Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“Lynx pushed me,” Ki mumbled.

“I know.” She pulled her disheveled skirts down over her knees.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the snapping of the fire. Ki could just imagine the others outside, ears pressed to the door. He started to apologize again, but she silenced him with a look.

After another excruciating moment she sighed and held out her hand. “You’ll always be my best friend, Ki.”

Ki clasped it and blurted out, “I do love you! I always will.”

“But not as—?”

He looked down at their joined hands, searching his heart for some spark of desire. But he still couldn’t imagine lying with her as he had with all those serving maids and scullery girls. It was as if some wizard had hexed him, sapping the heat from his loins. “I’d give everything I have to feel that way for you.”

Her soft sob and the sight of the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks twisted Ki’s heart again. Swallowing hard, he shifted over and pulled her close. This time she did cry.

“I’m cursed, Ki. Brother says so.”

“Well, you don’t want to believe anything he says. You know what a liar he is.”

“You don’t think I was wrong, to let Iya go, do you?”

“No. I think it would have been wrong to kill her.”

Tamír sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve, giving him a trembling, shamefaced grin. “I really have turned into a woman, haven’t I? I never used to cry like this.”

“Don’t let Una catch you talking like that.”

She managed a weak smile. “Your friendship means more to me than anything. If that’s all we ever have—”

“Don’t say that.” He looked earnestly into her sad eyes, wanting to cry himself. “You hold my heart. You always have and you always will.”

Tamír let out a shaky sigh. “And you have mine.”

“I know that, so don’t—Well, don’t give up on me yet, all right?”

She started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she sat back and wiped her face again. “I guess we’d better get some sleep.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She shook her head and Ki knew by the way she did not look at him that things had changed between them tonight in a way that neither of them could take back.

He ignored his friends’ questioning looks as he went out. A room had been set aside for him just down the low stone corridor, but the thought of lying alone in the dark drove him in the opposite direction.

Tharin was still in the large room, playing bakshi with Aladar and Manies. Ki nodded in passing and went outside. He was halfway across the empty square when he heard the door behind him open and close. He turned, arms locked across his chest, and waited as Tharin joined him.

He didn’t stop, just brushed Ki’s arm and said, “Let’s take a walk,” then strolled off toward the trail that led to the Oracle’s chamber.

They picked their way among the tumbled boulders and over the slick spots. Tharin seemed to be looking for something. It turned out to be a sheltered overhang above the trail. He settled there with his back to the rock face and motioned for Ki to sit beside him.

Ki pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, heart beating too fast as he waited for whatever Tharin had to say. “How much did you hear?”

“Bits and pieces. Iya’s been sent away and Arkoniel may have gone with her. I haven’t seen him since he sent you racing back in. What can you tell me?”

Ki poured it all out to him, about Iya and Brother and his own ham-handed failures at comfort. “I even tried to kiss her,” he admitted miserably. “She wants me to be more than just her friend, Tharin.”

“I know.”

Ki stared at him in surprise.

Tharin smiled. “She told me, months back.”

Ki felt his cheeks go hot in spite of the cold night air. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To what end? I’ve got eyes, Ki.”

“Do you want to smack me? I deserve it.”

Instead Tharin just clapped him on the knee.

“What am I going to do?” He clutched his head and groaned. “I’m failing her when she needs me most.”

“You can’t change your heart, Ki, or order it, like a warrior into battle.”

“People will still talk.”

“There’s no escaping that. People like to talk.”

“They’ve always gossiped about us. Even when Tamír was a boy, they thought we were bedmates.”

“It might have been easier now if you had been. But I figured out long since that you don’t bed boys.”

“So why can’t I feel the way she wants me to now that she’s a girl? Bilairy’s balls, Tharin, I do love her, but when I think of lying with her, I just can’t imagine it.”

“You’ve been with other girls. Did you treat them badly?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Did you love any of them?”

“No, it was just a tumble.”

“So you can’t think of tumbling our Tamír?”

Ki cringed at the thought. “Of course not!”

He waited for Tharin to chastise him or at least give him some advice, but the man just jerked a thumb in the direction of the Oracle. “Have you thought of going down there yourself?”

“No, I don’t go messing about with all that moon smoke and magic. Sakor is a damn sight cleaner to follow. You fight, and you live or die. No messing around with blood and ghosts.”

Tharin stood and stretched. “Well, things change,” he said quietly, then turned and gave Ki a look he couldn’t quite interpret. “Sometimes you just have to be patient. Let’s go back. It’s cold.”

Ki had to pass Tamír’s door on the way to his own chamber, and endured Lynx’s accusing look. Later, as he lay on his narrow bed, knowing sleep would be a stranger, he wished he had more faith in Tharin’s words. Some things just couldn’t be changed, no matter how much you wanted them to.

Arkoniel spent the remainder of the night sitting on a stone by the road. Wrapped in Iya’s cloak, he watched the stars wheel and fade.

The first hint of daylight was casting a pink tinge across the snow-capped peaks when he heard the sound of riders behind him.

It was the Aurënfaie, muffled in cloaks and wearing the plain white sen’gai they used for traveling.

“You’re up early, wizard,” Solun greeted him.

“So are you,” replied Arkoniel, rising on stiff legs. “Are you leaving so soon?”

“I wanted to stay,” Arengil said at once, looking a bit sulky. “Tamír offered me a place in the Companions.”

“And me,” said Corruth, looking no happier.

Sylmai gave them both a reproving look. “That is for your parents to say.”

“You haven’t seen much of Tamír,” Arkoniel observed, concerned.

“We’ve seen enough,” Solun assured him.

“Will Aurënen recognize her claim?”

“That is the decision for each of the clans to make, but I will urge Bôkthersa to accept Tamír as the true queen.”

“I’ll do the same in Gedre,” said Sylmai.

“She means to declare war, you know.”

“We will take that into consideration. Our ships are swift, should the need arise,” Sylmai replied. “How will you get word to us?”

Arkoniel showed her the window spell. “If I can find you, I can speak to you through this, but you must not touch it.”

“Look for me in Gedre, then. Farewell, and good luck.”

The others nodded to him and rode on, disappearing quickly into the morning mist. The Khatme, Arkoniel noted, had said nothing of support.

Unsettled, he walked slowly back up to the guesthouse.

Tamír and the Companions were sitting around the main hearth with their breakfast. Neither she nor Ki looked rested, but at least they were sitting together. She glanced up as he came in, but didn’t call him to join her. He wondered dully if she’d reconsidered his banishment. With an inward sigh, he went to the sideboard and helped himself to bread and cheese and went to his room.