A moment, frozen in stone. The wolf stood, one forepaw raised, head turned, staring over its shoulder at whatever lay behind. But what had the sculptor captured? Arian could never make up her mind. The backward look—was it fear of pursuit, relief at escape, doubts over the path taken, or an exile’s regret?
Depending on her mood and the way the day was going, Arian might identify with any of these. Both she and the wolf were out of place. They belonged in forests, where you could hear wind through the branches, smell the wet soil and leaves. Yet here they were, trapped inside stone walls, as an ornament for others to look at and comment on.
Which was not to say life in the city was all bad. As long as you had the money, Kavilli offered luxuries she could never have imagined before arriving from her homeland. Goods from all over the empire and beyond made their way to the capital, wine and olives, silk and satin, perfumes and jewels. Not to mention the everyday marvels of sewage systems, smoke-free chimneys, and roofs that did not leak.
On a personal level, there was also a freedom to live her life in ways her people would not allow. With each passing year, the thought of giving this up became harder to face. Not conceding so would be dishonest. Arian bit her lip at the twinge of unease. Dishonesty in others was an unfortunate fact of life. Dishonesty in herself was unforgivable.
She sat on a corner of the plinth and leaned against the statue’s rump so she could look into its eyes. There was no dishonesty in wolves. They were never more or less than they appeared. Even as a foe, there was no deception. They were a fitting totem animal for her people, the Lycanthi.
The statue was what had drawn her to the villa, when the Imperial Senate offered her a choice of dwellings in the city. And whenever the longing for home grew too strong, she would sit in the courtyard and try to block out the ceaseless clamour of voices and traffic in the street outside. Even the tranquillity of night was shattered by the march of patrols, drunken revels, and the rumble of horse-drawn carts, bringing tomorrow’s produce to the markets and carrying today’s refuse away.
Arian closed her eyes, trying to draw on memories of home, the peace of the sacred spring, where the only sounds were the ripple of water and rustling of leaves in the ancient oaks.
“Mama. Mama.” Feran’s wailing cries. Her six-year-old son rushed into the courtyard.
“What is it?” She scooped him onto her lap.
Unshed tears glinted in his eyes. “Ulfgar’s being mean.”
“I’m sure he’s not.” Not deliberately. The priest could be firm and exacting, but never petty.
“He said I can’t go to the academy next year.”
That’s a new one. “Do you want to?”
“Kario’s going, and Daril, and Luce. Everyone. All my friends. I’ll have no one to play with.”
“You can make other friends.”
“Only stupid ones who aren’t good enough to be army officers.”
“It’s not about being stupid. The academy is for Kavillian boys. You’re not Kavillian.”
“So? I bet your friend Cassie could sort it out.”
While Cassie undoubtedly could, Arian had no intention of asking her. “If you go to the academy you’ll be far away from here. You won’t see me or Eilwen for months.”
“The other boys aren’t bothered.”
Were their mothers? How did Kavillian noblewomen cope, saying goodbye to their sons so young?
A tear trickled down Feran’s cheek. “The empire army is the best in the world. They can beat anyone.”
“And that’s why we’ve allied with them.” Not as if there had been any choice.
“So why can’t I go with my friends?”
“Because you’re king of the Lycanthi. That’s better than being an army officer.”
“S’not.” More tears fell. “I don’t want to be king.”
Ulfgar arrived in the courtyard. At Feran’s protest, his normally stern expression deepened into what could only be called a scowl. The Lycanthian bodyguards, Olric and Durwyn, also appeared.
Arian lowered Feran to his feet. “It’s time for you to go. We’ll talk later.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Feran scrubbed away the tears and trotted over to Olric and Durwyn. That Feran needed bodyguards for the short walk to school was a symbol of everything wrong with Kavilli. Back home, in the king’s capital of Breninbury, any child could go wherever they wished, without thought of kidnap or robbery—or could normally. Unfortunately, these were not normal times. Not all of the Lycanthi were happy to accept empire legions in their land. Feran was safer in Kavilli until either things settled down or he was old enough to defend himself.
Once he and his bodyguards had left, Arian turned to Ulfgar with what was intended as a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. He’ll get over it. I’m not—”
“He cannot stay here.” Ulfgar spat out the words with a startling vehemence. “A king’s place is with his people.”
“This nonsense about the academy won’t—” Again, Arian did not get to finish.
“The academy.” From Ulfgar’s tone it might have been an obscenity. “Of course he can’t be allowed to go. Though, in truth, it would be preferable. At least he’d be in the company of warriors, rather than this…this cesspit of depravity.”
