14. Somewhere She Can See the Stars

Aesylt had been to Wulfsgate many times as a child. She'd always looked forward to spending time with Lord Dereham's children, Pieter and Nyssa, and running through the magical Wintergarden, with its radiant year-round blooms. It, like all the world, had been different then.

The last time she'd gone had been almost a decade ago, to offer solemn testimony to Lord Dereham of all she'd seen the night of the Nok Mora. Drazhan had already begun his slow retreat into himself, so Fezzan had escorted her, and that had been just as well. The Derehams had taken such good care of her, just like Fezzan had, but their pity was all she'd seen. It had driven her heart straight into the ground, and part of it was still there, waiting for the thaw.

The broad stone walls encompassing the great city were the same as she remembered. So was the sense of the world ripping open as the colossal gates sluggishly parted, powered by a dozen straining men on each side. The moon was nearly full, as it had been upon the night of her last arrival, and a low fog cut the village down the middle, like a tear in the sky.

She'd lost track of the time, but the capital of the Northerlands never slept. As their retinue made a slow advance through the town center, only half of the shops were boarded for the night. Smoke billowed from every other chimney, warm lights flickering behind panes. Laughter and conversation drifted toward them on the road, blurring with the night.

It wasn't as glamorous as the gleaming spires of Whitechurch, where Tasmin had gone—or so Aesylt had been told, as she'd never been beyond the north's borders—but laying eyes upon the visage of the towering stone fortress on the hill stole no less of her breath.

"We passed a couple of nights here on our way to Witchwood Cross," Rahn muttered, peering out his window. "But I never saw the keep from the village at night. It's forbidding, isn't it?"

"That impression is intentional," she said as she watched more of the stone towers come into view. "The Northerlands once had enemies and opportunists all over the kingdom. There are so many untapped mines in these mountains, our mountains. So many resources for others to ravage. There's nothing a Northerlander loves more than land and home... That's one important thing they have in common with the Vjestik. It's why we settled here. Our needs are simple. Our passions are simple. But they're not for sale." She realized how much she was rambling. Self-conscious, she cleared her throat and finished her point. "Then a new keep was raised, the great walls constructed. Who needs diplomacy when you have such a powerful deterrent as this?" She tapped her chest. "The most effective fear is the one that thrives in the absence of words."

Rahn's intense stare was like standing too close to the hearth. He held it through the strange silence that followed.

The slow climb uphill took another half tick of the moon, but soon the ground leveled, and they pulled to a stop.

Voices manifested outside and then the carriage doors were flung open. A man about Rahn's age with a dazzling grin turned it on her and held out his hand. He seemed familiar, but her vision was all but a blur in her exhaustion. "You are a dream, Lady Wynter. Welcome back."

Aesylt wrinkled her mouth in amusement as she took his hand. "I'm no lady, but thank you for the warm welcome."

"Far too cold to offer otherwise. You're much changed from the last time I saw you," he said, gently guiding her down from the carriage. It was unnecessary, and she almost said so, but a chill gale wrapped her tight. It might be colder in Witchwood Cross, but she'd forgotten that Wulfsgate Keep sat atop an exposed crop of land that offered no reprieve from the wind.

She shook her head, smiling through her fatigue. "Forgive me, but my mind is a jumbled mess right now."

He was a full foot taller than her, so she had to look up to see the comically wounded look he wore. "Is your favorite childhood friend so easy to forget?"

Aesylt clapped her hands to her mouth. "Pieter! Oh, I'm so... Forgive me." How could she have not recognized him? "It's been a long, long night."

Pieter was seven, perhaps eight years older than her, but the difference hadn't kept him from joining in when Aesylt and Nyssa had played in the Wintergarden. Tall, striking, with a boyish but serious face, all those things had become more. She wondered how Nyssa had changed with the years.

Pieter's smile trailed away as he looked to her left. "And you must be Duke Tindahl."

"Rahn. Or Scholar, if you have a penchant for titles." Rahn stepped forward, his eyes skimming her briefly before he took Pieter's hand. "You're Lord Dereham's son?"

