Page 79 of Princess of Air

Chapter forty-one

First light seems to come rather quickly after endless tossing and turning. I just slipped into sleep when the knock on my door came. At least I should be able to rest on the ship. Jamys and I join Tomas and my siblings on the small ship they had brought up until we meet with the Highbluff fleet, then we board a bigger one and turn everyone back. Fortunately, they were close enough for us to make the transfer before our first night. To have added Jamys and me would have made for uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. As it was, on the way to Dockerly, the four of them couldn’t have enjoyed only two small cabins.

On the Highbluff flagship, we displace the officers and have private accommodations. My own is modest, but at least there’s a bed. Even my magic is too drained to be of service to me, and I want nothing more than to rest. I’ve just sat on the thin sheets before a knock sounds, though.

I sigh before speaking. “Come in.”

The door opens, and Jamys peeks in. “I hate to bother you, but…”

“Not at all.” He isn’t a bother, even if anxiety seizes me when he comes in. We haven’t spoken privately since I told him I’m in love with Tomas, but there is more to be said, I suppose.

“I’m sorry if being in such close quarters together is uncomfortable with where we had left everything.”

Uncomfortable may be an understatement. He could mean the entire ship, though.

“May I?” He gestures to the bed, the only seating in the room, and I nod. Seated, he says, “What all of you did, the power you wield, it helped me understand Alchos, I think.”

“How is that?”

“Why worship gods long gone when their power clearly lives on in you? Religion would seem pointless to people who already have godlike rulers walking among them.”

I sigh. “We are not gods, nor are we worshipped as such. You know better than most I’m wholly unworthy of such devotion.”

He taps his knee with his knuckles. “I didn’t realize what I was up against with Tomas.”

“You aren’t against him in anything. I don’t mean to pit the two of you against each other. There’s no contest or anything to be done. I doubt Tomas even wanted me to fall in love with him at the onset, but it’s happened.”

“We’re young, Ara. Love can come and go.”

“Then perhaps the love you feel for me will fade.”

He presses his lips together and slumps under my argument.

“It doesn’t help, I know,” I say, “but it’s truly not because of you. I know I could love you. You’re wonderful. But my heart isn’t mine to give anymore.”

“Perhaps given time—”

“There isn’t time, Jamys. When we return to Mirador, I’m going to find a way to dissolve our betrothal. I’m so sorry, but I cannot marry you.”

His chest rises and falls slowly. “We could have had everything.”

Tears sting my eyes. “I know.”

He leaves, and I collapse onto my back. Days ago, “we could have everything” was a hope for the future. The addition of one little word, and that idea of his became a regretted loss.

***

Tomas’ role is clearly that of the lordling escorting the royals, as duty requires. He’s not acting like the lifelong friend of said royals, let alone my lover. He’s completely indifferent to me—not angry, not sad, not loving. By our final night at sea, I wonder if the entire affair was only a dream. I lie in bed—or rather hover above it, because it isn’t particularly comfortable—rubbing my arms, wishing it was his hands on me. The gentle rocking of the ship soothes my frayed nerves but also pulls my mind to the fluid rocking of hips, the rhythm that rolls through our bodies like the waves, the sound of his breath near my ear like the wind in the sails.

Enough! I throw the sheets off and pull on a cloak. I can’t stand this silent treatment from him anymore. Even if it doesn’t result in lovemaking, I must at least get us speaking.

“Tomas!” I whisper-yell when I barge into his cabin. “This is ridiculous! You can’t just—” I yank the sheets from the bed, only to find it empty. I rub my face and sigh. Lovely.

The deck is quiet at this hour. There are only a few sailors about, and one lone figure at the bow. Even lit only in moonlight, I recognize Tomas. He leans forward against the railing, looking out over the sea.

In my second attempt to confront him, I find myself less aggressive. I approach him slowly, the salty wind brushing my hair back from my face as I make my way to the front of the ship. “Tomas?” This time, my voice is gentle, apologetic.

He drops his head, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he turns to me. “What are you doing out here?”