“I’ve never asked you what you plan to do once things are settled and done. I mean what else you plan.”
“Ah well, handling the business of peace still needs doing. Seeing the laws are held, the roads kept clean and clear, help’s given where it’s needed, keeping trades running in our world and with the ones beyond.”
He shrugged. “And the bloody politics of it all never goes away. I read your pages.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t have left them sitting right there if you didn’t want eyes on them. I liked them.”
“I barely wrote anything when I was at the Capital.”
“What you did, I liked. The words roll. You used the castle and the village, how they feel and look, how they smell. It seems to me people will see it who never go there.”
“Thank you. That’s the hope.”
“You’re not so angry this morning.” He picked up the ball a soaking Bollocks dropped at his feet, and obliged the dog by throwing it again.
“Maybe not.”
“And myself, I’m not so tired. So I can wish I had the time to persuade you back to bed, but I have to go back to the Capital.”
“Maybe not so angry doesn’t mean I’m ready to have sex with you.”
“That’s where the persuasion would come into it.” He reached out to wind her hair around his finger. “But I have to go and deal with the mess of things there, then come back and shore up what’s left of the mess here. If I’m back with enough time for it, I’d like you to go somewhere with me on Cróga.”
“Where?”
“We’ll talk about it if there’s time.” Once again he picked up the ball. “You’re a demon dog for certain,” he said, and threw the ball. “You’ll come to Talamh later today. You’ll want to write first, have the quiet awhile, but you’ll come.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you there if I’m able. Marco should be back before dusk. Earlier by far if he flies with Brian.”
“I think dusk.”
“The last time this is,” Keegan told Bollocks as he again picked up the ball. “So make it good.”
He feinted a throw so Bollocks dashed toward the water, then back again. Feinted again and sent the dog into leaping, dancing, barking delight.
Watching them made Breen wonder what Keegan had been like as a boy, just a boy, before he’d lifted the sword from the lake. Before he’d shouldered the responsibility for worlds.
“I have to go,” he told her. “I need to speak to Harken before I fly east, and see that all’s well at the falls. I’m … explaining things.”
It took effort, but she suppressed the smile and nodded. “I can see that.”
“All right then.” He put an arm around her waist, tugged her to him. “Kiss me, would you, as it took powerful restraint not to wake you when you lay soft and warm beside me at dawn.”
“I might not have minded.”
“Now she says it. I’ll keep that in mind the next time. Now kiss me, Breen, for the ride east will be cold.”
She put an arm around his neck, tangled her fingers in his hair. And took her time about it. Testing her power, she brushed her lips lightly on his, watched his eyes as he watched hers.
Then changed the angle, brushed again.
Smiled.
“You leave me wanting,” he told her.
“I could.” And that, she thought, was a power she hadn’t known she had. “But…” She gave his bottom lip a little tug with her teeth. “I won’t. Kiss me back, Keegan,” she whispered, and took his mouth.
What he felt poured into her, the mad heat of need. It left her staggered, aching, thrilled.
“It wouldn’t have taken much persuasion.”
“Gods spare me.” He dropped his brow to hers a moment, then straightened, stepped back. Handed her the mug. “I have to go.”
Cróga landed on the beach behind him.
He turned, mounted, gave her one last look. Then was gone.
She wrote a blog, then tested her skills with magicks, creating images for it from memory. The hillsides, the bridges over the river, and Bollocks leaping into the water, Marco on horseback.
Satisfied, she wrote an email to Sally and Derrick before she treated herself to a Coke and settled in to work.
The words didn’t always roll, but it felt good, really good, to be back at her desk, back at her laptop, back in the quiet.
And tomorrow, she promised herself, back into her preferred routine.