Ascension: The Affiliate Part 23

He stood regally and walked around the desk to face her. She stared up at him, wondering what his end game was. They'd had a moment in the gardens, but after the Ring of Gardens ceremony, she had seen little of him, yet here she was on his boat at the Consort's request. Staring into his eyes, she found that she didn't want to be anywhere else.

Edric extended his hand to her, and she stood before him. He didn't let go of her, and they moved a step forward until there was little room between them. He raised her hand to his lips and gently placed a kiss on the top. His eyes never left her face, and she felt flushed.

"I think it will be quite a pleasure to have you on board, Cyrene."

"Thank...thank you, Your Highness," she said, striving to put some distance between them.

"Edric. Please, call me Edric."

"Edric," she whispered, withdrawing her hand.

"I'm sure you need to rest as well." He walked her toward the door.

"Yes, I believe I do need to rest."

He stopped her before they reached the door though. "Cyrene?"

"Yes?" she asked. Cyrene's stomach fluttered as she stared up at the King of Byern.

"If I send a maid to your quarters, will you come to me tonight?"

Whatever part of her that might have denied him vanished from her mind. "Yes."

"Good," he said with a smile. Edric rapped on the door once, and the guard member swung it open. "Good day, Affiliate."

Seeing Eren standing on the other side of the door sobered her girlish pretenses. She straightened and then left the room.

"Come on in, Eren." Edric signaled once more, and the guard closed the door after Eren had entered.

Cyrene raised her chin and started down the hall. As soon as she was on her own, she all but dashed back to her room. She shut the door and threw herself on her bed with a heavy sigh.

Edric wanted to see her later. Nerves p.r.i.c.ked at her, but more than anything, she felt excitement. She rolled over, and something crinkled under her. She reached beneath her and extracted an envelope that she hadn't noticed when she came in. She stared down at the Dremylon green wax seal.

How did this get here? Did a maid leave it for me while cleaning? Or did someone deliver it here for a purpose?

With trembling hands, she broke the royal seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the letter.

After carefully unfolding it, she stared down at the finely scrawled handwriting of Prince Kael and nearly cursed aloud.

REMEMBER...

COURTIER THROUGH AND THROUGH.

THROUGH AND THROUGH.

-K Kael was right.

Cyrene hated when he was right.

When she had been lost in Edric's gaze, she had forgotten everything but that moment between them. But he had done exactly what Kael had said. Edric was playing a game like any other courtier. He had been raised to be the King of Byern, but he had also been raised alongside Kael. Edric knew exactly how court life worked.

Of all the games for Kael to play, he'd had to choose this one. And he had the advantage of not even being on her s.h.i.+p so that she could give him a piece of her mind. He'd had someone else deliver the message. The arrogant, self-righteous, pompous-she didn't even have enough words for her anger. Why did he have to ruin this?

She tossed the useless envelope onto her bed and flopped backward into the down comforter, infuriated by the man and his words. His meaning was glaringly obvious, and it fit with the conversation she had been delighted to have with Edric only minutes earlier. If Edric had the chance, he would take it. He had said as much in his study when he had invited her to his chambers...and she had agreed.

She didn't know what she felt for the King. He had more power than she could ever dream of, yet when she looked at him, she saw something else...something more...something that could never be.

That thought infuriated her further, and the anger welling within her pushed her off the bed and into action. She had more to do in her lifetime than be cast about at the King's whim. She needed to be irreplaceable if she was going to hold any weight in court. How many other Affiliates stood in my position, feeling the misplaced importance?

Something in the back of her mind prodded her to feel her own importance. Stiffly, she walked to her bags on the other side of her room. Only one had been unpacked for the voyage. A few dresses hung in the wardrobe, and undergarments were tucked away in the dresser. At her insistence, the servants had left her largest bag tightly packed.

She bent down, hovering over the bag. Her hands shook as she undid the buckle and extracted a small leather satchel from its hiding place.

Cyrene sat on the cus.h.i.+oned green chair and set the pouch on the table. From within the small bag, she removed the cracked leather book with the strange symbol that looked like a tilted F on the front.

