Col kissed her, and Gaela let him, still and only moving to put her hands on his shoulders for balance. She gave little, but Col pushed her mouth open; he kissed her with all his potency, reaching in with his tongue, dragging his lips against hers, wanting it all. Taking what he could.
In a moment, Gaela pushed back. She leaned her torso away, which pushed her hips more firmly against him. “Stop, Col Astore, and wait to touch me like this until we are united under the laws of Innis Lear and your stars. That is my second condition. That you stop yourself now, and we do not join in body until we are joined by ritual.”
With ridiculous effort, he listened. “Gaela,” he said, low in his throat, chiding and longing. But he smiled, because he liked her games and confidence.
“Col,” she said, holding herself against him, as if she could read in his face just how much he liked it.
“Do you have a third condition?” He strove to sound conversational, not as if he was near to bursting.
“I do.” Her hands climbed up his neck and she grasped his jaw, fingers in his beard. “Never rest until I am crowned. Destroy everyone in our path. Use all your power to put the crown in my hands.”
“Our hands,” he corrected.
“Yes.”
“I will never rest until you are crowned, Gaela of Lear. You will be the most glorious queen in an age.” Col meant every word, with every piece of his spirit and heart and body.
Gaela gifted him her wide, plump smile again.
He said, “I will set a date for our marriage.”
“Do so. I will go to my sister, now, and return for it.” A smile teased at her unteasing mouth. “That should make the wait easier for you, husband.”
“I would…” He used his hands on her hips to push her to the side, so her behind pressed against the stone ledge of the window. “I would have the wait made harder for you … wife.”
“I suspect things will be hard enough between us.” With a twist, Gaela freed herself. She walked smoothly, as if unaffected, back to the long table and grasped his bottle of wine. Turning to him, she lifted the bottle. “To the crown of Innis Lear, which will be ours.”
Col Astore believed her warning, and her promise, and relished both. Gaela bent her head with a play of obeisance—which only added to her haughty glory.
But he could see right through her, and in that moment, Astore knew.
This woman is going to kill me.
Nothing had ever felt more welcome, or more right.
AEFA
AEFA STUCK CLOSE behind her princess, disconcerted at the way the White Forest parted itself before Elia, offering easy passage through its ferns and mossy old trees. Sun shone prettily through leaves turning yellow and fiery orange at their edges, and the breeze was cold but pleasant with none of last night’s fury. Reborn wind, Aefa thought, free to be itself after the cleansing of the storm.
When Elia Lear had kissed Ban Errigal right in front of Aefa this morning, she’d been near sure her eyes would pop and she’d be blind forever. But her mother, Alis, hadn’t seemed concerned, dragging the two girls inside to feed them since Brona herself had vanished before dawn. The moment Aefa and Elia were alone, off to wash up at the well behind Brona’s house, Aefa had leapt on her chance.
“You need something to make sure Ban Errigal did not get you with child last night,” she said as they picked their way around onion beds.
“Aefa!” hissed Elia, looking all around.
Triumph had surged through Aefa, and she’d raised her golden brows, then laughed once.
“I should bleed in the next few days, I think. We’ll know quickly if there’s anything to worry on.”
“I want to know everything.”
“So do I! About your mother—”
“You first. About spending the night with Ban Errigal.”
“Once I begin, I won’t be able to stop.”
“But you did … like it?” Aefa danced a little in place, giving in to the impulse to be nothing but a girl, gleeful and anxious and begging her friend to confide in her.
Elia nodded fast and covered her mouth against the press of her smile. When her eyes met Aefa’s, though, Aefa could not deny the sorrow dragging at the joy. It cut at Aefa, and she took Elia’s face in her hands. “Nothing that comes after has anything to do with it,” she whispered. “If you loved it, and loved him, that’s all that matters. Even if he is unworthy of you, which he is, the dirty traitor—no, no, listen!” Aefa smiled and kissed Elia lightly on the mouth. “Everything is terrible right now, except me of course, so even if Ban is one of the terrible things, last night he wasn’t, so don’t let go of that. Even later on when I tell you again and again that you should have considered doing that with the king of Aremoria instead. Promise?”
Elia had looked up at the first true ray of sun pressing through milky-golden clouds. “I promise.”
And Aefa was certain she’d meant it. They’d washed, dressed, and eaten the breakfast Alis provided. Then Aefa had wound those amber beads back into Elia’s hair; now here they were in the forest, gone after Brona, Kay Oak, and the old king.
“Aefa,” Elia murmured suddenly, as wind tossed dappled shadows over her face, “I love you. You’ve been mine for years, and I’ve never acknowledged it, or acted it. I know how hard it’s been, being my friend, when I offered nothing in return.”
A thrum of pleasure zipped through the Aefa. Her grip tightened. “I adore you, Elia, and I think it won’t be long before I admire you, too.”
“I hope I earn it.”
“Only you control that.” The Fool’s daughter pinched Elia’s hip, but gently.
For nearly an hour they walked, toward the east. The forest whispered at them, through wind and singing birds, through the rustle of ferns and brushed tails, the
