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.
* * * * *
For a long time, the click of Firal’s shoes against the pavement was the only sound between them. She wasn’t sure whether to envy the near-silence of Rune’s boots or wish the noise of the city would rise enough to make conversation impossible. If nothing else, it might take her mind off the oddity of not hearing him move. He’d always been the one who clicked, the tap of his claws against the ground bringing a steady cadence she’d grown to find comforting. The boots had to be more comfortable, but she admitted she missed the sound.
It was only once they moved onto a less occupied street that his voice broke the still. “You’re allowed to say that was awful.” There was such a dryness to his tone that it almost made her laugh.
“It was… fruitful,” she said instead.
His lack of response indicated he did not agree.
Firal couldn’t blame him. It had produced a lot of awkward questions, which were sure to spawn awkward conversation. It had produced the paperwork she carried, too, and given they were both intended to study it before their next meeting with Setta, she was sure it would be filled with awkward experiences too.
Not that she knew if they were meant to study it together. Nor was she certain when Rune would be free to join her in study. He had refrained from opening the latest summons from the king until their session was over—she didn’t know when it had been delivered or how long he’d put it off—but the way his jaw had tightened when he read the note made it clear the way he had shirked his responsibilities of late would no longer be tolerated. For all she knew, he would be kept in the capital for weeks, and what good would Kytenia’s advice be then?
He said nothing else, so she took the papers in both hands and cleared her throat.
“Don’t read that out—” he started, but she’d already made up her mind.
“’Methods of Intimate Communication and How to Use Them,’” she announced.
Rune grimaced. “I am perfectly capable of intimate communication, thank you.”
“Oh, is that so? You feel you know all about…” She trailed off as she scanned the rest of the page. “’The Importance of Verbal Reassurance’ and how it may be best applied?”
“I am verbally reassuring you that I do not need a counselor’s handwritten guide for how to speak nicely to my wife.”
Firal snorted a laugh. “I don’t think she hand wrote this herself. What about ‘The Act of Giving as a Sign of Remembrance?’”
“I believed I remembered you would need to be given somewhere to live,” he replied mildly, though a hint of amusement rose in his voice. Good; she wanted him to laugh.
She smiled. “Oh, you’ve mastered all of it already, have you? What about ‘Forging Emotional Intimacy by Proximity and Touch?’”
His expression faltered.
That one had been a wrong choice. Foolish; a lack of proximity had been one of the driving issues in the difficult conversation they’d only just finished. But he caught himself fast, and when she looked at him again, his face was calm.
Maybe it would be wise to try and bridge that gap. Her hand twitched with a longing to take his, but she held it still. Instead, she lowered the papers and gazed ahead. “It’s perfectly normal, you know. Nobles keeping separate bedchambers.”
That was wrong, too, for the corners of his mouth twisted with distaste. “Is that how you did it?”
Firal flinched. He’d asked so little about the marriage she’d had after him. It was easy to surmise that he preferred to pretend it didn’t exist. But it was one of the blocks that stood between them, at least according to Setta; they’d have to climb over it sooner or later. “Well, no.” She wanted to fidget, but there were the papers in her hands, and she did not want to muss them. She settled for lining up their edges a little better. “But our situation was unusual in every way. What about your father?”
Rune’s snort was difficult to decipher. Annoyance? Pity? Scorn? “They were about as separate as we’ve been, living in completely different countries. There were no other women in my father’s life. When it became clear his wife wouldn’t have him, that was it.” Then he paused, and the corners of his eyes grew pinched as he gazed ahead. “He was… a better man than me.”
And that was a wound she hadn’t meant to reopen. Not for him, and not for herself. Her jealousy over the matter was absurd. The circumstances leading to both situations had been a mistake, but she had remarried; he never had. With all he’d built for himself in the Triad, it was a wonder he’d remained alone, clinging to some fragile hope that what he’d lost might be restored. Even now, he threw himself into their renewed relationship with a vigor she both admired and envied—but there was still a gap of comfort and closeness they had not bridged.
It had been foolish to think returning to the way things were would be easy.
She puzzled over how to reply for a long time before she settled on, “I don’t blame you, you know.”
Again, he snorted. “You should.”
“It was a long time to be apart. A quarter of our lives thus far, looking back on it. And so little time together beforehand—”
“Did that make it easy for you? That it was just a few months, so it was easy to leave behind?” He never looked at her, his gaze always fixed on the Spiral Palace ahead.
