“Peer, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I miss when it was just the three of us,” Peer said softly, as if to himself.
“Do you think we could have this conversation some other time?” Bray gestured to the towel. “You know, when I’m less naked?”
“Oh, right,” Peer said, looking down at her. He offered her a hand and pulled her up to her feet. Water trickled down her exposed calves. Then he headed to the door. “Be seeing you at dinner then,” he called over his shoulder. “Try not to drown yourself in the water basin, will you?”
Bray grimaced. He laughed and departed, pulling the door shut behind him. She toweled herself off and dressed in a fresh outfit hastily, not bothering to examine her reflection in the full-length mirror. She approached Yarrow’s room with an unusual sense of trepidation. She could hear him moving within, a steady creaking of wood. Was he pacing?
She knocked. It took several moments, but the door creaked open and his face appeared in the crack. When he saw her, he opened the door wide and let her pass into his room.
“Are you well?” he asked, his tone unreadable.
“Yes, quite well. I had to tell you what happened,” she said. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he learned what she had accomplished.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I know you two are close…”
“What? No, not that. That was nothing,” Bray said impatiently. “Just listen.”
She recounted how she had mentally done the Ada Chae and entered into the Aeght a Seve. His expression transformed during the telling.
“Bray, that is remarkable!” He began to pace around his room and Bray sank down onto his bed, watching his obvious excitement with amusement. “And you did it mentally—it took me years to get to the Aeght a Seve without physically performing the motions. Of course, the Tearre is a mental exercise, so perhaps in that form the Ada Chae would be more accessible to a Chiona.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Bray said, “I think the fact that I was physically relaxed helped, too. It’s strange—in order to gain access through the Tearre you need to feel a kind of frenzy, but with the Ada Chae I felt so peaceful, as though I was going to nod off.”
“Yes. That’s one of the key dualities that separate us,” Yarrow said. “It is interesting. I hope I can experience it both ways as well. I’ll have to redouble my efforts now that I know for certain it’s possible.”
Bray studied him as he paced—his intelligent face, his hair, still wet and loose. He had clearly bathed just before he had come to her aid. He looked different this way—when she looked at him she saw just a man, not a Cosanta. Empirically, she knew he was not the handsomest man she had ever seen. He was not even the handsomest man in the inn. But for some indefinable reason, he was by far the most attractive to her.
He stopped pacing mid-step. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, his gray eyes glittered. Did he just…register my feelings? The thought made her blush, not only because he would be aware of her attraction, but because of the greater implication. Only people he loves…
She shifted awkwardly on the bed. “Dinner should be nearly ready.”
“Yes,” he agreed, but did not move. He eyed her intently.
She could not bear his scrutiny, nor the sudden charged silence that had settled between them. She stood and hastened to the exit. “I’ll let you finish getting ready.”
She slipped outside, shut the door, and leaned backwards against the wood to take a deep gulp of air.
Coward.
“You have the basic movements down,” Yarrow stalked around Adearre’s moving form, “but you have to work on your alignment. Imagine a—”
“A cord running from the center of my head down to the floor?” Adearre cut in, his tone droll.
“Yes,” Yarrow replied, unfazed. “But you are forgetting the middle point. You need all three.”
Yarrow put one hand flat on Adearre’s middle and the other flat on his back. “You need to find your center—the point between my hands. You must be constantly aware of your core. If it is not in line with the other two points, you lack grounding.”
“This is stupid,” Peer said, offering Yarrow a dirty look.
“By all means,” Ko-Jin said, “stop wasting our time then.”
Yarrow stepped back from Adearre and nodded in approval.
“Have I got it then?” Adearre asked.
“Yes, much better.”
Yarrow walked past Adearre, his feet thumping on the floral carpet. He had preferred working outdoors, amidst nature, but there was no nature in Accord aside from the tiniest squares of garden. They’d settled for using the private dining room.
