It seemed a long time before she could hear, and then she listened to Illidian’s heartbeat, ignoring the noises from the stage. When her shaking had gone as well, he stopped smoothing his hand down her back.
"Shall we leave now?"
"Yes." Her voice was very small, and she wondered if Illidian would ever tire of the work she involved.
Kellian strength made it easy for him to carry her to the landing outside, where she made an attempt at standing, and found that she could stay reasonably upright clinging to his arm. A muffled roar broke as they reached the entrance, and she realised it was applause. Then they were out on the street, with all the traffic of the Crossways to deal with, but Illidian signalled and the coach he’d arranged to collect them was fetched from around the corner.
The journey back to barracks escaped her entirely, but she opened her eyes again when Illidian put her down in his quarters. "Something warm to drink," he prescribed, and the idea was a reviving one. Feeling more like herself, she managed to get herself to the privy down the corridor, and even warmed a bowl of water so she could wash before dressing for bed. It was the only time she’d cast that day, and she thought about that until Illidian returned from the kitchens.
He’d found some syrupy Kolan kur, and even dosed it with a tiny amount of spirits, which was something she couldn’t drink in any quantity. But they sat together and it warmed her.
She leaned against him again. "I didn’t know I could fall apart like that."
"Reaction from the attack." He took her empty cup and put it on the floor. "At the time, you pushed it aside. And then you were injured, and when you at last had the time and energy to think, that was not something you wanted to dwell upon. You haven’t had to face the memory until now."
He touched her cheek, then bent his head to kiss her properly for the first time since that one night they’d spent together two months ago. Rennyn was considerably startled, since Illidian had made clear that the thought of hurting her while making love wasn’t something he could bear, and until her ribs had strengthened he’d not risk more than the lightest touch. But he did not draw back, and she was more than happy to keep going, to try not to breathe deeply while Illidian shook with the effort of being entirely slow and gentle. The whole thing was awkward, and probably not very satisfying for either of them, but she didn’t care. She’d hated that they hadn’t been able to consummate their marriage.
"What changed your mind?" she asked, when they had finally settled curled together, breathing unsteadily.
He kissed the top of her head, but took his time answering. "I hadn’t realised how deeply his attack had wounded you," he said at last. "I’ve only been thinking of your physical injuries. And haven’t trusted myself."
Rennyn curled a little closer, aware of both release and conflict in him. That first time they’d made love, it hadn’t escaped her notice that he had struggled with emotions that had knotted his muscles. She never doubted that he loved her, that he was passionately attracted to her, but theirs was a relationship that would always be hopelessly complicated by the power she had over the Kellian, by the nightmare she represented. She was so glad they were at least moving past the constraints placed on them by her injuries.
"Do you think that play will be popular?"
"Very." He sounded resigned. "A number of the scenes are exceptional, and it captures the…distress Tyrians have suffered, that they needed to have spoken aloud."
"Is it better to have a very good play about you that everyone will see, or a very bad play that they will forget?"
"Neither? It makes our departure fortuitous. By the time we return it will be last season’s sensation. To which point, it is past time you slept."
That made Rennyn laugh, and she was even more pleased when her ribs raised no protest. "Do you really think I’ll last more than a few more sentences? Perhaps I should try one of those crowd-stirring speeches." She smiled, thinking of the way the actress pretending to be her had kept stopping in the middle of battles to have little debates with herself, or to be lofty and dismissive to the Sentene.
"So unlikely…" she murmured, blinked, and realised he had moved, had settled in the chair beside the bed to read, as he did every night after she fell asleep because he tried very hard to sleep as little as possible, because he dreamed of horrors and would not risk injuring her waking in fright. That, at least, was something no-one knew to put in a play: that her husband wouldn’t sleep with her.
The evening’s gloss dimmed, she drifted off again, wishing the good things between them could banish the nightmares.
Chapter Seven
Kendall hadn’t been keen on this plan from the start. There was such a thing as weighing the risks. Not bumping over roads might make the trip a bit easier for Rennyn, but everyone knew people died on boats. Ships, as Captain Faille said these big ones were called. Did an easier journey balance out a more dangerous one?
Floating about in a creaky wooden tub couldn’t be the best solution. Sleep outside the protection of a Circle? Sail onto the ocean, which was full of things that could swallow whole people for lunch? Even if nothing came and killed them, there were storms to toss you overboard, and then maybe you’d have a chance to drown before you were eaten.
Kendall had learned enough about magic to know the difference between the circles of protection that kept Night Roamers out of towns, and the wards you’d have to use on a room or a ship. Wards were expensive, requiring a lot more power. Unless you were going to sail right back into port before sunset, you’d need a mage or two to keep them up. And they weren’t nearly as strong as a Circle, which meant if they were attacked there was a chance of the wards being overwhelmed.
Despite all this, and the fact that they’d had to go down before dawn to a cold, misty and stinking river, Kendall had to work at not gawping as she crossed the thick plank between dock and deck. People were busy moving everywhere, and the masts seemed immensely tall when you stood underneath them, and you could feel the weight in all that sailcloth. If it was not for one fly in the ointment, she’d let herself enjoy setting out.
The fly had turned up when they were crowding into carriages back at the Houses of Magic, and short of pushing him overboard, Kendall didn’t see much hope of getting rid of him. She hadn’t said anything back at the palace, since Rennyn had been saying goodbye to Sebastian and not looking too happy about it, but first chance she got, Kendall buttonholed her teacher for an explanation. As usual it was hardly worth the breath.
"Straightforward curiosity," Rennyn said, glancing around the room she’d been shown to, with its little table and the long padded seat beneath a bunch of leaded windows looking out the back of the ship. "I found him interesting, the same as I do you and Sukata. But if it will make you feel any better, you’re free to treat him with just as much courtesy as he treats you."
"Bah," Kendall said, but left as Captain Faille arrived with luggage. She wouldn’t get anywhere pointing out that interesting was the wrong way to look at the nephew of the Kellian’s worst enemy. You couldn’t make Rennyn change her mind about things by repeating the same argument at her.
Rennyn’s room was at the back of the ship, and was a lot bigger than the one Kendall had. That was down the corridor, where Sukata, Kendall and Lieutenant Faral were going to sleep in things called hammocks—nets strung from the walls. There was a curtain for the door, and Kendall almost pulled that off as she reached it because the floor decided to tilt.