Where Vines Don't Grow

Two Can Play At This

Zircon was just as Marin had left him, eyes trained carefully on the page of his book, seated comfortably but elegantly in his chair. At first she thought he was so engrossed in his reading that he hadn't noticed her approach, but naturally that was an impossibility.

"So, shall we begin then?" His amber gaze never rose above the edge of his book.

She stared at him, mind racing even as her body stilled. Should I tell him about the voice? About what it said? What it said about him? Maybe it's best not to.

Marin was taking so long to reply that Zircon finally set his book aside and met her gaze. It was a wake up call. He'll find out either way, so best to deal with it now.

Already regretting the conversation they were about to have—and the scoldings Zircon would no doubt give her for following a voice in her head—Marin cleared her throat. "Something strange happened just now . . ."

Zircon raised a brow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Yes?"

She swallowed. "I was walking through the gardens, or, uh, room? Whatever this place is and . . . I heard a voice."

Tension rippled through his shoulders and, if it was even possible, his stare intensified. Clearly Zircon knew something about the voice, but Marin didn't dare to ask how or what just yet. "And what, may I ask, did this voice say?"

Okay, out with it. "It said that my 'husband' had created the illusions of this room and that I ought to go to the Pool of Lapis to understand something of the truth—"

"Did you go to the Pool of Lapis?" He interrupted quickly.

Marin hesitated, irritated that Zircon had jumped right over the husband bit and concerned about his interest in the Pool. She didn't know what to say, but the truth suddenly felt dangerous.

The lie slipped out all too easily: "I didn't trust the voice entirely so I turned away and came back."

A flicker of relief glanced over his face and Marin felt a trickle of disbelief. Zircon's reaction belied the significance of the Pool, and perhaps even the verity of what it showed those who gazed upon it. If I'm guessing correctly then . . . My God. No. It can't be right. And why would he want that hidden from me?

Marin hurriedly scanned Zircon's face and was relieved to find that he looked temporarily lost in his own thoughts. And hopefully too busy to read mine.

"You have something else to share, don't you?"

Marin froze, hoping beyond hope she hadn't misjudged. Quick, just think of something else! Anything!

"The voice told me that when I was leaving I was going back to my husband-to-be," she said slowly, "or one of them. I'd like to know what you think that means."

Zircon carefully schooled his features into a mask of calm, but for once, Marin could discern the brittle edges and cracks all around it. He looked . . . unnerved. "Impossible."

You're telling me? She raised her brows, pacing forward until she stood inches away from his chair. "That's what it said, infuriating and despicable as that may be. But I want you to explain this to me. Tell me what to make of this."

Despite her brave front and accusatory tone, on the inside Marin felt shaken and terrified and guilty, though for what, she didn't know.

A deep furrow formed between Zircon's brows and his face looked deeply troubled. He did not, however, appear offended at her accusation. Shocked, maybe, unsettled, definitely, but more than anything he had the expression of someone faced with an impossible puzzle.