20. Careful, Your Desire Is Showing

Pieter had waited for her in the tower garden.

She'd slipped out ahead of Rahn for her fitting with the Dereham seamstress. Nyssa had been building her own gown for months, and all that was left was to stitch even more lace into the design. Aesylt had no idea what Nyssa had picked out for her, and she was about as eager to discover that as she was to attend the soiree at all.

Socializing was the last thing she felt like doing.

No, she thought, watching Pieter's breath cloud in the cold air, his eyes regarding her like a hawk sizing up prey. This is.

Aesylt tried to push past him, but he sidestepped, blocking her.

"Aesylt, please. I'm the last person you'd get judgment from."

"I'm going to be late." Her jaw clenched harder with each word. Pieter had worn many hats since Aesylt and Rahn had arrived. Old friend. Spy. Co-conspirator. Rahn had been right; she shouldn't have been so quick to let him back in, even if she had been cautious. He was as shifty as a snake.

"The scholar is a catch. I can't say I blame you," he said, moving to let her pass. Unsurprisingly, he followed. "If you're worried I'll tell my father or the stewardess?—"

Aesylt spun on him, full of fire. "I know you won't, because I'd kill you in your sleep."

Pieter's eyes widened, his hands moving up and out in submission. "I followed you yesterday because you were acting so strangely at evening meal. I wasn't trying to collect damning information on you."

"You don't even know what you saw," Aesylt countered, lifting her chin. "And I don't owe you an explanation. I'm going to walk away, and you're not going to follow me. If you do, I'll know your intentions were not the wholesome ones you're trying to sell me now."

"I won't follow you," Pieter said slowly. "And I'll keep your secret. But it didn't take a diviner, or me stumbling upon the two of you, to know what's been going on in the tower."

He stepped aside, and Aesylt marched past without responding.

By the time she reached the sitting room, Nyssa was already being poked and prodded by a handful of young women. Her emerald gown had so many layers, she took up the width of four grown men. The cost of the amount of velvet it had taken to produce such a dress would have fed a Vjestik family for a year. The lace only made the entire ensemble more garish.

"Was wondering when you might decide to join us," Nyssa said, smiling at herself in the long mirror.

"Apologies," Aesylt muttered as she threw her furs over the back of a chair. "I'm here now."

"Well I know you're not particularly fond of dressing up, so I've taken the liberty of finding you a more... subtle piece." Nyssa shooed the women away and waved an arm at a tall armoire in the corner. "Fetch it already, one of you. Guardians."

One of the young women scurried to the armoire and returned with a dark-brown frock that had almost no detailing whatsoever. Instead of broad, sweeping skirts like Nyssa's dress, the piece was slim fitting, like the way a nightgown wrapped around a woman's curves, but it was at least twice as thick. The neckline was so high and tight, she could already feel herself suffocate in it.

"Nyssa, did you steal this from one of the old monasteries?" Aesylt asked with a short laugh.

"I might have come up with something more appealing, had you told us you were coming months ago," Nyssa said with a dainty shrug. "But you're taller than me, and my other gowns are simply hemmed too high for you. It's not as if we'll be dancing in streams, for Guardians' sake. This one will suffice."

"You said this was yours? Where would you even have worn such a thing?" Aesylt fingered the ungainly fabric.

"I wore it on a diplomatic trip to Darkwood Run. The Arranden women are less, well, showy, and Mother thought a more modest cut would be the respectful way to go. And it was springtide, so perfectly in season. We didn't have time to get it to the seamstress, so I just had to carry my hem around all afternoon."

Aesylt laughed and shook her head. "Modest is really underselling this smock, Nyssa."

Nyssa grinned from her reflection. "It's not the dress, Aesylt. It's the woman within it."

Aesylt released the dress with a cordial nod at the seamstress maiden holding it. "I'll find something in my own trunks."

Nyssa flipped around so fast, she teetered, and the women had to scramble to keep her from toppling off the chair. "You will not, Aesylt Wynter. The Vjestik simply have no sense of... No. Your gowns are drab and lacking life. If you want to traipse about your lord's halls in them, I can't stop you. But you're not wearing anything of your own to my ball. I won't have it."