Arian rose uncertainly to her feet. “Ulfgar? What’s wrong?”
“Do you need to ask?”
Yes. Now she thought about it, Ulfgar had been ill at ease for the better part of a month. What had Feran been saying? “He’s just a child. He didn’t mean about not wanting to be king. In another day or two he’ll have forgotten it all.”
Ulfgar turned away. In profile, his hawk nose jutted out over the beard covering the lower half of his face. “I’ve failed in my duty. I’m supposed to instruct Feran in the ways of our people, so when he returns he can be a fitting king for them. But this city can corrupt even the purest soul.” He glanced her way. “And some succumb more readily than others.”
Meaning me. “Feran will be a good king. He’ll be the bridge between the Lycanthi and Kavillians. There’s no other way.”
“He’ll be a bridge with both feet on the same shore. The empire will have a puppet of its making on the throne. I was sent to ensure Feran knows our laws, our gods, our history. Not to sit by while his heart and soul become those of a Kavillian.”
“If you want, Feran can spend more time with you, receiving tuition.” Which was something else that would lead to argument. Feran clearly preferred going to school with his friends.
“That will not do. Feran must leave at once. Another day in the city is one day too many.”
“No.” That was not an option. “Feran stays here until it’s safe for him to return.”
“When will that be?”
“Whenever Earl Kendric says.” Arian folded her arms. “There’s no point Feran going back before he’s old enough to take on the responsibilities of kingship. In the meantime, Kendric’s doing an excellent job as regent. Things are calming down. People are seeing the benefit of our alliance with the empire.”
“Then it’s safe for Feran to return.”
“Maybe in another year or two.”
“A year or two! You think Earl Kendric and his warriors can’t protect one child?”
“I think he has more than enough other things to deal with.” Breninbury might be a fort atop a hill, but it was built to protect against enemy raids, not internal threats. The houses did not even have proper doors, let alone locks to put on them. “I won’t take a chance with Feran’s safety for no reason. Some powerful people would be quick to use him as a pawn.”
“You think that isn’t happening at the moment.” Ulfgar said it as a challenge.
Arian had no illusions about the extent to which Feran was a hostage, ensuring the newly established protectorate stuck to the terms of its treaty with the empire. However, in the Kavillian power games, no side stood to benefit from Feran’s death. In himself, he was of little importance, the client king of a small, outlying region, but his safety ensured the flow of valuable ore from Lycanthian mines.
“If you want, I’ll write to Earl Kendric and ask when he thinks Feran can return to Breninbury.”
“And how long will it take for the message to get there and back? Three months?”
“Probably.” If not longer, with winter on the way.
Ulfgar snorted into his moustache. “That’s not acceptable.”
“I will not send Feran into danger.” Arian said each word with emphasis.
“Is it truly Feran’s safety that keeps you here?”
“What else?”
Ulfgar turned an icy glare on her. “Do you think I haven’t heard what every tongue in Kavilli wags about? You and Lady Cassilania. I’ve put nothing of it in my reports to my brethren, but there is much I could say. Do not force my hand.”
Arian’s skin prickled. Of course Ulfgar knew. He would need to be deaf and witless not to. It was not as if she made any effort to hide the truth. In Kavilli there was no need. Unless you were married to the people concerned, love affairs were purely a topic for dinner party gossip, The gender of those involved was irrelevant. Regrettably, although the Lycanthi were more open in some ways, taking a same-sex lover was outlawed. If news got back, the consequences would be serious. But, whatever the outcome, Feran’s safety was not up for negotiation.
“I’ll write to Earl Kendric. But Feran stays in Kavilli until it’s safe for him to return. That’s an end to it.”
Ulfgar drew himself up to his full height and glared at her. “If that’s your last word.”
“It is.”
“Write to Earl Kendric. Insist preparations for your son’s return move ahead with speed. See to it, or the outcome will be on your head.” He turned and stalked away.
Only when the beat of his footsteps faded did Arian allow herself a deep breath. She returned to her seat beside the stone wolf. The courtyard was again at peace, yet she was not alone. A shadow crouched in a dark corner of the courtyard, hidden behind a potted fern.
“How long have you been there?” Arian called out.
The shadow huddled down further, making no sound.
“Eilwen. Come out. I know you’re there.”
Eilwen sidled from her hiding place. “How did you know it was me?”
“Because you’re the only one who’d eavesdrop so shamelessly.” Regrettably, her daughter was becoming ever more adept at Kavillian games of intrigue.
