“I started wanting you as soon as I saw you,” he said as he got his feet under him. “Your lips cry out for kisses. Breasts like yours should be fondled until they give you bliss. The place of passion between your legs aches to be pierced. Terisa, I want you. I want to revel in you until your joy is as great as mine.”
Upright despite the way his ribs and collarbone hurt, he moved gently toward her.
He had some of Master Eremis’ magnetism. And his desire was less threatening than the Master’s.
At the same time, he forced her to think of Geraden.
If you thought of him as a man—
She dropped the blankets. Stead’s eyes grew bright, and he reached toward her, but she ignored him. Fending his arms away, she left the bed and crossed the room to her clothes.
“Terisa?”
The shirt and skirt Quiss had given her weren’t warm enough to hold out the chill. They were warm enough for the time being, however; she didn’t want to spend time looking for an alternative. And the boots helped.
Stead came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. “Terisa?”
She turned to face him. “Take me to Geraden’s room.”
He frowned in puzzlement. “Geraden’s room? Why do you want to go there? He doesn’t want you. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t really. If he did, he would be here already.”
Terisa shook her head; she knew Geraden better than that. “Stead,” she said quietly, “I’m not going to threaten you. I’m not going to kick you – or set you on fire. I just don’t want you.
“Take me to Geraden’s room.”
Stead blinked at her. “You don’t mean that.”
Taking care not to hurt him, she moved around him toward the door. Outside, the lamps had been extinguished. She returned to the table at the head of the bed and took the lamp. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “You might as well sleep here. I won’t be back.”
She was out the door and had started to close it before she heard him pant, “Terisa, wait,” and come shuffling after her.
His injuries prevented him from walking quickly; he took a moment to catch up with her. Then he braced himself against the door and paused to rest. His expression didn’t make sense to her. Behind the strain of movement, he seemed sadder than she’d expected – and happier.
“Quiss always refuses me,” he said, breathing carefully. “I don’t understand that. I’ve tried to tell her how much I want her. That’s all that matters. But she always refuses.
“I have to admit, though” – by degrees, his happiness took over his face – “she certainly makes me think well of Tholden.
“Geraden’s room is that way.” Grinning, he pointed down the hall.
Now she found it easy to smile back at him. To help him walk, she slipped her arm through his. That appeared to confuse him – but of course he had no way of knowing how much he was improved by the comparison to Master Eremis. In any case, he let her assist him, and they went down the hall like old friends.
Past two corners and down a long passage, Stead stopped in front of another door. “Here,” he murmured softly. Then he put his arm around her waist and hugged her. Touching his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come with me? No matter how much he worships you, he can’t want you more than I do.”
Gently, she disentangled herself. “Go away,” she replied as kindly as she could. “This is too important.”
He sighed; nodded; shook his head in bafflement. But he didn’t argue. A bit morosely, he turned and began to shamble down the hall, holding his arms protectively across his ribs.
She waited until he was out of sight around the corner. Then, before she had a chance to lose her nerve, she lifted the door latch and let herself into the room.
By the light of her lamp, she saw that Stead had brought her to the right place. In the wide bed against the far wall, Geraden sprawled among his blankets. Judging by appearances, he had lost a fierce struggle with his covers; now he lay outstretched in defeat, snoring slightly on the battlefield.
Asleep, his face gave up its bitter hardness, the iron of despair. He looked young and vulnerable, and inexpressibly dear. She wanted to go to him immediately and put her arms around him, hold him close to her heart, comfort away everything that hurt him. At the same time, she wanted to let him sleep – let him rest and dream until all his distress was healed. She shut the door behind her gently, so that he wouldn’t be disturbed.
But the lamp woke him. He didn’t flinch, or jerk himself out of bed; he simply opened his eyes, and yellow light reflected back at her. Without transition, he no longer looked young or vulnerable. He looked poised and deadly, like a wounded predator.
Master Eremis had understood from the beginning how dangerous Geraden was. All at once, the Master’s policy toward him made sense to her.
“Geraden,” she murmured in sudden confusion, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Or I guess I did. I don’t know why I came. I couldn’t stay away.”
Then, mercifully, he sat up, and the change in his position changed the way the light caught his eyes. He relapsed to the Geraden she knew: hard and hurt, closed like a fist around the sources of his pain; but nonetheless human, precious to her.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. “There’s so much we need to talk about.”
Like Stead, he was dressed only in a pair of sleeping trousers; apparently, he didn’t feel the cold as much as she did. He didn’t get up from the bed or reach out to her. Yet when he spoke his voice sounded like the voice she remembered: capable of kindness; accessible to pain or hope.
“After supper – after you left – I went to see Minick. I wanted to apologize for yelling at him. People shouldn’t yell at him, even though he never gets angry about it.
“Do you know what he said? He said, ‘I spent the afternoon with your Terisa. She’s nice. If you make her unhappy, you won’t be welcome in my house anymore.’ Minick said that, my mild brother who never gets angry.”
Geraden shrugged. “I didn’t tell him that I’ve already made you unhappy.”
“No,” she replied at once, “that’s not true,” reacting too quickly for thought. “How can you say that?”
He watched her impassively. “I look at you, Terisa. I see the way you look at me.”
“And what do you see?”
He held her eyes, but he didn’t answer.
“I like your family,” she protested. “I feel comfortable in Houseldon. Ever since you talked me into leaving my old life, you’ve done more to make me happy than anyone else I’ve ever known. How can you—?”
She stopped. It would have been nice if he’d had a fire in his room: she needed an external source of warmth. The darkness beyond the lamplight seemed full of sorrow. Making a special effort to speak calmly, she continued, “Geraden, I think I probably could have made that mirror translate me anywhere. Anywhere I could visualize – anywhere vivid enough in my mind.” And I just came from Stead. He touched my breasts. He wanted to make love to me. “Why do you think I’m here?”
His eyes didn’t waver. “You’re here because you think I’m wrong. You think I should have stayed in Orison to fight. You think there are still things I can do against Eremis.”
As he said that, she suddenly knew she had to be very careful with him. Maybe it was true that he had become iron. But iron was brittle; he might break. He was blaming himself—She wanted to cry out, Oh, Geraden, are you blaming yourself? For Eremis and Gilbur? For the Castellan? For Nyle and Quillon? Are you blaming yourself because some of the best minds around you worked so hard to keep you from understanding your talent? But she couldn’t say that to him. He would just turn away. More than ever, she couldn’t bear the idea that he would turn away.
Softly, she asked, “Why do you believe I think you’re wrong?”