"Nyssa, nothing I own comes close to as drab and life-lacking as this."

"You're being difficult. This evening isn't about you, and I'm not asking for much."

Aesylt sighed. "I'll be happy to spend the evening in the tower, working on my notes. Honestly, I've never been one for celebrations, and I'd only pull the mood down."

"You should thankme, Aesylt. If you're wearing this, your darling man of science won't be so likely to make a fool of himself in front of others." She flitted her wrist with a disgusted look. "You know, you're twenty... and cavorting with a man old enough to be your... much older brother. If you don't secure a betrothal soon, one will not come."

Aesylt snorted. "And would the reason you're helping me have anything to do with the way you've been eyeing him for yourself since we arrived?"

"A duke wouldplease my father. There's only a handful in this entire kingdom, and most are married already." Nyssa twirled side to side on the chair, admiring herself. "But as he is no longer in favor with the queen consort, it would create a political nightmare for us that even I can appreciate."

"Rahn isn't out of favor with Queen Adamina." She started toward Nyssa and the chair, growing even hotter than she'd been after her encounter with Pieter. "He left because he wanted to."

"Rahn? Careful, Aesylt. Your desire is showing." Nyssa huffed and slowly toddled around so she was facing Aesylt. "We were once friends. I am trying to help you, whether you believe me or not."

"We were," Aesylt agreed. "And then I arrived to find my once friend acting cold and strange toward me, for reasons she never bothered to explain."

Nyssa dodged the accusation. "Or you could wear something colorful and flattering and then word would reach your brother of what a perfect match you are. He'll have no choice but to allow it."

"You don't remember Drazhan very well if you think that would do anything but incite his anger."

"Who could forget the way he trained like a gladiator for years so he could kill two kings and steal a bride?"

"You know that is not what happened in Duncarrow, Nyssa."

Nyssa held out her hands, indicating the women should help her down. She waddled toward Aesylt. "No, he failed to kill them, didn't he? Fate intervened and finished it for him. But he walked away with King Torian's prize. And for that, if nothing else, he should understand the heart makes its own choices." She brushed a hand atop Aesylt's shoulder, making her flinch. "He abandoned you and followed his own whims, and now he gets to decide what life you lead. It's not right, and you know it isn't."

Aesylt backed away. Nyssa was wrong about Drazhan. It was easy for outsiders to look back and see an heir abandoning his duties, but they hadn't been there to witness the guilt that hung heavy in every haunted look he wore, every tortured step he took. He'd stalked the halls for months, aimless and wound with fury, until it had come to a boil. I love you, Aes, but I can't lead our people with such a crime unanswered for. I've tried and tried and tried, and I cannot even see, even breathe, without imagining my hands about the coward king's neck.

You're leaving us?

Volemthe, sostra had come his answer, and he'd crushed her against him with a hug that felt far more like good-bye than his words had. But the Cross will not recover until vengeance has been had.

The Cross is already recovering. We've been rebuilding for months! You're their steward, Draz. Do you not want to be part of it?

One day, Aes, they will awaken from this renewed sense of purpose and recall how the usurper king took everything from them. I leave the Cross with you and Fezzan and Brita, and I know you can manage the task. When I return, it will be with an answer for the blood and ash. Only then can we move on.

Her vision wavered as her painful memories returned to the past. "You know nothing about what happened to us in the Cross. Not a damn thing."

Nyssa visibly softened. "I know you were the true leader of Witchwood Cross for almost a decade. You were eight when he left, Aesylt. A child! A child who had witnessed horrific, terrible things no one should ever have to see and then led her people because retribution was more important to her brother than the family he had left." Her arrogance returned with a toss of her head. "Of course I'm sweet on your scholar. He's devilishly handsome, sensitive, intelligent... and he looks at you the way every woman wants a man to look at her. And I will dance with him and laugh with him and flirt with him, and perhaps it will pique your jealousy, as it did in the garden, but it will not be Nyssa Dereham he's wishing was in his arms. I'll pretend it is..." She laughed. "And everyone there will wonder if my father is readying an announcement about me and the mysterious duke. But I'll know. And if you're honest with yourself, so will you." A broad smile returned to her face. "You'll wear the dress, because if you don't, you'll cause a scene when the man follows your every move, and I won't have it. But we both know that when the two of you disappear into your little tower bedroom, it won't matter."

