It sounded so good. Tempting. And too good to be possible.
I laughed, lightly, the bitterness in it clear to my own ears, though thankfully without the hysteria that had gripped me earlier. “Independent? You are not as clever as I thought. Calanthe and I are as independent as this orchid. On our own, we wither and die. Pretty, but ultimately insubstantial.”
His gaze fell to my ring. “What of that one? It lives on, immortal though severed from its source. Perhaps you and Calanthe are like that.”
I fought the urge to hide the ring behind my back. “You’re wrong. It’s a fresh blossom, plucked anew every day.”
Frowning, he met my gaze. “That’s a lie. Why would you tell a lie about the Abiding Ring?”
My breath caught in my throat and I held it there, concentrating on that rather revealing response. Perhaps the pause went on too long, but my voice came out smooth and vaguely puzzled when I managed it. “Why would you call it that?”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Ask Ambrose.”
“I will.” The wizard did know about the ring, which meant I’d have to do whatever it took to keep him on Calanthe. Time to end this circular conversation and take steps to do what I could accomplish and forget the impossible. “Speaking of whom, will you go along with the charade? If I can substitute others for Ambrose and the Lady Sondra, do you vow that you won’t betray the trick?”
“You’d trust the vow of a slave, traitor, and man demonstrably without honor?”
An excellent point, and yet … “I would,” I told him. “If only because you love them and will do anything to save their lives.”
“Ambrose got me into this trap. I’m not feeling the love at the moment,” he answered.
“And the Lady Sondra?” I asked, surprised to feel a flare of jealousy for the warrior woman. “You love her.”
He regarded me with a frown, seeming torn. But he met my gaze steadily. “There’s no one I love more in this world.”
I nodded to myself. Exactly as I’d perceived, and I appreciated that he hadn’t lied to me. “Regardless of your other flaws—and you no doubt have many—you also love your people. We have that much in common.”
He grunted as if I’d struck him, his eyes bleak. Then he managed that wry smile again, though it came out a shadow of its usual self. “You are … not what I expected, Lia.”
I didn’t have to ask what he’d expected. I knew. After all, I’d created that image of myself with tireless determination. Ridiculous that I should feel a tinge of regret—both that he hadn’t thought much of me and that now that he knew better, it didn’t matter.
“If I so swear,” he continued, “will you vow to protect them?”
“As well as I can protect anyone, yes.”
His smile widened. “I imagine no one wins an argument with you.”
“Well, I am the queen,” I returned with asperity. “No one usually dares to argue with Me.”
I’d maybe hoped he’d laugh, but his smile faded. “Except me.”
“Except you,” I acknowledged. Wolf of my dreams. Destroyer of kingdoms. Rebel and doomed man. He’d reached out to the wrong person—I couldn’t save him. “Do we have a bargain?”
“What about my people on the ship in the harbor?”
“They will have escaped during the night.” I fluttered my lashes and shrugged as if baffled. Con’s gaze went to my powdered bosom, as if he couldn’t help looking, before he wrenched it away. I smiled and he acknowledged it wryly. “I thought we had it guarded,” I continued in a vacuous tone, “but it disappeared to who knows where.” I added a giggle, then sobered. “I assume they can easily rejoin the rest of your fleet prowling just outside my waters.”
He caught himself from showing surprise, then shook his head when he realized I’d seen it. “Should I even ask how you know about that?”
I gave him an arch look, enjoying that he seemed impressed. “You can ask…”
This time he laughed and I found myself smiling back. A wrong and genuine one that made the trio of jewels at the corner of my mouth pull. Exchanging these confidences, bits and pieces of secret strategies, felt illicit and strangely pleasurable. Something I couldn’t afford to feel. I already regretted coming to know him this well. His death, already a stain on my conscience, would weigh more heavily on me now. I’d feel a hole in my life where he might’ve lived. I needed to put an end to this.
“So?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded curtly. “I can hardly refuse such an offer. Just…” He firmed his lips. “Treat them well. They’re the best of people.”
“I will.” I felt that I should say something more, but came up empty. “Guard!” I called, and the door opened immediately, Xichos with his sword at the ready. He looked almost disappointed to see me intact and unbloodied. “I’ll see the next now,” I ordered. “Escort the lady in and take this prisoner away when you bring her.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed and closed the door. Con didn’t move, watching me still with some grim thoughts in his mind. As if he had any other kind. Even his proposal of marriage had seemed more like a desperate challenge than anything else. Perhaps his entire existence felt to him as much of an endless battle as mine did to me. We simply fought in different ways.
“I am sorry,” I told him, letting my true regret show. “I don’t wish your fate on you.”
“Will you mourn my death?” he asked lightly, mockingly.
“Yes,” I replied. When he raised a dubious brow, I gave him my standard line. “I told you, everyone has value.”
“Ah.” He seemed about to say something more, but evidently changed his mind, instead bowing as he hadn’t before, an echo of gallantry in it. “It’s been a pleasure, Queen Euthalia. Despite everything.”
I had to smile. I doubted any other man could say such a thing under these circumstances. “I wish I could say the same,” I said, impetuously. Too honest, because it gave him pause.
“Am I so repellent?” he asked.
He seemed—absurdly, given his blazing confidence and arrogance—actually self-conscious, so I gave him another honest answer. Perhaps there’s something about talking to a man doomed to die that makes it difficult to lie to him. “Not at all. You are also not what I expected, Con. I will mourn your death because…” I faltered, rather alarmed at what I’d been about to confide.
“Because?” He closed the distance between us, gaze bright and intense on mine.
I felt that strange dizziness, that longing for what could never be. A personal mirror of the longing of all the world to be something more than a maelstrom of hatred and fear. “Because in another world I might’ve said yes,” I whispered.
The gate opened, saving me from my impetuous words, the guard escorting the Lady Sondra in, thankfully without chains. Con didn’t even glance their way. “You still can,” he urged, his voice quietly urgent. “You have the power to stop all of this, Lia. You’re stronger than you know.”
“Stand down!” Xichos thundered. “You dare disrespect the queen, you mongrel.” The guards seized Con, dragging him back—though it took four of them to do it, as the big man had dug in with casual strength, gaze still fierce on mine.