"Couldn't guess what he'd say if you asked him that question." At Rahn's confused look, he clarified. "His failed heir. Yes." Pieter's broad grin didn't falter. He swept an arm toward the carriages in front of them. "My father is greeting Stewardess Wynter and her son, but he'll offer proper welcome in the morning, after you've had a chance at some rest."

"You weren't here when I passed through a year ago with the Farrestells."

"I was not, Scholar," Pieter agreed. "Shall we?" He turned and started down the long path toward the entrance. "Your trunks will meet you in your apartment. I'd offer you a tour, but Aesylt knows the place well, and you've had one before, I suspect," he called. "Have you broken fast since Witchwood Cross?"

"Not hungry, thank you," Aesylt and Rahn said at the same time. He offered a sheepish glance from the side, his eyes drowsy and lidded from the long ride. She gave him a lighthearted nudge and hastened to catch up with Pieter.

"I always knew you had an affinity for older men," Pieter teased. Aesylt would have rankled at the implication, but there'd always been a playful side to him that brought out the same in others.

She grinned, already feeling bits of the weight around her heart melting away. A familiar, friendly face was exactly what she needed amid so much uncertainty. "My vedhma says it's the lack of strong male influence in my life."

"Does she? And what does your brother think of that?"

Aesylt laughed, her eyes on the massive looming doors ahead. There were more armed guards in the courtyard than there'd been in all of Witchwood Cross. "Best no one mention it to him."

Pieter smiled. "It's good to see you."

"And you. But where have you been?" She felt Rahn close behind. "The Scholar said you weren't here a year ago?"

"I actually left about eight years ago." His hand rested at the small of her back when she started climbing. She usually rejected such empty chivalry, but the familiarity was an unexpected comfort. "Wanted something more than this."

"More than being the future lord of the Northerlands?"

"You never struck me as someone particularly fussed about titles."

"I'm not," she said as they stepped inside. The main hall of Wulfsgate Keep was cavernous, broken up only by a series of tapestries for warming. A central staircase ran down the center, with further halls to the left and right. An entire line of staff waited at the bottom. "But I understand duty."

The doors whooshed closed behind them. "Of course you do. I haven't forgotten." His hand twitched against her back and fell away. "We'll be going just to the back here."

"The back?" Aesylt checked to make sure Rahn was still close, but he seemed distracted. "Where are Imryll and Aleksy?"

"My father has already taken them to their apartment. Your brother wrote ahead, asking if you could be provided, ah, how did he word it... special privileges? For your research, is that right? You're working on something important?"

Rahn cleared his throat. "We have a research endeavor we'd love to continue, if possible. But special privileges will not be necessary, my lord."

"If you're not a duke, then I'm not a lord," Pieter said amiably. "And Steward Wynter specifically said, ‘Somewhere she can see the stars.' I suppose that applies to all of the grounds, but there's one very particular place we've fixed up for you that should work well, should the clouds clear."

Regret tickled the back of Aesylt's eyes. She hadn't left her brother on the greatest terms, but he'd been thinking about her happiness when he'd made the request. "Wherever it is, I'm sure it will be fine."

"Now, it hasn't been used much. We have three bell towers at the keep, as you might recall, but we only actively man two of them. The third made itself obsolete when we expanded the residences further into the foothills. No one wants to hear bells going off in the middle of the night outside their window, eh?" Pieter winked and exited through the back of the keep, which opened into another courtyard. The mysterious Wintergarden lay just beyond, to the west, and to the east was the Northerland Range. "The stairway is daunting, but you're both young. At the top... Well, I'll just show you. Come."

Rahn stepped in beside Aesylt as Pieter jogged ahead. "A childhood friend of yours?"

"Yes," she said as everyone in the courtyard stopped to watch them. "You'll like him."

"He's my age."

Aesylt grinned. "That an admonishment, Scholar, or an observation?"

Rahn tried not to grin back. "When have I ever admonished you, Squish?"

She cocked a brow. "So you're back to calling me a squirrel?"

"A resourceful squirrel."

"Just up here, Aesylt, Scholar."

