Chapter 15 - Closing the Distance

I awake to find that Iona has something for me. A letter from my mother. Torsten had handed it off to Iona to give to me. As I pull the letter out I can see that the writing is worse than the last one. The letters lean and waver where they used to stand straight, and there are places where the ink pools, as though the pen rested too long while she gathered the strength to move it.

I read it twice.

Every day I miss her and this letter, this object is all I have of her. The only way I can be near her despite being so very far away.

She does not write about herself.

She never does. Instead she writes: How are you taking care of yourself amidst all these changes? Are you sleeping? Have you found your routines yet? Do not let them rush you, my darling. You have never done well with change, and I know change is hard but I am so very proud of you and I miss you dearly.

I have to put the letter down for a moment.

That is my mother, all of her, in three lines. A woman dying by inches in a cold northern tower, spending what little strength she has left worrying not for herself, but about whether or not I am sleeping okay.

It hurts to write her back. To lie and tell her I am well. That the food is good, that my husband is kind despite the rumors, and that I have found my routines despite the change. My heart clenches at the betrayal, but I fear if I were to tell her the truth she would become more ill. I do not want to be the reason she worries more and becomes more sick.

"Humans are such strange creatures," says Aodh, from the foot of the bed. "You look as though you are about to weep, and yet not a single tear falls. You simply sit there, leaking sadness with a dry face."

“I am only writing to my mother.”

“You are grieving your mother,” he says, “which is a different thing, and you have been doing it for the better part of an hour.” He stretches, and the small flame of his tail flickers. “Come. You are no good to anyone folded up in a dark room. Cry, or perhaps go for a walk. I enjoy a good walk when I am sad. The touch of grass and whispers along the wind always remind me that I am still alive and that is something to be grateful for.”

I think about this. “I am grateful to be alive, but..”

“But what?”

“There’s this constant ache within my chest,” I respond as I bring my hand to my chest. “I just…. I miss her so much and worry about her. And I don’t even know if I am doing the right thing.”

It hurts to talk about, but Aodh does not comment. Instead he jumps up into my lap and I find myself hugging him. He nuzzles close and we stay like that for a moment before he finally speaks.

“The world isn’t always so simple as right or wrong. Come. Let’s go for that walk. The gardens are bright today, and you have not seen the sun in three days, and I have heard that humans are like plants and need sunshine as well."

I snort.

“Humans aren’t plants.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.” I say with a smile. I finished writing the letter. Tomorrow I will pass it off to Torsten along with my progress of getting close to Theron.

I sigh, but follow Aodh out of my bedroom and down to the gardens.

The gardens are bright, as promised, and mostly empty. I take a moment to focus on the warmth. Something so rare in the northern provinces, yet so available here. I am nearly by the fountain when I hear laughter.

Curious, I head over.

The laugh is warm and unguarded. I follow the noise to the far side of a hedge, and decide to peek around the hedge.

There, I see Melina pressed between a tree and Lyko’s body. His hands framing her face, and Lykos is kissing her as though he was starving.

I stop. They haven’t noticed me yet.

I know I should go. Every rule I have ever failed to understand is very clear on this one point, that a person walks away from this, quietly, and pretends forever that they saw nothing. Awkwardly, I move to step back but hear the crunch of twigs beneath my feet. I curse. I stand there frozen as Lykos's eyes open over Melina's shoulder and find me.

There is a pause of pure horror. Mine, mostly.

And then Lykos breaks the kiss laughing, and drops his forehead against Melina's with a groan. “We have been caught, love. And by the one person in this court who will not have the good manners to lie about it.”

“I am so sorry,” I say. “I heard laughing. I did not know it was, that you were, I will go. I am going.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Melina says, and she has gone a furious scarlet but she is laughing too, pushing her hair back into order, “because if you go you will simply think about it forever and be strange with us at supper, and I cannot bear it. Stay. It is fine. You have caught us, that is all.”

