Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Forty-Four
The cellthey put Agathe in wasn’t as nice as the room she’d snuck out of. The stone walls were cold and damp, and the floor had a grate for draining when they sluiced it down. She did get a pallet, a thin blanket, and a warning.
“Might want to pray to your Goddess now. The King don’t like spies.”
“I’m not a spy,” she huffed for the umpteenth time, still annoyed that Belle hadn’t said anything to help her.
A snort met her reply. “Says the spy, roaming around in places she shouldn’t.”
“Who would I be spying for? No one rivals the King.” No one with the courage to stand up to him but Agathe, it seemed.
“Dirty rebel,” was the spat reply as they left her to stew all alone in the cell.
The night proved long. Cold. Damp.
As she lay on the floor in pure darkness, she imagined eyes watching her, menace stalking within her vicinity.
She was vulnerable. Alone.
And the longer it lasted, the more she became annoyed because it was the only thing that could hold back the fear. It bubbled inside her. Threatened to overwhelm until she reminded herself of the worst that could happen.
I’ll die.
She’d die anyway if she did nothing. Maric might have given up, but surely, she wasn’t about to.
Agathe.
She could have sworn she heard her name whispered. She hugged the thin blanket tighter. Her imagination played tricks.
Are you going to pretend you can’t hear me?
Yes, because hearing voices was one of the symptoms of insanity. Or becoming a prophet. There hadn’t been one since the creator of the Void Prophecy.
How dare he put you in a cell?
Actually, Agathe didn’t fault him that. She’d have done the same if someone had poked into places they shouldn’t within the Abbae. The Soraers might be merciful, but they weren’t stupid.
You don’t have to stay in a cell. Or be under his control.
No one controlled her. As for the cell, eventually someone rational would realize she’d not done anything horrible and set her free.
Maybe.
And if they don’t, are you going to rot in that cell?
The argument in her head kept her occupied until the sudden clanking sounded as a key slotted the lock for her door. Agathe shoved to her feet and shielded her face from the sudden light that filled the place.
She heard the soft curse and recognized Maric. “Why wasn’t she returned to her room?”
“She was caught in the Blesseds’ quarters.” That was Korvin’s voice. “We took her into custody right away,” he boasted.
Rather than be pleased, Maric growled, “Someone should have woken me the moment it happened.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“You’ll be sorry you didn’t wake me. Moat duty. And if you complain, it will be the city sewers instead.”
Not a word was uttered as the soldier fled, leaving her alone with Maric. He looked a thousand times better than she felt.
Make that a million times. Ever since she’d walked into the Citadel, it was as if it drained her. Made her feel every inch of her body’s age.
But she wouldn’t let him see her discomfort. She lifted her chin. “Morning.”
The muscles on his face tensed and flexed before he bit out, “Couldn’t you stay out of trouble for one day?”
“Is that really a question?” No point in lying.
“You didn’t even try. You snuck out the first chance you got and went where you shouldn’t.”
“No one explicitly told me I couldn’t go visit an ex-acolyte.”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse. You knew that was a restricted area.”
“I did.”
Maric glowered. “I’m tempted to leave you here.”
“Do it. It’s nicer than my old room at the Abbae. Bigger, too.” Even came with a disembodied voice to keep her company.
“You have an annoying answer for everything.”
“Deal with it.”
He dropped to his haunches in front of her. “Why do you want to antagonize me?”
“Not my fault you can’t handle criticism.”
“You’re determined to dislike me.”
“I don’t dislike you, but I won’t agree with what you’re doing.”
“That is your right. Let’s go.” He snapped his fingers as he rose.
“Am I being executed?”
He grimaced. “Must you always think the worst?”
“It’s less disappointing that way.”
“You are not dying today.”
As she stood to follow, she asked, “Are you throwing me out of the Citadel?”
“Do you want me to? Because I’ll tell you right now, sneaking into the Blessed wing is more than grounds for it.”
