“How many people live here?” I asked him, amazed at the barrels and sacks piled high.
“At the moment, just you and me. So I can chase you around the halls naked to my heart’s content,” he answered, waggling his eyebrows. “But the Oracle has been preparing for this battle with the dark lord for a very long time. Stocking this place to withstand a siege.”
He showed me other passages lined with barracks, nurseries for children if entire families sought refuge, a kitchen wing large enough to prepare meals for a crowd. One passage led to a hot spring bubbling up from below, where we bathed each night. The room where we slept was in yet another wing, holding larger quarters designated for those who would lead the fight. Drayke said the Oracle had a suite of rooms to herself, reached by another secret door in the temple.
In the library, he’d shown me ancient scrolls that recounted the first battle with the dark lord, when our ancestors took refuge in the fortress. I imagined the dining hall filled with soldiers. Children unaware of the danger outside these walls, giggling as they scampered through the passages playing a game of tag. Women banding together as they kept vigil during the long nights when their men went off to fight.
I ended up back in the Great Hall. The room was originally a cavern created by nature in the heart of Mt. Jarazal. Stones to build the temple were cut from the interior, enlarging the space until it became an enormous high-ceilinged chamber. Over the centuries, the lower walls had been paneled, huge tapestries woven to warm and soften the upper walls, and thick rugs with colorful designs laid on the floor.
Above my head, narrow channels cut into the ceiling leading all the way to the surface allowed light and fresh air to flow in. The channels were wider than the shoulders of a grown man and I wondered if they had a second purpose as emergency escape routes.
Sunlight streaming in from above onto the deep jewel-toned rugs made an intricate pattern on the floor, like that of a stained-glass window, and the silence gave it the feeling of a cathedral.
Unlike the rest of the fortress, where I could almost see the ghostly images of those from the past, the Great Hall filled me with a sense of peace. Deep in the womb of the mountain, I felt safe.
Smaller seating areas dotted here and there around the room gave it an intimate feel, despite its size. I sat down in one. I rarely had time to myself at the palace, and since we arrived here I’d spent every moment with Drayke, so the solitude was a luxury.
In a few hours, we’d be leaving this place. Gods only knew if we’d ever return. I’d be fighting for my people – and my life – with a half-man half-beast by my side. A being I thought existed only in mythology. I knew nothing of him, really, yet I was about to place my trust and the fate of my people in his hands.
I’d already given him my body. Allowed him, at timesbeggedhim, to take me in the most intimate, sometimes shameful, ways. His prowess, his caring, his mastery, introduced me to ecstasy I’d never dreamed of. I vividly recalled every peak he’d taken me to, the way the orgasms rocked my body, leaving me limp and sated.
There was no doubt he enjoyed me as well. I loved drawing those low growls from him as he came, knowing I’d made him give in to passion.
But now, as the hour drew near and I faced my own mortality, I took stock of my life. I’d had a happy childhood, mourned the loss of my father then felt both fear and exhilaration at becoming the sovereign leader of my kingdom. Though it had only been for a few days, I’d reveled in sexual pleasure beyond measure, been held and caressed by a strong, virile male. But had I ever experienced love?
Examining my feelings was foreign to me. I’d left childhood years ago, trading my carefree youth for the life of an heir to a throne. I went where I was told, did what was expected of me, accepted that my life would be one of responsibility and regimentation. When my father died, I discovered the crown was a far heavier burden than I’d ever dreamed. I became the caretaker of my people. Beloved by all, yet alone.
Happy or sad, in grief or in rare moments of pure happiness, I did what I had to do. As I would do tonight. Through it all, how I felt was not important. I locked my feelings away, and eventually I gave up thinking about them entirely.
How did I feel about the man who slumbered nearby? I loved what he did to my body. But sex aside, did I love him? Did he love me?
He was charming, intelligent, funny. Even in the darkest moments, he could make me laugh. He had honor and integrity, two qualities that earned my respect. And his sense of responsibility was equal to my own. Otherwise he’d never have signed on for this deadly mission.
I loved that he treated me like Melisandre the woman, not the queen. I could be myself with him. He listened to me without judgement and refused to let me shoulder the burden all by myself when the weight of all we faced became overwhelming.
“You’re not alone. I’ll be by your side. We’ll do our best,” he’d say, “and leave the outcome in the hands of the gods.” Then he’d shrug and give me a wry grin. “Let’s hope they’re not too busy drinking and fucking at the crucial moment to pay attention to us mere mortals!”
Did all of that add up to love? I’d read the fairy tales that purported to be about the emotion. Star-crossed lovers, forsaking all others to be together despite insurmountable odds. The valiant stranger who appears at the last minute to save the damsel in distress or defeat the heartless bastard she’s been betrothed to and gain her hand in marriage. But what happened the next day? How is love expressed in the tiny, unimportant moments that make up a life? The fairy tales never answered those questions.
I did have one role model. My father. He loved my mother with all his heart. Though my memories of them together were faint, it showed when he opened the locket and looked at her face. I could see the warmth, the tenderness in the depths of his eyes.
I rose and padded back to our bedroom. Opened the door and stood at the side of the bed.
Drayke lay sprawled atop the covers, dead asleep. He had one hand tucked behind his head, and his face was at peace. He must have sensed my presence because he opened his eyes and smiled.
“How long have you been up?”
“Not long,” I lied.
He patted the bed beside him. “Come here. I’ll cuddle you. You close your eyes and let go of everything. The worry, the fear, the uncertainty. Gods only know what tomorrow will bring. All we can be sure of is where we are right now, Meli. Let’s take this moment the Goddess has given us and live it to the fullest.”
Meli. No one had called me by a pet name since Papa died. I liked the sound of it.
He held his arms out, his eyes filled with warmth and tenderness. I forgot about tomorrow. Put all the fairy tales out of my mind and slid into the bed of a man who loved me.
Chapter Nineteen
Drayke