“I did not know you were,” I gesture between them, hopelessly, “that.”

“That,” Lykos agrees gravely. “Yes. We are very much that.”

“For how long?” It comes out before I think better of it. “You were only insulting each other at court yesterday.”

“Oh, this is old,” Lykos says cheerfully, ignoring Melina's attempt to shush him. “This was happening long before you came south, Empress. We have been insulting each other for the better part of two years. The insult is the courtship. We simply had not gotten around to admitting it out loud, which is why,” he pressed a hand to his heart, wounded, “you have wounded us both mortally by discovering it in a hedge before we had decided how to tell anyone.”

“We are not formally courting,” Melina says, still blushing. “Not yet. It is complicated. His house, my house, my father, there are, there are things to be arranged. So we would be grateful, Bree, if you—”

“I will not tell anyone,” I say, and I mean it so plainly that they both go quiet. “I am very good at not telling things. It is nearly the only social skill I have. Your secret is safe. It is safer with me than with anyone in this palace, I promise you that.”

Something soft crosses Melina's face. “I know it is,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Well.” Lykos straightens, recovering his ease, and bows to me with a flourish that is only half a joke. “I find I am suddenly needed elsewhere. Anywhere elsewhere, really. Empress. Love.” He kisses Melina's knuckles, and murmurs something against them that makes her swat at him, and takes himself off down the path whistling, entirely unbothered.

And then it is only Melina and me.

“Sit with me,” Melina says, and pulls me away from the trees and the nearby hedge, and together we sit down on a stone bench near the fountain. She looks at me intensely enough that I have to look away. “You are not scandalized?” She sounds surprised. “Tell me, what are you thinking about?”

“No, I am not scandalized.” I turn it over, trying to find the correct words. “I think I am,” I pause and feel my own cheeks heat up. “I think I am envious. Which is an ugly thing to be, and I do not mean it unkindly. Only that he kissed you like that in the middle of the day. And you let him, because you wanted to. And it looked so simple.”

“It is not simple,” Melina says gently. “But the wanting is. The wanting is the easy part.” She tilts her head. “Bree. Are we talking about me and Lykos, or are we talking about you and a certain emperor?”

And because it is Melina, my friend, warm and safe, who has just trusted me with a secret of her own, the truth comes out of me the way it always does.

Only this time I let it.

“The night we married,” I say. “The wedding night. It was the first time in my whole life I have ever felt wanted. Not useful. Not tolerated. Wanted. He asked me what I wanted, no one had ever asked me that, and he was so in tune and focused on my pleasure, and for a few hours I felt like a person someone would choose.” I look at my hands. “And then I woke up and he was gone, and he has not touched me since. Not once. That was weeks ago.”

“Oh, Bree.”

“I do not understand it,” I say, and the words come faster now. “I find him, I find him very difficult to look away from, if I am honest, which I always am. But then he goes cold, distant, and it is very difficult to get a read on him. I do not know if he does it on purpose or if it is simply how he is, and I do not know how to get close to a man who is warm one hour and cold the next. I have tried to get close. We eat dinner together now every day, but I don’t feel like I am any closer than I was before. And to top it all off I have never done any of this. Everyone else seems to have been handed a book of rules I was never given.”

Melina is quiet for a moment, and I hesitantly look over at her. There is no pity in her face when she speaks.

"There is no book," she says. "I promise you, there is no book. There are rules, and cues, little signals people learn to trade without ever being taught them outright, and I think you struggle with those, don't you? You always look a half-step behind the room." She says it plainly. "But listen to me, because this is the part that matters. The thing you think is your greatest failing? It is the very thing that will reach him because it is what makes you so endearing."

I frown. "Being unable to read a room is not a strength, Melina."

