Didn’t matter the purpose. It still cut deeply. How could I trust him if I never knew when he might pull another stunt like that, whether to protect me or not? His words came back to me: Kara, I could no more keep you prisoner now than cage the lightning or bottle the surging sea. I snorted. Wasn’t that a lovely pile of bullshit?
I summoned the damn pygah and did some damn breathing to calm myself the hell down. Once I stopped feeling murderous, I gave Idris as nice a smile as I could muster. “Congrats on getting the seventh ring, Idris,” I said. “I have some things I need to do.” I didn’t really know what just yet, but I knew I needed to do something.
Heading back up to the palace, I pulled a trickle of grove power, not only to help me calm down but also to make it more difficult to read me. I had no doubt that Mzatal was aware of my pissed-offed-ness, but I didn’t want him hearing my thought processes while I tried to work this out. Better for the both of us that way.
Mzatal wasn’t in his rooms, for which I was beyond grateful. I took a quick bath and changed clothes, then carefully packed up as much of my stuff as I could carry. And how the hell had I acquired so many clothes? The zrila had gone nuts.
It took a few minutes, but I finally managed to convince a faas that I needed to relocate to different rooms—any that were prepared and ready, though preferably something as far away from Mzatal’s chambers as possible. That turned out to be on the north end of the palace in the eerily vacant section where humans once lived. Unfortunately, to be far away from Mzatal meant I was also far away from a view of the grove, though at least I could still feel it clearly. The room itself was comfortable enough with a spacious combined bedroom and living area. No door though. An open archway led straight to the corridor, but at least there was a curtain that could be drawn to screen the bed. By the time the evening bell rang, all of my things were in a pile beside the bed in my new room.
I curled up on the couch with my papers and books, tried to work through the concepts of the first three rings of the shikvihr. But my focus was crap, and calling up the pygah did nothing to ease the ache within. Eventually I gave up studying and tried to write a letter to Tessa, but after four tries I was ready to give up on that as well.
An ilius coiled by the open archway, and I remembered Idris’s comment about the demons being early warning systems for a pending Mzatal arrival. I quickly made certain that I was still holding enough grove power to keep him from reading me, and a few seconds later the sound of footsteps in the hall confirmed Mzatal’s approach.
He stopped just beyond the arch, but to my surprise didn’t enter. I didn’t look directly at him, but my peripheral vision worked overtime.
“Kara.”
I took a deep breath. “Lord Mzatal.”
He closed his eyes. A wave of reaction passed over his face before he could stop it, and I winced inwardly, realizing that by using his title, other than in show for others, I hurt him. That hadn’t been my intention, but the formality defined my boundaries and our roles, so I steeled myself to accept the consequences.
He remained silent longer than necessary to process a response, but finally opened his eyes. “Kara. Come. Walk with me.”
I really wasn’t ready to talk or hug it out or any shit like that. My own thoughts needed to be a lot clearer first. “Is that a command or request, my lord?”
He drew a deep breath and released it slowly before responding. “A request only.”
“Then I will respectfully decline, my lord,” I said, keeping my voice as even as I could. “I wouldn’t be good company.”
Tension tightened his shoulders. For an instant I thought he would enter, but he simply kept his hands clasped behind his back, though I had a feeling they were in fists. “Kara, reconsider your quarters,” he said. “It is too soon for you to be away.”
“Yes, you’ve made your stance on that quite clear,” I shot back, voice laden with bitterness.
“I speak of the immediate concerns,” he replied. “Though the other is what I came to discuss.”
I took a steadying breath. “I can’t talk to you now,” I said. “It would not end well.”
He remained silent for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Accepted.” He paused again before speaking. “Kara, reconsider your quarters,” he repeated, “if only for a few nights.”
“If I go back to your rooms now, my lord,” I said, calmly and quietly, “you might as well put the collar back on me.”
An expression of dismay flashed across his face, then melded into a neutral mask. “That is…” He trailed off, shook his head. “So be it. Rest well, Kara Gillian.”
My hand tightened on my pen as I gave him a nod. He remained just beyond the archway for a few seconds more before turning and heading back down the hall.
There was no point in trying to study or write letters, not with my focus this screwed up, and so much uncertainty and hurt churning through me. Eventually I gave up and went to bed, but it was a long time before I could fall asleep.
I jolted upright, anguished scream choking off before it could fully form. The nightmare coiled around me, refusing to fully disperse even though I was awake and aware.
“You are mine,” Rhyzkahl says with a snarl. “None other may touch you thus.” A drop of crimson slides down the keen edge of his blade. My blood. My pain. “You are mine.”
Throwing off the covers, I stumbled out of bed and then to the balcony. The cool night air washed over me as I stepped out, but my shivering had little to do with that. If Mzatal was here…I squeezed my eyes shut. No. Mzatal wasn’t here to ease the nightmare. And now I understood his words, his desire for me to “reconsider my quarters.” He’d kept the dreams at bay while I stayed with him, let me sleep in peace.
But I need to be able to stand on my own at some point, don’t I? I couldn’t expect him to be there every second of the day to ease my boo-boos or hug away my fears. And I had no desire to live my life so thoroughly protected. Rhyzkahl had made sweeping decisions about my “safety” as well, such as when he’d denied me the grove. This situation was nothing like that, I knew, for Rhyzkahl’s intentions had little to do with my personal safety and everything to do with his own goals. Yet, in a way, knowing Mzatal had the best of intentions—while deceiving me into an agreement that could trap me here forever—was the hardest part. At least I thought he had the best of intentions. But how could I really be sure?
I returned inside and went to the bath chamber. My thoughts tumbled over each other as I took a long soak. Dawn came, but when the faas arrived with food, I could barely choke down a few swallows of chak. I tried again to study, but at the morning bell gave up, gathered up all my papers, and headed to the workroom.
Sitting at a table against the back wall, I spread out my notes and sought calm, which proved tough to do when I felt haggard on innumerable levels. I gently pulled power from the grove, as much to mask my thoughts as to seek an elusive peace.
Mzatal entered, and I stood. I didn’t do the “Lord Mzatal” thing. He got that message clearly last night.
“Greetings, Kara Gillian,” he said, eyes on me and holding himself with a too-smooth façade that spoke volumes more than any expression of hurt or anger could have.
Taking a deep breath, I gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “We could engage in some bullshit about getting down to work, or we could talk about the other shit. Which would you prefer?”
He stepped forward. “The work has no value or substance while the other hangs between us.”
“Agreed,” I said, a bit surprised at how calm I sounded. I sure as hell didn’t feel it. “A question for you then. Assuming we had no agreement stating otherwise, if I were to ask you to have Idris send me home, would you?”