Jaded (18 page)

Byron was so wealthy that he could afford all methods of cooking and baking. He had the old-fashioned tools, like the cavern, that was fueled by fire and was good for baking and cooking some things. He also possessed all the more modern devices.

The sad thing was that he didn’t know how to use any of it properly. She’d spent much of the day instructing him in which methods were best for which foods. Now he had an entire notebook filled with scribbles from her instructions.

To help him remember, since, obviously, she wouldn’t be here forever.

She glanced at the loaf of bread with a heavy heart and tried to smile. “Do you see how it’s got that nice golden color on top? I think it’s done. You can pull it out.”

“It smells delicious.”

“It will be very good at the dinner table with the chicken stew. Warm bread with fresh butter. There’s little better than that.”

He shot her a grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I don’t know. I could think of a few things.”

Her cheeks warmed. And he could have it anytime he asked. She hated that weakness in her when it came to this man, but she couldn’t help it. He crooked a finger and she did whatever he wanted.

Alek walked into the kitchen. “Is it ready yet? My stomach is about to gnaw through itself, it smells so good.”

She smiled. “Is the table set?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s eat.”

They carried the still bubbling pot of chicken stew to the table, poured glasses of wine, and sliced the bread. The mahogany dining table was large enough to seat thirty, but they occupied only the end, nearest one of the fireplaces, making the immense room feel intimate and cozy. Outside the large window, fat snowflakes fell.

It was a cold and snowy night, and it looked as though it would get worse before it got better. A good night for fresh-baked bread, chicken stew, and good company—even if that company was a little uncomfortable for Lilya this evening.

She considered each of the men as they tucked into their meals, making sounds of appreciation as they sampled the dish. She’d slept with both of them, her skin had slid bare against theirs. Both of them had kissed her, touched her, whispered sweet and dirty things into her ear. Each of them had made her cry out in ecstasy, made her lose herself completely to the act of joining physically with them.

Never in all her dreams would she have been able to guess that this was going to be the outcome of this trip. With Byron, yes, perhaps she could have predicted it.

But Alek.

She studied him. He’d bent his reddish gold head reverently over his bowl, his full lips sampling the dish. She could never have predicted she would find the same pleasure in his arms. With Alek she’d fully expected to be able to retain herself, as she did with her clients, giving him her body—but not her mind, emotions, or self-control. Not lose herself. With her clients, she was always able to feel a little removed from the experience of sex . . . but not with Alek. In his arms she’d completely lost control. Worse, she wanted to do it again.

And, of course, she’d presumed Byron would make her lose herself. And he had.

In spades.

Sitting here at the table with both of them was a surreal experience after so many years of removed, calculated couplings with men. Byron and Alek had both made her lose control and that was a frightening, wonderful thing. For her, a breakthrough of sorts.

One she suspected might change her life forever.

Alek groaned and closed his eyes. The sound was almost a sexual one and it went right to the female heart of her. “This is delicious.”

“I’ve never tasted anything like it.” Byron swallowed down another mouthful.

She ducked her head and took a taste. It was good. “Well, no, you wouldn’t have. It’s a peasant dish from the time of the reign of the Edaeii. That is, when the peasants could manage to find meat to include in the stew. More often it was only made with vegetables harvested from their own gardens.”

“Delicious, and it was simple to make too.” Byron tore off a hunk of bread and slathered it with butter. Both these men ate a lot. She supposed they had to in order to fuel their muscular bodies.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t find cooking difficult, not when you have access to all the ingredients you need and a wonderful kitchen to prepare them in.”

“Will you teach me to make something else tomorrow?” Byron bit into the bread.

She glanced at Alek. “That depends on whether or not my history teacher will let me have some time off from my studies.”

Byron set down his knife with a clatter. “I’m sure Alek will agree.” His smile at Alek seemed a little colder than usual. Her heart thudded. Was it jealousy? Did Byron fear another encounter between her and Alek?

Alek returned Byron’s smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Tension suddenly filled the room.

Lilya set her spoon down, suddenly not very hungry anymore.

“I would do just about anything for another meal like this, Byron, but you’re forgetting what tomorrow is.” Alek waited, expectantly.

Realization overcame Byron’s expression. “The crossball game. That’s right.” He glanced out the window. The wind had picked up. “I’m not sure it will still be scheduled. That snowstorm is looking more like a blizzard with every passing moment.”

Alek turned his attention back to his meal. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

“I hope it’s not canceled. I would love to see it.” Lilya forced a smile and took another bite of her stew. She didn’t want to be the cause of conflict between them.

The men relaxed and began to talk of the sport, their teammates, and the impending game. The tension in the room eased a bit, but not her confusion. If Alek came to her again, wanting her in the night, she would want Alek too . . . but how would Byron feel about that? Could his jealousy be great enough to make him wish for her to
not
be with Alek anymore?

Her jaw locked in frustration and a rush of anger quickly followed. Byron was unreadable. And why should she bow to his wishes if he only wanted her for sex? Her feelings for Byron might run deep, but she was no bought-and-paid courtesan. Not here. They had no contract and she possessed free will.

And there was the matter of why she’d been brought here—that impossible thing that Byron thought she could do for Alek with merely her presence.

When the meal was almost finished, she brought up the subject they’d been dancing around since she’d arrived. She put her spoon down, her bowl scraped clean of the simple, filling meal. “I want you both to tell me about your magick.”