"No. But being unable to lie is." She leans in. "Do you know how rare it is, in a court like this, to sit across from someone and know, that every word out of their mouth is sincere and genuine? I found it charming the first day I met you. I found it hilarious at your wedding, watching you say the plain thing to lords who have not heard a plain thing in twenty years. Half of them did not know whether to be insulted or to fall at your feet." She chuckles from the memory but then squeezes my hand. "Theron lives drowning in flattery and strategy and people who want things from him. And then there is you, who could not flatter a man to save your life, who says exactly what you mean and wants exactly what you say. Do you understand what that is, to a man like him? It is water in a desert. So do not try to be clever or coy. You are terrible at being coy. Instead, be what you are. Be blunt, be warm, and be so honestly yourself that he cannot help but trust it. That is how you get closer to Theron. Not with a plan, but with the truth."

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It is completely terrifying,” Melina agrees warmly. “Do it anyway. What is the worst that happens, he says no, and you are exactly where you are now, only braver?”

I think about that.

It is, I decide, annoyingly good advice.

“Thank you, Melina.” I say and squeeze her hand and she smiles.

“Don't mention it. I’m rooting for you.”

After that I get up and decide to head over to Theron while I’m still feeling a bit brave. My heart races wildly as I muster the courage to knock on his study door.

“Who is it?” His voice is firm and sounds a bit annoyed.

“Um, it is me, Bree. May I come in?”

“Enter.”

He is at his desk, buried in dispatches, and he looks up with that flat unreadable expression as I enter his study. I make myself speak before the attention can dismantle me.

“I was wondering if we could spend the rest of the afternoon together?” I ask but then avert my gaze under his intense stare. “If it’s not too much trouble, or we can arrange for a day if you are too busy today. I just would like a moment for us to spend some time together.” My nerves get the better of me as I realize I can’t stop rambling. “If it’s not too much trouble.” I should have rehearsed this better. “My apologies.”

Theron sets down his pen.

“There is no need to apologize.”

I look up, and I notice he is still looking at me with the same blank stare. I brace for rejection or a careful deflection, for the emperor to tell the empress that he has a war to run.

“Can you ride,” he says instead.

I blink. “A horse?”

“That is the usual thing to ride, yes.” And there, at the very corner of his mouth, the ghost again. “Unless northerners ride something else in the North. Or perhaps you ride poorly?”

“I have ridden a horse.” I remember the times when I was permitted to ride. “And yes we have horses in the north. I am not an expert but I have ridden before but I would not call myself—”

“Then you will ride with me,” he says, already rising and reaching for the coat over the back of his chair, “and don’t worry about your experience. I will make sure you do not fall off. Come. I have not been out of this room in four days, and you have given me the first good reason to leave it.”

- -

The woods beyond the fortress are nothing like the Silva Wood.

There is no wrongness in them.

No song, no shadow beneath the leaves that should not be there, and none of the towering evergreens or white birch of home. These woods are old, green, and gold. The afternoon sun spills between the leaves of the tall umbrella pines, the dark cypress, and holm oak above, while the horses crush thickets of myrtle and rosemary into scent and underfoot as we pass. The bridle path runs wide, stony, and easy beneath us.

I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath of it, the scent of the herbs and the cypress.

“You know, you should keep your eyes open while riding.”

I open my eyes and look over at Theron.

“My eyes are open.”

“They are now, but not before.”

I snort at this and look ahead. “I guess that is true. It was just for a moment.” I then avert my gaze and look down at my horse, a white mare with brown and grey speckles.

“A moment is all it takes for something to go wrong.”

I look over at Theron then, noticing his black horse. Theron rides the way he does everything, with an unconscious mastery that makes the great black animal under him look like an extension of his own will.

“Just make sure to look ahead, not at the ground. The view is much better up here anyway.”

This pulls my gaze up from the ground, back to him. Unsure how to respond, I decide to just nod and look up ahead on the path.

For a while neither of us says anything, and it is not the heavy silence of the dinner or the careful silence of the breakfast. It is only quiet. Easy. The first easy quiet we have ever had.

