Suddenly remembering he was still half naked, he put his cup down and walked back over to the chair to fetch his vest. As Celeste watched him go, for the first time she saw the angry, still-healing scars across his back, and her eyes went wide with concern. As he walked back to her, he looked up from lacing his vest and immediately understood.
Taking her hands into his, he saw that her eyes had become shiny.
"It's all right," he said softly. "They don't hurt as much as they once did." Reaching out, he touched her cheek.
"Did Krassus do that to you?" she asked, her face darkening with anger.
"In a way. These marks are from my time on the slave ship. One of the demonslavers did this."
Celeste looked down for a moment. "Then he shall have to answer for what he has done," she said, so softly he could barely hear her.
"That won't be necessary." Placing one hand beneath her chin, he raised her face back up to his. "He has already answered," he added gently. "To me." Silence reigned for a few moments.
"You lead such a dangerous existence," she said bravely, trying to hold back her tears. "It would be safer for you if you stayed here in the palace."
One corner of Tristan's mouth came up. "It would be safer for me if I were someone else altogether," he answered with a smile. "But we can't do much about that, now, can we?"
"No," she said, a hint of a smile returning. "I suppose not."
"Come and eat," he said, leading her back out in the sunshine. "I, for one, am famished."
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you when you weren't," she chided as they sat down across from each other.
As they sat and ate in the sunshine, Celeste told him a bit more of what she knew about Abbey, and the prince expanded on his experiences with Krassus, and the pirates of Sanctuary. As they talked, Tristan couldn't help but notice a very discernible change in Celeste. She seemed more alive, more spontaneous, happier than he had ever seen her. As he took another bite of the gingerwheat toast, he innocently told her so. When he did, a more thoughtful look came over her.
"Does this have anything to do with what you said you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked gently.
Celeste put down her teacup and looked into his eyes. "I'm finally free," she said softly.
"Free?" he repeated.
"Free of Ragnar," she answered. "I will, of course, never forget my time with him. But my horrific memories and nightmares no longer haunt me. While you were away, he came to me in a dream. It was so real that I was sure I was awake. He had returned from the dead somehow, and had used the craft on me so I couldn't move. He was going to abuse me again, right there and then, and return me to the Caves. But when I awakened from my dream, my mind fought back this time, and my anger finally came flooding out. When it did, something inside of me just snapped, and the grip of his terror over me was broken." Taking his hands, she closed hers lovingly around them.
"I'm finally free, Tristan," she said softly. "Free to live, laugh, and love." Her eyes anxiously searched his face, trying to discern what he was feeling. "The way it was rightfully meant to be," she added. "The way it should be between a man and a woman."
His heart full, Tristan stood, bringing her up with him. Pulling her close, he held her for a long time. When she finally took her face away from his shoulder, he saw the tears in her eyes again.
"Is it too late?" she asked softly.
At first Tristan didn't understand. Reaching up, he dried one of her eyes. "Too late for what?" he asked.
"Does Tyranny mean anything to you?" Her body trembled slightly, and her voice was barely audible. "Is it too late for you to love me?"
Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled her closer. "Don't you know by now?" he asked her. "It has always been you. From the first moment I saved you at the edge of that cliff and looked into your eyes." Feeling her body rise up to meet his, he looked down at her open mouth and realized the time for words had ended.
Reaching into her hair, he gave it a sure but gentle tug. As he did, her body bent willingly beneath him, and he put his mouth down on hers.
He looked into her eyes. She smiled, and cried, and laughed, and cried again. Her tears coming freely now, she rested her face against his chest and held him so tightly that he thought she would never let go. With his hands, he turned her face up and pressed his forehead against hers.
At that moment, Tristan understood that he had never truly loved before. Certainly not in just this way, nor ever with so full a heart.
"And just what do you suppose your father will have to say about all of this?" he asked with a little laugh.
"I have no idea." She laughed, too. "But I know I love you with all my heart, and nothing in this world will ever change that, I promise you."
"And I, you," he answered softly.
Taking a deep breath of self-discipline, she tore herself away. "I have to leave," she said. "And you need to clean yourself up!" Her sapphire eyes seemed to stab right through his heart. "I will see you in the courtyard."
With a final smile of good-bye, she walked to the door and left him alone with his thoughts. Long after she was gone, he could still smell the myrrh in the air.
Tristan walked back out to the balcony and looked down at the remains of the breakfast she had brought him, and then stared out over the peaceful countryside. Realizing his lips still held the memory of her kiss, he slowly grazed his fingertips over them. It was then that the long-awaited understanding finally came whispering its way into his mind.
And so it begins.
CHAPTER
Fifty-six
B y the time Tristan had bathed, dressed, and finally reached the courtyard, the sun was nearing its zenith. Abbey, Wigg, Faegan, and Shailiha were already there, waiting for him. Caprice, Shailiha's violet-and-yellow flier of the fields, was perched calmly on the princess' outstretched arm. Shailiha had left her daughter in the care of the gnome wives, Tristan assumed. As he joined the group, he gave Celeste a knowing smile.
Seeing Tristan, Wigg scowled and loudly cleared his throat. "And now that we're all finally here…"
Tristan paused in midstride. Glancing at Wigg, he sighed and pursed his lips.
The lead wizard turned to Abbey. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Running one hand worriedly through her thick salt-and-pepper hair, the herbmistress nodded. "Perhaps this time our luck will hold." She looked over at Faegan. The Paragon, hanging around his neck, sparkled in the sun.
"But given the fact that we still do not completely understand the Furies, I suggest we take some protective measures," she added. "We have postulated that the Furies arise only when the blood of the Chosen Ones is involved in this process, but we also must admit that our understanding of this remains limited. I have no desire to relive what happened the other day. To that end, I have a suggestion."
Faegan looked up from his chair. "Indeed," he replied. "What is your idea?"
"Can you use the craft to fashion something to contain my gazing flame?" Abbey asked him. "Something that would be strong enough to shield me from the Furies, if need be, but that my hands and my gifts might also be able to actually reach through, so that I still might accomplish my work?"
Faegan nodded. "There is a variation of the wizard's warp that should do."
Raising his arms, he called the craft. As he did, the familiar azure glow appeared. Then the glow coalesced into a gleaming, transparent cube sitting silently before them on the grass of the courtyard. Open at the top, it was about five meters high, and another five meters across on each side.
Tristan guessed that Faegan had left the cube's top open purposely, so that if the process erupted the force would go upward, harmlessly releasing its power into the sky.
Faegan lowered his arms. "That should suffice," he said thoughtfully. "I have fashioned it to be as strong as I know how, yet also accommodate your other demands. But what you need to understand is that whenever a warp is constructed so that one may pass any part of his or her body through it, by necessity some of its inherent strength is lost." He went quiet for several moments. "I certainly hope it will be enough," he added casually, his sense of understatement not lost on the others.