Season of Glory (36 page)

I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the cold, stinging rain. The Maker would never
leave me without the weapons I needed to fight these lingering evil spells of Sethos
that haunted both me and Keallach. He had given me Ronan, whom my heart loved. The
man whom I desired. A man I wanted to share my bed with, when the blessing ceremony
occurred at the right time, in the right season. Surrounded by family, both blood
and spiritual kin.

Not give myself to another on a city street, as if I knew no sense of value, hope,
or strength within. He'd tried to warn me. Called to my heart, sent a chill through
my armband. But I'd ignored it, choosing to give into old, intriguing desires.

My teeth clenched, and I straightened, my hands in fists as I turned to face Niero.
“I have failed my Maker and my vows for the last time. My enemy will never use me
for his gain again Help me, Niero. Help me find the armor I need for my heart and
this battle to come. To see it through to the end.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then a slow smile spread across his face. With
gentle hands, he took hold of my cheeks and bent my head for a single, benediction
kiss on the forehead. “Consider it done, daughter of the Way.”

CHAPTER
34

ANDRIANA

I
knew what I needed to do. As soon as Niero released me, I turned and ran back to
the
mansion.
I passed scores of people, reaching out, calling to me, but I was single-minded.

Vidar and Bellona looked up as I passed. “There you are,” Vidar said. “Ronan was
looking for you.”

“Where is he?”

“Niero told him to wait for you in the receiving room.”

I thought about that as I ran through the corridor to the sprawling receiving room
that had held scores of people when we arrived, but now was empty. Save for Ronan.
He was pacing back and forth in the corner of the first alcove, rubbing his hands
together. I pulled up short, heartsick over what was to come.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” he said, rushing toward me, taking my elbows and pulling me
in for a hug, wet as I was. “I lost you
in the crowds. It felt safe, but . . . I'm
sorry. I should not have let the moment distract me from looking after you. Look
at you. You're soaked through. Let me—”

“No, I owe you an apology, Ronan,” I said, gently squirming out from his embrace.
I tried to swallow but found that my mouth was dry. He stood there before me, brows
lowered, concerned. “I was out there,” I began, gesturing toward the door, “distributing
the last of my food, when I saw a tiny girl. She was barely clothed, and you know
how cold it is out tonight.”

His green-brown eyes shifted over me, across the bare skin of my arms, covered in
goose bumps. “So you gave her your sweater . . .”

“Yes.”

“You are so generous, Dri. It's part of what I—”

“No,” I said, putting up my hand to stop him as he moved toward me. I knew if I didn't
get this out, I might never tell him. And if I didn't, Niero would. He would demand
it. “I mean, yes. I gave the child my sweater, and the last of the food. But when
I rose to follow her back, I saw that I wasn't alone.”

His brow lowered farther but he lifted his chin, lips clamped shut, waiting.

“Keallach was there,” I said.

I saw the muscles of his neck and jaw tighten.

“And at first he didn't do anything but give me his cape.”

“A proper thing to do,” Ronan said tightly. “But then?”

“But then he kissed me.”

Ronan stared at me as I held my breath. “And then?”

“And then I flipped him on his back,” I said, proud of myself for a moment.

He watched me, and I knew that my emotions must have been playing across my face.
He reached out and tucked a
strand of my hair behind my ear, his movement measured,
deliberate. “And then?” he whispered.

I turned halfway from him, folding my arms in front of me. I blinked rapidly, as
if watching it play out again in memory. “And then I was . . . pulled in. We kissed
again.”

“He compelled you,” Ronan said bitterly.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “And no,” I added, shaking my head in misery. “Honestly,
Ronan. There is a draw between me and Keallach. There always has been. And tonight
. . . It was all mixed up. I can't blame him entirely.”

“But there wouldn't have been anyone to blame if he hadn't
compelled
you,” he said,
lifting my chin. “Everyone struggles with sinful desires, momentary thoughts along
dark paths, Dri. But if someone else forces you to keep that path open, rather than
dismissing it . . .” He shook his head. “How did you stop it?”

