Chapter Twenty-Two

Tanitha stirred to wakefulness and stretched slightly, her body feeling languorous and yet filled with a deep sense of fulfillment. The blankets and furs of the bed were soft and comforting around her. She nestled deeper into them, reluctant to fully wake.

She extended one hand to the other side of the bed, and her eyes fluttered open when it met only more blankets, and none of them holding another person's warmth. For an instant she wondered why this should surprise her, and then the memories of the night previous came flooding back.

Her breath caught, and she slowly sat upright, looking around the room. The magelights slowly began to brighten. Everything looked as it always had, the familiarity of her surroundings casting a strange doubt on her recollections. The flames of passion and pleasure from the night before seemed far more like a dream than reality.

She pushed back the blankets slowly, looking over her own body. There were small bruises on her thighs and hips, matching her memories of how firmly he'd held her while she bucked against him in pleasure, how he'd held her while he carried her to this room, kissing her all the while. She was sure she'd left similar marks on him, gripping his shoulders while crying out from the exultant waves of fiery heat coursing through her at his touch. She lightly placed her fingers against her lips, her heart aching with fullness as she remembered the feeling of his kisses, his caresses. No, it hadn't been a dream.

But why hadn't he stayed with her afterward?

She slowly stood up, then crossed to the wardrobe. Feeling strangely apprehensive, she selected a dress, one of those that she'd avoided previously. It was a deep red, its fabric flowing sensually over her skin as she donned it. The dress left one shoulder bare, and she pulled her hair back loosely, allowing most of it to flow over her back. She adjusted the fabric of the dress so that it draped properly, then straightened with a slow breath, trying not to let his absence cause more distress than was warranted. He typically left the estate before she was awake, or at least, she'd never encountered him in the mornings. She wasn't sure at what point he'd left her side, so perhaps he simply hadn't wanted to awaken her when he left.

Or perhaps the previous night's intimacy didn't mean the same thing to him as it had to her.

She firmly dismissed the thought and the associated anxiety. It had meant something to him. She hadn't imagined the heavy reluctance in his voice, the pain there when he'd spoken about the need to send her away. But… in that case, what were his intentions now? Did he still mean to send her to Sarthen, to end their time together? He'd said he didn't want to, that he didn't want to be apart from her, and the remembrance of those words, the surge of emotion that had come with knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him made her heart ache even now. But he hadn't said what he actually intended to do. Was his silent departure an indicator that he was still preparing himself for a more permanent separation?

She held herself tight for a moment, hating the thought. Then, finally, she persuaded herself not to let such thoughts trouble her until she'd spoken with him. She took a deep breath to steady herself and walked from the room.

Darius stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the gardens. To his relief, he spotted Tanitha immediately. She was kneeling at the side of one of the herb beds, her back to him as she carefully broke the stalk off of one of the brightly flowered plants there. She'd already gathered a few, a small pile resting on the grass at her side. Silphium, he realized. Its flowers could be ground up into a contraceptive, and with a twinge of guilt, he wished suddenly he'd thought to offer it to her himself.

He started to descend the stairs. Intent on her task, she didn't seem to sense him, and he paused, just watching her for a moment. She was wearing a stunning red dress embroidered with gold thread, but it didn't shine with nearly so much radiance as her hair in the morning sunlight. Her hair was swept to one side in that moment, the low lines of her dress leaving much of her back visible, her skin smooth and practically inviting him to run an appreciative hand over it.

Gods, she was beautiful. The thought was almost painful in its intensity. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed her beauty before, but in the full light of the sun, the morning after he'd been able to explore the whole of her, she was stunning in a way that left him practically entranced.

He continued his descent, coming to the foot of the stairs. Tanitha sat up slightly, the movement dropping her hair so that the previously exposed bare skin of her back was covered, somewhat to his regret.

"My lord?" she asked, her voice tentative. She stayed facing forward.

"You don't need to keep calling me that," he said gently, coming to stand behind her. She moved as if to stand, and he stepped closer. He reached forward to take one of her hands in his, supporting her as she rose. He barely resisted the urge to turn her to face him so he could kiss her, so he could feel her lips against his again.

"I think we're past formalities," he added in a murmur.

A faint blush rose on her cheeks, barely visible from the angle he was at. She drew her hand slightly forward, pulling him closer until their bodies were practically touching.

"You didn't stay through the night," she said. He couldn't quite read her tone, but there was a question in it, and a guardedness. As if she were preparing herself for some hurt or disappointment, which he found himself immediately determined to prevent.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. I should have explained, but I didn't want to wake you." That, of course, begged the question of how much he even could tell her on this matter, which brought him up short for a second. He cared for her, and deeply, but… did that mean he trusted her far enough to tell her the nature of the danger she posed to him?

He gave himself a little shake at that. There was no reason to darken the moment with the talk of things as heavy as soul-binding, and if he told her about that, it would be a short step to explaining why that was so dangerous to both of them. He could only imagine how any demon in Karazhen would respond to the idea of their prince being soul-bound by a human.

"I can't sleep beside you," he said at last. "Holding most of our forms takes a small measure of conscious control. That slips when we're asleep." That was a true statement, if an incomplete one. The evasion on the matter of his true form nagged at him, but he dismissed the discomfort.

