Jaleigh Johnson - Spider and Stone

“That’s right.” Icelin stood shakily and faced him. Ruen again suppressed the urge to reach out and support her. “I don’t want the Arcane Script Sphere anymore. It’s over.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruen heard the catch in his voice and despised himself for it. When had he become so weak? “We can still find a cure elsewhere. Faerun is a vast place.”

“How long will we search?”

“What?” Ruen was absorbed in thoughts and plans. They would leave the city in the morning. Godsdamn the drow, Mith Barak, and all the rest. If they couldn’t find what they were looking for here, it was time to move on. Why waste more time?

“Ruen, look at me.”

“Icelin, it’ll be all right,” Ruen said. “We’ll find a way.”

“I don’t want to look for a cure anymore.”

“What?” he repeated. She wasn’t making any sense. The drow had done more damage than he’d thought. “You’re tired, and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

She shook her head. “I do know what I’m saying, and I know what I want.” She clasped her hands in front of her, but when she looked at him, she was no longer weeping. Clear-eyed, she stared him down. “I want to live my life on my own terms. I won’t spend any more of it chasing down a cure for my spellscar. What happened to me shaped who I am. I’m not ashamed of it, and I’m not afraid to die. I’m more afraid of living without hope and love.” She laughed then, without humor. “Zollgarza showed me that, if you can believe it. His existence is so empty, so utterly devoid of warmth-of anything, that isn’t bitterness and hatred.”

“You’ll never be like him,” Ruen said.

“I know.” Icelin took a step toward him. Ruen tensed, but it wasn’t out of fear. His heart pounded in his chest. She lifted her hand, held it in the air an inch above his cheek. She looked in his eyes, seeking permission.

“Yes,” he said.

She laid her hand gently against his cheek-the lightest touch, but within it a world of meaning. The pulse of Icelin’s life beat against his skin, warmth and vibrancy radiating from each fingertip-but the whole was weaker than it should have been. The life force was brittle at the edges, cracks and seams running through it, flaws that would only spread until it ate away at all the warmth. Ruen gasped. The pain of it was a tangible force, like five needles in his skin.

“Don’t,” Icelin whispered. “Don’t run away from me. Please.”

“I’m trying.” Ruen closed his eyes tightly. He forced himself to focus only on her touch, the warmth of her fingers on his, the softness of her skin. The physical pain was all in his mind. He breathed deeply, pressing down the fear and hopelessness that always came with his gift. When he was calm, the pain went away. It was impossible to ignore the rest, but if only he could distract himself-

“I love you,” Icelin said.

Ruen opened his eyes.

ILTKAZAR, THE UNDERDARK

27 UKTAR

Icelin’s hand trembled. Ruen reached up, took her hand, and brought it to his lips. “Why?” he asked. “Because I’m an insufferable, overprotective, taciturn rogue?”

“Because you’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

“You can’t have many men to compare me to in your experience.” He smiled briefly, and the expression sent warmth through every part of Icelin’s body. “I am everything you’ve ever accused me of,” Ruen said. “Every flaw, it’s true.”

“And I know that I’m the last woman in the world that should be asking you to love me,” Icelin said. “To look past what you feel when you touch me.”

“That’s doesn’t matter,” Ruen said.

Her brow furrowed. “You mean you can stand to touch me, even knowing what you’re going to feel?”

“I mean I love you,” Ruen said. “I have for some time.”

Icelin grew suddenly lightheaded, a similar feeling to what she experienced when the wild magic roiled inside her, but this time there was no pain, only confusion, fear, and the small beginning of what might have been joy welling up within her. “What do you … how long?” she stammered.

“For a couple of months,” Ruen said.

“Since we left Waterdeep?” Icelin was having trouble concentrating. “But you never said, you told me you didn’t feel that way about-”

“I know,” Ruen said. “I lied. I thought it was enough to give you back your life, save you.” He looked away. “I was afraid.” He made a fist at his side, but Icelin kept hold of his other hand. She wouldn’t let go.

“Kiss me,” Icelin said, stepping closer.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Ruen said. “I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, gods, man, do I have to ask you again?” Icelin rolled her eyes and glared at him with mock severity. “Of all my many conquests, you’re by far the most difficult.”

“Am I?” Ruen framed her face in his hands and kissed her. Icelin wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his. He held her tightly, touching her, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. Now that he’d finally started, he seemed content to go on holding and kissing her forever.

“Ruen,” Icelin said haltingly, running her hands over his chest.

“Yes?” Ruen said. His lips traced her jaw.

“It occurs to me … that we have … too many clothes on,” Icelin murmured.

“A stunningly insightful observation,” Ruen replied. “We should remedy the situation immediately.”

“In Haela’s temple garden?” Icelin pulled back, smiling against his lips. Somehow, though, she thought the goddess would approve.

The sounds of music, shouts, and raucous laughter drifted faintly from the plaza. The wedding guests were gathering for the ceremony. Icelin felt cool, moist air touch her bare skin as Ruen lifted her shirt over her head.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” Icelin kissed him again, and they didn’t speak again for a long time.

Later, Icelin listened to the sound of falling water and marveled at the fact that she was lying on cold stone, with only a pile of clothing, her cloak, and Ruen’s body heat to keep her warm. She had no interest in moving, of course, so she put the cold out of her mind. Ruen seemed just as content, for he hadn’t moved or spoken since they’d made love, except to stroke his index finger gently over her hip and thigh beneath the cloak. The rhythmic motions lulled Icelin into a half sleep, but the sound of music and laughter drew her awake.

“Ingara’s wedding,” she murmured. “We shouldn’t miss it. Sull will be looking for us, too.”

“You’re right,” Ruen agreed. “But we’d best get dressed first.”

“Age and wisdom-that’s why I love you,” Icelin said. She fished her shirt out of the pile of discarded clothing and pulled it over her head. Thoughts of Ingara’s wedding led her to think about the Blackhorn family and the battle ahead. Since they’d come together, a peace such as Icelin had never known had settled over her, but their immediate future was still uncertain. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.

Ruen paused in the act of pulling on his boots. “We stay and fight or we leave the city after the wedding,” he said. “Garn told me there are still secret ways open to the surface. They’ve sent some children and elders from the city by those routes. We’d be relatively safe using them.”

“I don’t want to run,” Icelin said, “but there’s a good chance that if we stay to fight, we’ll die.”

“A very good chance,” Ruen said, never taking his eyes from her face.

Icelin smiled at him wistfully. “Isn’t this the kind of thing adventurers are supposed to do? Live on the edge of death and take on impossible causes for riches and glory?”