Note: Oh, argh, I am so sorry for the lack of updates. The epilogues for this fic are doing some really funky things and demanding more chapters. You know you're far gone when you listen to what Kalasin and Kaddar say, instead of your own common sense. –smile-
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pathetic as it might sound, Emperor Kaddar was pining.
Kalasin had left him. She was frolicking in Tortall, while he was suffering over here. He wouldn't admit it easily, but he was missing her. He missed her advice, he missed her laughter, and he missed teasing her about the bearskin rug.
But above all, he missed having somebody to cuddle with.
Okay, fine, they hadn't slept in the same bed most of the time in the month before Kalasin's departure. He had left her alone, actually, but he had still known that she was there. And before their fight, he had been used to using her as an armrest, or a pillow, or just having the soft warmth of her near him.
After a few days of a depressingly Kalasin-less sleep, he was reduced to something he hadn't done for a very long time. He woke up in the middle of the night and captured Kalasin's pillow, inhaling it deeply. The faint scent of her hair still clung to the fabric. An idea, an ingenious idea, struck him.
Kaddar dragged the pillow to their bathroom, blinking hard at the shock of turning the bright lights on. Feeling faintly ridiculous, he rummaged through the articles that Kalasin had left behind. There was jewelry, and scarves, handkerchiefs, little silk flowers, more jewelry, creams, yet more jewelry, facial care, hair care, combs, perfume…ah, perfume. About twenty half-used perfume bottles in more scents than he knew existed.
Hmm. Kaddar picked up one bottle in particular and sniffed it delicately. Lime and coconut. Ah, yes, that was definitely Kalasin.
He spritzed the perfume all over the pillowcase, before holding it an arm's length away and admiring the effects. It was as Kalasin as a soft pillow with a dark red silk pillowcase could be. At least the dark red silk part was accurate.
After carrying the pillow-Kalasin back to bed, he flopped down on his pillow with a yawn, cuddling his makeshift Kalasin close. It was a pretty good substitute.
Kaddar kissed the side of the pillow, brushing his fingers against its imaginary long hair. "Sweet dreams, Kally. Come back soon."
--
Two and a half months passed quickly for Kalasin in Tortall, and extremely, extremely slowly for Kaddar in Carthak. Kalasin was by no means pining and using pillows as Kaddar substitutes, but she still missed him.
Little Vania had asked once if "Kally loved her lord like Mama loved Papa," and Kalasin had laughed, "Yes, of course, Vania. Loving somebody like that is…wonderful," she had told the wide-eyed young girl. "If you love the person you marry, it's one of the best things that can happen to you."
Thinking about what she had said, Kalasin blushed. She loved Kaddar, and he loved her back. The adrenaline rush that came from that knowledge was still absolutely thrilling.
She and Shinkokami had become fast friends, and Kalasin was glad to see that her brother and Shinko were happy together. And good for them—their relationship wasn't nearly as turbulent as hers and Kaddar's. Shinkokami and Roald's daughter Lianokami was born in mid-May, much to the rejoicing of the royal family and all of Tortall.
Kalasin discovered that she loved tending to the baby, which led to her mother's, Buri's, Alanna's, Lianne's, Cythera's and generally everybody's teasing about when the Iliniats would be expecting an addition to the two-person Imperial family.
When it was time to leave at the beginning of August, it had hurt less than Kalasin had expected it to. She would miss staying up late and talking to Shinko and Lianne, going out riding with Roald, taking care of Lianokami, and being around her family and the places that she had grown up at.
She knew what her mother had said was right, though. Kalasin was Empress, and she had a duty to her husband and her people. And that duty didn't consist of staying in Tortall all year.
With that thought, she climbed onto her ship and waved a tearful good-bye to her friends and family, feeling a mixed up sense of déjà vu. But then again, the last time she had done this, she'd been angry, upset, lonely, and frightened. This time, she was none of those. She knew what awaited her. Zaimid and his declarations of undying love, Kaddar and his…Kaddar-ness, and the councilors and their not-too-discreet inquiries about whether any heirs were on the horizon.
And there was also the fact that Varice had tricked her into preparing half of the Beltane feast with her. Hard times. Hard times.
Kalasin went belowdecks for shelter from the heat of the sun, deciding to consult Varice's cookbook. She still had no idea on how to batter eggs. Like anybody could do something crazy like that.
--
Her arrival at the port at Carthak City was depressingly ceremonial and formal. There were speeches and welcomes to the new ambassadors from Tortall, and for their returning Empress.