“I called upon the Maker and Niero arrived, yanking us apart. He . . . he almost
strangled Keallach.”

“Good,” Ronan sneered, pacing away, then back to me, his movements now stiff. “Good!”
he repeated, angrier now. He put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes, obviously
seeking a measure of control.

“I'm so sorry, Ronan. I have no excuse. There is something between us that . . .
something dark that emerges now and then . . .”

“Please,” he said, lifting a hand and closing his eyes against the pain my words
had caused him. “No more. I don't want to know more except for this: He
did
compel
you, as he did before? Right?”

I remembered how my hands had remained at my side for so long and how I was surprised
by my own willingness to
return his passion. How Niero accused him of using low gifting.
“Yes,” I whispered.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, rubbing my palms into them for a moment before
looking at him. “I promised Niero today—and I promise you now—that it will never
overtake me again. The Maker warned me of it, used my arm cuff to sound the alarm.
But I was slow to recognize it. I won't be next time. I promise you.” I took his
hands in mine and moved closer to him. “Please, beloved. Forgive me. With the aid
of the Maker, it shall not happen again.”

He considered me, and though there was a measure of pain and betrayal, there was
a larger measure of love and forgiveness within him. He pulled me into his arms.
“With the aid of the Maker, the aid of your handfasted husband, and the help of Niero
to back us up, I think you have a good chance of honoring that promise.”

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. Then I shook my head. “I do not deserve your
forgiveness.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin. “It is the hallmark of the Community, yes? We all
falter and fail one another. But if our intent is to change our ways, to strive to
do better the next time, how can we keep from offering what the Maker himself gives
us?”

“But this has cost you,” I said. “I can see it.”

He gave me a gentle smile. “It is only pride that makes this hurt,” he said solemnly.
“And you, wife, are worth any price I have to pay. Any price.”

I swallowed hard and then pulled him close, wrapping my arms around him, laying my
cheek against his chest. “You are such a fine man, Ronan. So unbelievably good to
me.”

“I only give what you are due.”

His words confirmed what my heart had pledged. I loved this man, through and through.
He was my best friend. My husband, for all intents and purposes. My future lover.
My only future lover. Someday, the father of any children we might bear. The Maker
had brought him to me and kept him beside me, despite such hard truths.

I would not fail him again.

KEALLACH

I was still struggling for breath when Dri left Niero's side and the mighty man returned
to face me again, with nothing but rage and suspicion in his eyes. He lifted me roughly
to my feet, keeping one hand on my shoulder. “You shall be held accountable by the
Ailith. The Maker will lead them in the way of wisdom. The dark still lives in you,
and it is much stronger than it's ever been with Andriana—testimony to your many
seasons with Sethos by your side.”

“But is the Maker not stronger yet?” I said, angry that he was so ready to believe
the worst of me. I belonged here, with them. I knew I did. I reached up to rub my
forehead, trying to figure out what had happened between Dri and me. “I don't know
what happened, Niero. Honestly. I've been committed to the fact that I must uphold
and honor the vows that Dri and Ronan have taken, regardless of how I feel drawn
to her. And then . . . it was only for a moment . . .”

“Save your words for your Ailith kin,” he said, turning me around and dragging me
along beside him. My legs moved reluctantly, seeming to know what I was just coming
to figure out—I was to face a sort of moral trial. Similar to when they all voted
to allow me to accept my cuff.

My cuff,
I thought with alarm, fighting the urge to reach up and rub it. It had become
precious to me, granting me more power than ever before, warning me of danger—a danger
signal I had ignored with Dri. Would they . . . could they take it? It seemed impossible.
But if the Maker had a way to fuse it to my skin, I knew he must have a way to remove
it too.