Aesylt closed her eyes, bracing for strength. She sighed and started toward the chair in front of the second mirror when Nyssa brightened suddenly.

"I almost forgot! The stewardess brought by a letter for you. The scout delivered it."

"A letter?" Aesylt turned in confusion. "From whom? Drazhan?"

"Niklaus." Nyssa pranced to a table and rifled through a stack of papers. "He signed it Nikky, but Imryll said Niklaus." She shrugged.

"How would you know how he signs his letters unless you read it?" Aesylt demanded, but she was already thinking about what the letter might say—and why Drazhan had even allowed it to be sent with the scout. The only letters Drazhan had been approving were the private ones he sent to Imryll.

"All correspondence that comes into our halls is read." She handed the letter over and waited with impatient blinks. "Well, aren't you going to look at it?"

"You already know what it says." Aesylt refolded the letter and squeezed it in her fist. "And you have nothing in response to what I said about how you've been treating me?"

Nyssa tugged at her curls. "Maybe I've just grown up, and you're not used to how I am now. Or... Perhaps you're imagining a problem that doesn't exist."

"If you say so." Aesylt shoved the letter into her gown and made the submissive trek to the chair. "Let's get this over with then."

Rahn had intendedto spend the day in the Wulfsgate library while Aesylt was busy surviving her poking and prodding with Nyssa, but he'd just cracked open a tome about the effect of coastal patterns on mountain flooding when Rustan Dereham walked in and shut both doors behind him, then bolted them.

His heart plummeted, wondering if Pieter had told his father what he'd seen. But Rustan smiled civilly and nodded at a tray that Rahn hadn't noticed earlier. Two mugs and a pitcher of ale sat atop it, along with a basket of bread and cheese.

"What's all this?" Rahn closed the book but held onto it.

"I thought you and I might have a palaver," Rustan said. He was watching Rahn as he lifted the tray and carried it to a cozy sitting area. He set it upon the table and poured both mugs. "Aye?"

Rahn tapped the book in his hands, sighed inward, and set it on the bench so he wouldn't forget it later. Rustan handed him an ale before he'd even fully sat. "Thank you, my lord," he said, mug raised.

"Don't thank me just yet, Tindahl. I'm only plying you with ale and bread because I need something from you."

Rahn's brows perked. "Oh?"

"Information."

"I'm not sure I can be much help, but I'm happy to try."

"You have the trust and ear of Steward Wynter." Rustan drew a sip. Foam lingered on his red beard.

"Not half of what I imagine he has for his own lord."

Rustan swatted the air. He snatched a chunk of bread from the basket and offered one to Rahn, who politely refused. "This isn't the Easterlands, Tindahl. I'm not a lord who commands what should be given freely, and this is a rather delicate matter. I don't believe it would suit anyone for me to turn it into a mandate."

Rahn gripped the mug in his hand with budding apprehension. "I'll admit, you have my curiosity. And a touch of my concern as to where this is heading."

"My wife would say I'm not much for suspense, so we'll get on with it." He tossed his bread back in the basket untouched. "I've been giving some thought to the matter of our Aesylt's lack of prospects. Lack of prospects isn't the problem though, is it? It's her brother turning away perfectly acceptable suitors."

"I can't offer much perspective there, I'm afraid," Rahn said carefully. He had a hunch where the conversation was headed but hoped he was wrong. It was odd enough that Dereham was involving himself in the civil matters of one of his stewards. "Drazhan has his own reasons for everything. Ones he does not see fit to share, many times."

"But he is not seriously entertaining any offers?"

Rahn shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. Imryll may know more."

"So he has not sent you along to Wulfsgate as a test of sorts? A worthiness challenge?"

"Sorry?"

"He's not evaluating you for the role of her husband and protector?"

Rahn's breath caught in the middle of an uncomfortable laugh. "No... no. That is not... on the table."

Rustan rapped his knuckles on the chair's arms. "He could do no better than a duke for her. Perhaps it's your age, which is shortsighted, considering the years between him and the stewardess. Good for me but not for thee." He frowned in thought, and Rahn's uneasiness sank deeper. "If you're certain it would not impede on any plans you have with Aesylt, then I'll aim to move forward with proposing a match between her and Pieter."