“Would you really condemn me for checking in on a Soraer?”
“You could have asked.”
“You would have said no.”
“Probably. But now we’ll never know.” He walked for a few paces until he realized she’d stopped. He turned. “Is there a problem?”
“Why hasn’t Belle seen the King yet?”
“He’s been busy.”
“I thought the Blessed were important in the fight against the mist. You’d think he’d make the time.”
“A moment ago, you were arguing that the King is a monster for using the Blessed, and now you’re complaining he’s not doing it fast enough?”
“Seems odd. Especially given recent issues.”
“A situation has arisen that has taken the focus of his attention.”
The admission sharpened her interest. “Another attack? A Vhampir in the city?”
“It’s of a more personal nature.”
The claim stiffened her as she recalled the nursery. For some reason, a shiver went through her. “Is the King taking a wife?”
“Doubtful. The woman he’s been showing interest in has rebuffed his advances.”
“Smart woman.”
For some reason, her reply had him grabbing her by the arm. “Have you ever wanted to marry?”
There was bitterness in her words as she said, “I don’t need a husband trying to tell me what I can do.”
“Are you sure? He might keep you out of trouble.”
“If he tried, he’d find himself in an early grave.” She pulled free and moved away from him, but Maric kept pace—and kept talking.
“Do you still want to meet the King?”
“Is that still an option given what I did?” She glanced at him.
“Perhaps it’s time you spoke with the man and realized he’s not the tyrant you’ve painted him out to be.”
“Doubtful. Nor is it necessary. I have access to his library, which was all I really wanted.”
“And here I thought you’d want to relay in person what you thought of him.”
“A man like that won’t be swayed by the argument of an ordinary woman like me.”
“Once more I am forced to remind you that you are anything but ordinary.” He shoved her against a wall just past the empty cells. His body was hard against hers. His hands were on her buttocks, his thigh pressing between hers. She could have fought to escape, and yet a thrill went through her.
“This is hardly the place for this kind of thing.”
“You’d rather your room where your Soraers might hear?”
“Nothing to hear because nothing is happening.”
“Oh. Are you sure?” he purred, and his thigh, hugged between hers, nudged her.
He might as well have hit her with lightning. Her breath caught, her body tensed, then shivered.
“This desire between us means nothing. I don’t like you.”
“Good.”
“This is just—”
“Pleasure,” he interrupted, pressing against her again.
Why did it have to feel so good? She should have had more self-control. But she’d not been herself since meeting Maric.
Rather than walk away, she kissed him. Grabbed him by the cheeks and latched her mouth to his in a long embrace that saw them tugging at clothes, doing an awkward shuffle that resulted in her being bared from the waist down, her leg wrapped around his hip, welcoming his thrusts. She panted into his mouth and then cried out when she climaxed. He shuddered against her when he found his pleasure, too, and finished with his forehead resting against hers.
The moment was intimate, and too short.
They untangled and dressed, both of them strangely quiet. He brought Agathe straight to her room, and seeing the open doors for her Soraers, she asked, “Hiix and Venna?”
“The Maeder is training, and the other is in the library.”
“I see,” she said tightly. Nice to see they cared.
“They aren’t aware you spent time in a cell.”
“Oh.” She paused in the doorway.
Maric stood too close, frowning down at her. “Will you promise to not go into places you shouldn’t?”
“No.”
“Can’t you even lie to pretend?” He raked a hand through his hair.
“No.”
“I have to go.”
“Then go.”
She turned away and stepped into her room, when she was spun and kissed soundly.
“Maric.” She mumbled his name.
“I changed my mind.” He marched her backward far enough that he could slam the door shut.
The bed proved a softer spot for their antics, her climax even more intense. She barely moved when he slid from her bed. Instead, she fell asleep and, in her dream, relived the last time she had been happy with a man.
It didn’t end well. Not that she remembered once she woke up.