Kaddar was scrutinizing her, from where he sat further back. She looked happy, healthy, and pretty. When he stood up to make his welcoming speech to the Tortallan delegation, she gave him a flirtatious wave and a coquettish smile in the middle of how much he valued their alliance to Tortall, which temporarily caused him to lose the capability for speech.
When it was time for them to greet each other while observing all the formalities, Kalasin curtseyed exactly as low as required and smirked at him when she rose. She gave him a very plain kiss me look, and Kaddar had to stifle the urge to nip her chin while giving her the traditional kiss to the forehead and one to each cheek. "Welcome back, my lady," he said formally, and truthfully. "Carthak and I have sorely missed your presence."
"I am truly glad to be back, my lord," was her equally formal reply. The entire ritual would have been easier for him to go through if she hadn't been giving him the kiss me look for the whole two hours. He compensated by accidentally brushing his arm across places that made her gasp, at least five times during the entire procession to the Imperial Palace. The city was decorated for Beltane, and Kalasin gaped the whole way. When Carthak celebrated, they celebrated in style.
"Obviously, our refined culture overwhelms the simple comprehension of your Northern mind." Kaddar whispered wickedly. "Don't you think?"
"You're right," Kalasin whispered back. "The only thing my simplistic, barbaric Northern mind can focus on right now is you. And how much pain you are going to be in when we get to our rooms."
Kaddar nudged her foot with his. "You know what they say. The best kind of love hurts."
Kalasin giggled suddenly, earning a collection of strange looks from the assorted noblemen around her, and Kaddar shook his head, amused. "You're a spectacular victim," he told her quietly. "Even though you don't beg for mercy."
"Oh, I beg," she murmured, adjusting her veil demurely. "In the proper circumstances."
Kaddar suddenly found himself wondering exactly how early they could tear themselves away from the Beltane celebrations without violating etiquette.
--
"Mmmph, I missed you too," Kalasin murmured, pulling away from Kaddar's embrace for a minute. "Easy on the laces. If you rip my dress, Rhiya will kill you."
"Stop it. You're ruining the mood," Kaddar captured her lips with his again, and finally managed to get her out of her dress. And then he was faced with the challenges of a full slip and a corset. He groaned aloud. "You know, nobody would ever try an attempt on your virtue, what with all these layers."
Kalasin laughed, pushing him away. "Let me do it. So, how did you manage by yourself? Did you pine too badly?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said evasively, watching her unlace her corset, memorizing each movement of her fingers for future reference. "I did not pine."
The corset was thrown unceremoniously into a corner. "Oh? I'm shocked. Your letters sounded so lonely." Kalasin pulled the pins out of her hair, shaking it free from its elaborate style. She walked over to the other side of the bed and flopped down on her stomach, inhaling the covers happily and teasing him with her low neckline. "It's nice to be back."
Kaddar sat down near her, watching the candlelight play against the warm colors of their bedchamber. "It's nice to have you back. Now, are you going to play hard to get all night?"
He yelped as she unceremoniously tackled him, knocking him over onto his back. "Maybe."
Kaddar wrapped both arms around her waist. "You know, since we left the feast at only nine-thirty, we need to properly get into the Beltane spirit, don't you think?"
Kalasin rested her elbows on his shoulders, giving him a mischievous look. "After all, this is the celebration of all kinds of love, courtly and illicit alike. We're courtly, right?"
"Unless you're secretly married to the King of Scanra and are just using me as your paramour, then yes. We're definitely courtly."
"I'm sure that's not true. You're much more handsome." she said, wrapping her arms around his neck playfully.
Kaddar turned both of them over on his side and kissed the tip of her nose, his dark eyes shining with affection and desire. "Oh, really?"
"I'll prove it." With that, she pulled him in for a passionate kiss that left him more than a little winded.
"Wait up," he gasped, after she let him go. He leaned over and rummaged in a few drawers, pulling out a feather duster. "Now, get a blanket and a couple of pillows and follow me."
Kalasin's eyes grew to the size of small full moons. "You aren't serious—"
"Okay, fine, we'll only use one pillow. Happy now, my experimental one?"
"I can't believe it—this was in the Art of Romance, not—"
"Kally," he sighed. "You're never going to get over your fascination with that rug if we don't do this. You can't say that you don't want to, because I know you do."
"Very well, then," Kalasin mumbled, blushing hotly, following them into their study and kneeling on the bearskin rug. A fire had warmed the fur, which tickled her palms, and she had to resist the temptation to flop down and roll around on it. "You really know how to plan a homecoming. And the fire is a nice touch."
"I even moved the desk out of the way, so that neither of us would hit our heads," he grinned, sitting down on the rug. "Now, come here and thank me properly, beloved."
And she did.
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