Pieter took them through a series of short, tight alleyways, which opened into a small garden, surrounded by the walls of other structures. On the north end of the garden was a tower. It stretched about six stories high, the outer walls cracked but solid. Moss burst from the mortar, crumbling off in chunks. The bell at the top was rusted, but just beneath the platform was a series of windows. The bellman's apartment. Aesylt had never seen one so didn't know what to expect. There were no bellmen in Witchwood Cross, just guards in sparse stone monoliths.

"This is Halifax, but you can call him Hal, or even Billiards if you're feeling cheeky. Maybe he'll even tell you why," Pieter said, pointing out a congenial guard with golden hair cascading down his back from a leather ribbon. Hal glared at the disgraced heir in a mix of playfulness and annoyance. "One of the best guards we have, and certainly the one you'd want playing your money in a game room." He grinned. "He'll be in charge of your tower protection while you're here. Anything you need, any concerns... He's your first line of defense at night. His brother, Kezza, takes over in the daytime and is equally experienced. You're in capable hands."

"A pleasure to meet you, Hal, and thank you for looking after us," Aesylt said amiably. Rahn echoed her words. The man flushed and bowed.

"Your trunks are already up there. Our men are fast," Pieter said, holding the door for them and tipping a nod at Hal. He grabbed a torch from a basket on the wall. "We brought two eternal flames here, one at the top and one at the bottom, for when you need to climb the stairs after dark. But there are far more candles than you'll ever need once you step inside."

Rahn held his arm out for Aesylt to go first. He joined right behind, close enough she could feel his warmth and inhale the not-unpleasant musk of hours on the road. She wondered how she smelled, if he was thinking about her the same way. Every few steps his hand would brush her back.

Yes, he is.

On they climbed, up and up. In her head, Aesylt counted the stories, but her math was woefully off, as Pieter confirmed when he called out we're halfway when she was certain they were about to reach the top. Exhaustion beckoned, but she was sharply aware of everything happening around her. The spiders crawling along the dark walls, dancing in and out of the light of Pieter's flame. Pieter's long legs disappearing around every winding turn. Rahn's prevailing presence at her back.

Pieter slowed when they reached a small platform and a door. "Privy. It's a half story below the main apartment, which may seem inconvenient to you now, but given the lack of proper air circulation in the structure, you'll be grateful for it."

Rahn chuckled. Aesylt frowned at the door and followed Pieter up the last flight.

Pieter set the torch in a sconce and unlocked the door and handed the ring, key dangling, to Aesylt. "After you, love."

Aesylt stepped inside. The room was larger than she'd imagined, and surprisingly well furnished. A living area, a dining area, and a bathtub were the first things she saw, followed by two sizable desks, each holding a stack of books. But then she noted the beds, separated by thin curtains, and it hit her. One room. It would not be like her prior confinement, where they'd each had their own space. Any privacy in the bell tower would be an illusion, as wispy as the curtains. "We're staying here? Both of us?"

Pieter chuckled. "Wherever you are at night is where you must stay until morning, for your safety. As your astronomy work can only be done at night, staying in the keep would have kept you from it. My father was assured it would not be a problem."

She gestured at the two beds. "Drazhan knows we're sharing a room?"

"He informed us in his correspondence that you'd been staying in close quarters with your scholar since the troubles started. This is no different."

Yet it was. Whether in Rahn's apartments or hers, they'd never shared a bedchamber.

"Have we misunderstood?" Pieter asked. "I can call for the porters?—"

"No," she said quickly, wondering where Rahn's head was, why he'd said nothing. "You're right. This is no different."

Pieter ran down all of the accoutrements, but she was hardly listening. She snuck a glance at Rahn, but his attention was on their host.

"I left some books on your desks I thought might be of interest. We have quite a library here at Wulfsgate Keep, which you're welcome to make use of. But, ah, the reason I prepared this place for you... Come, come." Pieter ushered them to what she thought must be the north side of the room, to a series of three windows. He unlatched one, and it swung open. "Look."

Aesylt stepped closer and craned her neck out. The cloud cover was too low to see anything, but the views were otherwise unobstructed. He couldn't know their astronomy days were on hold—or why—so she smiled and said, "This will be perfect. Thank you so much."

