Chapter Eighteen

For the next month, things in the imperial suite seem…quiet. And lonely.

Kalasin sits on her bed every night, and she has no one to hold her comb and hair ribbons for her as she pulls her hair out of its ruthlessly elegant style and shakes it free. She brushes it herself, doing her best to get to the tangles at the ends. It is, after all, so much harder when somebody else isn't doing it for her, as she leans forward on the edge of the bed, purring as she feels the attentive care lavished on her mane.

After she finishes, she ties it back, slides into the right side of the bed, still unused to having the whole area for her own, and brings the other pillow to her chest, where she cuddles it close. Her eyes flicker involuntarily to the door, and she isn't surprised to see the faint glow of candlelight from under it. Kalasin knows that he is hunched over on the bed, still working on the yearly tax records.

She still feels the old temptation to go back and chastise him into sitting up straight, or better yet, getting some rest. Instead, she turns over, so that her back faces the door, and slips into a troubled sleep.

When the candles have almost burnt themselves out, Kaddar straightens with a wince, placing one hand on his sore back. After setting the records on the side table, he leans across, seeing darkness on the other side of the door.

He gets out of bed, quietly padding over to the door and opening it very slightly. Kalasin is curled up on her side, her back to him. From here, he can see her shoulders rising and falling with each soft breath.

Satisfied, he shuts the door softly, before rubbing his eyes tiredly. Bending over to blow out the candles, he falls into bed fully dressed, and is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

The next afternoon, they sit next to each other, presiding over a council meeting. Kalasin is turned slightly away from him as she takes notes on a spare bit of parchment. As she bends slightly to dip her quill in ink again, a lock of hair falls out of her jeweled clip and into her face; she blows it away impatiently before continuing to write.

Kaddar simply watches her for a few moments. Upon realizing what he is doing, he shakes his head firmly and continues to work.

He visits Kalahari later that evening, before dinner. Upon catching sight of him, she gurgles happily from her place inside the elaborately carved crib, reaching her small arms upward. Kaddar lifts his daughter carefully, kissing her soft little cheek as he murmurs affectionate endearments under his breath.

After walking with her for a while, Kaddar stops under the window, patting Kalahari's back. She gives a little squeak of a burp, her small fingers curling into a fist. The emperor smiles, stroking her downy hair away from her forehead.

Somewhere from the direction of the doorway, someone clears her throat softly. Kaddar turns around, startled, to find Kalasin leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. She turns her head away from him slightly, and her long earrings brush her shoulders. Her feet are bare; she has discarded her sandals at the nursery entrance. One perfectly painted toenail twitches, and she gazes at a painting on the wall pointedly.

Kaddar walks over to her, still rubbing Kalahari's back. His eyes meet Kalasin's for a moment, before he holds the baby out to her. "…Here."

Kalahari giggles, reaching both arms out to her mother. Kalasin takes her with a smile, her fingertips brushing against Kaddar's.

The small family looks at one another for a moment, before Kalasin turns away, stroking her daughter's cheek and cooing to her happily.

Not wanting to intrude, Kaddar slips his boots back on and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

--

Kaddar dreams about Kalasin that night. They are in the same room, but separated by a wall of glass. Kalahari is on Kalasin's side of the glass, and he can only watch as they go about their lives, without him.

He wakes in the middle of the night, his head aching from sustained tension. The emperor sits and rubs his neck, throwing resentful glares at the door separating his room from Kalasin's.

He had never thought that their relationship would affect him this deeply. That something formed for purely political reasons could be anything more than just sex with optional companionship.

Something tells him that, after about a year and a half of marriage and a having a child with Kalasin, it is somewhat inevitable that he's developed feelings for her. Natural, even.

Kaddar doesn't think that he can take too much more of this. She's thrown him off balance, and he refuses to let her put him through anything else.

Impulse brings him to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, half standing up. Then he looks at the door again, and sighs to himself, touching his throbbing head, and he winces slightly as he remembers the sting of her palm against his cheek, and the fury in her eyes afterward.

There is a piece of wood separating them, and he feels as if nothing he can do will bridge the distance between them.

Kaddar's fingers pull the drawer on the bedside table open clumsily, and he pours himself a liberal dose of sleeping potion. Enough to ensure that he won't be plagued by her in the night to come.

He sleeps well, for the first night in a long time.

--

"Pass me the tax records, please?"

Kalasin reaches across the study desk, picking up a large sheaf and passing them over to him. "Here you go. I did the first three provinces already."

