Kalasin finds that she doesn't like winters in Carthak—too many things happen, more nobles choose to stir up trouble, the Copper Isles raids become more frequent and vicious, and some kings choose to violate terms of binding treaties. Unfortunately, all of these things affect her and Kaddar directly.
Personally, she wishes that she could just shove everything away to the back of her head and forget it all, just for a few weeks, but her husband doesn't share the same outlook on it. It stresses him out, and Kaddar isn't the type to keep his stress to himself.
"My lady, my lady!"
Kalasin wakes to her youngest maid tugging her hand anxiously. "Kira, what?" she manages, groggily. From what she can see from her sleep-clouded eyes, the water clock tells her that it's one in the morning.
"It's the Emperor, my lady—"
"Kaddar? Is he all right?" She sits up, rubbing her eyes.
"Yes, my lady, and—"
Kalasin flops back down into bed with a groan. "What is it? What does he want?"
"He wants you, my lady!" The nine-year-old reflects upon her sentence for a moment, and concludes that that doesn't sound quite right. "I mean, he wants to see you, my lady, in his room, as soon as possible."
At that moment, Kalasin wants nothing more than to pull the covers back over her head, and sleep. But that would be disobeying a direct order. "Fine. I'm up. Which way is the door?"
She stands a little unsteadily, groping around in the darkness, until Kira lights a candle. "My lady?" she asks timidly. "Do you…I mean…do you want a hairbrush? Or a robe?"
Kalasin looks around the girl, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, puffy eyes, rumpled nightgown, tangled braid, and all. "No thank you, Kira." She touches the girl's light brown hair. "Go back to sleep."
She stalks out of her room, her chilly feet sinking into the carpet, and finds Kaddar in his room, leaning against the windowsill and looking out over the night sky. "It took you long enough," he says mildly, not turning around.
Crossing her arms, she glares at him. "You are without a doubt one of the most inconsiderate people I have ever met."
"What did I ever do to deserve that title?" he shoots back.
"I was asleep!"
Kaddar shrugs slightly. "Sorry."
"I'm not your plaything, to be woken up and summoned for absolutely no reason at all—"
"Well, I need you."
Kalasin's jaw drops. "All my life, I've wanted somebody to say that to me, and yet, when you do it, it loses all of its romantic quality."
He gives her a small smile. "You're welcome."
"Why am I here?"
"Why do you think?" he deadpans.
Kalasin walks over to the bed and flops down on it, exhausted. "Just take me," she says wearily. "Don't rip the nightgown, though—it's new. And then let me rest."
Kaddar follows her. "That wouldn't be as much fun as what I had planned, you know."
She turns away from him and groans. "Gods save me. You're tired and stressed and miserable, and you're thinking about sex? You should be sleeping."
Sighing, he pulls her up into a sitting position. "I wasn't thinking about sex, woman. Although, now that you mention it, that would be a very pleasant alternative…"
Kalasin gives him a look reminiscent of a small puppy begging for food.
"Fine, fine. I was just going to ask you to rub my back for a while, and then that you be kind enough to enchant me to sleep afterward."
"Then I can sleep, too?"
"Yes."
Yawning, she places her hands on his tense shoulders. "All right."
Their massage session ends with Kaddar facedown on the bed, with Kalasin sprawled out over his back, her face resting between his shoulder blades. "Good night."
"Wait," he murmurs drowsily. "You don't intend to sleep there, do you?"
"You wanted pressure therapy," she responds sleepily. "I'm giving you pressure therapy."
"Mmm, all right then. Sleep well."
Kalasin kisses the nape of his neck. "Don't you dare wake me up again."
Before he can reply, she is sound asleep.
-
aww!
