A Girl in Black and White (Alyria Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  “So, would you court a princess without clothes, then?”

  He let out a breath of amusement as we entered the hallway; not even entertaining the idea of taking a naked princess to a party.

  I took a turn, pulling on his arm to direct him down the sconce-lit hall. The red carpets looked like freshly dripped blood under the light. Or maybe that was just the dark talking.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” he asked.

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Do I want to know how?”

  “No.”

  After a moment, he broke the comfortable silence. “You need to stay away from my brother.”

  “Your brother came to me. We had an amicable chat is all.”

  “He handed me my bloody knife,” he said dryly.

  “Oh.” Amusement ran through me. “I forgot about that. You’re not angry that I know your secret?”

  He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, by all means, take your time.”

  He shook his head, a smile pulling on his lips.

  Laughter trickled out of a hall just ahead, and stopping in front of it, I realized this corridor must have made up “the bachelor room” Clinton had been talking about.

  I stopped, my brows knitting at the spectacle spilling out into the hall as one man chased a half-dressed, laughing woman from one room to the other.

  “We just have to evade all that,” I told Weston with a wave of my hand.

  He stood quietly by my side. “Scared that someone will mistake you for a working woman?”

  I blinked, but then remembered my dress. I didn’t think of that . . .

  “It’s all right, Princess. I won’t let you get swept away. Alyria knows you get too much of that living in a whorehouse.”

  I grimaced but didn’t comment on his slightly bitter tone. We were, for the first time, completely cordial and I wanted to keep it that way . . . at least until he demanded something else nefarious of me.

  He nodded his head forward to get me going, and so with a sigh and Weston at my back, I headed down the hall, drunken laughter coming from behind closed doors while I refused to look in the ones that were open.

  A woman almost knocked me over as she stepped out of a room, playing tug-a-war against a man with her skirts. Cheap, floral perfume clouded the air as I brushed past her; and when I reached the end of the hall, I was only glad someone didn’t mistake me for a whore and pull me into the fray. But then, thinking I was in the clear, I glanced into the last open door, and instead of averting my eyes like anyone respectable would have done before quickly doing the sign of the cross, I froze.

  Weston bumped into me, but he never stepped back, his gaze following mine.

  There was a woman on her knees in front of a man, and she was . . . well, it was pretty self-explanatory.

  I might have lived in a brothel, and seen things I shouldn’t have, but for this particular endeavor, I’d only ever heard raunchy jokes. Actually witnessing it, the act was so . . . obscene, filthy, that I was fixated in horrified fascination.

  “Calamity.”

  “Hmm . . .?”

  “We gonna watch this to the finish or are you going to move?”

  I swallowed. “Oh—um, is the first one really an option?”

  “No.” The word was harsh.

  A hot blush had stolen my breath, and so I didn’t even argue. Taking a right, and then all the way at the end of the corridor was a wooden door. I pushed it open, my heart pumping to an out-of-tune beat from realizing what I’d just witnessed with Weston at my back.

  The room was small, shelves crammed full of dusty books lining each wall. Everything looked a little worn: the wooden desk, the round, red rug, and the heavy velvet curtains. It was my favorite room.

  I found what I needed on the desk and then turned around to find Weston leaning against the closed door, his heavy gaze fixed on me.

  I swallowed, feeling immobile with his full attention.

  After a tense moment, he nodded to the bag of stones in my hands. “We’re really playing, then?”

  I bit my lip nervously. “What did you think we were going to do?”

  “I imagined you devised some plan to rid yourself of me.”

  “And you still came? Not at all afraid of me, are you?”

  He paused, his intense gaze meeting mine. “I wouldn’t use those exact words.”

  My pulse fluttered, a cocoon of butterflies erupting in my stomach.

  Collecting myself, I sat on my haunches, a shelf to my back as I dumped out the stones. “Well, I have no devious plans. Can we not call a truce for the night?”

  “A truce,” he repeated, sitting next to me instead of across from me. He leaned against the bookshelf and rested his arm on his knee. “You’d trust a Titan’s word?”

  “No,” I said automatically. “But I can read your intentions in your eyes easily.”

  “You think so?” His lips lifted in a small smile, his stare focusing heavily on me, before saying slowly, “Then no nefarious plans for any princesses tonight. Clothed or not.”

  A blush traveled under my skin as his gaze met mine for many moments, and when I was feeling breathless, I cleared my throat and said, “You pass.”

  He said nothing, only glanced away from me, something undeterminable flicking in his eyes.

  I tried to pretend that I was indifferent to his presence; that his bicep brushing my arm didn’t send a shiver through me, each and every time. And that the door shut, completely closed in a room with him after the day before was insignificant. But I wasn’t unmoved in the slightest. My actions were choppy, my thoughts jumbled, his watchful gaze burning through any control I’d collected along the way.

  “What are we playing for?” he asked.

  I wrinkled my nose in consideration, finally supplying, “Answers.”

  “What kind of answers?”

  “Whoever wins gets to ask the other a question, and they have to answer truthfully. If we tie, we can both ask a question.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “You do realize I’m not a gentleman, and I won’t ‘play like one,’ don’t you?”