Rahn sputtered his ale back into the cup and frantically wiped his mouth before shoving the mug rudely onto the table.

"You all right, Tindahl?"

"Went down wrong," Rahn screeched. He should have seen it coming. He had seen it coming, long before the gentle library ambush, and had convinced himself he had been reading more into things than was there. As Rustan no doubt saw things, Aesylt needed a husband, and Rustan needed a more malleable—and settled—son.

Rustan waited for him to stop coughing. "Pieter has not always been a source of pride for us, but he's home now, and I believe with the right match, he'll be ready to take his place at my side. He's taken an interest in Aesylt—purely academic, as I understand, but most matches begin with less, wouldn't you say?"

"Mm." Rahn nodded to hold back his distaste.

"If Wynter refuses this match, the best anyone in the Cross has everbeen offered, we'll know he has no intention of betrothing poor Aesylt, and at that point..." Rustan sighed. "Intervention on her behalf, by me, may be necessary. It is her right to marry. Her life should not be sidelined by an overprotective brother. As her liege lord, I won't allow her to suffer needlessly."

"I agree; it is her right," Rahn said, clawing at his neck like it would help the itch there. "But would it not be sensible to ask Aesylt what she thinks before moving forward with a formal proposal?"

Rustan snorted with a look that said, huh? "Why?"

"Should her own wishes have no part in this?"

"Our cub has already expressed her wishes, and they have been ignored and denied by Steward Wynter." Rustan's cheeks swelled red with the start of anger. "Pieter has been her friend since childhood. They're very fond of one another. Guardians, they even share interests. Pieter won't crush her excitement for learning, like many men would. What highborn woman is so fortunate? My own daughter will probably not be half as lucky in the man we've chosen for her."

Impartially, Rustan wasn't wrong. Pieter would be a fine match for Aesylt, at least at the surface. But Rahn didn't trust him a whit, and he certainly didn't trust him to be honorable with Aesylt. He'd already shown he wasn't above violating her privacy. If he did keep their secret, it would be a matter of judiciousness, nothing more. When it served him, he'd weaponize it.

"Furthermore," Rustan said, "it would put to bed this foul matter of the Barynovs and their untenable claim on her. They might not fear a war with another Vjestik, but it would be self-annihilation to go up against the might of Wulfsgate."

Rahn could refute none of the man's points. There was nothing he could say that would not sound thin and weak. Nothing that wouldn't plainly reveal his own confusing feelings. He reached again for the ale to bury his expression.

"Good." Rustan slapped the arms of the chair and rocked to his feet. "You've confirmed for me there are no pending betrothals and that you are not a candidate, so I feel confident we can move forward with this. Your counsel is appreciated, Tindahl."

Rahn managed to wave when Rustan opened the doors to leave.

It was another hour before he moved from the chair.

Aesylt waiteduntil she was curled in her bed before reading the letter. She wavered between excitement and dread. Nyssa had given no sign one way or another what to expect, just smug satisfaction.

The letter had gone soft after spending the day within her cleavage, but it unfolded easily enough, and the ink was unblurred. She considered waiting for Rahn but realized the contents would determine whether she told him about it at all. He still didn't know about the Barynov letter. No one did.

Except Pieter.

Aesylt closed her eyes, pulled a deep breath, and focused her eyes on Nik's familiar scrawl.

Dearest Aesylt,

I was surprised your brother agreed to let me send a letter. I still don't know where you are, but I know you must be safer than you would be here. I know he's reading every word, but nothing herein should be a surprise for him.

I spoke with Val. He asked for you first, then for me. He got half of what he wanted anyway. But his family wouldn't leave us alone, so there was no chance to ask all you and I both want to know. You'll be relieved to hear they finally allowed a vedhma to properly heal him. He's even been out and about in the village. Always with a full escort, of course.

By now you must know Marek is gone. The Barynovs claim ignorance to his whereabouts, but in my bones I feel they've been planning this from the start. A third of the village has turned on the Wynters, the other two-thirds ready to strike them down for going against their leader. Many believe this will all subside soon and everything will return to normal, but it won't. I'd stake my life on it. The Barynovs will not give up until they've won... or lost everything. Your brother will see Marek punished, or die trying.

