This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.
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The head librarian introduced Firal to half a dozen members of her staff before they tried to recruit her as part of their historical society. To her surprise—and relief—the councilor tutted and shook his head to discourage their pressing. It was too soon, he said, too close on the heels of a half-finished project that benefited the whole of the Triad.
“Besides,” Councilor Parthanus added once the others gave their reluctant nods, “once the newcomers are settled, it will be easier for her to bring people of note to the library for direct interview.”
A few thoughtful hums answered.
Firal could not help but raise her brows. She hardly knew which refugees would be considered ‘people of note’ or who they might wish to speak with. Tobias was a first thought, as was Minna, but if she took Minna to the capital to speak with the librarians, who would there be to look after Lulu?
Her father, of course. She mentally scolded herself for being so slow to consider it. She had never known what to expect of him as a parent, but he was certainly not uninterested. His approach with Lulu had been gentle and welcoming, without showing any eagerness to replace the father she’d lost, who she sometimes asked after or cried for. Firal appreciated his involvement and the girl had been fast to take a liking to him, though that was hardly a surprise. Rune had always gotten along with children. Those in Core had always welcomed his presence, in spite of things that should have made him frightful.
The councilor cleared his throat and Firal blinked twice to refocus her attention.
“Will that suffice, my lady?” Councilor Parthanus smiled, but his tone was gently urging, as if he’d repeated himself. He likely had.
“Forgive me, I was just trying to determine where such interviews might fit. I trust you will want me to be present, and not simply recruit others for the purpose.” She smiled back and regretted that she’d been roped into such a conversation at all, even if the librarians all seemed eager to work with her. It was not that she didn’t appreciate it; having a place where she felt valuable and welcome was important. While she had not yet come to long for it, she knew she would. Yet she had never liked being pressed to make decisions on a whim. Those choices were always the ones that haunted her, whether they were for better or for worse.
“Your presence would be paramount,” the head librarian—a woman whose name Firal had already forgotten—said with an eager light in her eyes. “I can think of no one better to add context to their information than the woman who led them.”
Firal did not agree, though she appreciated the flattery. She could think of a hundred other people better suited to the task of embellishing and interpreting—all she had ever done was sit and rule, something that separated her from both the people she looked after and the things they experienced. How much more of her own country’s culture and history might she have experienced if she’d been in out there, living like everyone else?
Before she could think of a diplomatic dismissal, something shifted in the faces of both the councilor and the librarians. Amusement, surprise. Nervousness. She tensed but a breath before hands slid over her eyes from behind.
“Guess who,” came familiar whispered words beside her ear.
Goosebumps prickled up the back of her neck and she fought back a shiver as she touched his fingers, so soft and smooth and ordinary that she marveled. “Daemon,” she murmured.
His chuckle warmed her heart as he peeled his hands away and turned her to face him. “No one has called me that in a very long time.”
That he spoke to her in their mother tongue raised more than one eyebrow, and the small group of people she’d been with shuffled about as if to pretend they did not eavesdrop. All the same, she caught a gleam of interest in the councilor’s eye as Rune drew her away from their audience and toward the open ballroom floor where other couples swirled.
“I have other things I might call you,” Firal suggested. “Where have you been?”
“Avoiding responsibilities.” He did not even flinch. “I appreciate your assistance in escaping them.” His hand settled on her waist and his eyes latched onto the diadem pinned to her hair.
Firal followed his steps far more easily than the first time they’d danced and wondered at how her grace was not the only thing that had so radically changed. “Thank you.”
The gratitude startled him and his gaze snapped to hers before he realized she meant it for the jewels. Then he grew more serious, a shade more guarded, and gave an indifferent shrug. “You’re royalty. You should look the part. People will have expectations.”
Which was not why he had selected something for her. No matter what he claimed, she knew he had always cared about appearances and what others thought—it was half of what had drawn them together in the first place. But that he dismissed it so readily as simple necessity that she knew there was more to it.
He wanted her to have it.
He regretted that she did not have more.
He just wouldn’t say it.
“I don’t care about their expectations,” she said. “As long as I meet yours.”
