Thanks, everyone, for reading.
…
Karigan flung her arms out in exasperation. If she slept, she dreamt about him. If she awoke, she thought about him. With a groan of frustration, she flung the covers back, climbed out of bed, and padded to her open window. The ocean breeze cooled her hot skin and she closed her eyes against it. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? This was all very unfair. The whole Weapon-rebellion everything had probably just been a setup by him so he could get her alone. Except he had been impaled by knives. And he had thrown a rock at Fastion's head.
All right. So it hadn't been a setup.
A horse harness jingled. Karigan opened her eyes and peered down at the front yard. She gasped. A Rider! A Green Rider! In a flurry, she yanked on her boots and threw her coat on over her immodest nightgown. She rushed out of her room, through the dark house, and exploded out the front door.
"Hey!" she called. The Rider didn't seem to hear. Karigan slowed down as she approached. The Rider was female, with blonde hair pulled up messily on her head. Karigan squinted. The horse nibbled on the fence post. She was white. Who had a white mare? "Excuse me," Karigan said.
The Rider turned. Her face was lovely, but unfamiliar. "Who are you?" Karigan demanded. The woman walked past her wordlessly. Karigan spun around. "Excuse me – " She stopped. Rena's house had changed. A sign hung near the closed front door (hadn't she left it open?), boasting a carved animal and the words 'The Laughing Badger.' Warm firelight glowed in each of the windows and silhouettes moved within, accompanied by the muffled sounds of voices and dishes.
Oh no.
The Rider knocked briskly on the door and was let in. Karigan clutched her coat tightly to her chest, eyes wide. Behind her, the mare whickered. Karigan looked over her shoulder and saw nothing. Gods, she thought. This can't be happening.
"Karigan?"
With a muffled shriek, Karigan spun around. The king stood in the doorway, peering at her curiously. "What are you doing out here?" Behind him, the house was silent and dark. No sign swung above the door, no one laughed inside. Karigan shuddered.
"I thought I heard something," she answered lamely.
He came down the steps toward her. Karigan noticed he was fully dressed and suddenly became very aware of her own appearance. She pulled her coat more tightly around herself and glanced down. The nightgown covered her knees and her boots hid most of her calves, thank goodness.
"What did you hear?" he asked, looking around.
"I – uh. It was nothing." She jerked a hand through her untidy hair. "I should get back to bed."
"Nothing?" he said doubtfully. "Was it some sort of animal?"
"I don't know," she snapped more forcefully than she intended. His eyebrows quirked. She then amended quietly, "I didn't see anything."
He frowned dubiously, but then held out an arm. "Come back inside."
She walked past him into the house, careful to avoid his touch. The moonlight filtered through the shuttered windows, casting itself eerily over the furniture. When she had first arrived, she had pictured this house to be an inn. She looked carefully at the room. There was no bar or stage, only one massive fireplace on the far side of the room, dominating the half that was used as a sitting area. The other half displayed three tables, surrounded by chairs, and the wide door that led into the kitchen.
Zachary was standing quietly beside her, looking around as if trying to see what she was seeing. Karigan walked toward the kitchen door, studying the floor. She crouched and ran her hand over the wood. "These planks are newer than those," she observed.
"Oh," he whispered. After a moment, he said, "Why is that significant?"
She stood. "Can you imagine this room as a tavern hall?" She pointed and his eyes followed her finger. "Tables all over. A stage for performers probably against that wall." She dropped her hand and looked at the floor. "The bar would be here. It would make sense that they would replace the floor."
She looked at him and saw that it clearly didn't make sense to him. Now that she thought about it, had he ever been in a tavern? "The planks would have been stained by the drinks. And when they pulled up the bar itself, it would have left marks."
"Yes, that does make sense. There are many unused rooms on the upper floor, as well. A former inn?"
"That's what I think."
He scratched his head. "We could just ask Rena and Ainsley in the morning. I can't imagine we would be infringing on a sensitive topic."
She stood in silence, considering her surroundings. "I lied."
