A Kiss of Fire (A Kiss of Magic #2)(87)

Ariana had sighed and rubbed at the ache in her temples. She was exhausted. She needed to eat and to sleep.

“Dendri, go home to your wife and child. I am going to my rooms. I will speak to you both when I am better rested,” she had said to Mason and Justin.

“Of course,” they had both agreed.

That had been weeks ago…and still she felt as tired now as she had then. No amount of rest was helping. Every time she closed her eyes she saw a roughly handsome face with nearly black eyes gazing at her with love and passion. And he had loved her. She did not question that. She could question a lot of things, but she could not question the fact that he had believed himself to be in love with her. But that had been a romantic image he had had of her. She was not really what he needed. He needed a woman who would give him heirs and be by his side forever after. Whose loyalties were not torn between two countries. And her loyalties would be torn. Saren would always be at the core of her heart and now…now she felt an equal kinship for the Kiltian people. She knew them better now, appreciated their strength and fortitude, respected them for all they had done to survive.

Had she been someone else, she could have found a home in Kilt.

A home with him.

Tears, inexplicable, burned into her eyes. She dashed them away with temper. This wasn't her. She didn’t cry. She didn’t moon over men. She didn’t lose focus on what was important.

What was important?

Her people. They were important. They should be the only thing that mattered. She had enjoyed her time in the Kiltian court, she was very surprised to realize, enjoyed the simplicity of it and the relaxation of not having to be on point every minute of every day. Of letting someone else take the reins. But now it was time to come back to reality and to focus her attention where it should have been all along.

Only…focus seemed impossible.

As hard as she tried she couldn’t clear her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to pay attention for more than two minutes at a time. She had gone into state meetings, met with the Heddah—those leaders of the provinces—and diplomats from trade countries and all she kept doing was losing track of the conversation. Or, in negotiations she found herself acting as the Kiltians would, making suggestions based on all the methods of trade and commerce she had learned there. Not that that was a bad thing. It was serving her well. It allowed her to see solutions to some of their governmental issues that she hadn’t been able to see before. But each time she did this she was brought back to wondering what was happening in Kilt. She was brought back to wondering how he was doing. He should be completely healed by now. What had he done about his brother? Was Lindo keeping watch over him? Keeping him safe?

Again, frustrated tears burned into her eyes. She had to stop this. She turned around and walked back toward the residences, heading back to her part of the living quarters in the capitol building. She went into her dressing room and found Mariah there hanging some of her gowns after they had been pressed. It had seemed strange, getting used to so much clothing again. The flow of Kiltian garments with their less restrictive cuts and lack of underclothes was something she was surprised to realize she missed. Saren gowns went straight to the floor from snug, empire waists. The had long sleeves in the winter that ended a little past the cuff of the wrist. They wore breast jackets in winter, jackets that buttoned snugly across a woman’s breasts. They wore drawers and chemises and petticoats.

It all seemed so heavy now. So restricting. Of course, that was the point. The Sarens believed the harder it was to get out of your clothes, the more discretion you would use in whom to undress for.

A silly idea really. It was not frowned upon to take a lover…but it was frowned upon to take a rapid succession of them…and to bear children out of wedlock. That didn’t mean it didn’t happen, but it did give Sarens a reason to pass judgment on one another. Sarens enjoyed passing judgment on one another. And Gretha had been right about one thing, she would be seen as somehow sullied by the Kiltian ruler. Not that it was general confirmed knowledge that they had become lovers. But it was clearly assumed that he had forced her into his bed.

“Mariah, I will take a bath,” she said, moving into the bath adjoining her dressing room. Mariah immediately set about filling the in-floor tiled tub, the decorative mosaic of tiles depicting a stallion rearing, its beautiful body in silhouette. It reminded her of the strong Kiltian stallion that Sin had taken her out on during their rides in the countryside of Kilt.

She had noticed Mariah was a bit quieter since their return as well. She wondered why that was.

“Are you well, Mariah?” she asked.

Mariah was surprised by the question, clearly. She paused in the action of filling the bath with scented bath oils. At one time she had preferred roses. Now she had found and used one that reminded her of wildflowers.

“I am fine, my lady. Why do you ask?”

“You are unusually subdued since our return from Kilt. Or perhaps I am just reflecting my own feelings onto you.”

Mariah finished pouring the oil then put the stopped back in the bottle. She set it down thoughtfully.

“Do you miss it a great deal?” she asked her mistress.

“Not at all,” she lied. “I admit it had some charms, but I much prefer the civilization of home.”

“And what of him? Do you miss him?”

Yes. Terribly. Painfully. She missed him more that she wanted to admit to herself, but she admitted it just the same.