Veil of Shadows (13 page)

She shifted, just slightly, poised to spring from the bed, and, without opening his eyes, he said, “You are awake, then.”

She froze.

“I could tell by how stiff you went beside me.” Sleep roughened his voice, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a lazy smile. “Relax. Danae will understand if we wish to rest from our journey.”

Relax! As if such a thing were possible like this.

He opened his eyes and peered rather seriously at her. “No more talk about wishing for death. Can we agree on that?”

Shame, and then anger at that shame, replaced it. “Am I still allowed to wish for it, then, as long as I do not talk about it?”

She shoved angrily at the bed, trying to gain purchase to get away from him. But the mattress was full of feathers, and the bedclothes too slippery, so she fell short of her intention to sit up and show him her back, to prove her anger. Instead, she ended up somehow diagonal to him, her legs still tangled with his. Reluctantly, she met his gaze, expecting mocking there.

There was none. “I would not have you wish it at all.”

She wished she could argue with him, but she could not bring herself to speak, not when he looked at her the way he did now, with sadness and regret and something else, something she had never seen so openly and honestly in anyone before.

Desire. Usually, it was hidden, or disguised as something else. But Cedric did not seem able to keep it secret as he looked at her. His gaze fell to her mouth, and, with a shaky inhale of breath, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

That one action seemed to snap any control he might have had. In an instant, his mouth covered hers. Though her mind was caught off guard, her body responded readily, lips parting beneath his. He sat up, knees folded beneath him, and pulled her onto his lap, so quickly that her head reeled from the sudden change. She gasped and clung to his shoulders, and that brought another gasp; she had never realized how hard his body was, how tightly the skin stretched over the lean muscle beneath it. The sensation of him against her, naked flesh ground against naked flesh, made her ache to be touched in that place that only she had ever touched, begged her to open her legs and welcome in that eager, male part of him that brushed against her belly. Her pulse pounded between her thighs, making her slick and hot with every beat. She rubbed herself against him, silently urged him to take her in that way, to stop the game of pretending to be her mate and actually commit the act. His fingers dug into the flesh of her back, below her wings, and he groaned against her mouth as though he could hear her thoughts.

There was a gasp that did not come from her, and a crash. Cedric opened his wings, blocking her from the sight of their intruder with a canopy of powdery blue.

“I.m sorry!” It was the little servant girl. Cerridwen peered around the edge of Cedric.s wing and saw her there, bent over as she tried to scrape up shards of something broken and covered in its gluey contents.

“It is all right,” Cedric said, though his tone of voice indicated he did not truly excuse the interruption. He eased Cerridwen off his lap and pulled the sheet from the tangle of bedclothes to wrap around his waist. “In the future, do not apologize. Do not draw attention to yourself. Simply leave and return…later.”

Cerridwen.s face flamed. She pulled the thick blanket around herself. As if it did not know enough to be ashamed, her body still ached for him. She tried for a surreptitious look at him, but he caught her. He looked away, and went to one of the trunks Bauchan had left behind.

“I made p-porridge,” the servant stammered. “There.s more…I just thought you might not want to go outside yet this morning. It.s cold and there.s fog—”

“We will be fine, thank you.” Cedric.s words were polite, but his voice was sharper than usual. “Please, go and see that the guards are fed.”

As she watched the serving girl leave, Cerridwen held her breath. Once she was gone, she found she could not release the air in her lungs. She did not wish to do anything that would call attention to herself. If she could sink down and become a part of the mattress, or through it, through the floor, even, into the forest ground, she would.

“Your shoes were ruined from the walk yesterday,” Cedric said casually, as if nothing had happened. “And your dress is far too dirty to wear today. I will have that Human go and get something from Danae that you can borrow until your gown is washed and mended.”

“No!” She said it with such vehemence that she startled herself, and Cedric, too, so she lowered her voice. “No, I would rather not borrow anything from Queene Danae.”