"About what?"
"I did see something." She perched on the edge of a table. "I couldn't sleep, so I got out of bed. I heard and saw a horse and rider outside, so I ran downstairs to see."
"I heard you," he qualified.
"When I went outside, it was – a Green Rider."
He looked surprised, but waited for her to continue.
"I'd never seen her before, anywhere. I tried talking to her, but she walked past me without hearing. When I turned around, the house was all lit up and there were people inside. There was a sign hanging by the door: The Laughing Badger."
"And the Rider?"
"She knocked and went inside. Then her horse disappeared and everything went back to normal."
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Like the corpse in the hayloft."
"Yes."
He whipped a chair around and straddled it, sitting directly across from her. Karigan self-consciously pulled down the nightgown that had hiked up when she sat on the table.
"Let's assume," he said, "that these things you are seeing are…"
"Ghosts?"
"The horse and Rider, maybe. But the corpse?"
Karigan slouched. "Right." She chewed on her lip as she thought. "In the castle, I've seen – things before. Not just people, but whole events."
"When the First Rider pulled you through time. After those events, you were always found semi-conscious in the back halls of the castle." He gave her a crooked smile. "You look tired, but not, I think, semi-conscious."
She stood and began pacing. "This feels different. And by that I mean that I don't feel anything at all. I'm not going anywhere, I'm just seeing them."
"And hearing and smelling them." He crossed his arms on the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. "I don't think we can solve how these visions are occurring. Perhaps we should worry about why?"
Karigan nodded. "They're obviously of the past," she said, sitting back down on the table. "How far back they are, I don't know."
"So a Green Rider once came here to Rena and Ainsley's home, which was once an inn."
"And a corpse was once up in the Spinters' hayloft, which was once a…hayloft?"
"And you're seeing them...because...?"
They peered at each other.
"This is too much to think about before dawn," Karigan yawned, stretching. Zachary stood and replaced the chair, reminding Karigan of his clothes. "You're dressed. Were you planning on going somewhere?"
He turned and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. Err - just down to the beach."
"Is something wrong?" Please say no.
"I can't sleep at all," he answered, then added slowly, "My dreams are keeping me awake." Some unidentifiable emotion made his eyes glow. Karigan shifted uneasily.
"I hope they're not nightmares."
"Not at all. They're...pleasant. In a tortuous sort of way." He gazed hard at her. Karigan gaped back at him and a familiar silence fell between them. Zachary finally spoke, "Kari – "
"I know where Rena keeps her cocoa. Maybe some hot chocolate will help you sleep." Karigan stood and hurried into the kitchen, clutching her coat with white fists. Once there, she pressed her hands into a counter and bowed her head, taking deep breaths. This couldn't keep happening.
He appeared in the doorway and she threw her head up before he could speak. "Please don't," she said, holding a hand up as if to ward him away. "Please don't."
He stepped into the suddenly too-small room. Karigan backed away, feeling panic rise up in her throat. She collided with another counter and shrunk against it.
"Don't do that," he said, his voice husky with suppressed emotion. "Please don't do that to me. It is not my intention to hurt you. Will you listen to me? Just this once?" He waited for a response. Receiving none, he hesitated a moment before launching, "You know my feelings for you. They haven't disappeared. They have only grown and – and deepened."
Karigan could only hold his fervent gaze for a few moments before she had to look away. "We have nothing to discuss," she whispered brokenly.
"Please," he entreated. He was closer. "You must feel – you have to – " He broke off, looking away. When he raised his face again, a new light glinted in his eyes, one that both terrified and hypnotized her. "Karigan, I am not lying when I say that I love and - want you - " He paused and Karigan shivered. "You are my match in every way. Your passion, your intelligence - you are all that I have ever - "
"Stop!" she cried, clutching her hair. "Just stop!" His jaw snapped shut with a click. "What are you trying to do?" she whispered. In the moonlight, she saw his brow furrow. "You are king," she continued, her voice hoarse and low. "You are king and I am far, far out of your reach. We are stuck where we are." He opened his mouth, but she plowed on, "We both have responsibilities to our country, to our - our families, to the world. You are betrothed to Lady Estora. What you feel for me is – is meaningless." She spat the last word out, along with half of her soul.