Behind us, at a distance, ride Lykos and Cassius, close enough to answer a horn, far enough that their voices do not carry.

“They do not have to be here,” I say, glancing back.

“They do,” Theron says. “I am the emperor. I do not go into the trees without a spear and a gate, it is one of the many indignities of the position.” A pause. “They will keep their distance. They are very good at pretending not to see.”

“That must be useful.”

“You have no idea.”

I chuckle at that. I look back and see Lykos give me a playful wink and Cassius has a permanent scowl etched onto his face. I then look over at Theron.

“You three seem close.”

Theron lets out a chuckle, and at first I think I am hallucinating because it is the first time I have heard it.

“Close? You have a very generous definition of the word. If by “close” you mean they excel at their duties and drain my patience, then sure. We are close.”

I think about this as I study Theron. “I didn’t realize they drained your patience. You seemed like you all tolerate each other really well.”

Theron grips the reins a bit tightly for a moment before giving me an odd look.

“Let me rephrase, as it is evident you aren’t understanding my sarcasm. We fought together during our time at the front. And when I became emperor, I gave them a purpose and a place to stay.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Theron agrees. He then leans towards me slightly and his voice drops more quietly. “Regardless, they are loyal to me. And that is all that matters.”

I hum in response. Unsure what else to really say after that, so I pet my horse. Occasionally I glance over at Theron who doesn’t seem to mind the silence.

We ride on.

Then a woodlark sings somewhere, ordinary and sweet. I tense out of habit, braced for the wrong song. When I don’t hear it, I take a moment to breathe again when it does not come.

Theron watches me as I try to calm my heart.

“It is only a bird,” he says, quietly.

“I know. But I still check because I can’t tell the difference yet.” I glance at him. “You did not laugh at me. About the song. At court, or at dinner. Everyone else thinks I am mad, or worse. You never once looked at me as though I were crazy.”

“I have heard my mother speak of the same thing,” he says, “with the same look on her face that you get. I stopped believing it was madness a long time ago.”

He is quiet for a moment, and I have learned to wait through his quiets. “She used to take me riding. Out here, in fact, this path. She said it was the only place the noise of the court could not follow her.”

“What was she like?”

It is a bold question, and I feel him consider not answering it. But we are in the quiet green of the forest edge and the court is far away.

“Warm,” he finally says, as though the word surprises him. “She was warm, which was a dangerous thing to be, in my family. She always dressed the way she pleased, colors no one else would wear, and had a flair for fashion and singing.”

“Singing?”

“Yes. She sang and played the old lyre, the seven-string kind, badly, and did not care that she played it badly, because she loved the sound more than she loved being good at it." A pause. "She was full of stories. Bards' tales, and she loved watching plays.”

I hum in response, and decide to speak about the person I am closest to in the world.

“My mother also used to tell me stories.” I pause. “She said they bring you a special kind of joy and hold little lessons in them.”

Theron huffs at this. “Then our mothers are the same in that regard. Mine believed in all of them, a little. She said a person who could not be moved by a story had let something in themselves die. She would have liked you. She loved things that were truly themselves, and original,” and for a moment I see Theron looks wistful. “You would have driven the court mad together. Gods, I miss her.”

And there it is, without warning, the thing Torsten wanted. A man tells his wife what he tells no council.

The emperor's cold heart, cracked open on the stoney path. His hidden softness is his dead mother. The exact shape of the wound that made him, laid in my open hands. And every instinct the north beat into me sits up and says: use it. Remember it. This is what you were sent for.

And I do not want it.

The realization goes through me like cold water. I do not want to remember this to sell it. I want to remember it because it is his, because he trusted me with it.

I brought him out here to be closer to him, for no reason but itself. And now I am holding the very thing my father would pay for, and I do not want to give it to them.

What would they even do with it?

How does a man like Torsten use a dead woman and a fox and an old lyre?

