Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“I arrived twice, I think,” she said. “Once at your door, and once at your heart.”

Raul was silent a moment, but his breath felt shaky against her hair.

“You are right. I did promise never to lock you in a cage.”

He spoke in a whisper so soft she could barely make out the words.

“I meant that,” he went on, still in that faint whisper. “But what I said before is true. Markus needs no excuse to murder you. He would do it to remind me he can. To remind others. At least if you remain here, I have a chance to protect you.”

Ilse reached up and touched his cheek. It was wet with tears. “But if I stayed with you, you would be just as much a prisoner then, my love. You would be like Toc without his eyes, only there would be no sun and stars, and that I could not bear.”

He buried his face in her hair and held her close. “I would make you my queen if I could.”

She had known that from the start. But a wish could not change their lives.

We’ve had lives before, she thought. I remember them all now. You were a diplomat, a spy, a pirate in Andelizien. I was a princess, a scholar, a bonded servant, and mage. And once we sailed together to that new world called Morennioù. If the poets and scholars are right, then we shall find each other again, if not with these lives, then in the next. By choice. By fate.

Forcing herself to speak steadily, she said, “I do not wish to go, but I must. Once I do, you must make new plans.”

“No.”

“Yes. Promise me. Stop Khandarr. Persuade Armand. Something. Or else we live apart forever.” Her voice failed at the last word. “I hate this, Raul. But you see how I’m right. We cannot pretend any longer that we are safe here. We must act. You must act.”

He shivered in her embrace. “You … you are inexorable.”

“Part of my charm.”

He shook in silent laughter that poised on the verge of grief. “What about you? How will you spend your days, then? Not hiding in silence. That’s not like you.”

Ilse suppressed a start. Ah, he knew her too well. I want to study magic, she thought. More magic. I want to learn what Mistress Hedda refused to teach me—how to cross into Anderswar in the flesh. Then I can search for the jewels myself and …

What came after discovery, if discovery, she had not decided yet. But the jewels were the key to ending the wars, the key to forging … not a true peace. That would only come with a change of kings on both sides. But finding them was a start. And the task had to be one she carried through alone.

Raul stirred, restless. She kissed his shoulder, his neck. “I don’t know yet.”

A brief hesitation, as though he detected the lie. Then, “Will you come back?”

“Raul, I can’t promise anything. Neither can you.”

“When?” he said again, his voice going thin and sharp.

She held him tight. Tighter. Now is the mother of When, she thought. And if tomorrow runs toward us, let it run swiftly.

“I will come back,” she said. “When everything is right.”

If the gods were kind. If he would have her still.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THEY DISCUSSED HIS future intentions, her departure, just as they had discussed politics or poetry or the interwoven threads of history, magic, and passion.

“Shall we start with your plans or mine?” Raul asked.

“Yours,” Ilse said. “Mine are indefinite.”

“As indefinite as the ocean mist,” Raul said lightly, “or the winter rain clouds drifting up toward the sun. Though Tanja Duhr reminds us that the ephemeral is not necessary intangible. All poetry aside, I have only the vaguest of notions yet. Do you wish to know them?”

She shrugged. “The question isn’t whether I want to know—I do—but whether my knowing is safe. Or useful.”