Wherever you are, no matter how frustrated you must be, you are safe. Trust that your brother wouldn't keep you from your own home if it wasn't necessary. Marek is out there, looking for you. What he would do if he found you is beyond my imagining.

So much would have been different had you just married Valerian from the start. His family might still have been grasping for power, but Val would have aligned with the Wynters. I won't be surprised if your brother strikes that from the letter, but I had to say it. Our vedhmas always say the look back is so much more satisfying than the look forward, and coming from a family of history keepers, I have to agree.

I know you're frustrated. I can feel it from here, as though you are right beside me! But I write, of my accord and my love for you, to tell you that your brother is doing his best. He's trying to protect you from a terrible fate and to keep the village from full-on war. We've already lost too much.

Wherever you are, Aesylt, please don't do anything foolish. Stay safe.

My hope is that if you hear the words from me, you'll know they're worth heeding.

I hope to see you sooner than later, though I would rather never see you again if it put you in danger.

Volemthe,

Nikky

She readthe letter a second time. Then a third. The line her eyes kept traveling back to was so much would have been different had you just married Valerian from the start. He had a point. The Barynovs may have settled for a seat at the table before, but now they wanted it all.

The door to the tower room opened.

"Squish? You in here?"

She balled the letter in her fist, searching for a suitable place to put it. Grunting, she leaned over the bed and slid it between the mattress and the wood frame.

"I can hear you."

She sat up in bed, straightening her hair and gown. "I was just about to nod off."

"Won't be far behind you there," Rahn said lightly. The sound of him shedding clothes made her long for a foray into the celestial realm, but her heart wasn't in it. She still didn't know how they'd transitioned back in the Wintergarden or why she'd winked there and back after the hunting incident.

"Eventful day for you then?" she called, watching his silhouette through the curtain.

"Not really. You?"

"No, not especially."

Rahn appeared in his night shirt with a tired grin. "Your cheeks are flushed."

"Are they?" Aesylt's hands flew to her face.

"A touch." He nodded for her to move over, and she realized he was joining her—again. Like it were the most natural thing in the world. "You get your dress all sorted for tomorrow?"

"It's more of a sack," Aesylt groused, making room for him. Her heart raced at his nearness, but it wasn't born of desire. What she most wanted was to collapse in his arms, her head on his heart, and drift off to the sound of his gentle breathing. "Did you find what you were looking for in the library?"

"No," he said as he rotated, facing her. "I hate to even ask, but has there been any further news on Marek?"

Aesylt shook her head. She prayed she'd stuck the letter far enough under the mattress.

He turned his hand over and ran the back of it against her forehead. "You really do seem warm. Feeling all right?"

She made herself smile. "Just tired, Scholar."

"How tired are you, Squish?"

Aesylt cocked her head.

"We never got our astronomy night." He tilted his head toward the ceiling. "And I seem to recall we have a talented little witch in this room capable of clearing clouds at will."

Her smile reappeared slowly. "You want to work, Scholar?"

"I pulled all our notes out the day you suggested it."

Aesylt sat up with a glance out the window, at the darkness beyond. Some healthy astronomy felt like exactly what she needed, even if she was hesitant about starwalking. She screwed her mouth into happy mischief. "Well, better go get them then."

Rahn saton one side of the windowsill, Aesylt the other. They'd started their adventure bundled, but she'd not only cleared the obstructions; she'd also eased the cold. A light rain fell, another sign she couldn't control everythingin the celestial realm, a reminder they really knew next to nothing about the place, no matter how often they escaped there.

Both of their notebooks were balanced on their knees as they independently counted the constellations they recognized, and recorded their brightness and clarity. They were limited without their telescope, but just sitting there with her, working on something healthy and innocuous, wrapped him in so much warmth. For all he looked forward to during their starwalking trysts, he'd missed the simplicity of just being with her—learning alongside her, volleying excitement between them as more and more of their research came to life.

"Ah, our friend the bowman. How I'd missed him," she said softly, her quill whistling on the vellum.

