81. Cian

I spent four days pining and fearful, telling myself Luka’s words about my husband’s prowess over and over.

I sat in the temple at night and prayed for his safe return.

I was agitated and my mind drifted during a stone magic lesson in Cian’s office, the little pebbles coated in my blood.

He was short with me and I could tell he wanted to say more to me, but refrained.

“Please forgive me,”

I said, searching for the friendliness his green eyes had once held.

He sighed.

“Forgive me, Edie.

I have worked you so hard.

And I do not know why.”

His face was curious, appraising.

“May I ask you a delicate question?”

“Of course.

You are my archpriest.”

I smiled, grateful for his return to kindness.

“Are you content in your marriage? I know it was not your choice.”

Hesitating, I bought time by drying my right hand’s blood with a linen cloth set aside for this purpose.

I returned the pebbles to the silver bowl Cian had set before me.

“Edie?”

he asked when I remained silent.

I will not shame you and I hope you will not shame me.

“I— I don’t wish to speak of it.”

Our marriage was no one’s business but ours.

He tented his fingers on the desk across from me.

Then he reached across and took my hand and began to bandage the shallow slice I had given myself.

When he tied off the linen strip, he continued holding my hand in both of his.

I was reminded of Alric’s holding of my left hand, bloodied and flayed open, standing in the rising tide with me, both of us wet and exhausted, him calling my hand still beautiful.

The palm had healed but did not look well.

It had required stitches and the jagged lines crossed over the little quill tattoo.

I smiled at this memory, him holding me in the saltwater.

Cian misinterpreted this and began to stroke my hand with his thumb. “Edie,”

he said quietly.

“You are entitled to your privacy.

But may I tell you something delicate?”

I nodded, stunned into silence at this invitation to intimacy.

“I am third in line to the throne.

I have never used this position to my advantage.

Not in nearly forty winters.

But I am willing to break that personal rule.

For you.”

I could not meet his gaze.

I did not want to think on his meaning.

“I don’t know what you mean, Cian,”

I said, numbly.

I dared to look up and his eyes held something I could not place.

“I could speak to Hinnom about a divorce.

I know how to convince my cousin.”

I was unsure of what to say.

“Think on it,”

he said, leaning forward.

“You did not ask to be married to such a man.”

“Such a man?”

Cian looked down at our hands.

“I have great respect for the captain.

And he has an abiding faith in Mother Earth, but I cannot imagine him to be an easy husband.

And you do not seem a likely pair, despite both worshipping the same goddess.

I believe you would be happier unmarried.

You should be free to choose your husband.

You do not need to answer now.

Only think on it.”

I stared at him, my thoughts jumbled.

He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it.

“I am here as you need, lady.

Always remember that.

Promise me you will remember that.”

“I will remember,”

I said and then recovering my faculties, I withdrew my hand.

“You have been so good to me, Cian.

I thank you for it.

I know I required patience.”

His eyes were contemplative.

“Not at all, Edie.”

A scratching from one side of the desk caused him to look away to the enchanted slate.

He lifted it from the desk out of my sight and read it, holding it on his lap while I wiped drops of my blood off of his desk with linen.

We joined Hazel and other earth temple staff for luncheon and I purposefully sat with Tuck and another young acolyte, instead of my usual position near Cian.

I felt his eyes on me but did not meet them.

I did not understand his offer’s meaning.