Eilwen took a seat beside her on the plinth. “You’re not really going back to Lycanthia, are you?”
Lycanthia. The name jarred on Arian’s ear. As far as the Lycanthi were concerned, their home was simply “the Land” granted to them by the gods. When the Kavillians needed to distinguish it from everywhere else, they made up a name. Arian was forced to use it when talking to them, although never by choice. Yet the name came so naturally to Eilwen—as did speaking Kavillian, instead of their mother tongue. With surprise, Arian realised she had automatically switched to the language when her daughter appeared. Arian had learned Kavillian as a child, and three years in the city had enhanced her fluency.
“Mama.” Eilwen nudged her for an answer.
“It’s up to Earl Kendric.” And the Kavillian Senate. Despite Ulfgar’s disapproval of their relationship, getting permission to leave the city would require Cassie’s family connections.
For a moment Eilwen was silent, except for the sound of her heels bouncing against the stone. “I want to stay here.”
“We all go together.”
“Ulfgar and Feran can go. You and I can stay in Kavilli.” The rhythm of her heels increased. “Breninbury is a dungheap. There’s no parties, or nice food, or books to read, or anything.”
“It will have changed.”
“It’s only been three years. They’ll still be living like pigs in shit.”
“Eilwen! They’re our family. Don’t you want to see your cousins?”
“Why don’t they come here?”
“Feran is king of the Lycanthi. He has to return to his people. And you’re his sister, you have to—”
“I know and it’s not fair.” Eilwen jumped down. “Feran can father his own children if he wants them. He doesn’t need me.”
“That’s not how our people do things.”
“Then our people need to change and stop being stupid.”
And Ulfgar thought Feran becoming more Kavillian was a problem! Eilwen had embraced the empire’s ways completely. As a bright, stubborn, eleven-year-old, she was far harder to coerce than her younger brother.
Ulfgar was definitely guilty of overlooking her. But then, Lycanthian men rarely gave any thought to what women wanted. Feran dreamed of joining the imperial legions, a warrior of sorts, which was suitably in keeping with Lycanthian ideals of manhood.
Eilwen wanted to be what? A businesswoman, a politician, a spymaster? For the Lycanthi, none of these were suitable roles for a woman. Eilwen was the keeper of the royal bloodline. Feran’s heirs would be her sons, just as he had succeeded to the throne from his uncle, Arian’s unmourned brother. The idea Eilwen might not want to go along with this had probably never drifted through Ulfgar’s head.
Eilwen leaned against her. “Please, Mama. Why can’t we stay in Kavilli together?”
“Once Feran goes, the Senate will want this house back.”
“I bet, if you asked her, Cassie could find you a rich husband. Then you could stay, and I could have a baby sister.”
As with Feran’s suggestion earlier, there was no doubt Cassie could indeed make it happen, and Arian had just as little intention of asking her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
Eilwen pouted. “It’s private study this morning. I’ve got a book to read.”
“Then go and read it.”
“Mama!”
“Go.”
Alone at last, Arian sighed and returned to leaning against the stone wolf. Feran, Ulfgar, and Eilwen. Three different demands, the most serious one accompanied by a threat. All of them dependent on Cassie’s intervention.
Arian put her arm around the wolf’s neck. Today, her interpretation of the backward look was definitely leaning towards doubt over the path taken.
~~~~~~
“Lady Cassilania is expected home soon. I’ll let her know you’re here when she arrives.” The maidservant gave a polite bow and left the room.
Arian wandered to the window. Heavy cloud hastened the approach of dusk over the scene. The Passurae residence was a sprawling maze of interlinked courtyards, towers, gardens, reception rooms, domestic workshops, and luxury accommodation. In total, the mansion covered an area more than fifty times larger than the villa she lived in, and the rooms forming Cassie’s apartment were far more lavishly furnished.
Rain splattered against the window glass. Arian watched water droplets trickle down, distorting her view of the garden outside. Despite the absence of any visible fire, the room was warm, thanks to the underfloor hypocaust.
Window glass and central heating were both unknown luxuries in her homeland. Even the small villa with the wolf statue made the king’s capital at Breninbury look like a squalid collection of overcrowded hovels. Which, to be quite honest, was what it was. Lycanthian homes were built with dry-stone walls, using a daub of clay and horse dung to fill gaps. No windows. No sewers. No bathhouses. Choking smoke from open fires seeped out through sod roofs. Hanging blankets over the doorways were the only thing to keep out the cold. Was it any surprise Eilwen had no wish to return?