She released a deep sigh, reminding herself that it was just a book after all. They provided information, stories, and maps but nothing more than that.

Everything in her world had an answer.

She would find it.

Elea's handwritten note on the inside made her smile. A pang touched her heart. She missed her sister. Before leaving for the procession, she hadn't even gotten a chance to say good-bye. It was disappointing.

ASK FOR BASILLE SELBY IN THE LAELISH.

Yes, a lot of help he had been.

Cyrene had no idea what to make of him. He had been terrified of her...of the book. What could this book possibly hold to make him act that way?

Turning to the first page, Cyrene stared down at the iridescent swirly font. The one time she had tried to read the font, Maelia had interrupted her, and then she had been too afraid to pick it up again. The knowledge that Elea and Basille could not see the font had shut her brain down. How can I see something that others couldn't?

But there it rested, still as captivatingly stunning as the first time she had laid eyes on it.

She attempted to piece together what the strange font said, but it was unlike anything she had ever seen. Yet, in the back of her mind, she felt a familiar tugging, as if she should know what it said. The faint tickle in her mind seemed to tell her to try harder...to just know.

Her eyes narrowed, and her brain worked overtime to try to discover what it all meant. She broke into a sweat as she stared endlessly at the font. Frustration creased her temple, and her lips puckered. She let out a disgruntled groan and flipped the page, hoping that maybe she would have better luck.

Now, two pages of the dazzling s.h.i.+mmery font taunted her, and she was no closer to understanding its meaning, no matter how much she felt like she should know what it said.

Crying out in irritation, she slammed the book shut and stood. Disappointment crushed her, and she had to restrain herself from flinging the useless thing across the room. What was the point of being able to see it if all it did was mock her with its impossibility?

She grabbed a kerchief from her vanity drawer and wiped her brow. How did staring at that thing cause me so much distress? Red splotches marred her cheeks. She was practically out of breath.

This is ridiculous. It's just a book.

Steeling her determination, Cyrene sat down and opened it back up to the first page. She decided she would try a different approach. Before, she had concentrated until she felt like her temples would burst. Now, she would try not to concentrate too hard. The s.h.i.+mmering font revealed itself again, and she waited. She didn't want to push herself or force it. Maybe it would suddenly make sense. By the Creator, it should make sense!

Despite her change in approach, the font never made any more sense. It remained eternally useless, the knowledge of how to read it hanging just out of memory. Her heart sank for a second time. She pushed the book aside again, defeated. But she would get it...eventually. What had terrified her shortly before now left her with a stubborn resolve. I will figure it out.

A quick rap on her door made her jump.

"Just a minute," she called out, replacing the book into the leather pouch. She hastily positioned it back into the pocket of her bag.

She jogged across the room and opened the door to see a maid waiting for her. Her stomach churned at the thought of the King's earlier comment.

"Good evening, Affiliate," the maid said meekly, dropping her chin in deference. "It appears you never received your dinner invitation. The afternoon storm must have upset your stomach, quite like the others on board."

She stared at the maid in surprise. What did she mean?

Cyrene had only been in her room for an hour at the very most. How could I have missed a dinner invitation? And what storm? Their send-off from Byern had included a cloudless sky, and the s.h.i.+p hadn't rocked at all since she had locked herself in her room.

The maid continued, "If you will follow me, King Edric has requested your presence. I believe he has prepared a small meal as well."

What in the Creator's name was this girl talking about? I just ate. Just as she had the thought, her stomach growled noisily. The maid held back her smile, but Cyrene looked astonished.

"This way." The maid began to walk down the hallway.

Cyrene's mind locked on the sudden loss of time. She numbly followed the maid through the pa.s.sageway before stepping out onto the main deck. When she looked up at the pitch-black night sky with stars twinkling all around them, her mouth dropped. Her silk slippers struggled to find purchase against the slippery deck. Clearly, a storm had hit the s.h.i.+p while she was safely under.

How did I lose time? She had been reading the book, and suddenly, poof. Did the book...steal the day away from me?