"Earlier," he said softly, "you said that if there was just…one person with whom I could share…"
"You cannot marry me," she asserted. "And I will never lower myself to be your mistress."
"I didn't – "
"There is nothing for us, Za – Your – Excellency. There is nothing." She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.
"Do not run away," he commanded. "Stop running away."
She looked everywhere but at him. "Let me go."
"I will not," he hissed. "I will not until you talk to me."
"About what?" She glared fiercely into his face. "What is there to talk about? What sort of sick hope do you cling to? How much longer will you torment both of us and – and keep on imagining this future that does not and will never exist? Release me!" She jerked her arms, but he maintained his grip.
"I hold on to the hope that two people who love each other can be happy and can live – "
"That can never be!" Tears blazed in her eyes. "And I do not – I do not…" She trailed off, her face twisted with desperation.
"You do not…what?" he breathed. "You do not love me?"
She trembled. "Please let me go."
"Tell me. If you tell me you do not love me then I will leave you alone. Tell me and I will never mention my feelings to you ever again."
She stared at him, her heart cracking beneath the weight of his eyes boring down into her. "I…"
His fingers dug into her arms.
"I…"
His hands finally released her, moving instead to her face, which he cupped with both hands.
"I just…"
He tipped her head up and lowered his own.
"I don't…" Her breath mingled with his. "…Don't… I…"
His mouth claimed hers. A burst of rage drove her to fight him for three whole seconds, but it soon sizzled away. Heat rushed through her and she grasped his shirt as a thrilling tide swept her up. Spinning around in a golden glow, she was faintly aware of his hands slipping down her neck, searching, hunting.
There is nothing for us…nothing… The words echoed senselessly in her mind. His touch was an ecstasy and she curved herself against him, her senses distinguishing every contour of his body in stark prospect. What you feel…is meaningless… He breathed raggedly against her lips, kissed them again briefly, hungrily, then slid his mouth along her jaw. What sick hope… One hand splayed across his back, feeling the shifting of the corded muscles that were already so familiar. The other buried itself in his hair, gripping his head as he explored the swells and dips of her face, the curve of her throat, the arc of her collarbone, and the enticing sun-kissed skin that stretched across her chest.
He didn't resist when she brought his face back up to hers. You are betrothed… The coat was pulled away from her shoulders. …And I will never lower myself… His hands slid down her arms. …Never lower… She was pressed against the door and it shut with a thump.
Never.
The golden glow extinguished. Her eyes popped opened. One of his hands had reached the hem of her nightgown and his fingers teased her leg. With a snarl, Karigan gave him a mighty shove. He stumbled away, grabbing a counter to balance himself, blinking rapidly and staring at her in some confusion. She grabbed her coat off the floor, spat something incomprehensible and enraged, and bolted from the room, not caring if she awakened the family as she charged up the stairs and into her borrowed bedroom. She hurled herself onto the bed, furious at him, furious at herself. Sickened tears blazed down her cheeks. Burrowing into her pillows, she wept.
Sometime later, a lone figure dragged his feet up the staircase. She had left her door open. He peered in, heard her heavy breathing, and dared to enter the room. Moonlight glimmered on drying tears. He reshaped a throttled pillow and slipped it under her head. Next, he removed her boots and placed them side-by-side near the bed. He then pulled the sheets and blankets from beneath her, straightened them out, then stretched them over her curled body. With tender hands he tucked them around her.
Pushing strings of hair out of her face, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
All around Sacoridia, the waning moon painted buildings, forests, rivers, and fields. Slanting through an open window of a former inn on Black Island, it shone benevolently on the man who knelt against his bed, his amber head cradled in one arm, while the other hand, clenched into a fist, beat and beat at the inoffensive mattress.