Making a disgusted sound, Alek pushed away from the table. “This is a nice evening, why talk about that?”

“Because, Alek, I am told that you possess a very unique and valuable gift. You seem like an intelligent and giving person. Why selfishly keep this gift from the world? Why not encourage it? Train it? Use it? You’ve got nothing to fear from the Edaeii anymore. Gregorio Vikhin and Anatol Nicolison are trying to construct a safe haven for the magicked population. You could be helping them.”

There
. She’d gone straight to the heart of the matter. Even Byron appeared surprised by her directness. Astringent honesty indeed.

Alek looked as though she’d punched him. For a moment he studied her, his handsome face pinched. Then he pushed farther away from the table, stood, and walked to the window to watch the snow whirl against the pane of glass. “You and Byron give my ability far too much credit. It can’t help anyone; I know that firsthand.”

“Alek—” Byron’s voice held a warning.

Without turning around, Alek raised his hand to stop the flow of Byron’s words. “No. I don’t want to hear it again. You’ve said everything already and I agree with none of it.”

Byron stood, his chair scraping on the floor of the dining room. “It’s all true, Alek.” His voice was loud, low, and sure. “No one could have helped her.
No one.
”

“What happened?” Lilya was sick of dancing around this woman, this ghost.

Alek’s shoulders tightened.

After a moment, Lilya pushed away from the table and went to Alek at the window. From behind she put her arms around his large frame. All his muscles were rigid and she feared for a moment that he might push her away, but his body seemed to relax at her touch. “Please tell me, Alek,” she murmured, putting her head against his shoulder blade. “I shared my story with you. Trust me enough to share yours with me.”

She didn’t want him to tell her to simply ease her curiosity; she wanted him to tell her so he could lighten his heart a little. So she could help him, if she could, heal some of the pain of this obviously devastating part of his past.

In that moment she realized she didn’t want to help Alek for Byron; she wanted to help Alek because she cared about him.

He remained motionless for long enough to convince her that he wasn’t going to tell her about the mysterious woman who had so broken his heart. Clearly, he did not feel safe enough or trust her enough do so. It made her heart sink since her trust in him grew greater every day.

Then he turned and embraced her, holding on as if the lack of her touch would kill him. His head rested on top of hers. “Her name was Evianna. . . .”

. . . With a smile on his face at her eagerness, Alek watched Evianna cross the green grass of the Aljorian Plain, mud clinging to her boots
....

They’d traveled all day from the university to make it to the Ruins of Ay. The light was failing and they probably should have waited until the morning to do their exploration, but nothing could have kept her from the ruins today. His stomach growled from a lack of food, he was road-weary, but there was nothing he could deny her, so there they were.

“Evianna, wait for me,” he called at her rapidly retreating form. He broke into a run, his pack heavy on his back, and he wondered how she managed to keep up her quick pace in the rain-slick grass.

She turned to face him, hopping backward for a moment as she tried to keep her walking speed. A smile illuminated her pale oval face and rain had plastered her blond hair to her head. “I’ve been waiting five years to get here. I can’t wait a moment more,” she called. “You’ll just have to try and keep up.”

Her foot slipped in the grass as she turned. She caught herself, laughing, and kept hurrying toward the jagged mass of ancient, broken buildings that rose in the distance. She cut a beautiful sight, wearing, under a long coat, men’s breeches, shirt, and boots. Her long, pale hair was caught up at the nape of her neck.

Evianna’s specialty of study was the origin of ancient cultures. When she graduated she would seek work like this, traveling on the coin of the royals to distant ruins to dig through the rubble of long-destroyed civilizations, salvaging what she could and studying it. The university and the royals had granted her the ability to come to Ay as a part of her final project and she’d selected him as her research partner, not only because he was her lover, but because he had the most knowledge of Ay than anyone besides herself; Ay before the Kaulish had sacked and burned the city so many centuries before.

Evianna loved fieldwork more than he did and she would be doing much more of it in the future. That would mean she would be away from him for long periods of time, but hopefully she would always be coming back to him. Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the small box that contained the ring he meant to give her this evening.

They reached the ruins and he followed her inside, his boots crunching on burned and crumbled bits of the structures rising around him. Standing there, looking at the husks of these old dwellings, he could pick out the now partially blocked thoroughfares of what had once been the most prosperous streets of Rylisk.

Inhaling the dry scent of crumbled rock, he stood and took it all in. For a moment his deep knowledge of Ay and his imagination took him back in time. Instead of burned-out ruins, he saw a bustling, vibrant city filled with people. He could smell the horses in the wide roads, hear the chatter of passersby and the jingle and creak of wagons loaded down with items for trade, smell bread baking, and hear the echoing laughter of children.

After a moment it was gone and the city was dead again. The weight of the loss of this place crashed down on him. That’s why he didn’t like fieldwork. Instead of being invigorated by the possibility of answering old mysteries while sifting through the ruins, he always felt the sorrowful loss of a civilization. It had been so since his father and mother had died. Evianna said he was too emotional—and maybe he was.

She certainly didn’t share his sentiment where the ruins were concerned. Evianna had entered one of the roofless structures, slung her pack down to the rubble, and was currently digging into it for her tools.

He walked over and stood beside her, wondering when would be the right time to ask her to marry him. He knew he was definitely in the right place for it. If he asked her here, tonight, it would be a story to tell their children. He wasn’t nervous about her answer. She loved him every bit as much as he loved her.