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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“So,” Firal said into the silence of the hall. There were no tapestries to deaden the sound and her voice joined the echoes of their footsteps, magnified by the emptiness of the corridor. She winced at the noise and brought her voice lower, until it was scarcely a murmur. “Did I meet your expectations?”
Rune did not answer right away. He hesitated for so long, she opened her mouth to ask what she’d done wrong. That was when he chose to speak. “For me, yes. Thank you.”
“For you?” She didn’t know whether to smile or frown. “Who did I fail to impress?”
“No one,” he said, so hastily she took the impression he thought he’d misspoken. Perhaps that he’d offended her. “I’ve made Vicamros angry, that’s all.”
The statement was unapologetic. Unrepentant. She truly did not understand the relationship these men had. It was clear they were friends, yet politics always came first. Most men would have fretted at least a little over the idea of upsetting their king, but Rune did not care.
He never had.
“Angry that you introduced your wife?” Firal could not fathom what else he was supposed to do.
“Angry that I didn’t help him gain favor with Loriath’s royal family. They’ve got a tentative treaty worked out, but it’s not what Cam wanted.” He stared straight ahead, though his eyes narrowed a shade. “The Triad is powerful, but he asks too much.”
A dangerous thing to say. What in the world had they been through that left him feeling so free to speak? Firal tucked her chin. “Aggressive trade arrangements are common. I was not always kind when negotiating with Vicamros, myself.”
“You never demanded exclusive trade.”
That was a surprise. “No kingdom would ever agree to that. No matter how big or powerful their trade partner was.”
Rune shrugged. “Well, that’s what Cam wanted. At least for what he wanted to import.”
“Which is?” Firal couldn’t imagine what a king like Vicamros could desire from anyone else. His land holdings were impressive and rich in any resource a ruler could want. It wasn’t like life on the island, where fickle weather could leave fields barren, or where quality iron was scarce enough that only the king could afford good steel.
The corners of his eyes tightened and he did not answer.
Perhaps he had said too much. There had been the incident in the garden, where he’d spoken more freely than he likely desired, and she wondered if the liquor he’d downed still loosened his inhibitions.
Or perhaps he’d had more.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said when he gave no reply. “There’s nothing wrong with an ambitious aim, but one must accept their defeats.”
As she had to accept hers. After everything—the dancing, the raw and honest truths, the rare smiles she’d finally pried from him—they had ended the evening no closer. They walked to the Gating parlor together, but with a healthy space between them.
He had not tried to take her hand.
She had already decided she would not pursue affection that did not come willingly. Too much had already been sacrificed, and she would not bridge the gap now.
“Weapons,” Rune said.
Firal blinked.
“Unlike anything made elsewhere. He doesn’t want anyone else to have them.” Though the entire conversation had been in their own tongue, that did not protect them from prying ears, and he lowered his voice accordingly.
She did not know what to say. It did not seem like a secret, but the reluctance with which he spoke of it made it feel as if she was not meant to know. “That would command a very high price.” That price, evidently, had been him.
“Well, he’ll find some way to get it, or he’ll be facing a very different sort of battleground the next time someone marches against his borders.” He shrugged once more, solemn but indifferent.
“That’s the way of things every time a war breaks out. Nothing ever stays the same. Just look at us.” The words left before she thought better of them.
He did not flinch, but his gaze hardened.
He still did not look at her.
Foolish, she chided herself. As foolish as a schoolgirl with a loose tongue.
“Rune—” she began, but he raised a hand to cut her off.
“No, you’re right. Nothing is the same. I can’t hide from that. It follows me everywhere now.” A faint crinkle formed between his brow and she caught the way his hand flexed at his side.
Her heart wrenched. “I didn’t mean—”
“Here’s the parlor.” He strode ahead and one of the Gate attendants bowed in greeting.
The rest of the mages linked power with the attendant and a moment later, the portal meant to take them home split the air.
Rune motioned her forward.
She did not want to go. She wanted to apologize before he took that accidental slight and added it to the collection of hurts he kept bottled up inside, but she did not want to do it with so many eyes around to see.
Frustrated, she picked up her skirts and hurried through the Gate to the manor.
He followed, but he said nothing when the power of the one-way portal dropped and winked out of existence. He did not even stop to speak to her or look her way. All he did was walk to the front steps of the fine mansion he’d somehow come to call home, never looking back.
“Rune,” she called.
He did not so much as slow down.
“Would you stop?” She hurried after him, gripping her skirts until her knuckles turned white.
He stopped on the stairs and turned to look down at her. He was frustrated, maybe exasperated, but it was hard to see the nuances of his expression in the dark.
It had been easier when they were younger, when the shifting colored light that haunted his eyes gave away his thoughts.
Out of all the changes, she thought that one pained her the most. That light was all but gone, and she had begun to think it had less to do with the magic than anyone supposed.
Firal halted a few paces from the stairs. “You can’t keep walking away from me every time a difficult conversation arises. I thought you wanted to discuss those things and put them aside. Isn’t that what the counselor is for?”
“This isn’t a counselor’s office.”
“No, it’s worse. When you’re done airing everything out in her office, you get to walk away.” She fluttered a hand overhead, as if to fan away grievances like a foul odor in the wind. “But we live here. I’m tired of feeling like every room is a bed of nails I have to walk whenever you’re around.”
“It’s not easier for me,” he protested. “You think I want my home to feel like this? There are eyes on us everywhere we go, and I… I am trying so hard to smooth things out, and you can’t even pretend to like me.”
Her hands went slack and her skirts dropped back into place, hiding her slippered feet. “What are you talking about?”
“Convenience. It’s always been about convenience for you. Hasn’t it?”
Her heart thudded hard and then felt as if it stopped.
Rune raked a hand through his hair. He stared at it afterward, then curled his fingers into a fist and let his hand fall to his side. “There were a hundred reasons I loved you. Your intelligence, your spirit, your wit, your determination—everything you did made me admire you. You were always so strong. Unrelenting in everything you did. You decided what you wanted and you pursued it with everything in you. You were resourceful, helpful, generous. Kind to people who didn’t deserve it. Kind to me.”
She stared up at him, a cold sense of misery twisting itself up inside her ribs.
He raised a finger. “Tell me one thing.”
“I don’t—”
“One thing,” he repeated, cutting her off before she could do more than start. “One reason you ever loved me that didn’t involve what I could do for you.”
Her chest constricted until she could scarcely breathe, a bitter pain beneath her breastbone as she tried to find words. A stroke of panic chased words from her head and she found nothing to move her lips.
He stared at her through the silence until it grew too thick to bear, then tore his gaze away to stare into the darkened forests nearby. “That’s what I thought.”
Firal pressed a hand to her chest as if it might settle her racing heart, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears.
He slipped inside and shut the door, leaving her alone in the dark.