Rune almost made a wrong step. His recovery was rough. “Sorry. I haven’t done this since…”
There was no need to explain.
“I suppose you’ll have to relearn, now that you have new feet.” She smiled as he twirled her and for a moment, she closed her eyes and envisioned the ballroom in Ilmenhith, where they first danced. The floor had been far more crowded then, full of magelings and young soldiers indulging in the rare sharing of a celebration.
“I wouldn’t call them new, but I will say you should open your eyes. You’re putting far too much trust in my ability to get this right.” In spite of the teasing, his next steps were sure, and he spiraled her close in his arms.
“Sorry.” She smiled as he gave her a squeeze and then released her again. When she did open her eyes, it was to take a proper look at him. He’d dressed in midnight blue—a color that matched her dress, now that she saw them together—and his coat was a distinctively Ilmenhian cut, with silver embroidery on the collar and sleeves. It suited him, and it suited the life he’d had before, for all that it was different from how he’d presented himself then. “I was just remembering the solstice ball. Do you recall it?”
“I could never forget.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, soft and almost sheepish. “I was in love with you then, too.”
It was only then that it struck her how rarely he’d used such words. She’d heard them when he’d first confessed his feelings and again when he had promised his feelings remained, but in the months they’d been together, it had been his actions that showed it, not words.
Honeyed words had rolled so easily off Vahn’s tongue.
The thought of him sent a pang of sadness through her heart and she tried to scour the thoughts away.
There was no competition between the two men. Had Vahn lived, there likely still would not have been. He had sown betrayal and harvested the reward, but even knowing he had severed those ties himself, she still grieved. Grieved his loss, and the loss of what she had believed had bloomed between them.
Now was not a time for grief.
She made herself smile. “It was your birthday, wasn’t it? The ball?”
“Near enough to it,” Rune replied. “The disadvantage of being born near important holidays is that the day is often overshadowed.” He twirled her under his arm and her skirts swished wide and then wrapped around her legs.
She spun the other way to unwrap them. “Considering you never told me when it was, I assumed it didn’t matter much to you.”
“It mattered when I was young. Once I was older, I think I mostly despised it. Existing hasn’t always been the happiest experience for me.”
Something for which she could not blame him. There were those to whom life was needlessly cruel; he had suffered more than most.
Firal mustered a playful smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to ensure the next one is noteworthy enough that the solstice won’t overshadow it.”
He almost smiled back. “I don’t think anything could overshadow you.”
Inexplicably, given her age and the relationship they were supposed to have, warmth bloomed in her cheeks.
She wasn’t used to that sort of sweetness, not from him. Yet her shy delight was short-lived, for the next moment she looked at him, he gazed past her and his guard was up.
Firal turned her head to see what had changed his disposition so swiftly. Across the room, the king walked with a pack of foreign dignitaries by his side. People Rune wanted to avoid, no doubt. She stared, taking in their faces and committing them to memory, lest she be ambushed with trite pleasantries and prying words later. Then she returned her attention to him and did her best to be coy. “Would I be remiss to suggest the two of us take a walk in the garden?”
He was visibly relieved. “You would not. In fact, I think that’s exactly what we should do.”
Their dance stilled and he offered his arm. She took it gladly and leaned against him, her heart strangely aflutter as he led the way.
A romantic dance. A moment alone. And, as much as she hated to acknowledge it, a shot or two of alcohol in his belly to loosen a tongue she’d come to find too restrained.
Perhaps now was the time. A chance to fix the awkward distance that had formed between them. To break down the barriers and suggest something more.
Her pulse had started drumming by the time they stepped from the Spiral Palace and into its lush gardens, a space lit by glowing lanterns and all but empty, what with the festivities inside.
They had not gone far on the path before Rune laid a hand atop hers, squeezing her fingers to his upper arm, and broke the silence that hung tense between them. “I apologize if this is forward, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to… not ask, but speak with you about.”
Firal’s nerves leaped, but she put on her best smile and fought the butterflies in her stomach with an iron fist. “Yes?”
Rune grew still on the path, and the shadow that darkened his eyes made her wish she hadn’t asked.