The door opened. “Sorry. Have you been waiting long?” Cassie swept into the room, trailed by the maidservant.
“No.”
Arian turned and rested her back against the wall, watching Cassie strip off her wet cloak and hand it to the maidservant. “This needs to be washed. The hem’s muddy.”
“Yes, my lady.” The maidservant withdrew.
Cassie dropped her jewelled cloak pin on a side table and smiled apologetically. “I meant to be back sooner, but things were…” The smile broadened. “Getting interesting.” She planted the briefest of kisses on Arian’s lips before going to her desk on the far side of the room. “I need to make a few notes while everything is fresh in my mind, but then I’ll be all yours.”
The soft emphasis on the last two words still had the ability to send shivers through Arian. She watched Cassie dip a pen in the ink pot and start writing. The notes would be all about overheard whispers. Who said what about whom. Who talked too much. Who kept suspiciously silent. Who was not where they were supposed to be.
It was all part of the game of imperial politics. The leading families of the empire were in a constant state of diplomatic warfare, fought with spies, intrigue, secrets, and blackmail. The war was not something Arian wanted any part of. Yet, just by her association with Cassie, she was drawn in.
Arian idly picked up Cassie’s discarded cloak pin. It was larger than needed to secure her clothes, a good five inches in length. The narrow, bladelike pin clipped into the back of an ornate silver brooch, styled as a fox. Its one visible eye was a diamond, its ears, snout, and tail were picked out with gold and onyx. At market, it was undoubtedly worth more than the entire king’s treasury from Breninbury
The cloak pin had been custom made for Cassie, a gift from her mother for a birthday, or some such occasion. A casual display of the family’s wealth and prestige. A silver fox was the Passurae family emblem, featuring prominently on banners and crests around the mansion.
To a first glance, the brooch was an ornate work of art. But there was more to it. Cassie had shown her the trick. If you opened it fully, then gave a quarter twist until you felt a click, the pin became a stiletto with the silver fox as a handle. It was quite deadly, Cassie had assured her, if you knew where to stab. The brooch was a perfect analogy for Cassie herself. Exquisite, utterly unique, and far more dangerous than it appeared.
Despite her disquiet, Arian could not help playing with the cloak pin. It was captivating, and even knowledge of its concealed menace only added an edge to the allure. And that was perhaps, in turn, a perfect analogy for her relationship with Cassie. Arian put the cloak pin down and returned to watching rain trickle down the miraculous window glass.
The ink pot lid snapped shut. “Done.” Cassie’s gown rustled as she left her desk.
Arian did not move, concentrating instead on the sound of Cassie’s footsteps, crossing the floor. Then Cassie’s arms slid around her waist, and the warmth of Cassie’s breath flowed over the nape of her neck. The lightest touch of Cassie’s lips tickled her skin. Arian twisted around to return the kiss in full.
Eventually, Cassie broke away. “Are you hungry?”
“I ate earlier.”
“Wine then?” Without waiting for an answer, Cassie went to the door and rang a bell.
Arian listened to the tone rather than the words that followed, the maidservant’s deference, contrasted with Cassie’s serene confidence. Anything she wanted was hers for the asking.
Once they were seated with full glasses, Cassie asked, “What’s bothering you?”
“Why do you think anything’s bothering me?”
“The pout on your lower lip, and the wrinkle between your eyebrows. You always do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”
Why deny it? Cassie had always been able to read her. “Feran. He wants to go to the military academy with his friends. Ulfgar wants him to return to Breninbury as soon as possible. And Eilwen is determined to stay in Kavilli.”
“Someone’s going to end up unhappy.” Cassie looked thoughtful. “But there’s no reason why Feran can’t attend the academy for a year or two. It’d be good experience for him, and it’s not without precedent for the sons of allied nobility.”
“No.”
“Why not? Mother will arrange for you and Eilwen to keep the villa. After all, Feran will need somewhere to come home to on leave.”
As if the house was her only concern. “I want him with me. He’s a young child.”
“He’ll be the same age as my three sons when they went.”
“Didn’t it bother you, waving them off like that?”
“Oh, I missed them dreadfully at first. Worried about them.” Cassie shrugged. “But, from the day they were born, I accepted they’d leave me when they turned seven.”
“Well, I don’t accept it. He’s staying with me.”
“All right. Feran draws a short straw. Who gets the other, Ulfgar or Eilwen?” Cassie’s tone was light-hearted. Then her expression sharpened. “Or is there more to it?”