“Danae, Cerridwen,” he scolded. As if he were her guardian and teacher once more, as if he had not just put his hands all over her and—

She had missed the rest of what he.d said.

“What?”

He knotted the sheet at his waist and turned, an odd expression on his face. “I said, „You are the Queene. Do not defer to Danae.. Are you all right?”

“I am fine. I did not sleep well,” she lied, and instantly regretted it. He knew how well she had slept, dreaming peacefully in his arms.

He did not remind her of this, though, and turned back to the trunk. “Well, you have little option, in any case. Bauchan did not leave behind any gowns. Just borrow something from Danae. She will not deny you.”

Cedric was probably right on that account. How would it look to her Court if Danae was not as gracious as she had been the night before? But Cerridwen did not want to wear any of the False Queene.s finery. She was not as slender and Fae as Danae—too much of her blood was mortal—and she would feel broad as a Troll in anything from the Faery.s wardrobe.

She would feel more like a Pretender, as well. How easy it would be for the Court to whisper about her if she were wearing cast-off clothing from a Queene whose throne she sought to usurp.

But she did not argue. The thought of arguing with him made her sick to her stomach. In fact, she could not stand another moment of listening to him speak to her as though she were a child. She lay down and closed her eyes, listened to the sound of him dressing, and forbid herself even one look, though her curiosity seemed as though it would kill her.

“Cerridwen, I am going out now. Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” He paused, waiting for her reply. When she did not speak, he came to the bed and gently shook her shoulder. She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut tighter, knowing that would give away her ruse. After what seemed far too long a time, he left.

With him gone, she found it much easier to breathe.

Nine

T he Human had been correct: it was cold, far colder than Cedric remembered it being on the surface. The sun would not show its face today, and a dismal, wet mist hovered over the ground. The gray daylight turned the green of the forest into sinister black. It matched his mood as he sat before the fire, watching the pathetic flames struggle ineffectually against the chill air.

The Human walked past, arms loaded down with firewood. “You need dead leaves, dead bark, get it burning hotter,” he snapped, knowing he took out his frustration on the wrong party. In truth, the Human had saved him from doing something he would have regretted the moment the act was over.

He.d lied to himself the night before. At each opportunity he.d had to slip from the bed and leave her side, he had concocted some excuse not to. That she might wake in the night and need him, and be distressed at not finding him. Cerridwen was no child; she would have come looking for him. That she might harm herself if he were not there to stop her. She might have the mortal insensibility to long for death when truly disheartened, but she had Fae blood. There was nothing she could have done to bring about her own death, short of drinking poison, which he was fairly certain she did not have.

No, there was no reason for him not to have left her. Their position was not as tenuous as it had been on the ship, with so many eyes on their every action. If one of Danae.s spies found the royal couple sleeping apart, well, what of it? And Danae would have to admit to spying, to actually use that evidence, anyhow.

Assuming she had spies at all. This Upworld Queene was not all she seemed. She.d had the chance to do away with her rival, and she had not. Whatever treachery she might have planned would unfold another day.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” the servant said, and Cedric looked up. Cerridwen emerged from the tent, clad in items he had seen in Bauchan.s chests. She.d taken his robe of crimson silk and slit it at the sides, tying the front pieces into a knot below her breasts. There had been

a pair of trousers, obviously Human in origin, with many pockets and strange metal closures, and she wore these, rolled at the waist and ankles to close the gap between her diminutive height and the size of the garment. On her feet, she wore two different boots, too large for her, as well, but she walked in them with more grace than should have been possible. She.d piled her amber hair at the back of her head, and messy tendrils fell around her face and ears.

It was not the clothing, but that he knew what lay under them, that made him want to pull her back into the tent and finish the ill-advised relations he had impulsively begun.

You are supposed to protect her, the small part of him with self-control chastised, disgusted. The part of him wishing to throw her down on the wet ground and have her, right there, not caring who saw, whispered, But Ayla intended for you to be mated to each other. She would not object.

