by C. J. Archer
It was a chilling thought. What did it mean for me and my friends if Vytill took over Glancia? I couldn't answer that, but I did suspect the attempted takeover would lead to an inevitable conclusion—war. And that was the most chilling thought of all.
"What will you do about Barborough?" I asked as the tired façade of the tavern once again came into view.
"Curtail his spying." He stopped me with a hand to my arm. "Will you be all right to go in alone?"
"Of course."
"You won't be in long. Avoid that back room but you don't need to hide yourself. You have every reason to be in there, whereas I'll attract suspicion."
"You want me to ask one of the staff if Ivor was there last night?"
He nodded. "Do you know them?"
"I know all the serving girls. I'll make it look like I'm jealous of Ivor spending time away from me and—"
"Don't do that. Just ask the question and come straight out again."
I didn't see how I could couch it in a way that would sound convincing but didn't say so.
A few minutes later, I joined him where he waited at the end of the street in the shadowy doorway of a warehouse. "He was there," I told him as we walked. "He, Ned and a few others drank together until midnight. They were quiet and kept to themselves, but Deena said they were discussing what they'd say at tonight's meeting. He couldn't have raped Ingrid. But why not just tell me he was here?" It seemed Ivor really had wanted to make me jealous by claiming he was with Tammara.
"He was worried you might tell me about the meeting," Dane said, bursting my bubble.
"That does seem more likely."
"He knows you and I are…friends."
"You hesitated."
"No, I didn't."
"You did. Are we not friends?"
Dane huffed out a breath. "I suppose."
I waited for him to say more, to talk about the kiss, but he did not. We kept up a steady pace to my street in complete and excruciating silence. I hazarded a glance at him out of the corner of my eye but it was impossible to gauge his mood in the poor light. I hoped he was at least thinking about the kiss, if not worrying about what to do next, like I was.
"Dane," I began, without knowing where I would finish. "I—"
"Who's that?" he asked, stopping me with a hand to my elbow.
I peered into the darkness at a shadowy figure knocking on my door. When he received no answer, the visitor looked at Dane's tethered horse, then glanced up at the sign of the cupped hands above the door as if checking he had the right house. Moonlight fell across his face.
"Lord Xavier," I said on a rush of breath.
"The Deerhorn heir? What's he doing here?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Wait here. He might not speak if he sees you." I pulled away, not waiting for Dane's response. "My lord," I called out. "Did you wish to see me?"
Lord Xavier clasped his hands behind him and regarded me down his nose. "You kept me waiting."
"As far as I'm aware, we didn't have an appointment."
He stretched his neck out of his collar. "I'm here to make you an offer, Miss."
"Cully. It's Miss Cully. Go on, what is your offer?"
"I will control my mother, if you'll do something for me."
I waited but he did not go on. "You'll need to be more specific. What do you mean 'control your mother?'"
"She's running a campaign against you, whispering in the king's ear, informing him every time she sees you at the palace, distracting the staff."
I laughed. "Good luck to her."
He bristled. "I wouldn't treat it so lightly, if I were you. The king is annoyed that someone like you seems to think she can go wherever she wants without permission or consequence."
"My lord, I am nothing to the king." I patted Dane's horse's neck. It quivered at my touch. "I am beneath his notice."
"You would think so, but apparently not. He seems quite keen to be informed."
My laughter caught in my throat. "Why?"
He smiled at my concern and took a swaggering step closer. "Who is to say what should and should not concern a king? Not I, and certainly not you. So my proposal is this. I will convince my mother to cease her troublemaking, and in return you will find out what you can about the duke of Gladstow's plans."
It was not what I'd expected him to say. His sliminess had led me to think he would want one thing from me, so I was rendered speechless to hear otherwise. The blast of the temple's horns announcing evening prayers for the priests echoed around the village. I waited for each blast to finish before speaking.
"Why do you think I'd have access to the duke of Gladstow or his plans?"
"You're friends with his wife," he said defensively.
"Kitty wouldn't know what her husband is up to. Even if she did, she probably wouldn't understand what she hears." I felt a little cruel for making her seem unintelligent, so added, "He wouldn't confide in her."
He tugged on his cuffs. "Use your common sense, Miss Cully. Invite yourself to tea in their apartments when he's not there and search the rooms."
A bubble of laughter rose up my throat and burst out. "I'm sorry, my lord, but no. I won't spy on the Gladstows for you."
He stepped toward me and bared his teeth. "Then I cannot control my mother."
"I never doubted it."
He growled and took another step closer. "Little bitch."
I pressed my palm to his chest but was under no illusion I could stop him if he chose to use force. "There is a very big man with a sword standing in the shadows, watching us," I said. "He won't like it if you touch me."
His gaze darted around, searching the darkness at my back. Dane must have hidden himself well because it wasn't until he cleared his throat that Lord Xavier's face dropped. He hurried off without so much as a good evening.
Once he was completely out of sight, Dane emerged from the shadows. "Very big?" he asked.
"Bigger than most," I said, unlocking the door. "Be content I didn't describe you as big and angry."
He merely grunted and pushed open the door.