"I imagine he's even more elusive here, with all the smoke from the Wulfsgate commerce," Rahn replied.

"How fortuitous we're not bound to the real world's limitations." She squinted at the sky before making another note. "Everything happening in the Cross makes me so sad. And though it's nowhere near the top of our priorities, I'm mourning the observatory. It might never be finished now."

"All terrible things have a beginning and an end." He lifted his spectacles and let them fall to his chest. "The madness there won't last forever, and life will continue. Everything in our history points to these same cycles."

"If I'd just married Val..." Aesylt sighed with a pained look at the sky. "Oh, and there's the siren. You see her?"

Rahn pressed his notebook to his chest in alarm and leaned forward. "You're just going to drop that sensational suggestion and move on?"

"What? Oh... only thinking out loud. You can't deny I'm right though."

"Do you love him?" Rahn nearly choked on the words. "Is marrying him what you want?"

"No one seems to trouble themselves over what I want." Her quill made furious swirls.

"That was a crafty way around the answer."

Aesylt looked up but not at him. "Could I be his wife? Of course I could. He's my dearest friend, and I trust him with my life... with everything. Does he make my soul..." She shuddered inward. "Light with the stars and sky itself? Do I feel like I've finally come home when I'm in his arms?" Her head shook. "But not everyone can be Draz and Imryll, can they?"

Rahn grew solemn. He tilted his head back against the window frame and set aside his notebook. "You wear the burden of this civil war, but I will remind you that you've done nothing wrong. You love Val and tried to make his final moments as pleasant as possible. You then tried to help him when he came back and were..." He could hardly say it, even now. "Strangled by his brother for your kindness. You may be the focus of this conflict, but you are not the cause. If there was ever a wrong reason to marry anyone, it would be this. You would do both of you a great disservice."

"Perhaps the problem is me," she breathed. "For how could I not love a man as devoted as he is to me?"

"Love doesn't work in such terms."

"Have you ever been in love, Scholar?"

Rahn shook his head, though there was a shade of untruth he left withering in the unsaid.

"Then how can you know?" She crossed her notebook over her chest, fully invested in his answer.

"We are possessed of nothing more invaluable than our instincts," Rahn said, with a bracing look at the sky. She'd done a phenomenal job of clearing the clouds and haze. All their old friends danced and glittered against the darkness, lit only by the fading, distant auroras.

In its own way, it felt like coming home.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, following his gaze. "Even here, watching from a window that could crumble and fall out of its frame at any moment. We get to be a part of something so much bigger than us, and I never want to lose this feeling. Ever."

Rahn slid one foot across the frame until it was touching hers.

She glanced his way.

"Whatever else happens, Aesylt, no one can take that from you. From us."

"Then why..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Why does it feel like there's some force working against us, even now? No, I don't mean the Reliquary. It's something else. I can almost grab it, but I can't see it."

He didn't have the answer, but he understood the foreboding, because it had been creeping over him for weeks. At first he'd attributed the sensation to guilt or shame over their nocturnal adventures, but it was at its strongest when he was with the Derehams or alone. "I promise you, there is no force capable of extinguishing the spark within you. You don't need anyone's approval to take part in the unlimited curiosities of this world. You're Aesylt Wynter, as imitable as the stars in our interminable sky, and that's simply a fact as universal as the tides and the weather."

She leaned in. "You've said this to me more than once. And each time, I think I know exactly what it means, until the next time and then I'm lost again."

"It means," Rahn said, reaching for one of her hands and taking it into his, "that there is only one you, and you are incomparable. Never forget it. And let no one into your life who would try to persuade you otherwise."

"You see me. You always have," she whispered, her eyes traveling downward. "Hvala."

He brought her hand to his mouth with a gentle, enduring kiss, riding out the drumming patter of a heart that shouldn't be racing. "Thank you, Aesylt, for seeing me. Until you did, I hadn't realized how lonely it could be to blend in with the world."

Aesylt leaned down and kissed their joined hands. "I'm getting sleepy, so let's finish our charting another night."

Rahn nodded and gathered his things. "I'd feel better if you let me stay with you again tonight, under the circumstances."

She leaped onto the floor, grinning back at him. "You can stay with me whenever you want."