“What?” Charrin demanded. “I do not expect to live beyond this last moment. I have failed. Execute me and—”
“No,” Verice growled, but there was an odd-undertone to his voice. “I see now, that if not for Warna, I would be locked in the same hate as you.”
Charrin snarled.
Verice arose. “Did King Baratheil know of this plan of yours?”
“No,” Charrin spat.
“You will be confined. After the Festival, I will open a portal into Valltera, if they will have you.” Charrin felt a warm hand on his shoulder, felt magical energies stir around him. Verice’s voice was a like a shard of glass in his ear. “Perhaps you will see more clearly someday, old friend.”
“I do not want your forgiveness,” Charrin shouted, his rage and despair eating at him.
But Verice was already gone.
Verice cradled Warnaas she slept, her bandaged hand supported by pillows. The healers weren’t certain there’d be any permanent damage. He’d ask the Lady High Priestess to return and check with her gifts.
Ancestors, how had it happened? In that moment after opening the door, in the seconds between Charrin’s hate, a spurt of blood, and Warna being pushed into his arms, he’d realized the truth.
From the moment he’d been able to understand, there had been the subtle message of the taint in his blood, brought on by an ancestor and his fit of passion for a human woman. He’d never understood it, and had offered that ancestor insult when it had been thrown in his face, or he’d been denied advancement as a result.
Now, he knew. He understood. His Ancestor’s revenge, most likely.
Warna stirred in his arms, and Verice stroked her hair to soothe her back down into sleep. Now he knew, he understood, and he didn’t know what to do. The darkness around them held no answers, just the soft sounds of her breathing.
She’d told him what she wanted, and he was obligated to fulfill her desires. It wasn’t fair to her to insist she stay. She deserved a man, a human, to love and cherish her, to age with her through all the stages of a normal life.
She wanted to leave and he’d agreed, and he was a fool. For what was between them was more than physical on his part, more than just two bodies together in pleasure. The Ancestors were probably dancing in glee at forcing him to regret that thought.
The idea of wedding a human was foolish, of course. Warna had, at best perhaps fifty or seventy years left to her. Was it fair to him to have her stay and wither away before his eyes?
A jealous pain went through him at the idea that anyone else would share the moments she had left. Jealous that she might share her life, her joys, her sorrow with another.
He breathed in the scent of her hair.
There was time yet. To consider. To find a way to let her go.
But not this night.
“No permanent harmdone,” Lady High Priestess Evelyn said. “Although the knife went deep.”
Warna smiled as Evie held her hand, making them tingle with the power of her healing. “Verice shouldn’t have asked you to come,” Warna said. “Right during the Festival.”
“You forget,” Evie laughed. “We have no such festivities in Edenrich. I was able to slip away with no one the wiser. You’ve disturbed nothing,” she continued. “Although I do wish to speak to Lord Verice when he has a moment.”
“He’ll be here shortly,” Warna sighed. “He won’t be content unless he hears your report from you directly.”
“I’ve heard of the Festival,” Evie said as she worked. “But I’ve never seen it.”
“It’s amazing,” Warna said. She described the seven nights and days. “This is the Last Night,” she explained. “The Last Day and Night celebrate the gifts of magic. I wish you could stay,” she added. “They say the displays of power are amazing.”
“I wish I could,” Evie said, as she gently pulled away from Warna’s hand. “But my duties require me to be at the church this evening.”
“Our loss, Lady High Priestess,” Verice said as he came through the door.
“Lord High Baron.” Evie rose, and bowed her head.
Verice settled next to Warna. “How does the Lady Warna?” he asked, taking up Warna’s hand. Warna shivered at his touch. Verice glanced at her, a gleam in his eyes. But he turned back to Evie with all due attention.
