A disbelieving sound left my lips.
Aramaz’s tone remained eerily calm as he continued. “I guess the two of you are more alike than it seems. Both… passionate.”
Oh,lyr. He knew. I closed my eyes, bracing for the fury, the hurt, the accusations that would surely follow. But his body stayed relaxed against mine, his breaths measured and even. It took all my courage to glance up at him. To my astonishment, I found no condemnation in his expression, only faint amusement.
“You are not angry?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I searched his face, desperate to read his thoughts, to find any hint of the tempest I expected.
“Why should I be? I love you both. And you both seem to find joy in this.” Aramaz cupped my face with his large hand, the warmth of his touch almost soothing. A soft smile played on his lips, but there was an edge to it, a hint of something darker. “And it doesn’t change things between us.”
A sudden sharpness entered those blue eyes I thought I knew so well, turning them into icy shards. His hold on my jaw tightened, bordering on painful. A gust of wind rustled my skirts.
“This is only something physical, yes?” His lip twitched. “A passing curiosity.”
A curiosity I was indulging in thoroughly. Just yesterday, I had gone to the Other with Belekoroz and he had pleasured me with his mouth until I was close to delirious. His fingers tangled in my sweaty hair when he took me in the mud afterward, my control disintegrating so far that my powers left scorch marks all around us. He was surprisingly fond of ensuring my pleasure before seeking his ownrelease. Not for any selfless reasons, I suspected. No, he craved the feeling of mastering me, of turning me into a begging, moaning mess eager for his every touch. And I loved it. Loved letting all restraints fall away, all inhibitions evaporating like smoke, only fire remaining. This curiosity had become an addiction.
I struggled to keep my face controlled as I answered Aramaz. “Of course. It changes nothing.” My words hung in the air, a fragile shield containing the storm brewing inside me.
It seemed to be enough. With a satisfied nod, Aramaz released me and stepped back to his desk. “We should probably not tell Belekoroz about this conversation,” he remarked, refilling his wineglass. “He might interpret it the wrong way.” His gaze found me again, his expression serious. “As a deliberate deception.”
I stood there, feeling like a petitioner before him, my mind racing to make sense of his words while he calmly sipped his wine. I had expected rage, disappointment, disgust—anything but this. It left me floundering, unsure how to react.
He was right, of course. It changed nothing. I was still his betrothed. By the will of the Allfather, I was to be his queen and rule by his side. But the thought of Belekoroz, of the passion we shared, gnawed at me. How could something that felt so real be dismissed as irrelevant, a mere distraction?
You shared more than your body with him,an accusing whisper echoed through me. This was the moment to be truthful with Aramaz, to repay his generosity by revealing everything. Yet a part of me resisted, a persistent instinct warning me to be cautious. The weight of my secrets pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.
“You don’t want me to stop working with Belekoroz, then?” I asked, my voice barely steady. An attempt to deflect and buy myself time.
“The situation is quite delicate,” Aramaz replied, sorting througha stack of parchment on his desk without looking at me. His tone was firm and self-assured, the same one he used when persuading me to take his position on Council matters. “While our recent successes have been satisfactory, there remains much work to do to accomplish the will of the Allfather. The threat of the Kritak must be eliminated. Permanently. And that would be much easier with Belekoroz aiding us rather than hindering us at every step.”
The room seemed to close in around me as the tension between us grew. For a moment, the rustling of parchment was the only sound. I couldn’t take it any longer—all these hints and allusions, all this dancing around what he really wanted from me.
“You want me to continue to sleep with your brother?” I didn’t even attempt to keep my disbelief out of my voice as I stepped up to the desk, leaning over it to catch his gaze. “To keep his mind off any thought of rebellion?”
The enormity of the request, the cold logic behind it, made my heart pound with a mix of apprehension and anger. The words hung in the air, a challenge I couldn’t take back.
Those blue eyes met mine, still calm, like the surface of a frozen lake.
“That seems like the wisest course of action, doesn’t it?” One blonde eyebrow rose in aloof amusement. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked when I found out about your little secret.”
I bit my lip, finally understanding why Belekoroz found his brother’s air of superiority so vexing.
The king’s next words made me freeze in renewed dread.
“I searched for you after the Lyrnight. When you vanished, I first thought you needed another moment to yourself. But then you didn’t return, and I started to worry. Imagine my surprise when I realized where you had gone.”
But that meant… I could hardly breathe, captured by those bright eyes. Something fierce and scorching suddenly raged within them, something that nearly scared me in its intensity. A thousand questions raced through my mind. What had he seen? Why had he waited so long to confront me?
“I don’t think sleeping with my brother is such a chore for you,” Aramaz continued, the fire in his eyes deepening, his mocking tone reminding me disconcertingly of his brother. “In fact, the two of you seemed to enjoy yourselves quite a lot.”
Light, that answered my question. Whatever he had witnessed, it had been quite enough. My cheeks burned at the thought that Aramaz had likely watched every single moment between Belekoroz and me that night. How I had moaned and cried out in complete abandon as he took me. How I had begged for more.
Another question flashed through my mind, sending a wave of nausea through me. “Did you talk with the Allfather about this?” I forced myself to ask, my voice no more than a rasp. What would our Maker say if he knew how far I had fallen?
“No. I think we both agree that we should not bother the Allfather with such inconsequential matters.”
“No. Of course not.” My relief was too overwhelming for any further protest as the king deftly changed the topic, his calm mask firmly back in place, assuming my silent acquiescence to his plans. But did I truly have a choice? No. I had to be grateful for Aramaz’s apparent understanding. So I held my tongue, aware that this was far from over, sensing an ominous undercurrent of something deeper than the reasons he had given me.
Much later, back in the safety of my own quarters, I realized I had never considered telling Aramaz that his brother had planned to kill me. Not once. Another form of deception I had learned to use: the lie of omission.
