Page 35 of The Half King
“Intimately, I’ve heard,” Cerise blurted. The crowd broke into laughter. She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud, but when the king glanced up and rewarded her with one of his rare smiles, she was glad that she’d said it.
“No need,” Kian told the general as he stood and gingerly brushed himself off. He squinted at the sky. “The sun will go down in a few hours. Your healer can save her energy for…other pursuits.”
There was another round of laughter, at which point the general’s face turned the shade of ripe summer berries. He glared at Cerise with mild annoyance, but then his gaze moved to the journal tucked in the crook of her elbow, and in the time it took for her to blink, he erupted into a rage so explosive that the entire crowd took a step backward. Cerise clutched the nearest arm, watching as bloodlust consumed the general’s eyes. He snarled—actuallysnarled—while scanning the crowd as if daring someone to fight him. All of the men wisely scattered back to their posts, including the owner of the arm Cerise had been holding.
“General,” Kian warned.
In that single utterance, Cerise caught her first glimpse of a true king.
The general closed his eyes in an obvious struggle for control. He snorted like a bull, clenching and unclenching his fists until he turned on his heel and stalked away toward the garden.
Kian blew out a breath as he watched the general’s retreating form. “Don’t worry. The fountain is his happy place. He’ll stay there until he calms down.”
Cerise took the journal in her hand and turned it to and fro. “This seemed to trigger him. Did he care for Mother Strout?”
Kian laughed, quickly wincing and cradling his ribs. “Only in the way that a tree cares for an axe.”
“Do you mean they were enemies?” Cerise asked. “Daerick told me she had none.”
“Not enemies but definitely rivals. Old Mother Strout didn’t think the general was worthy of his woman at the temple, and she made no secret about it.” He smiled as if recalling a memory. “If looks could kill, Strout would have sent Petros to his grave a hundred times over.”
Cerise peered at the journal, thinking it odd that Mother Strout hadn’t mentioned the general in any of her entries.
“You surprise me, my lady of the temple,” Kian said, grinning at her.
“How so?”
“You told a joke about the general’s mistress. Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a lifted hand. “But it was almost distasteful. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“You make it sound like I’m perfect.”
“Hardly,” he disagreed. “But your imperfections are annoyances—flea bites, really. Let’s cover some sins with real teeth. Have you ever killed a man?”
“No, but the day is young, and youdidoffer to let me stab you.”
A grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever gotten drunk on ale?”
“Sacramental cider, and only once. The sickness cured me of ever wanting to try it a second time.”
“Any adultery? Conceived a love child?”
“I’ll leave that to the courtesans,” Cerise said, smiling sweetly. “And the kings they serve.”
Kian clapped a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “Deny it all you want, my lady of the temple, but I’ll wager you’ve never even been kissed.”
Her smile fell—a detail that didn’t escape his notice.
“Did I pluck a nerve?” he teased.
Yes, he had. But he was wrong. She’d been kissed—quite thoroughly, too—one time, in a dark, hidden corner of the temple grounds. It had begun innocently enough. He had been a dark-haired delivery boy with a dimpled smile. She had been a lonely sixteen-year-old with a head full of curiosity. On delivery days, they had met behind hedges or inside sheds to trade stories about their lives. Then one day the talking had turned into something more, and they’d explored each other’s mouths until their lips had grown chapped. Cerise had looked forward to the boy’s next visit, but he’d stopped making deliveries to the temple, and it had taken three new litters of rabbit kits to make her smile again.
What she hadn’t realized at the time—what she wished she had known—was that she wouldn’t receive the Sight. The Order had warned her about sins of the flesh and how acts of love could ruin a woman’s gift. At the time, she hadn’t believed them. Now she wondered how things might have been different if she had never kissed the boy.
But then she thought of Daerick’s story about the Silent Soul. Maybe kissing had changed nothing about her life. The general’s mistress had taken a lover without the loss of her gift. Far from it. She possessed both the Sight and the ability to heal. Could that be a coincidence?
She didn’t know what to think anymore, what to believe. Everything felt upside-down now. She couldn’t even trust Father Padron to tell her the truth.
“I’m sorry,” Kian said, bringing her back to the present with a featherlight touch to her wrist. “I was only teasing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
