Lies of Light

45

18 Alturiak, the Yearof the Shield (1367DR) Second Quarter, Innarlith

You look awful.”

Willem, startled, gasped and stepped backward into a nightstand. The touch of something on his leg startled him again, then he jumped at the thought that if he knocked it over it would make a loud noise. He hissed a curse when he whirled to catch it.

“Graceful,” Phyrea whispered.

Willem winced at both her tone and the pain that seemed to drop onto his head from above. His eyes burned. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel her behind him, just standing there. He heard something drop to the floor and turned. The nightstand teetered a little but settled on its legs. From his peripheral vision he saw her cloak in a pool around her feet.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“I” she started, her voice booming in his ears.

He shushed her and she stopped. His head throbbed.

“You look awful,” she whispered.

“You said that,” he whispered back. “I believe you.”

He turned to face her but rubbed his eyes, trying to get some feeling back into his face along with anything but sandpaper under his eyelids. It wasn’t working.

“Why are we whispering?” she asked, whispering.

“I don’t live alone,” he replied, taking his hands from his eyes and blinking in the dim candlelight of his bedchamber.

Phyrea worked at the laces of her leather bodice and said, “That’s right… your mother.”

He nodded and asked, “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer, but continued to unlace her top.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” he asked, still blinking.

“It’s early,” she replied.

“I thought you hated me,” he said.

She dropped the bodice to the floor with her cloak. The sight of her took Willem’s breath away.

“You’ve been drinking,” she whispered.

He opened his mouth and shook his head, which hurt. She unlaced her leather breeches, then seemed to suddenly realize she was still wearing her boots.

“You don’t smell good,” she whispered. “I can smell you from here.”

She took off one boot and placed it next to her cloak.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You certainly are.”

She took off her other boot.

“Why did you come here?” he asked her.

“Well,” she replied as she slipped out of her breeches, “I’d have thought that would be obvious by now.”

She wore nothing underneath.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

She stood there, naked, looking at him with such an expression of utter contempt that Willem had to look away from her.

“I don’t please you?” she asked.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman in all of Faerun.” “Thank you.”

“You should go,” he said. “You don’t have to”

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t know what to say.

Phyrea smiled at him the way people smile at other people’s misbehaving children. She stepped out of the clothing at her feet and crossed the room to Willem’s unmade bed. She slipped under the covers, but kicked them away, presumably so he could see her.

“I don’t feel well,” he said.

“Take your clothes off.”

He shook his head, but started to unbutton his shirt. His fingers were numb, and he had trouble. “Everyone wants us to marry,” he said. “Who’s everyone?”

“Your father,” he told her, “Marek Rymiit… other people.” “Well then I guess we had better marry,” she said. “Each other,” he said.

A look crossed her faceplain as daythat told him in no uncertain terms that the very thought of that was a fate worse than death for her. She couldn’t bear the very idea of it.

“I’m tired,” he said, and took off his shirt. “You’re drunk.”

He shook his head again and winced at the dull agony. “Not anymore,” he said.

“There’s no reason for you to feel sorry for yourself, Willem.”

“Isn’t there?”

Her expression changed again. She pitied him. He hated that.

“I’ll kill you,” he said, “if you ever look at me like that again.”

She took a short, shallow breath, and the look of pity disappeared, replaced in an instant with confusion.

“Are you trying to scare me?” she asked.

He slid out of his trousers and said, “No.”

“Then why would you say something like that?” she asked as he walked to the bed.

He sat down and said, “I’m tired of people not thinking much of me.”

“Then you should do something worthwhile.”

He reached out to touch her face, and she flinched away, so he did too. She smiled in an apologetic way he found confusing.

“May I touch you?” he asked.

“I came here so you could touch me,” she whispered. He touched her face. Her skin was softnot warm but hot.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

“Do you need to know that, really?” she asked. He could feel her jaw working under the flesh of her cheek. “How long has it been since you asked my father for my hand in marriage?”

Willem’s face went hot, and he tried to stand, but she held his arm. He didn’t struggle against her weak grip.

“Other people have been straightforward with me,” he said. “I’ve been told what to do, and what to expect in return. But it seems as though every time I do what I’m sure people want me to do, they return that with ever greater contempt.”

“You’re not from here,” she whispered. “Innarlith can be an unambiguous place.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but not all the way.

“That’s not true at all,” he whispered.

She leaned in the rest of the way, and their lips met. The kiss took the pain from his head, the stiffness from his joints. With the briefest flick of her tongue she pulled back.

“Everyone wants gold,” she whispered. He could feel her breath hot on his face with every syllable. “They all have different ways of”

He kissed her, and their tongues met. He pulled away when he thought for a moment that he might pass out.

“trying to get it,” she went on, “but that’s all anyone here wants.”

“That’s true everywhere,” he said, moving his hands from her face, down her long neck to her shoulder. He traced the edge of her shoulder blade with a finger and she put a hand on his chest.

“You were a pretty boy,” she said as if trying to convince herself that that had any significance.

“I’m no boy,” he said, and moved his hand down to wrap around one perfect breast.

“No,” she whispered, her flesh responding to his touch even if her voice didn’t.

“I will love you,” he whispered, “if that’s what you want.”

She shook her head and replied, “That’s the last thing I want.”

She leaned in and let her lips play along the side of his neck. He closed his eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he said. “No,” she replied.

A tear came to Willem’s eye, and he wrapped his hands around her neck, but didn’t squeeze.

“Are you going to kill me?” she whispered. “Are you going to strangle me in your bed, with your mother in the next room?”

He clenched his jaw closed so tightly he thought his teeth might shatter.

“If I thought for a moment you could do that,” she breathed. “I never would have come.”

He kept his hands on her throat, and took a deep, steadying breath.

“If that’s where you want to touch me, suit yourself,” she said. “I want you inside me, Willem.”

He took his hands away from her throat. “That’s a good boy,” she whispered. Halina, he thought. I’m sorry.