I do not know. I do not want to know, but my own mother lies dying in a cold tower, and the medicine comes only so long as I am useful. My chest aches with the whole impossible weight of it.

I am not listening like a spy. I have not been, for some time.

I am listening like a wife.

“Something wrong?” Theron asks as he looks over at me.

“No just—” I pause and decide to speak part of the truth. “Thank you,” I say, and my voice is not quite steady, “for telling me that.”

He glances at me, and whatever is on my face, it makes his own soften by a degree. “You're far too easy to open up to,” he notes, a dangerous, low rumble in his voice. “It's an annoyance, really, one I didn't see coming. But then again, everything about you breaks my rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, rules.”

I think about what he means by this as the path widens and the trees fall back.

“There are a lot of rules in court and in conversation,” I comment as I look back briefly and notice the guards are still far behind as we approach an open clearing that overlooks the city.

Theron smirks. “True.” He pauses and steers his horse into a clearing. I watch him get off his horse, tying it to a post near a stone bench. He offers his hand to help me down, and I take it.

“But for now, let the rest of the world worry about what's 'proper.' Out here, the rules are much simpler.”

“Rules are never simple.” I say as I feel him hover closer than what is proper. He is still holding my hand as he guides me to sit with him on the bench.

“They are for me. You see, if you want something, you take it,” Therons responds.

I glance back at the guards, still small in the distance, then at Theron as we overlook the city together. I think of what Melina said, and of what he gave me among the trees. And I decide to be blunt, in my natural, graceless way.

“I would not mind touching you more,” I say, “if we did not always have eyes on us.”

Theron goes very still.

“Is that so,” he says, and there is a dryness in his tone. “And what sort of touching does my empress imagine, out here, with two of my best men fifty yards away?”

I know he is trying to make me flustered. Even I can understand that much. But I don’t take the bait. Despite my blushing cheeks I refuse to retreat. He mentioned his rules include taking what he wants, and at this moment I want to be close to him.

“Well,” I say, and I feel my whole face go hot, and I hold his gaze anyway, “I wish to feel your skin against mine again.”

The silence that follows is enormous and I can’t help but feel nervous and begin rambling. Perhaps he misunderstood?

“In the same way as our wedding night.”

“Bree, I don't understand—”

“Well, I mean I want to feel your lips against my skin, between my thighs and on my chest. I want you to—”

“Gods, woman! I know what you mean I just am surprised.”

I pause. The heat in my cheeks grows.

“Oh, good. Well, I do want you again. If that is okay with you, but this time I do not want you to leave in the morning after and pretend nothing happened. I would like you to stay this time, and not pull away. That is the touching I imagine. Since you asked.”

Another long silence fills the space, but this time Theron finally looks over at me.

And then he laughs.

I blink.

It is a real laugh, startled out of him, low and warm and utterly helpless. His head tips back with it, before finally catching his breath. This is the first time I have ever heard him laugh. I feel embarrassed, at first, that he might be laughing at me. At the same time, I rather like the sound of him laughing. I just hope it isn’t because of me.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask, feeling more embarrassed and hoping I have not said the wrong thing.

He chuckles and a small smile touches his lips.

“I’m laughing, Bree.” He pauses to catch his breath. “Because I have never met a lady as bold and awkward as you.”

Shame builds in me. I am still unsure if he is laughing at me or from this whole situation. I look down and clutch my dress, unsure how to respond.

“My apologies,” is all I can think to say.

At this I hear him stop laughing, but his voice is low and gentle.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Not with me.” He then tilts my head to look at him. “You don't have to look at my eyes, but please look at me Bree and know I’m being sincere.”

My gaze meets his briefly before looking down at the thin line of his lips.

“Gods,” he whispers. “You truly are a terrible liar.”

“I agree,” I say bluntly. “That is why I stick to telling the truth. Was it very wrong of me to say that I wanted you?”