"Thanks."

They work in silence, the only sound in the study the scratching of quills and Kalasin's soft sighs of exhaustion.

"I can't read this one," she says, at last.

"Mmm?"

"I said, I can't read it." The admission sounds almost painful in his ears, and Kaddar rises from his armchair and joins her on the sofa. He doesn't miss the way her body tenses, almost imperceptibly, as he sits next to her, his leg brushing against hers.

"The date, or the province name?" Kaddar leans down, squinting at the hastily scrawled documentation. His ear touches hers, and her breathing comes a little faster.

"Both."

Something makes him reach out; enclosing her wrist with his fingers gently, as he pulls the paper up to his eye level. "I think it's Zallara."

"And the date?"

Her voice is quiet, but something about it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "420."

"Oh."

Neither of them moves a muscle.

After a few moments, Kaddar shifts away, turning toward the rest of his work.

Something inside Kalasin snaps, and her hand shoots out to grab his arm. She sees the startled expression in his eyes for only a split second before she pulls him closer, crushing their lips together.

Kaddar doesn't think he's ever been more shocked in his entire life, and his initial reaction is to twist away. But her arms have already wrapped themselves around his neck, and he feels the heated desperation of her kisses. So he kisses back, just as hard, placing one hand on the back of her head, pushing her closer.

Kalasin moans a little, her fingers pressing into his shoulders. He is vaguely aware that he is crushing her against the cushions, but she isn't showing any indication of displeasure at all.

Kaddar's fingers tangle in her hair, pulling it out of its elaborate style clumsily, so it cascades down her shoulders and back. He means to stroke it, as they had done before, but he runs it through her hair harder than he means, pulling it and causing tears of pain in her eyes.

"Oh, I missed you," he mumbles against her lips, too caught up in the moment to realize what he's just admitted.

It hits him a moment later, and he pulls away from her, feeling a little bewildered. What just happened here?

Kalasin looks at him, and her throat tightens. And now he knows that she's missed him, as well. That she's been stupid enough to allow him that power over her.

Kaddar, slightly alarmed by the expression on her face, reaches for her hand. "Kalasin—"

"Just leave me alone!" she yells, before dashing into her room, slamming the door behind her.

After waiting for a few minutes, he gets up, and it is a simple matter for him to disable the lock on the door, even though he knows he will face the consequences of it later.

He finds her sitting on the chair in front of her dressing table, absentmindedly fiddling with jars of cosmetics. She doesn't move as he approaches her, not even when he sits down next to her, confiscating all the brightly colored objects. Kaddar takes one of her hands in his, and she curls it into a fist, but only makes a halfhearted attempt to disentangle him.

"I'm sorry," she says dully. "I…that wasn't supposed to happen. You can gloat now."

"Why would I gloat?" he asks, and she looks up into his eyes. "After all, I did kiss back."

"But I initiated it. And I shouldn't have," she exclaims. "We're…not good for each other. Things are better the way they are now. I don't want to deal with a relationship again. I don't want to deal with ending a relationship again." The empress slumps wearily, wiping her cheeks with her hand. "But I still miss you, and I hate myself for it."

"Wait…Kalasin…don't cry." Feeling more than a little out of his depth, he pats ineffectively at her face with the sleeves of his tunic. "We're not bad for each other, either."

Kalasin leans against him and sniffles something along the lines of prove it.

"I want you. I miss you."

She nods agreement against his chest, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," she says at last, sounding forlorn. "For hitting you."

Kaddar blinks in surprise. "…I really do love Kalahari, you know."

"I know."

They sit in silence for a while, Kalasin nestled against him. He doesn't mind, even though she is pressing against his arm uncomfortably.

Kalasin yawns, her fingers tightening in his. Kaddar struggles with himself for a minute. "Do you want to…" he asks, before pausing, the rest of the question hanging in the air uncertainly.

Kalasin regards him for a few moments, her eyes solemn as she considers her decision. "Yes," she tells him, finally. "You go ahead. I'll get my pillow."

They walk over to the door slowly; before he leaves, she stretches her arms out to him. Kaddar hugs her close, reveling in the familiar scent of her perfume and the soft feel of her hair under his hands.

"Truce," he whispers into her ear.

Her arms tighten around him, and he feels her smile against his cheek. "Truce."

-

The next chapter might possibly be the last one, I think. So…please review? I need something to make me feel better.