“Well, no.” In truth, it had been the hardest decision she’d ever made, and one she’d second-guessed a thousand times both before and after she’d made it. It had been the right decision for her own safety. For the safety of their child. And it had been politically wise, allowing her to tap into the reputation of a well-regarded family with long-standing ties to the crown. It had certainly helped her win over the city, and the late king’s council had been more willing to accept her because of it. Ennil had not been a good man, but he had been a good leader, and she often doubted she would have settled the uproar in Ilmenhith without his guidance.
In the grand scheme of things, marrying the man’s son for appearances had been a small sacrifice to make.
Rune opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Closed it like the rest of himself, shut off from anything she could see or reach.
She didn’t know why it took her by surprise. He’d always been that way, walled up and shut tight, holding everyone at bay. But he’d let her in before, and being on the outside again was a sore reminder of how badly she’d betrayed his trust.
More things they’d have to discuss, eventually.
As soon as she figured out how to get him to speak at all.
She shuffled the papers in her hands and changed the subject. “What was in that letter? The one from Vicamros?” She still struggled to know how to speak of the king. They had been allies for years, but she had no power now and they were no longer equals. Including his title when she spoke of him felt odd after years of omitting it, but perhaps she would be pardoned. Rune certainly didn’t shy away from addressing the king by first name. Or raising hands against him.
Truly, she did not understand how Rune related to people at all.
“An urgent request for my presence this evening. A surprise visit from western dignitaries to discuss a trade agreement that hasn’t gone well. They’re coming by Gate this afternoon and Vicamros is hosting a banquet in their honor this evening, ahead of negotiations tomorrow.” The face he made told her enough of what he thought of that.
She rather agreed. “I don’t think feeding them first is going to make them more agreeable.”
“No, but it gives Cam a chance to flex his power and show he won’t be intimidated. He’s mild mannered, but he is an emperor, even if he doesn’t like the title.” Rune shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. Maybe to him, it didn’t—he had earned a number of luxuries beneath the Triad’s crown, and his reputation with the people meant they would not easily be stripped. “The Triad has only grown under his rule, and it shows no sign of its expansion slowing.”
“It doesn’t strike me as the sort of empire that continues to push its borders outward,” Firal murmured.
“I don’t think he plans for it, but Cam is the sort of ruler who won’t tolerate impertinence from the outside. If someone raises a blade against him, they’d best be ready to see their country flattened and claimed. The skirmishes along the eastern edge of Roberian are proof enough of that.”
“Impertinence from the inside is certainly treated differently,” she said with a hint of a smirk.
To that, Rune replied with a sly half-smile.
There; she’d finally gotten a bit of emotion from him. Her own smile warmed, but she could not hold it for long. “I suppose that means you’ll be away from home for several days. What will you need me to tend to while you’re absent?”
He paused outside the Spiral Palace’s gates and looked at her with his brows knit. “What do you mean?”
Firal shuffled her papers again. Why did he have to stop there? Out in the streets, where they were still surrounded by strangers? “You’ll be busy here, won’t you? And I’ll return to the manor, and—”
“I want you here,” he said before she could finish. “I want you with me. Tonight.”
Her brows climbed before she could catch herself. It was as close to a proposition as he’d ever come, but he seemed to realize it, for he winced a moment later and waved a hand as if he could brush those words away and start over.
He tried again. “When the dignitaries are here. I want you here. At the banquet. With me, tonight.”
That was both clearer and somehow more disappointing. “But I don’t know anyone, and Lulu—”
“She’ll be all right,” Rune reassured her. “Minna is with her. She knows we have responsibilities. She’ll understand. You can go to get her settled if you must, but come back afterward. Please.”
The sincerity in that last word took her off guard and she drew back. “Why? Who’s going to be there?”
This time, he grimaced. “Earlier, the counselor said… that is, while I was here, and you were…”
A wave of uncertainty rose through her middle and threatened to choke her. “Just say it.”
Rune bit his lower lip and shut his eyes a moment, then shook his head. “The trade agreement hasn’t gone well because negotiations didn’t go well from the start,” he said, as if that explained anything.
She stared at him, puzzled, while the guards nearby pretended not to see them. “And?”
“The princess of Loriath will be here,” Rune said at last, and the conclusion came with a great frown. “And Vicamros expected me to marry her cousin.”
Firal’s heart dropped and an uncomfortable surge of indignation took its place. Her jaw tightened and she forced herself to unwind the muscle enough to speak. “Give me two hours.”
He studied her face, a pinch of confusion tugging his brows together.
She lifted her chin. “Then, once Lulu is settled and Minna has directions, I shall return. Does that suffice?”
Rune let out such a breath that she thought he might crumple at her feet. “Thank you.”
She gave a stiff nod and led the way onto the palace grounds, every bit a queen.
He thanked her now, but if he thought her presence this evening would bring him peace, he was woefully mistaken.
