is different. My past. The shadows.”
Her eyebrows came together. “What about me? Am I different, too?”
“I didn't mean-” He lifted a hand, but she hovered out of his reach. “Kit, it's been tough. You and I haven't had a lot of time together since we left Othir.”
“Whose fault is that? I've tried again and again to be with you, to get you alone, but you always have excuses.”
“Well, here I am!” He winced as the words carried louder than he intended. “I'm here, Kit. And this may be as much privacy as we're ever going to get.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Well, then. I suppose I'll have to make the most of it.”
“What's that supposed to-?”
Kit grinned at him, and something changed. At first Caim couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized-he could no longer see through her. She looked almost solid.
“Kit.” He reached out. “What…? How are you-?”
Just before his fingertips made contact, her smile collapsed, and the light of the distant stars shone through her again. Kit sobbed, and Caim wasn't sure what to say. For a moment it had seemed like she was almost real. He stepped toward her. “Kit, are you all right?”
She retreated off the side of the hilltop, her face hidden within the silver curtain of her hair. “Stay away!”
“Kit, I almost thought…I mean, it looked like you were…Will you please tell me what's happening?”
When she didn't answer, Caim lowered his voice. “Kit, talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.”
She took her hands down from her face. She was wholly ethereal once again. “Why are you here, Caim? This place is wrong. I know you feel it, too. I see it in your eyes. Let's just leave.”
“I can't, Kit. It's too late for that.”
“What do you mean? What are you planning?”
“I don't know.”
“Caim, if you think I'm going to stay around and watch you do something foolish just to satisfy some manly-”
“No one's asking you to stay if you don't want to.”
Kit drifted closer. “You said you loved me. And that means you have to tell me things.”
“Then maybe I was wrong.” His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth after he said those words, heavy as an iron clapper.
Kit stared at him. What would come next? Tears? Angry recriminations?
Without a word, she vanished from sight.
“Kit? Kit, I didn't mean that. Come back!” He looked around, but her glow was gone, leaving him once again in dark.
Kit and Josey, the two people he cared most about in the world, and he'd wronged them both. But just like with his comrades below, he couldn't push them away for good. And as for Josey, he'd been running from her for too long. He could settle it, if he had the courage.
It didn't start off as a conscious thought, more of a hunch. Or a fantasy. He pictured himself back in Othir with Josey as he had last seen her, dolled up in a gown and jewels that cost more than all the money he'd ever made, her hair piled on top of her head like a silky tower. She was gorgeous. Perfect. There was a connection between them. Perhaps it was because of what they'd gone through together, the trials by blood and fire, but if she called, he knew he would go. It was as simple, and as complex, as that.
The pain started in his chest, a sharp tearing like he had swallowed a mouthful of broken glass. His skin felt like it was being torn from his bones with red-hot pincers. He stepped back, almost tumbling off the hilltop, as a loud snap rent the air. A hole appeared before him. The portal wavered in the darkness, and then an image formed inside, of a long marble corridor lit by flambeaux in bronze cressets.
It was the palace at Othir.
He had run down that same corridor-it seemed like a lifetime ago-chasing after Josey. Now it was only a step away. Did he dare?
With a shiver, he took a hobbled step. And then another. The skin of the portal was ice-cold as he pushed through.
Caim staggered against the wall, waiting for the blinding pain in his skull to abate. He stood in the stone corridor he'd seen through the portal. He was back in Othir.
It didn't seem possible, to travel such a long way in one step.
Caim doubled over and spewed his dinner onto the floor. The racking heaves didn't stop until his stomach was long past empty. When he stood up, however, his head had cleared. He glanced both ways down the corridor to get his bearings. No soldiers in sight, for once.
Caim started off toward the northeast wing, avoiding the pools of light cast by the ensconced torches on the walls. The shadows welcomed him, and he slid into their cool embrace.
He climbed three flights of stairs, twice avoiding guard patrols. The hallways on the top floor were wider and more opulent, with golden accents and fine pieces of artwork adorning the walls. Walking through them filled him with a host of memories, many of them quite pleasant, but it also wrapped his guts in knots.
He stopped at the doors to the imperial suite, almost wishing an army of soldiers would arrive just so he would have an excuse to leave.
Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and peered inside. The interior was unlit. He entered. A quick search revealed that the interconnected chambers were empty. In the bedchamber, Caim stood over Josey's big feather bed, recalling the time spent with her. He wanted to reach out and touch the bedspread just to make sure it was real, but his hands remained by his sides.
Not sure whether to be relieved or concerned, Caim left the suite and padded down the corridor. There was someone else he needed to see. Yellow light spilled from under the doorway. Caim put his ear to the wooden panel, but heard nothing. He lifted the latch.
Several hanging oil lamps illuminated the room beyond and lent the large chamber a musky scent. The floor was polished parquet wood with a tasteful burgundy rug in the center. Caim's target sat in a leather-bound chair behind a huge mahogany desk piled with stacks of papers and scrolls. He looked older, probably due to the deep circles under his eyes. There was some new gray in his hair and scattered in the short goatee he sported. His pen stopped scratching as he looked up. “Who-? Caim? Is that you?”
Caim stepped into the light. “Hello, Hubert. It looks like you've done well for yourself.”
Hubert chuckled as he stood up, rubbing his lower back. “Actually, I'm the lord regent now. Some climb from the Duke of the Gutters, huh? When did you get back to Othir?”
“Tonight.”
“You're looking…well. Have a seat and tell me about your travels. Would you like a drink?”
Caim went over to a picture on the wall opposite the desk. Josey looked regal sitting on a purple divan, gloved hands folded on her lap. He studied her features, captured so well on the canvas. Their time together seemed like so long ago. “Where is she?”
