Tessa Gratton - The Queens of Innis Lear

“It is unused, uncultivated, but still present. A current under all.” No one he’d met in Aremoria spoke to the trees, which made it seem like they’d been waiting just for him.

Elia pressed her forehead to the stone. “My father …”

“Is wrong.”

“Let’s speak of something else.”

“Ah.” He thought hard for a neutral thing to say, stepping closer. The ocean wind streamed around him, and he felt the humming again, from the air, from the stones, from the moon. “If you stand here, and leap from one foot to the next”—he demonstrated, widening his stance comically—“back and forth, it looks like the moon herself is leaping.”

Seeming surprised, Elia joined him. She took his dirty hand and hopped, her eyes up on the hazy sky.

The moon bobbed as they did. It was like six years vanished between them, and they’d never been apart. Elia gripped his hand, and he smiled at her, watching her face when he could instead of the moon.

Slowly, slowly, he became aware of the feel of her cool hand in his, the sliding of her skin against his skin; the motion tingled and burned up along the soft side of his wrist, pooling in his elbow, tickled all the way to his heart with a thread of starlight. It was no imagined poetry that made him think it, but magic, tying them back together as he’d sought to tie himself again to Innis Lear. His blood between them, and this shared dance.

Ban thought about kissing her.

He stumbled, jerking at Elia’s arm, and she laughed. “I know what you were looking at, Ban Errigal.”

She could not, he hoped, know he’d had such a thought as he’d had, to take something from her she had not offered. “I enjoy making the moon move,” he said.

“Not very respectful,” she chided, but without much force behind it.

“I have no respect for this place.”

It killed their moment of pleasure, and Ban regretted that, though not what he’d said.

Elia went still. “Maybe your disdain can cancel out his worship,” she whispered.

“I’ll take you away from here,” he heard himself say, and knew he meant every word. He meant this more than any promise he’d ever made to Aremoria. “We could leave now. My horse is in the Sunton stables; we’ll go and be long away by dawn. From there to Aremoria and beyond, any place we like.”

The princess stared at his mouth, as if reading his next words there: “Two nobodies, just Ban and Elia. We could do anything. Come with me,” he said, almost frantic. This was the moment, the tilting, reaching moment that would change everything. Choose me, he thought.

But Elia turned away from him. Said, looking to the stars once more, “Everyone would blame you, say terrible things about you.”

“And so the sun rises every morning.” The bitterness staining his words stung even his own mouth. Did she know what it had been like for him as a boy? Did she ever notice her father’s jabs? No, he told himself, more likely Elia had loved him the way children love what they have, and forgot him the moment he was gone. Why else did she never write to him?

“I can’t, Ban. My father will regret this, I know. He must. He will see …” Her eyes closed, but her head was still tipped back to the sky. “He will see a new sign in the stars, and forgive me.”

“What kind of forgiveness is that, if he only does it for them?” Ban flung his hands at the stars.

Moonlight caught the tips of her short, curled lashes. “Forgiveness is its own point,” she insisted.

He stared at her, wondering if anyone could be so good. Wondering if she believed herself. “I can’t forgive him,” he said. “For what he’s done to you. To me. I don’t want to.”

She opened her eyes and faced him, revealing a vivid ache in her gaze. “I think … I used up my heart completely this afternoon. There is no space for any new feeling to take hold, Ban. Only for what already lived there, and rooted long ago.”

“I was there.”

Elia nodded. “As he has always been. And you are here now, and that is … it is such a balm to see you.”

“Just in time for you to leave, to trade places with me in Aremoria,” he said angrily, wanting to remind her sharply that Morimaros of Aremoria was not rooted in her heart. But he said no more, shocked at his conflicted loyalty. Morimaros deserved much better from him.

She shook her head sadly, disapproving of his anger. Then she asked, “Why did you come out here, to this place you dislike?”

“To escape our fathers,” he muttered.

“There are many ways to do that. Are you looking for a prophecy? It is what this place is for.”

“You should know better. I came to invite myself back to the roots of Innis Lear. To the voices of the trees and stones. Since there is no well from which to drink.” He stalked to the eastern stone, where the moon hung a handspan above it now, and the Star of First Birds sparkled just to the side. As he approached, the stone grew and grew against the darkening sky until it swallowed the moon whole. Ban put his hands flat against it and pushed. It did not budge, of course, but he ground his teeth and shoved, straining with all his strength. His boots slid roughly.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.