Pieter watched her reaction closely enough to make her question her performance, until he gave her shoulder a squeeze and stretched his hands above his head. "It's late. You're both exhausted. We break our fast at the eighth hour in the Great Hall. Aes, do you remember the way, or shall I come meet you?"

"I know the way."

"Splendid. When you want warm water, just notify the kitchen staff, through the guard duty, and they'll have it sent to the ground level, where it can be hoisted via pulley." He pointed at the corner the tub was in. "And I'll cease running my mouth so you can both enjoy some needed rest. Dobranok." He bowed. "Did I say it right? That means good night in Vjestikaan, yes?"

Aesylt, smiling, nodded. "Tak. You did. Dobranok, Pieter."

"Dobranok," Rahn said, his eyes following Pieter all the way to the door. He didn't move even when the man's steps faded down the stairs.

"It's... cozy," Aesylt ventured, stepping slowly around the room. "We'll have the seclusion we need. Just don't tell poor Pieter his astronomy tower won't be rising to its intended purpose."

"Hmm." Rahn was still watching the door.

"Are you here with me or somewhere else?"

Rahn puffed out a breath and turned. "Sorry. Of course I am. It's late. Shall we turn in?"

It shouldn't have felt like a rejection, but it did. She had extended no invitation with her words, but the lack of acknowledgment left her more insecure than she'd felt in a long while. Perhaps he'd changed his mind. Maybe he already regretted the offer before the partnership had even begun.

Or maybe your imagination is a wild garden you should remember to prune from time to time.

Aesylt rushed to her trunk before he saw any of that written on her face. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up just as Rahn was leaning past her. He grabbed the latches and lifted with a grunt.

"This should be near your bed," he said and disappeared behind the curtain. "Actually, I should have asked first. Which one do you prefer?"

"They seem the same to me," Aesylt said, dazed. She was tired too, far more than she'd realized. "Thank you, Scholar."

He popped back out with a stern look that he aimed not at her but past her. "You may as well start calling me Rahn." Then, dusting his hands down his torso, he made a strange face and headed toward his own bed.

"Not a chance, Scholar."

A faint laugh echoed from behind the curtain. "Dobranok then."

He was both the most transparent man she'd ever known and also impossible to read. But the next however many days, weeks, would be untenable if they were tiptoeing around each other, around their arrangement.

Aesylt didn't return his good-night because her mind wouldn't rest until she knew for sure where his head was.

Once he disappeared behind his side of the curtain, her heart a racing, unconfident mess, Aesylt started to undress.

Rahn shed his layers meticulously,in the same order as always. By the time he finished removing his vest, he was on fire. Sweat trickled down his temple. His hands felt ready to explode into flames.

The belltower was meant for workers, not lords, and aside from a few tapestries, a bearskin rug, and the modest hearth, there wasn't much to heat it. If he were to accidentally leave a window open, they'd likely freeze to death in their sleep.

But it wasn't the room sending the heat through him in lashes, it was her.

He was down to his blouse and trousers when he poured himself a mug of whatever was in the pitcher he'd seen on the desk. He slammed down one round of the watery drink and was debating pouring another when he heard Aesylt's light steps trickle in behind him and stop. From limb to limb, his body seized. He was suspended between the decision to pour or abort, waiting for her to return to her bed, but she didn't. She didn't move at all.

Rahn slid his finger along the rough wooden edge of the mug. He trapped a breath and turned, but whatever pleasantry he'd planned flew straight from his mind at the sight of her in a thin night slip. The gauzy fabric clung to her lean curves. Her erect nipples—gods how he tried not to look—sat atop perfectly arced breasts that he'd noticed before but had not seen like this.

He took a single step, his pulse screaming between his ears. It was all he could manage.

"And another with me," she said, hoarse and raspy, and the world shifted. The room was the same, same fire roaring in the hearth, and she was just as breathtaking in the celestial realm as the real one.

One of Rahn's hands reached for her, a command dredged from a part of himself not fully in his control. It brushed her warm skin, causing her to lift onto her toes with a shiver, and traveled to the wisp of a strap keeping her nightgown from meeting the floor. Both of their breaths hitched when it slid down her shoulder and rested on the edge of the muscle of her upper arm. The lace covering her breasts fell away on one side, revealing raised flesh along the cut of her cleavage.

