Chapter 38
Parallel
They rode side by side, the desert cold and vast around them. Soldiers patrolled an invisible perimeter somewhere in the distance where Genie's magic barrier ended. The night air was tense with the scent of impending war, but the tension in his profile told nothing of political failure or state affairs.
She focused on the well-worn rhythm of her favored mount's graceful steps, the fine black hair on its stately head beneath the reins. Words flitted and died on her lips several times, and she settled for stillness.
"Jasmine."
A minute passed, and sound came easier. Their horses continued to walk parallel paths.
"Thank you, for...I know how hard that was for you."
She nodded in answer. "She's brave." Pure. Humble.
Used.
"I should have..." Her voice thickened and trailed off. He accepted it readily. They lapsed into quiet again, staring into the dark and not really seeing.
"Were you..." he stopped, struggling with the dust that had accumulated over months of silence. "Were you planning to see someone tonight?"
His eyes were on her; she could sense the veiled pain, the coiled questions. "I stopped drinking the tea a while ago," she said.
"Jasmine."
Her horse walked on alone for several seconds before she pulled on the reins too forcefully, bringing it to a halt as well. Slowly she turned her head, looking back to where he had abruptly stopped, and met his gaze, again with more force than necessary.
"I was--" she began.
"Who--"
He shook his head, curtailing his question and casting the remains away in disgust. "Never mind. That corpse is for you to carry."
Her grip tightened on the reins. It could have been worse, she reasoned. He could have followed her. He could have had others follow her, she could have been publicly shamed and brought to trial, she could have been condemned. He could have--
She could accuse him in return; he deserved her condemnation, her silence; she could turn back coldly and forget the sheen of apples at sunrise, the scent of freshly cut flowers--
"It's over," she said simply. The words sounded like an echo.
He watched her for a long moment. "Is it?"
She gave a decisive tug on the reins and rode back toward him, drawing closer until her saddle brushed his horse's mane. He watched her come near, months of echoes flickering across his conflicted gaze. She reached tentatively toward his face; her palm touched his cheek, and his hand came up immediately to grip her wrist.
It was unclear who pushed or pulled, but the next second she was falling, legs twisting painfully out of the saddle, and then she could not breathe, the air forced from her lungs by the hard sand at her back and his body pressed against hers. She glimpsed the tense silhouette of his shoulders against the moonlight before he kissed her hard and fast, and she was suffocating. Shutting her eyes, she wrapped her arms around him and locked her hands at his back, not letting go.