Page 92 of Memory of Ashes

Danae’s expression hardened. “Because I should have helped sooner.”

*

After they watched Danae and Karl leave, Casyl gently led her back to the palace and up the winding stairs. She could have slept where she stood.

She prayed Danae would get Karl to safety.

“We’ll be safe here for a while,” he said, leading her through two giant double doors which opened into a grand room. Amelia had never seen such luxury.

The bed was enormous. Five people could have easily slept in it. Blue silk sheets covered it, surrounded by an assortment of pillows. An arched window framed a view of the palace gardens. A portrait of the emperor hung on one wall. His painted likeness looked down on her. This must have been the emperor’s private chambers.

She turned from it and pushed back the image of his face, bruised and bleeding, which had come unbidden to her mind. She didn’t like him, but he didn’t deserve whatever had happened to him.

They were finally alone.

Casyl slowly sat on the bed. He buried his face in his hands. “I killed him.”

“You had to.”

“He was still my father.”

She half-fell onto the bed beside him, sinking into its softness. She gently peeled his hands from his face.

He turned to look at her.

Centuries of shame were hidden behind those eyes. Out there he had been the commander, the leader of men. In here, he was just Casyl.

“A father should never do that to his child.” She shuddered violently, remembering everything that had happened.

Casyl moved away and stood. “I’ll leave.”

She shook her head quickly. She didn’t want to be alone.

The white sheets were crisp. Her clothes, covered in dirt and blood, would spoil the sheets. She attempted to take them off, but the effort was too much.

Casyl knelt in front of her and took off her shoes and trousers. His touch was tender against her quivering body.

She stiffened. His hands had not always been gentle: they had pressed against her temple and pointed a sword at her. She knew now that not all of those actions had belonged to him.

She lay back, and he covered her with the smooth silk sheets before settling beside her on top of them. Her eyes closed.

She squinted as her eyes flickered open in the light shining through the window. Dawn had been approaching when they’d arrived back at the capital.

She looked to her left. Casyl lay still beside her, turned onto his side facing her. She silently watched the rise and fall of his chest and listened to his slow breathing. Tiryn had broken him in so many ways, but beneath the pain and sharp edges of the commander, something gentle remained.

She stroked her thumb against his cheek, and his silver-blue eyes flashed open.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Amelia leaned towards him, closing the space between them. Their mouths met softly, but the kiss deepened when his hand settled at her waist. Heat stirred beneath her exhaustion.

Casyl shifted closer, then stopped. His fingers remained still against her side.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

She looked up at him.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. Sometimes she forgot.

Pain crossed his face, but he nodded. He began to draw his hand away.