“That’s good, Bray,” Yarrow said, as she came to the end of the forms he had taught her. She moved so gracefully and confidently, one could almost confuse her for a Cosanta.
“Teach me the next set then,” she said. “What comes after Turn the Sphere?”
Yarrow hid a smile. She was so eager to move forward, she often forgot what she had already learned.
“Very well,” he said. “Watch.”
He assumed the last pose of Turn the Sphere and moved smoothly, leaning his weight back onto his right foot and sweeping his hand up and away from his chest. He heard the door open and close behind him, but completed the move without turning.
“This is Gracious Offering.” Yarrow looked up to find Bray gazing over his shoulder. He was frustrated with her lack of attention until he heard a familiar drawling voice behind him.
“What in the name of the Spirits’ vaporous backsides are you two doing?”
Yarrow spun and found Arlow leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a dangerous smile on his lips.
“Arlow!” he and Ko-Jin shouted almost simultaneously. Yarrow embraced his friend, patting him firmly on the back. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”
“I’m well,” Arlow said, that self-satisfied smile still twitching at the corner of his mouth. He wore an outfit Yarrow could not find a word for—it was a strange combination of Cosanta robes and the suits that were currently fashionable. Rather than buttoning to the neck, as Yarrow’s own robe did, it hung open like a jacket. Underneath he wore a waistcoat and creamy white shirt. His hat dipped jauntily forward, casting half of his face in shadow.
“What the blazes are you wearing?” Ko-Jin asked and laughed so hard tears came to his eyes.
Arlow ignored this. He scrutinized the three Chiona.
“Forgive me,” Yarrow said. “Arlow, you remember Bray, Peer, and Adearre?”
Arlow inclined his head to each of them, then turned back to Yarrow.
“This is going to sound foolish,” he said in a voice that Yarrow understood; it was the one he used to snare people into semantical traps. “It almost looked as though you were teaching your new friends here the Ada Chae.”
A series of guilty expressions were exchanged about the room and Arlow’s smugness increased.
He laughed, a high, delighted sound. “You really are.” He wiped an eye. “By the Spirits, that is a thing I’d like to see. Chiona doing the Ada Chae…”
Yarrow feared Arlow would descend into anti-Chiona invective, as he was prone to do, and hastily changed the subject. “How is the King, man?”
Arlow took a seat and the rest of the party followed suit.
“The King is well,” Arlow said. “So well, in fact, he finds all of my advice utterly dispensable. But that is the way of monarchs, I suppose.”
“Life at court not living up to your expectations, then?” Ko-Jin asked.
“On the contrary, it is divine. There are dances, dinners, lively talks, and pretty women aplenty. In short, all a man could ever want.”
Yarrow saw Bray wrinkle her nose and quirk a brow. He feared his friend was not making a good impression.
“In two nights’ time, in fact, there is going to be a ball to commemorate the fifteenth anniversary of the King’s coronati
on.” Arlow leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. “You’ll have to come.”
“No,” Bray said, her voice cold and definitive. “We haven’t come for parties. We have an investigation to conduct.”
Arlow smiled roguishly at her. “Bray Marron—you are so exactly as I remember you. I’m afraid, however, with such a big event, you won’t be able to excuse yourselves without appearing very rude indeed. Anyone of import in the capital will be expected to attend.”
“The King doesn’t even know we are here,” Bray shot back. “We have received no formal invitations to this event. I really don’t see how…”
She trailed off as Arlow extracted a thick envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table to her.
“I may have mentioned your presence already.” He winked, and Yarrow groaned internally.
Bray pulled the envelope open and read the ornate invitation within, her eyes darting back and forth and her lips growing steadily thinner.
“Formal attire,” Arlow said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “will of course be necessary.”
Bray passed the invitation to Peer on her right and met Arlow’s eye levelly. “Formal attire?”
