Page 78 of The Half King
She shivered in revulsion. “Whatwasthat?”
“Crone’s weed,” he said.
“And why did I have to drink it?”
“Because, my lady of the temple,” he began, and then he leaned down, lowering his voice to a whisper, “after what we did this morning, we don’t want my seed taking root in your fertile ground, do we?”
“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought of that. But as she glanced into her empty mug, she wondered if she agreed with him. These were unusual times—desperate times. Kian was the last of his dynasty. Only a few moons remained to break the noble curses, and if they failed, he would disappear forever into the shadows and leave no one to control the priests. But if she could give him a firstborn, even an illegitimate one, his child would not only ensure the survival of the Mortara bloodline but also prevent the Order from taking the throne.
She peered up at him and asked, “Or do we?”
Kian blinked once, twice. His eyebrows shot up, and he drew back as though she had physically slapped him. “No,” he answered in a cold, hard tone that felt like a slap in return. “We certainly do not.”
“Just hear me out.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Please listen,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper so as not to wake the others. “I know it’s not ideal…”
“Not ideal?”he hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I understand that a child should be born out of love,” she said, “not brought into the world to serve a purpose. But the world needs protection from the Order. Right now, that protection is you. What if we can’t break the curse? You’ve seen what the priests do when your back is turned. Now imagine them without a master. Imagine themasthe master. You can’t let that happen. Our child could be a fail-safe.”
“You talk as if we’ve already lost,” Kian said. “Why are you giving up so soon? We have the sunset runes. The goddess obviously favors you. We don’t need a fail-safe.”
“The runes will only lead us to the blade,” she reminded him. “Nero said that to win it, I have to face a test I know nothing about. And the goddess’s favor changes every day. Her wrathful eye sees as clearly as her merciful one.”
“You asked me to have faith in you,” Kian said. “And I did. Now it’s your turn to have faith in yourself. There will be no fail-safe. Either we break this curse, or it ends with me. I won’t keep passing it on like the plague that it is.”
“But that’s not fair,” she whispered. “The threat of the Order is bigger than a plague. It’s bigger than you or me or any of the noble firstborns. You have to think of others. It would be selfish to let your bloodline die out on purpose.”
Kian went unnaturally still. His gaze remained locked onto hers, unblinking as his stare quickly transformed from fire and fury into the coldest, blackest of ice. Cerise felt a dropping sensation. She’d pushed him too far.
“How dare you say that to me?” he breathed.
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“Howdareyou,” he cut in, his eyes narrowing to slits, “tell me to think of others when you’ve seen where I go at night. You’ve witnessed that hell. You’ve watched what your goddess has done to the souls trapped in her purgatory. And after all the nights that I’ve spent crouched in the corners of that cold labyrinth, you think I haven’t considered anyone but myself?”
Anger flashed in his eyes, mingled with a hurt and betrayal that made her long to take back her careless words.
“I assure you that I have thought of others,” he said. “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to live in the shadows. So if you truly believe that I would condemn my own child to spend an eternity there, then you don’t know me at all. In this case, my lady,you’rethe selfish one.”
Cerise dropped her gaze while her cheeks burned with shame. She fidgeted with her mug, twisting it in her grasp and wishing she could disappear inside it. She hated that she had hurt him. And she hated even more the way he looked at her now, as though she were a dust storm on the horizon instead of the only star in his sky. She wanted more than anything to repair what she had damaged so they could go back to loving each other, but she didn’t know how.
She started with an apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he snapped. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” she repeated. “I really do. I should have thought it through. I just wanted to consider all the options.”
“Then let’s not speak of this again.”
She snuck a peek at him, hoping he would extend his arms to her in forgiveness. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode to their tent to begin dismantling it. While he pulled the first wooden stake from the ground, she stood alone in front of the fire and wondered how it was possible that only moments earlier, they had been as close as two people could be. Now an invisible barrier divided them, and she didn’t know how Kian could stand it. To her, the rift felt like a living thing, a parasite that squirmed beneath her skin and made her want to crawl out of her own body.
She did her best to busy herself while Kian burned off his anger. Gradually, the camp came to life. Blue awoke first, followed by General Petros and Nero, then Daerick and Father Padron. Cerise kept her gaze turned down as she handed each man an oatcake and a mug of tea. There was a hot pressure building behind her eyes, and even with Blue nuzzling her in comfort, she didn’t know how long she could hold back her tears.
Then Father Padron called her name, and she reflexively glanced at him. He must have noticed the moisture welling in her eyes, because his gaze widened in concern. Oddly, it was the look of sympathy from him that broke the floodgate holding back her tears, and before she knew it, she was openly sobbing.