  My eyes sparkled. “Maybe you are the one who doesn’t realize what a master I am at Five Stones.”

  Amusement pulled on his lips. “I think I shall believe that when I see it.”

  “You can go first. The first throw you need to toss one stone, pick one up, and then catch the one you’ve thrown on the back of your hand.”

  With a flicker of disbelief that he was doing this, he scooped up his rocks and did as told.

  I feigned disappointment when he got it on the first try, and then I smiled proudly when I’d succeeded with my rock sitting on the back of my hand.

  I hadn’t been lying about being a master at Five Stones. This was a game Grandmother and I had often played. The thought sent a shard of nostalgia through me.

  “Tie,” I responded woefully. “Well, ask away then.”

  Without a thought, he turned his gaze to me, asking, “What is the first thing on your list?”

  I paused, a smile pulling on my lips at his unexpected question—at the list, he wanted to ‘keep to his imagination.’ But now that I realized I had to answer questions as well, I didn’t know how I felt about this game. I shrugged. “For lying to me about who you were, Mr. Fake Assassin for Hire.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “Not for kidnapping you in general?”

  I shook my head, averting my gaze to the stones on the rug. “It was the first thing I’d come across when I arrived with my mother in the city, realizing who you were . . . the first thing that I was cross enough about to write down.” I lifted a shoulder, clearing my throat. “Where were you taking me all along? Was it the seal? And if so, how do you know where it is?”

  He watched me for a moment. “That’s three questions.”

  I frowned. “They’re all connected, really.”

  He ran a hand across his jaw
as if he was debating whether he should answer me but then sighed. “The seal isn’t in a fixed location. And it’s not your choice to go to it—it will come to you. Different experiences, sights, might have made it reveal itself.”

  My heart stuttered, this disturbing reality that I would be sought out settling over me. “How do you know this?”

  “That’s another question.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  Another tie. The beginning of this game was easy, but each throw would get harder and harder.

  “The Sisterhood. Can you leave it?”

  I rolled the question around. “If I truly wanted to, yes.” If I welcomed the Shadowed side of myself, I could do anything. But the thing was, I was connected to my grandmother; if I decided to leave, I could only imagine the trouble it would cause her. And even though All Sister’s Day was creeping closer, I hadn’t given into the idea of staying yet, of marrying some stranger. The reality that it might be my only choice was settling over me like a dark cloud. I didn’t want to face it yet.

  “How do you know so much about the seal?” I asked.

  “My mother left a lot of research behind,” was all he said, and I didn’t think I wanted to force the sensitive topic, so I only got the stones to play again.

  Tie.

  “Was it you who stabbed my cousin?”

  Amusement bubbled inside of me. Apparently Archer was refusing to tell anyone it had been a girl half his size. I lifted a shoulder. “He asked for it.”

  Weston shook his head. “Do not egg my family on. They will return the favor when you least expect it.”

  I pursed my lips. “I can take care of myself, Weston.”

  He glanced at me sideways, his gaze annoyed at my words, but I ignored him.

  “What were you doing in that Cameron tavern?”

  He ran a thumb across his lip. “Ask another one.”

  I blinked. “No. That’s my question, and you have to answer.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Then I pass.”

  “Ugh, I should have known you were a cheat,” I grumbled. “Fine, I shall ask a different one.” Feeling ridiculous and like a child put in the corner, I fixated my gaze on him and asked, “Do you prefer dogs or cats?”

  He laughed—at the question or my pouting attitude, I didn’t know. I listened to his deep laugh, as it sent a shiver through me, all throughout trying to pretend like it was very much an important question to me.

  “Dogs, I think.”

  “Why not cats?”

  “They do not listen.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “I could imagine how that would bother you.” I chewed my lip, and frustrated with my wasted question, I came up with a solution: “We can only pass three times then. Use it wisely,” I warned.

  He didn’t look so troubled about the new rule. It was I who should have been concerned. Who knew I would have run out before him?

  And so we played another round.

  We were tossing five stones in the air, catching as many as possible on the back of our hand, then catching as many as possible in our palms.

  When I won, triumph flourished inside me. I didn’t care if he was letting me win or not, though I liked to imagine he was just not as good as me. However, I imagined if he played like this was a true competition, it wouldn’t be a game any longer. The look in his eyes told me that might be more accurate than my honest win. I’d still take it.

  “Are you going to enter the tourney?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You would win,” I blurted.

  Darn my honesty . . .

  A sly smile pulled on his lips. “That confident of me, Princess?”

  A shiver went through me at that stupid nickname. “Well, all I’m saying is that you’re not human, and therefore have an advantage.” I shrugged. “Of course you would win.”

  “I don’t wish to kill my brother.”

  Oh . . . I supposed Roldan would be entering that. I shivered at the idea of him ruling a city. And then I couldn’t help but feel resentment seep into my chest that Weston hadn’t killed Roldan for what he did to me. That he wouldn’t. I swallowed, pushing the dangerous feeling away. “Just your father, then?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of future ahead of me, besides.”

