Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Thirty-Four
The argumentwith Belle made Agathe’s blood boil. She couldn’t stay around the girl and not shake her for being so dense. She stalked off and, with nowhere else to go, ended up in the garden, quiet now that everyone had gone to bed.
The air held the fragrance of green, growing things, and the stars really were pretty. A winding path drew her to a private bower with a stone bench. She sat on it and waited.
She didn’t react at all when someone joined her with a creak of leather. No need to look. For some reason, she was attuned to Maric. She didn’t understand it. She’d never before met a man who made her so aware of herself as a woman.
Agathe said nothing. He’d obviously sought her out for a reason.
It emerged on a low growl. “Baer’s been told the next time he neglects his duties, I’ll geld him.”
An abrupt start to the conversation. “It’s not entirely his fault. The Maeder should have known better than to leave Belle alone.” Left unsaid was that none of them understood what Hiix saw in the big barbarian.
“They’re allowing themselves to be distracted. Now is not the time.”
“No, it’s not.” In Hiix’s defense, she wasn’t the only one having an issue staying focused. Agathe glanced at her hands clasped in her lap. “After tomorrow, I guess we’ll be going our separate ways.”
“Maybe.”
Her heart stilled, and she slewed a glance at him. “Meaning what?”
He leaned back, legs stretched, arms across the back of the bench. “Didn’t you ask to meet the King?”
“Technically, I only want access to his library.”
“Even if it was granted, it would under strict guard.”
She deliberately misunderstood him and asked in false innocence, “Isn’t the Citadel safe?”
“Don’t pretend to be dense. The guard wouldn’t be to protect you.”
“As if I’d ever damage history.”
“And what if the past is so shocking you’d rather bury it? Deny it ever happened?”
“Destroying our history instead of studying it only ensures we repeat it.”
“Some think the past influences the future.”
“Of course, it does. What has happened to us before shapes how we act in the present.”
“At the same time, getting caught up in things that can’t be changed can become a vicious self-fulfilling circle.”
“Haven’t you done things you wish you could change?”
“No. I stand behind all my decisions but one.”
What would an arrogant man like Maric ever regret? “That bad?”
“The worst thing I ever did.” Their gazes met, and she was struck by his blue gaze. So different from everyone else with their brown eyes.
“Funny how one thing, one stupid, stupid decision can change the course of your life,” she muttered, thinking of her own regrets.
“Does it have to define the future?”
She didn’t want to talk about the things that led to the betrayal. The blood. So much of it.
“Forget past and future. There is only now.” A chance to make new bad decisions.
Before she could change her mind, she leaned over and kissed him.
He froze.
She remained close, her gaze locked on his.
Nothing was said, and yet his mouth suddenly clung to hers, their lips meeting in a clash of hot breath and sudden fierce passion. He dragged her onto his lap, and she was more than willing, turning so she straddled him, gripping his cheeks, plundering his mouth as surely as he explored hers.
When the groping and panting on the bench led to extreme need and frustration, she found herself carried to a mossy patch where he threw down his shirt first before laying her back on it. Under the boughs of a tree that filtered the starlight, Maric took her. His thrusts made her hum and rock in time to him. Her gasps and his groans were the only sounds other than the sighing of wind through the leaves.
When her climax hit, it proved strong enough that she went rigid. Her nails dug into his flesh, surely drawing blood.
As if either of them cared. A sated lassitude took her. She didn’t protest when he gathered her in his arms and took her to his room, where he took his time bringing her to the brink again—a slow, pleasurable ride.
It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to be with anyone she didn’t remember it.
The guilt didn’t set in until she woke curled against Maric. There was a certain perverse satisfaction in what had happened between them. She, an older woman, had been properly bedded by the general, who was definitely all man.
For one night, they’d been perfect together. However, she was enough of a realist to know that it wouldn’t last. A Soraer of the Shield had a duty to her Goddess, not to mention a responsibility that began with a purple-eyed orphan girl. A different man might have helped her on her quest. Maric…he belonged to the King.
She rose with the dawn, her movements drawing a drowsy sound from him.
“You’re leaving?”
She glanced back at him, the shadows already receding, meaning she could see him clearly. “We should be discreet.” She grabbed her clothing, only to hear him suck in a breath.
“You have a lot of scars.”
“Not just on my skin,” she muttered. “I have to go.” She fled without a kiss or a goodbye. Fled before she could change her mind about finding a way to be with him.
It would never work.
This early in the day, the bathing facilities for the women were almost empty. The other Soraers rose when Agathe entered, uttering a bright and cheerful, “Morning. How was your night?”
“Not as good as yours, apparently.” A dry reply, but no rebuke even as it was deserved.
She and Maric had both been beyond distracted. All. Night. Long. It left her with certain expectations.
She didn’t see him at the rushed breakfast, only Xaav, who appeared to be waiting for the Soraers, given he kept saying, “Hurry. The general knight wants an early start.”
Could it be Maric was as eager to see her as she was him? She’d left without them discussing what would occur next. Was it a one-time thing? Would he want to see her again? Did she want to see him?
By the time they emerged from the house, most of the Brigade was mounted. Maric already sat upon his steed, and without asking, he snapped his fingers at Belle. “You ride with me today.”
Agathe didn’t quite manage to hold in her shock and had to quickly force herself to snap her jaw shut.
“Me?” Belle exclaimed. Then simpered. “Of course, General Knight.” She held out her arms to be lifted.
Useless chit.
And yet, she got to sit in the saddle in front of the general, who didn’t once glance at Agathe. Acted as if she didn’t exist. As if last night had never happened.
If looks could kill, he’d have died.