“Yes, dear,” Arlow said. “A gown, in your case.” His gaze shifted over to Peer and Adearre. “And I’m afraid leather is quite out of the question. I can recommend several good shops in town who will take good care of you, though it is rather last-minute.”
“We aren’t going,” Bray said, almost pleasantly. “So it really isn’t a matter. I’m sure the King will more than understand that the possible murder of several of our kind is more important than a dance.”
Yarrow admired her persistence. Arlow tended to sweep him up in plans so completely that he never found his voice to argue.
“Spoken like a person who’s never met a King,” Arlow said with a laugh. He stood and bowed.
“It has been a real pleasure to see you all again. I apologize for the shortness of my visit, but I must be heading back. Yarrow, will you walk me out?”
“Of course,” Yarrow said, and stood. He followed his friend out of the dining room, through the foyer, and out into the cool night.
“A word of warning from an interested party,” Arlow turned to face him. “I remember, I think probably better than anyone save the two of you, how you and Bray used to be when you were kids. And I can tell that you’re taken with her all over again.” Yarrow attempted to cut in, but Arlow waved him silent. “She is Chiona, Yarrow.”
“I know that,” Yarrow said, his tone sounding petulant, even in his own ears.
“Do you, really? You’re teaching her the Ada Chae.” Arlow crossed his arms against the cold.
“I’m teaching all of them, Arlow. And they’re teaching me the Tearre,” Yarrow said.
“Did you initially suggest teaching all of them, or did you offer lessons to Bray and the others latched on?” Arlow asked, his mouth quirked knowingly.
Yarrow did not want to answer this. “Isn’t it possible that we aren’t as different as everyone thinks? Why can’t a Chiona and a Cosanta be friends?”
“But you don’t want to be friends,” Arlow said. “You want something more. How do you imagine this story ending? In marriage?”
“The Chisanta do sometimes marry…”
“Rarely, and never Chiona and Cosanta. It isn’t natural.”
“She—”
“No. Listen to me. I’m your friend, your oldest friend. I know you, Yarrow. You see the good in everyone. You will look at this girl and see her for what she once was—or for what you thought she once was. You will not see the fact that she is ruthless in a way that you could never be. Haven’t you heard what she’s been doing these last ten years? I have it on good authority that, if not for her Adourran friend’s restraint, she would break the neck of every shifty-eyed man she bumped into.”
“That’s not—”
“I have spent time with the Chiona, Yarrow. More than you. I sometimes even like them. I think there should be more cooperation between the two halves. But they are different from us—fundamentally different. Their power comes from their fierceness; they are far more likely to believe the ends justify the means, a philosophy I know you despise. You are too soft-hearted and bookish for a girl like that, Yarrow. Do yourself a favor, and keep her at arm’s length, will you? Go back home to your library and flirt with that Chaskuan girl I know you’re fond of.” Arlow clapped his friend on the back and turned away, walking towards the stable.
“Arlow—” Yarrow called, frustrated.
“Can’t talk any more now,” Arlow said over his shoulder. “We can speak again tomorrow. Say good night to Ko-Jin for me, will you?”
“Arlow—why do you always have to do this?”
“Haven’t I explained the power of a dramatic exit?” Arlow called, and receded into the darkness.
Yarrow stared after him, his shoulders slumping. Why did he always let Arlow dominate their conversations? He was bursting with retorts and had no one to say them to.
A shuffle sounded from behind him and Yarrow spun. He found Bray standing, mostly in shadow, watching him.
“It’s strange.” She stepped forward. “I remember him being just as obnoxious when I first met him. But somehow he grew on me. I can’t actually recall how that happened.”
“He does that,” Yarrow said cautiously. How much had she heard?
“He isn’t my biggest fan, is he?” She stepped closer still. The nearest lamppost illuminated her face, casting it in strong, sharp shadows.
“You heard?”
“I know I shouldn’t have,” she said. “I was coming to tell him that we would certainly not be attending that ball. I didn’t want him to think he’d won the argument just because he walked away.”