Despite the fact that she still faced forward, he could hear the frown in her voice when she asked, "You change form in your sleep?"

"Often, yes," he answered quietly, hoping that the reminder of his nature wouldn't alarm or frighten her. He didn't think it would, though; it wasn't as if she'd had any real opportunity to forget in the first place. "Some of those forms are dangerous," he added. "Otherwise, I would have stayed."

She started to turn, and he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She paused, motionless, a strange tension entering her posture at his touch.

"Still?" she asked softly.

The quiet hurt and disappointment in her voice stung him, and he started to speak, then forced himself to go quiet. What was there to say?

"The reasons I can't let you see me in this form haven't changed," he replied at last. "I'm sorry."

She swallowed. "You still plan to send me away, then," she said, a catch of emotion in her voice despite apparent effort to keep her tone level.

" No ," he said, surprising even himself with the force of certainty in his voice. As soon as he said it, though, he knew it was true. No, he did not plan to send her away. He didn't know what he intended, exactly. None of the obstacles that stood between them had vanished. He didn't know what he was going to do about Alethia. He didn't know what he was going to do about his mother. He didn't know how they could possibly be together.

He just knew he wasn't going to lose her.

He stepped closer to Tanitha, their bodies touching as he ran a hand down the length of her arm to rest on her hand again. A shiver ran through her at his touch, and she leaned back against him, some of the tension leaving her body. He closed his eyes for a moment, simply savoring the sense of completion that the closeness brought to him.

"No," he said again, murmuring the word into her hair. "You were right last night, and I was a fool to think otherwise. I was a fool to think I could be happy with anything else, that I could make myself let you go."

"But… if you don't plan to send me away, then why…?"

She didn't finish the sentence, but her meaning was still obvious. "There are other reasons I can't tell you who I am yet," he said. "Things I haven't explained, and that I can't explain just yet." And that was true; he couldn't tell her who he was without her realizing who must have ordered her execution. Whatever he might be feeling toward Tanitha, however badly he wanted her at his side, he couldn't forget the potential of strength and power she bore. He couldn't risk establishing enmity between someone like that and his family. It was too dangerous.

But what could he do? The impossibility of their situation tore at him. He couldn't just send her to Sarthen as he'd planned, but neither could he keep her here. It wasn't an acceptable option. She was more than a bird to be held captive for the beauty of its song, and he wouldn't keep her caged like one.

"You don't truly want to stay here, do you?" he asked, pained. "This… this isn't a life, Tanitha. Not a full one."

"It's not about staying here," she said. "It's not about leaving a place ."

He closed his eyes again, immensely frustrated with himself. What he'd done the night before— agreeing to move forward in the courtship process with Alethia— had seemed like the best path at the time. But now? After he'd been with Tanitha, after he'd had even a small taste of being with her? He couldn't lie to himself for one minute longer, couldn't begin to make the case that he'd ever be satisfied with anything else.

He didn't see a path, though. Much as he tried to convince himself that his mother could be made to see reason, the risk was simply too high. Kai's words about some kind of "accident" striking Tanitha if he tried still sent a chill sinking deep into him. No, his mother would never tolerate the idea of the future king giving his heart to a human woman. He was her heir, so unless that somehow changed…

He suddenly went very still. The idea was so new, so beyond anything he had ever contemplated, that he forgot to even breathe for several seconds.

"My lord?" Tanitha asked, clearly detecting the change in his posture from the concern in her voice. "Are you all right?"

For a few seconds, he couldn't answer. The idea of abdication was, on several levels, terrifying. What was he, who was he, if he wasn't a prince?

He drew Tanitha slightly closer. She had no idea about his rank, his title, his role. She only knew him . And with that thought, the initial wave of disorientation and uncertainty the idea of abdication had sent over him began to recede. He was a prince, born to rule, but that wasn't all he was. With her, he was somehow both less than that and far, far more.

"I've just had a thought," he managed finally. "An idea, a way we could safely be together."

Tanitha went very still, waiting. His mind raced. Was it possible? What would his mother do if he surrendered his claim to the throne? He didn't know.

He did know that Naratha had taken the task of raising and preparing Kai for leadership very seriously, and that Kai would be more than equal to the task. He was even less certain of what Kai's reaction would be; he'd never shown signs of wanting anything more than what life had already bestowed on him, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd shy away if it was offered.

And then there was the other matter, the matter of whether Darius himself was willing to make such a sacrifice. Was he really willing to throw his entire life away? For the sake of being with Tanitha?

Unlike all of the other questions, he knew the answer to that one with a level of certainty that shook him. Yes, he was willing. He'd be willing to sacrifice far more than a throne to be with her. And if that was what it took, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Determination settled over him. Even abdication wasn't a simple path, and it would take some time to prepare. And perhaps through some miracle, it wouldn't be necessary. But if it came to it, if he wouldn't hesitate.

"There's a way," he said quietly. "I can't explain it fully right now; there are some things I'll have to see to first." He drew his hand up to rest on her upper arm. "But… can you find it in yourself to trust me a little further?"

"Yes," she said. The promptness of the response, the quiet confidence in that single word, somehow warmed him even more than the memory of the night they'd shared, and it cemented his determination. He wasn't going to fail her.

Whatever it took, he would find a way.