'No Ereubinian has the ability to form the words! Do you think to make up lies about me as you did my father?'
Tadraem reached out to push the blade away from where Garren had it pointed at his chest. 'Garren, my Lord, I have no reason to be dishonest with you. I speak the truth — Adorian speech just passed your lips.'
'This is certainly a virgin manner of deception. First Aiden, and now you? Don't mistake my allegiances.'
Tadraem started to respond, his hand rising in the air in a show of dispute, when he withdrew it suddenly, cradling it against his chest. He howled in pain, shrinking back from Garren to collapse into a pew a short distance from the altar.
Garren walked up to him and peered down, watching Tadraem as he shook with pain. He thought then of his father and the demise that Tadraem had arranged for him.
'Please, my Lord.' Tadraem begged.
'Surely, you don't expect me to have pity for you? I believe your words were that you would do the same. So, I suppose you do speak the truth. Don't cross me or you will regret it.'
Tadraem's cries subsided and he sat quietly as he rubbed his hand. Though there was no hint of discomfort any longer, the memory of it would without question last. Garren took one good look at his former mentor before turning to leave the sanctuary, studying the eyes that he'd once held as wise and prudent, the hands that had instructed him. He gazed at the man he'd once revered like a father and found him a stranger.
Garren entered his chambers with Cadence behind him. Humans were never allowed to live alongside Ereubinians; this would be the only night that she'd be permitted to be in his room. She would be remanded to the other side of the wall for everything except observance.
He walked over to the window and opened the glass pane. Cold air spilled into the room. He breathed in deeply, his chest having tightened again as he made his way from the sanctuary. He paused there a second before turning around and finding Cadence unclothed, standing wordless in the center of the room. He didn't say anything to her as he tried to unravel his emotions.
'I am yours, my Lord. What is it that you wish from me?' Her face was turned toward his, her eyes trained on him, but she was not looking at him. She was looking through him. She was soft on the eyes, flawless in every physical way, yet seeing her so vulnerable made him feel disquieted.
'I wish for you to clothe yourself.'
She had a slight hint of displeasure on her face, though it was subtle at best, merely an echo of what she would've once been able to express, perhaps. 'Have I done something wrong, I do not…'
He interrupted her. 'You've done nothing wrong. Do as I ask.' She nodded and redressed. He walked over to the bed and pulled down the sheets. Humans, on their wedding night, slept in the small, unadorned keeping room that accompanied each main chamber. He started to undress himself, tired from the day, when he stopped. He glanced back at his bed, then again at Cadence. The smaller room would be much colder. A picture passed through his mind of how chilled the air had been the first night after the siege, how cold the Adorian girl must have been. He slammed his fist on the wall behind the headboard, having grown tired of seeing such reminders. Cadence jumped as his fist smacked against the bare stone of the wall.
'I'm sorry.' Garren walked toward her. He almost expected her to shy away from him, but she made no motion. Perhaps it had been instinct. 'You will sleep here tonight, I will stay in the outer room.' She gave no response. He watched her move to the bed and lie down, pulling the covers around her neck.
Garren pushed open the door to the other room. There was indeed a cold draft, as he'd suspected. He shivered a bit and pulled his cloak tighter. There was a simple bed, with a wool blanket and a washstand that supported a large empty basin for water. He approached the bed and picked up the blanket. He hadn't been in this room in a long time; dust had settled heavily. He should've known to ready this room as soon as he'd been told that he would wed. He shook the blanket out and wrapped it around himself as he lay on the mattress.
He lay awake for some time. Just days ago, he would have disregarded any hint of sympathy for a human, yet here he was, undoubtedly distressed over being unable to be fully a part of this night. He'd waited so long for this — what was the cause of this unrelenting doubt? It infuriated him that Tadraem would make such wild accusations and yet a sliver of fear crept into his consciousness that Tadraem had been telling the truth. He could think of no reason for Tadraem to lie to him. Garren didn't completely trust him, but it wouldn't benefit Tadraem for Garren to fall from power. Either Jules or Aiden would be in line now that Tadraem had accepted the lifelong calling of High Priest. Neither of his two probable successors regarded Tadraem with much loyalty, though he'd begun to question Aiden's loyalties all together.
It was bewitchment — there was simply no other explanation. The girl was using whatever power had persuaded him to release her to also ensnare his emotions. There was no logical justification for him to care anything about whether an Adorian or a human lived or died. There was no moral reason; Ereubinians were the only ones of true blood. He wished his father were alive. It would be great comfort to be able to speak with him and clear up any misgivings surrounding the last battle.
He had a fleeting thought of trusting Aiden with what he'd discovered about his father, before it crossed his mind that Aiden wouldn't be able to reply. He thought of all the times he and Aiden had exchanged jokes.
Garren finally felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was apprehensive of sleep, the dream from days before still haunting him. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Adorian girl and to have things as they once were. Yet, each time he saw her, he was overwhelmed with the same sentiment that held him captive in the woods. He couldn't harm her, he could barely maintain the ability to speak in her presence, let alone relieve himself of her encumbrance from afar.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
'You going to be alright to ride?' asked Duncan as he leaned over in his saddle.
'I'm fine. I wish everyone would stop treating me as if I were made of glass,' Ariana said.
Duncan laughed. She truly hadn't changed a bit since the last time he'd seen her. Maybe she looked a little older, like Caelyn, but that spirit — that brilliant, wild spirit of hers that was so much like her father's — hadn't changed one bit.
'You'll find that Adorian males in general are that way. Try not to take offense, it's their nature to be a pain in the ass.'
Ariana grinned. 'If you say so.'
They trotted through the snow, through the gates of the main township. The wind was cold, but it felt good on his skin. He'd been up late the night before, irritated by his argument with Michael. He understood Michael's reasoning, but Duncan had spent far more time with humans than Michael had. After Michael left him in the hall, he'd returned to the room to discuss the matter with the rest of the group. He sometimes envied the allegiance of Michael's men, wondering if his own men would have been so bold.
'You don't consider yourself an Adorian man?'
Duncan turned his head to look at her. 'Why do you say that?'
She smiled. 'Because you said their nature, not our nature.'
'I do and I don't. It depends on the day. I've spent so little time in my own realm that at times it feels foreign to me. Beautiful, but strange still. I understand how lost you must feel. I'm sorry about Palingard. You must be tired of hearing that, but I grieve with you.'
Sadness crossed Ariana's face, and he wondered whether he should've brought it up at all. 'Maybe we should find another subject to — '
'No, you're really the only person that I care to talk with about it. You knew Palingard. There are things that I can speak of all day long to others, yet they can't relate to any of it, especially the things that are so apart from this place. It's ironic, I was always seen as the grave serious one back home, and now I find myself almost too light- hearted to belong here. Everything has a coolness in this realm.'
Duncan remarked, 'Adoria has been held to such regimented ideals for so long that she's lost some of her former spirit. It saddens me, but just look at the evidence of what was. Did you notice all of the paintings and the
