The New World

Chapter Fifty-one

1st day, Month of the Bat, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Shirikun, North Moriande

Free Nalenyr

She stood at her bedchamber’s southern window, so serene despite the turmoil in the city below. I wondered at her composure and drew strength from it. All Moriande did and I hoped she had enough to see us through.

With the setting of the sun the biggest of the siege engines had come within range of the far shore with modest projectiles. Dozens of men hauled on lines, raising the counterweight, lowering the arm. Someone locked the arm into place, then others rolled an iron ball forward. They’d wrap it in a sling, then the engine’s captain would order the trebuchet levered to the left or right, as if an inch here or there could drop the missile on a specific target.

He’d shout an order and the men would scatter. The captain would yank a lanyard. The weight would fall, the arm rise, and the sling would hurl two hundred pounds through the air. The ball arced over the river. Sometimes it would pound the river wall and sometimes it would fly over. The iron balls struck sparks and bounced through buildings.

I had been down there, watching; but from her vantage point Cyrsa could see none of the hurried action. She’d just hear the shouts, might catch a flash of the weight falling, hear the distant echoes of stone striking stone.

Though I had tried to be quiet, she knew I was there. Her long, dark hair covered the five-circle crest on the back of her robe. She shook her head and highlights shimmered through her hair.

“This is what I hoped to prevent back then. I didn’t want a civil war.”

“I know.”

She turned, a tear on her cheek. “That’s why I ordered you killed.”

“It was a wise choice.”

The Empress smiled. “It was an unfair choice. I didn’t give you a chance to change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

She hesitated, then lowered her eyes. “Perhaps we speak about different things.”

“Perhaps.” I reached out and she placed a hand in mine. “I have not recovered all of my memories, but I know enough of them. I would have supplanted you. My desire was that great. I paid for that greed with my life.”

The Empress brushed her other hand over my chest, smoothing a wrinkle. “Then you don’t remember. I knew what you desired. I knew what it would mean. I knew the decision it would force upon me. But I gave you a choice. I loved you that much.”

“What choice?”

“I asked you to marry me, to become prince-consort.”

That sent a thrill through me. “You asked me to marry you even though you knew I wanted to overthrow you?”

“It was the only way.” She rested her cheek against my breast. “You would have been Emperor in all but name when we returned. You loved me. I knew that. You loved the idea of being Emperor. I had to know which you loved more.”

“What did I answer?”

“You said you would tell me your answer when you returned with Nelesquin’s head.” She traced a finger down my cheek. “That meant no.”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember. I couldn’t, but I could imagine it easily enough. The throne had to be mine, all mine. I could not accept it from her hand.

I enfolded her in my arms. “Is it too late for me to give you my answer now?”

Her fingers slipped into my hair and pulled my mouth to hers. We had kissed before, many times, but this was like the first kiss all over again. Soft and hesitant, questing and curious, and warm, so very warm. Our lips brushed past each other’s once, then returned more firmly. Her breath warm on my cheek, my arms tightening around her, pressing her to me.

Our kisses became more urgent, tasting each other’s lips. I kissed her throat, then the hollow at the base of it. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I lifted her up, burying my face against her neck. Her tears splashed against my cheek. She hung on tightly and I carried her to the bed.

We freed each other of our clothes, teasing and playful in the revelation, but ardent in exploration. We touched and tasted. My fingers tingled as they ran over her silken skin. Fingertips danced over her softly, then my nails traced the same path more sharply.

Her touch was like fire, her breath ice. Her kisses inflamed me, her whispers seduced me and carried me down with her into a world where words ceased to have meaning. We became who we were before we existed, and what we would become after we were gone. Laughter became gasps, sighs became moans, heat and motion and emotion fused us together in more than flesh, more than soul and spirit.

And then we lay together after, her nestled on my chest, a finger lazily tracing the scar. I brushed hair from her forehead and kissed it. I smiled against her flesh.

“What?”

“Paryssa. I smell it.”

“It is who I am for you.” She smiled. I felt it against my throat. “Who will you be for me?”

“Not Soshir. No longer Moraven Tolo.” I closed my eyes. “Someone else, someone new. Someone who would be your consort, your champion, your lover and friend. Someone you can always trust.”

Her head came up. She studied my face. A smile slowly grew, then she kissed me. “That would please me very much. When shall we choose your new name?”

I stroked her hair and cradled her head against my chest. “After I bring you Nelesquin’s head.”