She hid her face in his shoulder. Gently, so gently, he drew her with him to the center of the bed, where he laid her on her stomach. On hands and knees he saw that her back was a mass of scars. The punishment for sending the letter to his parents. Always before, her back had been covered, so he’d thought it was just the one slash from a whip—and that one was too much. But Zhalen had ripped her open.
His hand hovered above her skin, not touching but shaking. Never had he known such rage. Yet none did he let rise to his tongue.
“Does it hurt?” Had he unknowingly caused her more pain, touching her or holding her?
“No,” she whispered. “It itches, sometimes.”
Still healing. From a whipping that might have killed her.
In choked voice, he asked, “How did you survive this?”
“I almost did not.” With a shuddering breath, she turned onto her back and looked up at him. “There are two answers. One I cannot say unless you give me leave to speak of it.”
Because she would refer to his mother. “Tell me.”
“She tended to me. This was how she met me. In bed, the wounds still open, sick with fever and unable to move far. She cared for me—and perhaps this is why she did not doubt me for long, or believe I lured them. Not after she saw what my father did for sending the message. Never would I have harmed her, Maddek.”
“This I know.” Raggedly his reply came from his shredded throat. “What is the other answer?”
She reached up with her two-fingered hand, traced his bearded jaw. “Your father told you that wars were won in throne rooms. You thought they were won on battlefields. But wars are not won in throne rooms or battlefields—or even the bed.”
“Where, then?”
“Here.” She flattened her hand over his pounding heart. “If the Destroyer came today, and enslaved us, and made us crawl across the mud to lick his feet—even if I did crawl, still that war he would not have won. In my heart, I would still be fighting. Looking for a way to defeat him. What would you do?”
“The same,” he said gruffly.
“So if you fight here, never will you lose. Not until you are dead. But even then, I would fight to my last breath. And I would call that a victory. And if it’s the only victory I will ever have . . . it will be enough.” She bit her lip. “Do you think that naive?”
“No,” Maddek said softly. “I think you are right.”
“That is how I survived. You asked before if I have been defeated. I have. You asked before what was there after defeat—and I said there was love for my people, rage against my father, and hope. When I understood that my messenger had been found out and killed, when my father laid my back open—there was almost nothing left. No rage. No hope. All that I had was love and the determination to keep trying . . . because that was all I could do. I was helpless, but it did not mean I had stopped trying. And when your mother came . . . hope returned. And not much time passed before I found my rage again.”
When his mother and father had been killed. “That I understand well.”
“I know you do.” Sadly she looked at him. “Do you think you will ever rescind your vow?”
“Yes,” he said, and watched the shadows chase from her eyes. “Though not yet. And you never have to fear that I would pull out your tongue.”
“Do you still believe I would lie?”
He shook his head. “But I have the habit of a certain view . . . and of responding in haste and rage. If you ask before speaking of her, then I will be prepared and make certain not to see you with that same view—or respond with words best left unsaid or hurtful. And when that habit is broken, I will not need to check myself, or for you to prepare me for what you would say.”
Slowly she nodded, but it was with a sigh that she said, “You have promised to make the attempt and you are. But how long do you think it will be before you see me clearly?”
Maddek wished that he did now. But he would not waste time on wishes; instead he would change what was. He would change what he was. “I suspect when I have the heart of a king.”
Sudden amusement curved her mouth. “Then I will continue your lessons.”
“As I will yours.” Bending his head, he softly kissed her smiling lips. “Did you practice the bow today?”
He would wager she had. As she had the stairs. And riding.
She nodded. “Drawing the string. And Kelir helped me find a spot where I might practice without losing my arrows to the sea.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “And he said that my vision is not as others’ is.”
He cupped her face. “It is a gift you have, such perfect sight.”
“A gift that apparently requires as much practice as the bow does.”
So it did. “Danoh has the keenest eyes to learn from. And she and Toric can best teach you the bow.”
“I will ask them for lessons—though perhaps not from Toric. He is sick again.”
He frowned. “The poison and fever?”
“The sea and the waves. He has spent all day belowdecks with the horses. He claims their smell soothes his stomach.” She bit her lip before saying, “If I become sick, it will likely not be the sea.”
But because she was with child. Though Vela had said that she was not yet.
So many times would Maddek have her, soon that would be remedied.
Her moonstone gaze slipped over his face. “Do you still wish to wait until I am with child before we marry?”
Maddek had told her that. That he would not marry her until she was bred. Because she was no use to him barren.
Now he cared not if she was. “We need not wait. But a Parsathean must stand on Temra’s altar to marry.”
And that was also where he would stand if named Ran. Would that be when he had the heart of a king?
Yvenne deserved no less than a king. So he would learn her lessons well—and give his own in return.
“I have a hunter’s lesson for you this day.”
Anticipation lit her face. “What lesson?”
Dryly he said, “How to properly throw a knife.”
And when she laughed so sweetly against him, he kissed her again.
CHAPTER 32
YVENNE
By the time the ship reached the northern shore of the Boiling Sea, Yvenne could throw her knife and stab the point into her target four times of five. She could loose an arrow with accuracy, if not incredible range. And it was not only on Maddek that she practiced riding. When the horses were brought to the upper deck for exercise, she sat upon their backs. They never moved faster than a walk, but she still learned to loose her arrow from atop a mount.