"Do you know if it's true what he said about his mother informing the king every time I go to the palace?" I asked.
"She has been in his ear lately, but you're mostly right in that the king has other things to worry about. She also doesn't know how much he owes you."
I felt the ledge beside the door for the flint box and candle. "For saving Miranda's life? That was mostly my father's doing." I struck the flint and lit the candle.
"You saved the king's life too, or so he thinks."
I chuckled. The king had been constipated, not poisoned, but had not fully accepted my diagnosis. I'd given him a tisane to make him comfortable but that was all. His gratitude might not last too long if Lady Deerhorn continued to disparage me though.
That was a sobering thought.
"Do you want me to check each of the rooms before I go?" Dane asked.
I was about to tell him there was no need then I remembered Brant had somehow got in. I fetched another candlestick from my father's room and handed it to him. "A quick check will suffice. Thank you."
The downstairs level took him only a few moments. As he headed up the stairs I remembered my messy room, the layer of dust everywhere. I rarely cleaned up there. What was the point since I was the only one to see it?
I thought about following him but hesitated. Did he want me to follow? Would seeing the bed make things more awkward? That kiss hung between us like a blade teetering on the edge. I wasn't sure what to say to make things right again. Mentioning the kiss might cause him to deny it meant anything, and that would be worse than not knowing his feelings.
The more I thought about it, however, the more convinced I was that it had meant nothing to him. He showed no signs of awkwardness and no desire to kiss me again.
He trotted down the steps and announced the all clear. "I have to go," he said, handing the candlestick to me. "Sleep well."
Sleep well? T
hat was all he was going to say? It was too formal considering the heat of that kiss. Desire had threatened to overrule all common sense when he'd been kissing me, and I was sure he'd felt the same way. Yet he'd managed to break it off when I had not. Clearly it hadn't been as intense for him as it had for me.
"Goodnight," I said at the door.
With his back to me, he said, "It's best if we both forget what happened."
"Of course. For the best." I didn't sound convincing but he seemed satisfied with my response.
I watched him ride off with a hundred different responses running through my head and a thousand regrets piercing my heart.
Chapter 10
Itried to stay away from the palace the following day. I spent most of the morning foraging for plants on the slopes of Lookout Hill then steeping leaves, crushing roots, and hanging flowers up to dry. Unfortunately those tasks were ones I did often and required little concentration, allowing my mind to wander to the previous evening's events. As much as I tried to focus on what we'd learned at the tavern, I kept thinking about Dane and the kiss. The more I thought about him, the more I wanted to see him again. Not even a visit from Meg could sway me once the decision had been made.
"Why not come with me to the palace?" I said from where I stood at the table grinding seeds with the mortar and pestle.
"You're mad." She lifted the lid on the pot hanging over the hot coals and breathed in the smell. "I can't just turn up at the palace. Neither should you."
"The guards on the gate know me, and the captain will vouch for me." Even as I said it, I hoped Lady Deerhorn wouldn't see me. I'd have to be careful.
She replaced the lid and joined me at the table. "What will you tell him when he asks why you're there?" The gleam in her eyes told me she knew exactly why I wanted to go, even though I'd not told her about the kiss.
"I'll think of something." I pushed a bunch of cavassa roots at her. "Bind those together for hanging."
She screwed up her nose and held them at arm's length. "They stink. What are they used for?"
"Skin conditions. Once they're dry, I'll boil them with a few other ingredients to make an ointment for rashes, warts— Warts! Yes, of course!" I wiped my hands down my apron and checked the larder shelves until I found the jar of ointment. There was just enough left.
"Josie, what have warts got to do with anything?"
"I almost forgot about a patient at the palace." I held up the jar. "He needs some of this."
"Now you have your excuse."
"I do. Will you come with me?"
She climbed the ladder in the larder and tied the bunch of cavassa roots to the beam. "You don't need me to deliver a jar of ointment."
"You'll see the palace finally," I said, untying my apron.
"I don't care to see it."
I knew it was a lie but didn't say so. "You'll probably see Sergeant Max too."
"Why? Does he have the warts?"
"No, but we'll go to the garrison." I waited for her to return to the kitchen so I could see her face. She was pretty, with kind eyes and full, sensual lips, yet she didn't see those features. When she saw her reflection, she only saw the birthmark.
"I have no wish to see the sergeant or the palace," she said, brushing past me. "Unlike you, I don't have the captain's confidence. His men will throw me off the estate if they catch me."
"They'll do no such thing." I caught her hand as she brushed past me. "Come with me, Meg. What else have you got to do today?"
"Quite a bit, as it happens. I'm very busy. I should be getting back. Mama will be wondering what kept me."
"Your mother can do without you for an afternoon. You do so much for her already."
"I said no, Josie, and that's final."
I sighed. There'd be no convincing her today. The problem was, I couldn't be sure there'd ever be a day when she would overcome her reluctance to be seen by strangers.
I told the guards at the gate I was delivering an ointment for Erik and that he was expecting me. They let me through, failing in their attempts to control their grins. It would seem Erik and his wart were infamous.
"Josie, you did not forget!" Erik bellowed upon seeing me in the garrison.