“No.” He is no longer smiling, but his face is warmer than I have ever seen it. “No, it was not wrong.” His hand comes up then to caress my cheek. I place my hand over it, and nuzzle into the touch. His hand is warm and calloused. Likely from his time training with the sword.

He leans closer then, so his nose nearly touches mine, and the gentleness in his voice lowers to something far more dangerous. “I left that morning,” he says, “because you frightened me. Not because I did not want you. In my world, a desire is just a weapon waiting to be turned against you. I knew the risks the moment I looked at you. And at the time I didn’t think you were worth the chaos.”

I feel my heart ache from his words, and I pull away but never let go of his hand. I move it from my face then, and rub my thumbs against his knuckles as I hold his hand.

“How can I make myself worthy?” I ask, though I fear the answer.

His golden eyes hold mine then as he brings my hand up to his lips, and kisses my hand. “I did not stay away because you were not enough, Bree. I stayed away because you were.”

I’m enough?

My mind fails to process his words. I stare at him as he fills the silence. “A man in my position shouldn't have a weakness. And being close to you makes me vulnerable. But I recently learned something.”

“What did you learn?”

Theron gives me an intense look as he whispers. “Wanting you does not make me weak. It makes me ruthless. If anyone imagines they can use you to reach me, they will learn precisely why they were right to fear me and call me a monster.”

The whole world goes quiet.

And underneath the warmth flooding through me, underneath the wanting and the ache of finally being told the thing I have needed to hear, a small cold voice I cannot silence whispers that this is the most dangerous thing I have ever learned. That Torsten would give a great deal to know the emperor of the south can be reached. That he has a soft, unguarded place, and that its name is me.

I push the voice down.

And then, because I am tired of being afraid of the things I want, I lean across the space between us, and I kiss him.

For half a breath he goes utterly still, surprised, and I think perhaps I have misjudged it.

Then his hand comes up to cradle my jaw, and he kisses me back with a deep hunger. The careful control of him frays at the edges as it did on our wedding night, and his fingers slide into my red curls, tilting my head further back as I feel him deepen the kiss.

A moan escapes me as I return the gesture. My hands wrap in his long white hair, and when his tongue meets mine again I make a small sound I do not plan to make and feel him answer it, pulling me closer across the space between us. My chest presses against his until the kiss is the only thing holding up together.

I kiss him back just as fiercely, clumsy and certain all at once, and for a moment there is no court and no father and no cold voice in my head, only him, only this, only the warmth of being wanted and wanting in return.

When we finally part I am breathless, and my face is very hot, and I become abruptly aware of exactly where we are.

"That was—" I start, stop, and glance over my shoulder at the two small shapes of the guards on the path behind us. "A bit embarrassing. To do that here where Lykos and Cassius can see."

Theron smiles and it leaves my knees feeling weak.

“They have seen worse things, but do not worry.” Theron's voice is husky as he kisses along my throat and I feel heat pool into my lower abdomen.

“We will not do it here." Theron's voice has gone low and rough, and his gold eyes have not left my mouth. He suddenly lifts me up and I yelp as he assists me onto his horse's saddle, and unties both horses from the post. I then feel him hop behind me.

“I have my own horse, you know.”

“I know, but Cassius can take the mare back and Lykos is guard enough for us. Besides, I want you all to myself, my wife.” Theron says as he gathers the reins of the mare and his legs close around so they press into mine. I blush as I feel my hips grind back against his and feel his arousal.

"We will go back. And you will join me in my room where there are no guards, no woods, and no one to judge us." He whispers against my neck as his arms move on either side of my waist. I feel him press a kiss to my neck as the horse carries us toward the castle. "Come. Let's head home, wife."

And together we do.

I can’t help but laugh from the kisses planted on my jaw as he carries me up to his bedroom. The way his hands feel against me, and I touch him with such wonder and desire.

And for once, I focus only on this moment of warmth, of the closeness of it, and let myself just be and feel.