“Ulfgar tried to blackmail me.”
“Did he now? I’m intrigued. What naughty secret is he threatening to reveal?”
“You and I are lovers.”
Cassie laughed. “Does he know it won’t come as a surprise to anyone here?”
“Probably. But things will be different back in Breninbury.”
“Ah, yes. There is that angle. Your people do have strange obsessions.”
“Ulfgar’s threatening to send a report home if I don’t agree to return at once.”
Cassie’s smile changed to a frown. “Why’s he suddenly so keen to leave?”
“He’s worried Feran is becoming too Kavillian.”
“Enough to try his hand at blackmail?”
“Apparently.” Arian shrugged. “I fobbed him off with a promise to write to Kendric and ask about the situation.”
“That’s a temporary fix. Would you like me to have Ulfgar taken care of permanently?”
Was she joking? Even after three years together, Arian could not be sure. The allure of danger, cloaked in a beautiful form. If ever she learned to see through Cassie’s facade, to whatever lay beneath, would the attraction fade?
“It’ll take over three months for the reply. Ask me again then.”
“Do you think the situation will have changed?”
“Who knows?” Thinking about the future came with its own set of issues. “What would you do if you were me?”
“I’ve already said. Sort out Ulfgar and get permission for Feran to attend the academy for a year or two.”
“I’ve told you Feran stays with me.”
“All right. So is it Ulfgar or Eilwen who also loses out?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever will make you happiest.” Cassie at her most irritating. Was she really not bothered either way?
“I asked what you wanted.”
“And I told you my answer. I want you to make your own decision.”
“You don’t care whether I go or stay.”
“I didn’t say that.”
But you might as well have. Arian glared at the wine in her glass, not that there was anything wrong with it. Like everything else in the mansion, it was of the highest quality. Cassie could have whatever she wanted. Why settle for less than the best? But not everything could be bought. What did Cassie want for the two of them? How did she see their future playing out? She always sidestepped the subject.
Arian knocked back the wine forcefully enough to burn her throat, leading to a bout of coughing.
Cassie’s amused expression changed to one of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“If I didn’t know how much you hate lying, I’d be tempted to call you out on that.”
“Whereas you lie as easily as breathing.”
“No. I have to think about which lies I want to tell. Breathing just happens.” All said without a trace of guilt.
“You don’t care about the truth.”
“The truth is generally easier. Less taxing on the memory. It’s just not always wiser.”
Not caring about wisdom, Arian poured herself another glass of wine. “Do you care whether I stay in Kavilli or not?”
“You know I like you being here.”
“Like?”
“I’m very fond of you.”
“That’s it? Or do you want to add you’re also happy to have me in your bed, when you’re not too busy with something else?”
“I’m not quite that shallow.” Cassie looked exasperated. “What would you like me to say?”
Say you want me. Say you love me. But Cassie would never make any commitment that might conflict with her duty to her family.
Arian put down her glass, removing the temptation to toss the wine in Cassie’s face. “I’m tired of all the games. I’m tired of not knowing where I stand.”
“I’m not playing games. I’m…” Cassie closed her eyes and sighed. “Do whatever you want.”
“Good. Because what I want right now is to leave.” Arian got to her feet.
“Arian.” Cassie beat her to the door. “Please.”
She slid her hands around Arian’s waist and rested her head on Arian’s shoulder. And that was all it took. Anger ebbed away, unable to hold back the wave of peace radiating from the touch of Cassie’s body, pressed against hers. The tightness squeezing Arian’s stomach softened and melted. Am I really this shallow as well?
They stood for a while by the door, arms around each other, until Cassie pulled back so their eyes met. “I’m not playing games with you. You are important to me. More than I can say. But I won’t make promises to you I can’t keep. And you can’t make decisions about your life, based on expectations of me. You have to understand my family must come first.”
Once upon a time, Arian would have agreed without question. Family was what bound the Lycanthi to each other and the land. “I feel so alone here, and I know I need you more than you need me.”
Cassie’s lips brushed Arian’s throat, then moved on to nuzzle her ear. “Let’s see what I can do to make you feel less lonely.”
It was not the answer Arian wanted, but still she let herself be towed toward the bedroom.
Cassie dragged herself free from a confusing tangle of dreams and opened her eyes. The first ghosting of daylight lay over the room, though dawn was still a way off. A trill of birdsong came from the garden. No point trying to go back to sleep. Nor did she make any attempt to recall the fading dreams. Nothing about them had been good. A lingering unease assured her of that. She raised herself on one elbow to look down at Arian, still asleep beside her.