"Of course not." I checked to see who else occupied the room. Aside from Erik, there were only four other guards. Brant wasn't among them. "Your…predicament is impossible to forget."
"So the maids tell me."
The other men broke into raucous laughter. "Predicament doesn't mean what you think it means," one said, still chuckling. "She's talking about the lump not the, er…" He glanced at me.
"Stem?" I offered.
"Trunk," Erik said with a swell of his chest. He joined in with the laughter, and I found I couldn't help myself either.
Sergeant Max entered with Quentin, both pausing just inside the door, assessing the situation. Or perhaps, like me, they'd wanted to see if Brant was among the guards before coming in.
"What's so funny?" Quentin asked, smiling.
"Erik's lump." One of the guards pointed at Erik's crotch.
"It's a wart." I fished out the small jar of ointment from my skirt pocket and handed it to Erik. "Rub this on it twice a day until the wart disappears. It should be gone in ten days."
Erik removed the cork and sniffed the mixture. "Is wart dangerous?"
"No."
"Will his cock fall off?" asked a guard with a hopeful grin.
Max smacked the man's shoulder as he passed. "Don't say that word in front of Josie."
"She's a doctor!"
"Cock ain't a medical word," Quentin told the guard in all seriousness.
The guard threw a wedge of cheese at him. "No? Then why's cockhead the proper word for scrawny pimple-faced guards who can't hold a sword or stay on a horse?"
Max smacked him again, this time on the side of the head. The others laughed, including Quentin.
"Erik." I indicated he should come with me to the corner of the room, away from the others. I stood on my toes to whisper in his ear but he still had to lean down. "No intercourse until the wart has cleared up," I instructed him.
He looked horrified. "Ten days?"
"Ten days. Possibly more."
"More!" He muttered something in another language. "It will kill me. The maids too. Some will cry." He walked off, jar in hand, shaking his head.
With my task complete, I should have left, but I joined the men at the table and fell into conversation with Quentin. He asked me about the ointment and skin conditions, but I eventually managed to steer the discussion to Brant.
"Have you avoided him?" I said.
"Aye, and easily." He glanced at Max, sitting at the end of the table, polishing a sword blade with a cloth. "He's doing extra duty guarding the prisoners."
"Do you know why?"
"He ain't fit to be seen by the lords and ladies on account of his bruises."
"Bruises?"
"You ain't heard?"
I shook my head.
He glanced at Max again and lowered his voice. "Captain came back last night from the village all riled up. He dragged Brant outside and ordered us to remain here. They came back some time later. Brant was covered in dirt, bleeding from the nose."
I gasped. "The captain punched him?"
"Seems so. The thing is, he didn't say why, and Brant ain't saying nothing either. I think Zeke knows something though."
The door opened and the captain entered. He paused upon seeing me, and his chest rose with his deep breath. "Josie," he said with a curt nod. It was better than a demand to leave, I supposed, but a little more friendliness would have been nice. It was impossible to believe that any passion had lain between us only yesterday.
"I brought Erik some ointment." I almost added that I'd forgotten to give it to him the night before to pass on. He might not want the men to know he'd been with me.
"And stayed for the illustrious company?" he asked.
"Are you calling yourself illustrious or your men? Because I ought t
o tell you, the conversations up until now have centered around warts, skin conditions, and disappointed maids."
This time his smile was unmistakable. It would seem he hadn't completely lost his sense of humor overnight. Perhaps he'd spent all his frustration on Brant. My own sense of humor suddenly vanished at the thought.
"May we talk?" I asked.
He held the door open for me and we stepped into the corridor. "Balthazar's office?"
"Here will suffice." I waited for the door to close behind him and kept my voice low. "You confronted Brant over his dishonesty."
He crossed his arms. "I did."
"You hit him."
He waited.
"Was it necessary to hit him?"
I thought he wouldn't answer me again, but he eventually said, "If I am to earn the respect of a man like Brant, I have to speak his language. His language is violence."
I felt a little off kilter and pressed my palms to the wall at my back for balance. "Do you have his respect now or his resentment? Men like Brant do not like being humiliated, and he would see a defeat in a fight as a humiliation."
"That's why I made sure no one was watching."
"The men saw him afterward."
He shifted his stance. "Is that why you came today? To learn how Brant fared?"
"You know it isn't. Why are you being so contrary?"
He unfolded his arms and some of the iciness in his eyes thawed. "You want to know if he confessed to the rapes?"
I nodded. "What did he tell you?"
"That he abandoned his duties to go searching for the cabinet the night Ruth was attacked."
"You believe him?"
"I do. He didn't seem to know who Ruth was, and he pointed out that he doesn't need to rape women to…get what he wants."
I pulled a face. Brant was revolting, and I couldn't imagine any woman desiring him. "The one doesn't necessarily equate to the other. I don't think we can discount him yet."
"I know my men, Josie."
I bristled at his cool tone. I almost reminded him that he'd only known Brant for a few months, but that would be cruel and I wasn't that angry with him. Indeed, I wasn't angry with Dane at all, but I was acutely aware that my disappointment over his disinterest in the kiss was making me quarrelsome.