“That is his trademark move,” Yarrow said. He found he couldn’t meet her eye—what exactly had he said in regards to marriage? “Odd that I didn’t hear you open the door.”
She stepped even closer. “I didn’t use the door.”
Right. She can pass through solid objects.
“He’s not entirely wrong, you know,” she said.
Unexpectedly, she reached out and took his hand in her own. Yarrow felt a shock run up his arm at the touch, light-headed at the sudden contact. Her fingers felt so small; it was hard to imagine they’d ended lives.
“I don’t relish killing, but I do it if it seems the best course. Have you ever killed, Yarrow?”
“No.”
“Would you? If the situation arose, and a person needed killing—could you do it?”
It seemed, to Yarrow, an oddly morbid conversation to have while holding hands. He was having trouble focusing. She ran her thumb along his palm.
He also couldn’t understand her emotions. They beat with a strange tangle of sadness, hope, and affection.
“I honestly don’t know,” he said.
“Does it disturb you that I do kill—that I have, and I will?” she asked.
He did not know how to respond. He could not stomach the idea of taking a life, but he also could not believe Bray capable of cruelty. Justice, perhaps, but not cruelty.
“I wish you hadn’t been put in a situation that—”
“I chose my occupation, Yarrow. And I do not regret it.”
“I wouldn’t have you change anything. I trust you—I trust your judgment.”
She smiled, squeezed his hand, and released it. “Who’s the Chaskuan girl?” Yarrow’s forehead creased in confusion. “The one Arlow said you should go back and flirt with.”
Yarrow laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a girl who sings sometimes in Cosanta City. Nothing serious.”
“Oh.”
He registered, in her emotions, a distinct spike of jealousy. The knowledge that he could cause her envy sent a sudden rush of delirious happiness through him. He beamed.
Her brow furrowed, perhaps misconstruing his smile. She strode back to the inn without a backw
ards glance.
Chapter Seventeen
“Spirits bless you,” Yarrow said distractedly, as Bray pulled a handkerchief out of her jerkin and blew her nose. It appeared she had a dust allergy.
Bray turned the page, searching for the correct date. Her eyes scanned the yellowing paper—the headline of the Westport Chronicler the day after Da Un Marcu four years past had to do with a scandalous elopement. She shut the Chronicler volume with zeal, sending a plume of dust in the air. She sneezed.
“Spirits bless you,” Yarrow murmured.
Bray rose, replaced the Westport Chronicler from four years past, and retrieved the Westport Chronicler from five years past.
The newspaper archives were housed in a musty basement with insufficient lighting. It was a suitably dreary locale for such dreary work. She returned to her seat and thumbed through the pages, searching yet again for the pertinent dates. Her eyes were tired and itchy, her throat sore from the dust. They had begun just after breakfast, and it was surely approaching dinner time.
Yarrow closed his tome and rose beside her to claim a new set. He seemed utterly in his element, so focused. Bray’s mind wandered. It might be important work, but this sort of tedious research was not her cup of tea.
“I’ve found another one,” Ko-Jin announced from the other side of the library.
“Very well,” Bray said, her voice hoarse. “Add it to the map.”
He stood and crossed to the large map of the three kingdoms. He took a pin and placed it carefully in a small town in east Chasku.
“What’s that bring our total to?” Peer called from the Adourran end of the newspaper collection.
Ko-Jin counted the pins. “Thirty-eight.”
“Make sure you note the date,” Bray said unnecessarily, as Ko-Jin was already writing the year in a precise hand.
Peer whistled. “Thirty-eight…”
“Was this one like the others?” Bray asked.
“Yes,” Ko-Jin said. “Fire on Da Un Marcu Eve—whole family killed. This one, too, said the family was all still abed. Strange, isn’t it, that so many of these people didn’t even wake and try to get out?”
The Complete Marked Series Box Set Page 22