The maid broke through Cyrene's thoughts while ushering her down a flight of wooden stairs separated from the rest of the s.h.i.+p that led to the King's quarters. At the far end of the hallway, the maid knocked on the door and announced Cyrene's presence. She gave Cyrene an encouraging smile before backing away and allowing her to pa.s.s.

Upon stepping inside, it was apparent to Cyrene that the King had spared no expense. To say Cyrene's rooms were extravagant compared to the King's would be like comparing a puddle to the ocean. Interchanging rugs covered the floor, creating a carpeted appearance. Gilded frames held portraits on the walls. A deep mahogany table in the center of the main room was set for four with an a.s.sortment of dinner items.

Through an adjoining door, Cyrene could see an enormous bed draped in Dremylon green and cream. She flushed and looked away.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted for dinner," King Edric said. "So, I had the kitchen staff bring a bit of everything, including some of my favorites."

"Thank you," she whispered, still standing in the doorway.

"Please, come and sit."

Cyrene found a place at his table. They didn't speak as she ate small portions of the roasted chicken, thick stew, and rolls. She hadn't noticed that she was hungry. Then, she had felt like she was starving. She took a sip of wine, hoping to calm her nerves.

"You seem out of sorts," the King said finally. "I hope your seasickness has pa.s.sed."

"Quite," she said, meeting his gaze.

"That is good to hear." He leaned his elbow against the table and smiled.

By the Creator, he is handsome.

For the first time, she let her mind consider what the Consort had meant when she said that Cyrene was here for the King's entertainment. Her eyes darted to the silky large bed once more, and she quickly tried to banish that thought from her mind.

Edric carefully watched her. "Come here, Cyrene."

She swallowed. She was in the King's bedchamber, they were alone, and he was addressing her plainly. This was the King of Byern. She didn't want to disobey.

"Yes, Your Highness," Cyrene whispered.

Kael's warning be d.a.m.ned, her walls were falling all around her. She stood on shaky legs, and her feet carried her toward him.

"Edric," he reminded her. "Please call me Edric."

"Edric," Cyrene repeated, feeling his name on her tongue.

"That's better."

He stood to face her, and the flickering candlelight dilated his pupils, reflecting back the ring of blue-gray in his eyes. She noticed all the endearing little things about him-the stubble on his strong jawline, the light smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth, the way his hair curled lightly at his ears. She reached forward and brushed it back. Then, she caught herself and retrieved her hand.

"My apologies," she breathed. What tethers me to him? How did I always make such mistakes?

He reached out and took her hand in his own. "No need to apologize." He slowly traced his thumb over her knuckles, and then he drew her in closer.

She kept her eyes down, focusing on the heat spreading through her from her hand to her arm and down into her chest. This was bad, so bad, yet she couldn't find it in herself to withdraw from him. Her body trembled lightly in both fear and antic.i.p.ation. She wanted him to move forward, but she didn't know what would happen to her if she gave in.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I..."

"What is troubling you?" He brought his hand up to her chin and tilted her head so that she would look at him.

"The Queen-"

"Is not aboard my s.h.i.+p."

Cyrene bit her lip. "She is still my Receiver," she whispered. The words fell flat.

"She is what she is," Edric said dismissively, clearly not wanting to discuss Kaliana.

"Your Queen," Cyrene said. "She is your Queen."

"A queen who does not fulfill her duties is no queen at all."

Cyrene startled. She didn't know what that meant. What duties is the Queen not fulfilling?

Edric sighed and closed his eyes. "Forgive me. I've had a lot on my mind."

She held her breath expecting him to pull away, but when he opened his eyes and stared down at her, she melted. There was such pa.s.sion and warmth and desire trapped within. His eyes pleaded with her to understand, to feel the depth of what was pa.s.sing between them. Her heartbeat picked up, and that same spark that always ignited between them flared. The cord binding them together was the fuse, and every touch and look and emotion was the match igniting the flames.

He took a step toward her until their bodies were nearly pressed together. His eyes held a question in them.

"Cyrene," he whispered.

Their breaths mingled in the s.p.a.ce between them. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. His hands came around her waist, and then his lips fell lightly, ever so lightly, on her own.

Time froze.