No, she would not object. Worse, Cerridwen would not object. The memory of the way she.d responded, the feeling of her, warm and wet against his thighs, turned his body to stone. He nodded to her and prodded the fire with a piece of kindling. “You found something to wear, I see.”

She sat down on one of the stumps that ringed the fire. “You do not approve.”

“On the contrary, I think you have done very well with the resources available.” She would not look as grand before the Court as she might have in one of Danae.s gowns, but it seemed the wrong time to make such a criticism. Females could be…sensitive about such things.

She stood and peered into the cauldron over the fire, and made a face. “What is that?”

“Porridge,” he answered, unable to keep his own distaste hidden. “Humans eat it.”

“Humans do much that I do not wish to experience for myself.” She sat back down. “I thought things were better on the surface.”

“Things were better on the Astral Plane. Here, we do what we can with what is available, just like we did Below. You cannot judge life on the surface by a single breakfast,” he admonished gently. He looked up at the sky, found it as bleak and boring as it had been when he.d last checked.

Cerridwen pressed the heels of her hands against the stump she sat on, drummed her fingers.

“When will we go to see Danae?”

“Soon.” He considered. “Not too soon. We do not wish for her to think you are too eager. She might feel that you are uncertain of your place, and use that against you.”

“I am tired of trying to safeguard against what others might do.” She stood, kicked at the ground. “I cannot control what Danae will do, no matter how cautious I am.” She stalked around the fire, then to the edge of the clearing, then back again. “What is there to do here?

Count trees?”

“Do what you would normally do with your day.” He cleared his throat. “Before.”

She picked up a stick and swung it against a defenseless sapling. The feathers of wings shivered red-black in the light. “I rather think disguising myself as a Human and running off to the Strip is out of the question now.”

“You did that that often?” Despite how foolishly dangerous those actions were, he couldn.t help but admire her ingenuity at escaping the Palace, especially when Ayla wanted to keep her in. Ayla.s will had been formidable to the point of legend. He recognized quite a lot of it in Cerridwen.

Perhaps that would help him overcome temptation, keep him from putting his hands on her any further, if he recognized the qualities in her that were most like her mother. He would never have even entertained the thought of lying with Queene Ayla. Imagining her in Cerridwen.s place should cure him of his lust.

With a sigh, Cerridwen returned to her stump and turned her bored gaze to the fire. “Why does everyone want to live up here so badly? There.s no civilization, nothing to do—”

“Civilization is a Human concept,” he cut her off in frustration. How could Ayla have let her daughter grow up with no sense of her true heritage? But then, Ayla had not known it, either. He looked out at the trees, at the mist curling around their trunks. “There is much to do, if you are connected to yourself as a Faery.”

She gave him a bland look, as if to accuse him of being as out of touch with his Fae blood as she was with hers. She was right.

He stood, held out his hand. “Come on.”

“Are we going to see Danae?” She slipped her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet.

It was a mistake, touching her. The moment their skin made contact, he felt all of his life.s energy rush toward her. He dropped her hand, resisted the urge to shake the feeling of her off him. “No. No, I want to show you something.”

He did not touch her again, but trusted her to follow him as he left the clearing.

As they walked, the thickness of the morning air gave the illusion that they weren.t actually going anywhere. The fog and gray that hung like a screen between the trees was never quite tangible, no matter how much time they spent walking toward it. It moved, darting farther back and back, and Cedric remembered with a brief stab of panic how easy it was to become lost in a forest. But it was his years underground that caused that fear. He would never truly lose his way here, so long as he was still Fae.

Cerridwen must have had the same thought as she followed him, because she asked in a quiet voice, “Do you remember the way back?”

He turned to reassure her and saw that they had indeed walked farther than he.d intended. But still, he knew he could find his way back. Even if he turned around three times with his eyes closed, he would find the direction they had come from. “I have never been lost before,” he said. “At least not aboveground.”