Aesylt's shoulders rose in a charged shudder, but her eyes... She kept her crystal irises fixed on his in challenge, in permission. For what... Ah, he should ask. He should break the spell and remind them both that whatever current was flowing between them was for the good of the research.

His hand traveled along the stretch of her milky neck. She craned her head to the side and his fingers skimmed the underside of her chin, lifting it. Her eyes never closed, and her gaze never faltered, but a single flit of her tongue on her lips was all it took.

Rahn was still drowning in her gaze when he leaned in and swept his lips against hers. She lifted again to her toes with a soft moan that made his stomach wind into knots. Her arms folded behind his head as she stretched higher. He dragged his hands down the fabric, skirting one of her breasts, and let it rest against her hip.

His tongue found hers and something inside of him snapped. He reached around her hip to her ass and cupped it, lifting, and she leaped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. With his thumb caressing the edge of her mouth, he tugged, opening it to drive his tongue deeper, memorizing the warmth, the soft, sweet taste of her, and the clench of her thighs against his hips.

She slid against him, against his cock, which didn't belong in his trousers. It belonged in her, in her soft mouth, her delicious pussy, her tight ass, her...

Rahn lowered her and took a faltering step back. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, panting and turning his startled gaze to the fire.

"Scholar?" she asked, small and anxious, her arms wrapped around herself.

He shook his head, trying to speak, but nothing came out. He coughed to clear the clog in his throat, but it was no better.

"Have I done something to upset you?"

"No," he rasped, turning his attention back to her. There was hurt in her wide eyes, caused by him. But he'd agreed to this, had even been the one who had proposed it the second time. The mixed messages weren't fair. He had to do better, for her. "I was only... thinking, we're both very tired, and if we don't stop now, we'll need to do this again in the morning, so our thoughts are fresh for our notes."

A shy grin pulled at her mouth. "Would that be so bad?"

Rahn wasn't quick enough to bury his own smile. "I wouldn't be devastated."

A fuller smile appeared. She closed her eyes and whispered, and they were again in their own world. She was already moving away from him, returning to her bed. The moment ended as quickly as it had commenced.

Rahn went to his own bed. He sat on the edge, removed his trousers, deciding at the last minute to leave the shirt. Nude was his sleeping preference, but the chill air aside, it was for her benefit he stayed clothed.

It was only when his head hit the pillow that he realized neither of them had gone for their notes.

He closed his eyes but was no longer tired. Heat pounded the backs of his lids, his flesh a minefield. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but all he could think about, all he could feel, was the soft fold of her arms behind his neck, her eager lifting. They'd kissed once before, but not... not like that. Not with intent. Not with enough longing to burn all of Wulfsgate to the ground.

A muted whimper drew his notice. He stilled, listening, but it was another few moments before he heard it again. A sharp inhalation followed, set to the rustling of blankets.

Gods, she's pleasuring herself. Rahn gripped the sheets, his toes curling toward the pads of his feet. All he had to do was slip out of his bed and into hers. Perhaps she wanted him to. Quiet as she was, she could have been quieter. Unable to say the words, she'd sent him another kind of message.

But there was an order to their curricula. To move ahead was to admit none of it was for science at all, but to satisfy some dark, feral longing for someone he could never have in any meaningful way, and shouldn't want.

Rahn's hand moved between his legs. The gentle squeeze sent his eyes rolling back and nearly pushed him over the edge, but he went slow, listening to her breathy pants intensify. He matched her pace, ignited by her unashamed knowledge of her body and its desires. When he imagined her fingers dipping lower to drive her wetness higher, he had to bite down to keep from finishing.

At last he heard her open-mouthed gasp, the torsion of flesh against fabric, and he gave his cock several rough strokes, angling his face against his arm as he came so hard, he nearly yelped.

"Dobranok, Scholar," Aesylt whispered. In her tone was all she didn't say. That she'd heard. She'd been right there with him for all of it.

"Dobranok, Aesylt," he responded, and soon after, sleep offered its warm embrace.