Free King by R.J. Larson Page B

saw her defiance. “I suppose. Yes. Though I never attended the rites. As I’ve said, I was isolated.”
    “What if you were asked to cease worshiping her?”
    She stared into the fire, her now-distant gaze reflecting flames. “I’ve not considered it. Nor will I discuss this further. It’s part of my heritage.”
    “Heritage need not dictate your future.”
    She remained silent. Stubborn. Akabe leaned forward in his chair. “Lady, if there’s the least chance we might make ours a true marriage, you must talk to me.”
    Something flickered across her face. Akabe couldn’t quite name the expression. Hurt? Regret? Caitria stared at him. “I doubt we can ever have a true marriage.”
    He straightened. “Why?”
    Caitria stared into the fire, shaking her head. “Because! I warned you not to marry—”
    “You need not repeat yourself.” Was she his enemy, then? Well enough. He’d suffered his fill of attacks plotted by Atean queens. Queen Raenna, Caitria’s predecessor, had sent soldiers after him often enough. He would not endure verbal cuts from her successor. Akabe stood and crossed the room to his chest of hunting gear. He flung on his heaviest cloak, then grabbed a sleeping roll and slammed the chest shut.
    Caitria startled within her chair and turned, her profile a graceful silhouette against the firelight. Akabe resisted the impulse to lash out against her and forced his voice to remain calm. “I wish you a blessed night, lady. Sleep well.”
    He strode to an elaborate wall panel and slid a carved, golden-winged, sharp-taloned aeryon to the left. A door shifted open, swift and soundless as a blink. Akabe stepped into the hidden stairwell and closed the panel. In absolute darkness, he climbed the familiar spiraling stone steps and let himself onto the wall-enclosed rooftop. His private fighting arena, crowned by a clear, star-jeweled night sky. No rain.
    Infinite, thank You.
    Akabe unfurled the sleeping roll and settled himself upon it to stare up at the stars. To consider his Creator. And his marriage. Infinite? Had he been too hasty in his desire to regain the temple’s land?
    How could he remedy this disaster?
    He woke later to the sound of the door opening. To gentle footsteps. Caitria. She covered him with a quilt, then scooted beneath it to lie beside him. He felt her shivering. She nudged herself beneath his arm and sighed shakily. Had she been crying?
    Not the behavior of a woman who hated her husband.
    Confusing . . . but welcome. Akabe curved his arm around her slender body, drawing her closer, his thoughts speeding ahead. Here was the truth: Unless Caitria abandoned and betrayed him, he could not abandon her. He would learn beyond question if she truly followed Atean ways and if she was plotting against him with her family. If so, then he must fight to save them both.
    We are caught within a battle, he told his wife in silence. If we are to survive, if we are to forge a true marriage from this debacle, we need a plan.
    He stared up at the stars, no longer seeing them as he contemplated a defense.

    His travel cloak flowing about him, and accompanied by his mournful family, Kien crossed the Lantecs’ main hall, ready to leave. Mother clutched his right arm and his sister, Beka, hugged his left as Father and Jon followed. Mother was crying, of course. Her pale gray eyes red and swollen, she pleaded, “Write! Tell us everything you’re doing. Don’t leave us to wonder. And don’t forget us!”
    “Do you think I could?” He kissed her wet face. “Mother, please, you’ll dissolve me with those tears. Listen, we will restore my citizenship somehow, by the Infinite’s grace. You’ll see.” He prayed his forced optimism might become reality. Until then, he must live within the present. For all legal purposes, whether they knew it or not, his parents had no son. He’d written as much to Ela, but couldn’t bear to tell his parents.
    As Mother dabbed at her tears, Beka picked at Kien’s