Or maybe they would elect to try to kill me. I swallowed hard as we turned the corner.
Let them try. They are strong, but my gift is stronger. Niero is only fortunate that
I held back or—

“Such dark thoughts, my prince,” Niero muttered. “Trust me, even with your impressive
gifting, you do not want to take on an angel of the Maker's dominion.”

I frowned. I hated that his power allowed him to know what I was thinking. “I am
merely preparing myself for what is to come. Thinking it through. Not intent on acting
on every thought.”

“See that you don't,” he bit out, “because you will find that the Remnants will have
me backing them as well.”

We reached the front entry of the mansion and rushed past several gaping men and
women, eyes full of curiosity over what had us in such a rush. Kapriel was the first
to spy us, and a pang of guilt rang through me for a new reason. He would see my
actions not only as a disappointment as a Remnant brother, but as my twin also. I
knew he felt especially responsible for my acceptance among them. Had it not been
for him and Dri speaking up for me . . .

“All is not lost,” Niero said, as he left me to walk the remainder of the way with
my brother following behind. “You simply must face the truth with humility and then
confidently trust the outcome. It is the Way.”

I stared at him over my shoulder. He offered me hope? After all that righteous rage?

He waved me off, as if reluctant to have even offered that.

“What is he talking about, Keallach?” Kapriel said, looking over my soaked clothes
and the crumpled, soggy cape in my hands. “What has happened?”

I clamped my lips shut, my eyes slipping to Dri and Ronan in the corner of the receiving
room. I paused in the doorway a moment, chagrined to find fear in my heart, knowing
that Dri would easily read it in me. Such emotion shamed me. Sethos had drilled me
and drilled me to face my fear and conquer it. I winced and cocked my head, feeling
shame anew. Of all times, this was not the right time to summon memories of my old
trainer and his dark ways.

Ronan was striding toward me, Dri hurrying after him, and yet she didn't catch up
until he had his fists full of my tunic, pulling my face close to his. I met his
gaze, not fighting back. “I failed you, brother,” I said miserably. “And our sister
too. Please. Forgive me.”

He lifted his chin, measuring me through slit eyes. “Do you sense any genuine contrition
within him, Dri?” he said over his shoulder, never looking away from me.

“I do,” she said softly.

His breathing came out in heavy huffs, but after a moment, he released me and let
his hands drop to his sides. “Then I suppose,” he said, leaning in until our faces
were an inch apart, “I must forgive him.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He nodded thoughtfully, taking a deep breath. “I forgive you, Keallach. I do. But
if you ever touch my wife again,” he said, twisting partially away, “I shall have
to do more than
this
. . .”

I saw his fist too late. I think a part of me felt I deserved it, almost leaning
into it, offering the full breadth of my cheek. Still,
the impact sent me reeling
across the stone floor, landing heavily on my side, knocking the breath from me.
My jaw screamed with pain, and my vision swam. I looked back to see Andriana covering
her mouth with both hands and Ronan cradling his right fist in his left. Kapriel
stepped toward me, his movements oddly slow, as if time itself were stopping.

When my head cleared and Kapriel helped me sit up, I noted that the other Ailith
had arrived. “Help me rise,” I muttered to Kapriel.

“Are you certain?” he whispered. “Maybe you should stay down.”

I grimaced, half because of a throbbing pain in my head and half because of what
this revelation might do to our newly reformed relationship. Fear tightened its grip
around my heart. Had I just destroyed every important bond in my life? Would I be
cast out as quickly as I'd been taken in? What would I do then?

Face the truth with humility,
Niero had said.
And confidently trust the outcome.

“So,” Vidar said, looking from me to Ronan and back again, “I take it you two aren't
getting along.”

“You could say that,” Ronan said. “Or weren't getting along. I think we've both made
ourselves clear now.”

“But this brother has ignored the vows he took to uphold the ways of the Maker and
of the Ailith mission,” Raniero said formally as he closed the doors behind Tressa
and Killian, who were the last to enter. They all formed a loose semicircle around
me and Kapriel, who stood just behind my left shoulder.