Arian’s face was almost translucent in the muted light, especially by contrast with Cassie’s own copper-coloured skin. A halo of golden hair fanned the pillow, marking Arian as coming from the barbarian fringes of the empire. Blonds were so rare in Kavilli, apart from those found at the slave market. Even less common was the green of her eyes. After all their time together, there was still a starling quality to them.
She reached for Arian’s shoulder, but then stopped. Before they spoke, she needed to marshal her thoughts. Rekindling the previous night’s quarrel was the last thing she wanted to do. The conflict had been dodged, not resolved. But what resolution was possible? Cassie bit her lip.
I know I need you more than you need me.
Arian’s words from last night. So bleak. So hopeless. Were they true? Cassie was far from convinced. Yet surely, the day was fast approaching when she would be forced to find out.
Already, their love affair had lasted far longer than she expected at the outset, but it could not go on. With each month, the fractures became more blatant, the arguments more frequent, more painful. How much longer until the strain tore them apart? Tears stung Cassie’s eyes, but she would not let them fall.
Sometimes, as with the night before, she was able to bury their differences under the comforting routine of lovemaking. Sometimes she could not. But it was never a solution. One time, and it could not be too far away, Arian would walk out and not come back.
And tormenting herself with the thought was a waste of time.
Cassie shook Arian’s shoulder. “Good morning.”
She slipped out from the sheets before Arian fully woke, rather than face her immediately. Better to give herself a little more time to compose her expression.
Arian groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Is it?”
Cassie pulled on a robe and drew back the window drapes. The darkness was retreating from the courtyard garden. “It’s stopped raining.”
“I guess that’s something.”
Cassie rung the servant’s bell. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Nothing for me. I want to get back before Feran leaves for school. I promised to talk to him.” Arian sat on the side of the bed and reached for her discarded clothing.
Cassie watched her, drinking in the sight. The muscles of Arian’s back, the curve of her neck, the fullness of her breasts. How many more mornings would she be able to enjoy seeing the perfection of Arian’s naked body? Then the maidservant arrived, and by the time Cassie had finished giving instructions, Arian was dressed and ready to leave.
Cassie delayed her departure with a leisurely kiss.
Eventually, Arian broke away. “Will I see you later today?”
“Maybe not. Mother wants me at the lodge. I don’t know how long it will take, or what it’s about.”
“It’ll be more fun and games with the Imperial Senate.”
“Most likely. I’ll send word when I get back, though it might not be till tomorrow.”
Arian made no answer, merely nodding as she headed out the door.
The maidservant returned with a tray of food. Sitting alone by the window, Cassie picked at the pastries without enthusiasm.
You don’t care whether I go or stay. The pain in Arian’s voice had ripped through Cassie. She had been an inch from breaking her unspoken vow. An inch from lying to Arian and pretending she could make the world other than it was—pretending that somehow they could unpick the web of imperial politics and free themselves to do whatever they wanted.
On one level, it would have been so easy. She could have said, “I want you to stay in Kavilli, because it will break my heart if you leave me.” It would be the truth, but it ignored other truths. If the family required it, Cassie would pack her own bags tomorrow, leaving behind Kavilli and everyone in it, including Arian. No matter how strong her feelings, she could not turn her back on her family, because without her family’s support and protection, her back was merely a target for all the other imperial players.
The problem was that Arian was simply too honest and straightforward for her own good. Arian hated the political manoeuvring and double-dealing. But that was the way the empire worked—the way it had always worked and would always work. Trying to change it was as pointless as raging at the tides, and ignoring it was as dangerous as dancing on quicksand. The world would suck you down and swallow you whole.
Cassie snatched up a bowl of cut fruit, tempted to hurl it across the room. But the stronger the emotion, the more important to keep it hidden. Mother had taught her that. She carefully selected a slice of apple and returned the bowl to the tray.
You lie as easily as breathing. She would not lie to Arian, except for the one big lie of omission. “I love you.” Cassie whispered the words she had never dared say to her. It would not be fair to give hope that the bond between them could withstand the weight of the empire.
The food formed a hard lump in Cassie’s stomach. After another few bites, she gave up on breakfast, and instead got ready for the drive to the lodge. Time to see what Mother wanted. Time to put the pointless worrying out of her head.
One day—one day soon, Arian was going to walk out the door and not come back, and there was nothing she could do about it.