  I faltered. How could I forget? He seemed so normal . . . so sane, sitting here with me that I’d overlooked the fact that he wouldn’t have a stable future ahead of him. Before I could let that sink in, he was already taking his turn.

  “What business do you have in the city?” he asked.

  “Pass.” I didn’t think he knew about the Fate. And I surely wasn’t going to tell him.

  His eyes narrowed.

  I lifted a shoulder. “You passed, so can I. Ask something else.”

  He looked at me, and just as I had done before when I felt cheated that he passed, he asked a silly question. “What color are you partial to?”

  A laugh bubbled up my throat as I thought it through. “Pink, I think.”

  He raised a brow.

  “What?” I said, readjusting myself on my knees. “Pink is bright . . . and hopeful.”

  “All right, Princess,” he said, amused. “Your turn. And don’t cheat this time. You never threw one of those rocks, you held it in between your fingers.”

  Yea, yea . . .

  “What does the red ring mean?”

  Don’t pass. Don’t pass.

  To my amazement, he didn’t. “The T all Titans get when they’re sworn in. Each black ring signifies a different challenge we’ve won. The thicker the ring, the more prestigious the opponent—”

  “What are the challenges for?”

  He shrugged. “Power. What else?”

  Indeed.

  He continued. “The red ring is a sign of shame. When I was eighteen, I left Titan for a few years, and when I chose to come back, I had to take the mark of dishonor and the punishment that came with it.”

  “Where did you go?”

  His eyes narrowed that I was asking more questions than allowed. “Elsewhere.”

  “It’s a follow-up question. Everyone knows they are allowed,” I explained.

  “You cannot just make up rules as you go along.”

  I huffed. “Fine. But at least tell me what the punishment was.”

  He glanced to the other side of the room. “We’ll just say, that when I told you I’d rather take a fortnight of torture than hear your thoughts, I’ve been there.”

  My throat felt tight. The air in the room thickened, and to lighten the mood, I jested, “My thoughts were that bad, huh?”

  He glanced at me with an intense look that sent my heart pattering in my chest so unevenly that I looked away, reaching for the stones to play another round.

  This time he won, unfortunately.

  “What’s the last thing on your list?”

  I pursed my lips. “Pass.”

  He raised a brow, his interest piqued. “Sure you want to use one of your passes for that?”

  I nodded, definite.

  He leaned against the shelf, his arm propped on his knee, watching me, just as he had done so many times before in between here and Alger. My breaths turned shallow.

  “What was it like?”

  Such a vague question but from his rough, almost remorseful tone, I knew exactly what he was asking. I looked at the ceiling. “It was . . . four months of . . . dark and cold. It felt endless. I still dream of it, sometimes it feels as if it is a ghost that haunts me,” I ended on a lift of my shoulder. I wasn’t good with exposing myself, and it always felt like I needed to lighten the mood, to belittle the moment. Others would have bought the indifference. I didn’t believe Weston did, and it sent a rush of uncertainty through me.

  Handing him the rocks, a zing vibrated underneath my skin as Weston’s fingers brushed my own. He eyed me warily, before starting his turn.

  I hadn’t realized until now how I was evading some important questions I had: who he was and w
hat he was going to do about it. And about what he was doing here, which I thought was all connected.

  Bringing up the dark truth of that would shatter this exhilarating moment and I didn’t want to do that. But somehow when I won this round, I thought back to what Roldan had told me, about their people, about their inevitable boredom. And to now, to seeing how Weston always watched me like I was somehow entertainment, that I found myself asking, “I amuse you, don’t I?”

  It was a simple question. A harmless one, I’d thought. Requiring an easy yes or no answer.

  But when the air grew heavy, the silence morphing into something loud and assuming, I realized that the unpretentious question, was for him, something entirely different.

  His gaze had shot to me when the words left my lips, and while the silence was suffocating me, I almost packed up the rocks and just left.

  “Pass.”

  My heart restarted in pure relief, a shallow breath escaping my lips. And finding the resolve to go on with this game, I thought of something that had been on my mind lately. “You love my horse, don’t you?”

  He flicked a heavy gaze to me but didn’t say a word. One second turned into two which turned into three. “Something like that.”

  My heartbeat hesitated, and just to calm the air, I nodded, saying, “You love him.” I cleared my throat. “One more round before I go see Gallant?”

  And so we played one last round when we should have quit while we were ahead. Maybe if I had won, things would have happened differently. But alas, I lost, blaming the issue on the fact that I’d been too enthusiastic to see Gallant.

  The stones fell off my hand, scattering to the floor around us. And with a sigh of disappointment, but the enthusiasm of seeing my horse again in the back of my head, I didn’t even think before I leaned over Weston to grab the stone by his side.

  Leaning across him on my hands and knees, his leg brushed my navel, my side his stomach. My skin tingled, sending a warm shiver through me from the lightest contact, and the position I’d put myself in came rushing to me.

  The rest of the air in my lungs came out in a shallow breath as I froze, just like I had in the hall. My pulse fluttered like a butterfly’s wings, my heartbeat in accord. I was so still, like if I even moved an inch, I wouldn’t make it out of this room alive.