by Claire Luana
He pulled some pajamas out of the wardrobe. “You’re welcome to wear these if you want,” he said, setting them on the bed.
She turned to him, every fiber of her singing with awareness of his nearness, his fresh scent, his capable hands searching nervously for somewhere to rest. How easy it would be to pull him to her, to fall back onto the bed and forget about murder and politics and guilds.
“Sweet dreams,” he said, leaning to kiss her on the forehead, and then taking a large step back, as if to remove himself from temptation.
“You too.”
He stepped towards the door.
“Lucas,” she said, not wanting him to go. Invite him to stay. Just to sleep beside her… nothing more. Warmth and comfort.
He turned.
Her courage left her. “The meeting,” she said. “We need to go. The new moon…”
“It’s three nights from now,” he said.
“We need to find the Charger’s Estate hermitage and be there at the meeting. It’s the only way to know for sure.”
“It’s too dangerous,” he said, shaking his head. “We don’t know what we’ll find there. It could be an army waiting to take Kasper.”
“Why set up a meeting if you’re planning on killing someone before it takes place?” she asked. “Maybe there will be no one there, but… I have to know. It may be our only way of discovering what was between Kasper and Chandler. We’ll sneak in. Surveillance only.”
He sighed. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“No.” She smiled.
“We’ll look into it,” he said. “That’s all I can promise. It won’t help either of us to clear your name if we walk into a death trap.”
“Thank you, Lucas,” she said.
He leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, his gray eyes seeming to spark in the dim as they met hers. He heaved a heavy breath. “Now good night.” He closed the door, leaving Wren in darkness.
Wren stood for a long while, staring at the door as if she could see through it, wishing that he would open it again, stride across the room, and take her in his arms. Somehow, she knew that he was standing on the other side, wishing he could do the same thing.
Chapter 25
Despite her exhaustion, it took Wren an hour to drift off to sleep. Her hyperawareness of Lucas’s presence in the next room was like a bolt of energy zinging through her body. It was worse that he was all around her, his smell in the pajamas she wore, the pillow she rested her head on, his kiss in her memories. Foolish girl, she chided herself. If she didn’t stay focused, the only thing that would be keeping her warm would be the inquisitor’s hot pokers.
Fresh morning light woke her, its soft halo laid across the wall. She changed back into her dress, folded Lucas’s pajamas with more than a little tenderness, and peeked into the other room.
Lucas lay on the couch, his arm splayed across his eyes to block the sunlight. Her eyes traced his sleeping form, from the slender toes peeking out from under the blanket to the tousled black and gray of his hair. She sighed.
“You know,” he said. “It’s rude to stare.”
She blushed scarlet as he threw his arm off his face with a wry smile.
“You know, it’s rude to pretend you’re sleeping when you’re not,” she retorted.
He chuckled, standing and stretching, a bit of flat stomach peeking out beneath his shirt. “You’re doing it again,” he said.
She crossed her arms and huffed. “I’ll be on my way,” she said stiffly, heading to the door, mortified at her own obviousness.
“Wren,” he said, snagging her arm. “I’m kidding. Would you like some coffee before you go?”
She softened. “It’s all right. I should get back.”
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll be working on locating Charger’s Estate. I’ll let you know when I find it, and if anything comes up, you do the same.”
“Thank you,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before slipping out the door.
Maradis was coming to life, its contradiction never more apparent than in these honest morning hours. The yeasty smell of fresh bread and pungent aroma of coffee wafted on the summer breeze while a street sweeper picked up trash and woke the vagrants sleeping in doorways and under eaves.
Wren made it to the Guildhall without complication. The antechamber was empty. No doubt many guildmembers were sleeping late or nursing hangovers, and it seemed the servants were taking advantage of the quiet.
When she made it to her room she slipped through and shut the door, leaning her forehead against it. Thank the Beekeeper that no one had seen her.
“Doesn’t someone have a tale to tell?” a deep voice said behind her.
Wren screamed and whirled to face the intruder. “Hale!” she shrieked before sagging in relief.
He was sitting up on her bed, his blond hair tangled around his shoulders, his shirt untucked and half-unbuttoned.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You scared the sugar out of me.”
He stood. “I could ask you the same question. Or more, what weren’t you doing here?”
Her face heated. “That’s none of your business.”
“I’m wounded, my little egret. I thought we shared everything.”
She sighed. “I went to see Lucas to talk about the case, about him vouching for me. We talked late. He slept on the couch. Nothing happened.” She shoved down the memory of him rocking her body against the dining room table, his lips hard on hers, his fingers in her hair. Something had happened, though perhaps not the something that Hale assumed.
“Well,” Hale said. “The man’s a fool then, if you came knocking on his door in that dress and all he wanted to do was talk.”
Wren pursed her lips to hold in a secret smile. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell Hale about the kiss with Lucas. Perhaps because she knew he would tease her mercilessly. Or perhaps because he would demand to know what it meant, and she wasn’t sure she had an answer. “Speaking of late night door knocking, what are you doing in here?” she asked instead.
“I was worried about you. I looked for you after the gala, but when I couldn’t find you, I decided to wait here. I fell asleep.”
She softened. “Thank you for your concern. I’m fine. Except I desperately need a bath and a fresh dress. So…”
He didn’t move, settling back on the bed. “I’ll wait,” he said.
“Hale!” she said with a laugh, hauling him up by the hand and shoving him towards the door. “Goodbye. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Wren felt like a new woman after bathing and brushing her teeth. She dressed in one of her new dresses, a black skirt with a bodice wrapped in a fabric of light pink with tiny black birds. She cinched it with a wide leather belt and piled her hair onto her head in a wet knot. It would do. She was famished.
The dining room was filled with dark-eyed guild members nursing cups of coffee and piling plates with biscuits topped with rich pork gravy.
She filled her plate with two eggs, two strips of peppercorn bacon, and two biscuits and balanced it with a cup of coffee. Hale was sitting in the far corner at a table with Sable.
As Wren sat down, she stifled a smile. Sable looked worse off than Wren had ever seen, her normally silky black tresses plaited in a messy braid over one shoulder. She was slumped over a glass of what looked like tomato juice and celery.
“Secret recipe,” she croaked when Wren eyed the drink.
Hale chuckled, but the sound was forced. He was watching Sable closely, as if afraid she might fall to pieces before him.
“Celebrate Callidus’s appointment a bit too hard, did we?” Wren asked innocently.
“The young don’t appreciate their livers,” Sable said. “You wait until you’re over thirty.”
“That doesn’t seem to slow Pike down,” Hale said with a raised eyebrow.
“That man can drink a horse under the table,” Sable grumbled.
“Miss Wren.” A servant approache
d their table.
“Mmm?” Wren asked around a piece of bacon. It was delicious, salty with undertones of maple and pepper.
“There’s a message for you.” He handed it over and scurried away.
Hale snatched the letter from her and opened it.
“Hey!” Wren protested.
“It’s from your honorable Master Oldrick,” Hale said. “He found the records about who bought your rose cupcakes.”
“Who?” Sable and Wren asked at the same time.
“Mistress Violena,” he said with a meaningful look at Sable.
“Mistress Violena,” Sable repeated, perking up. “Really?”
“Who is she?” Wren asked. “Do you know her?”
“She’s extremely wealthy, a widow, and an old friend… well, benefactor,” Sable said. “And she’s notorious for…”
“Enjoying the company of handsome men,” Hale finished.
“Handsome younger men,” Sable repeated.
“Too bad we don’t have one of those,” Wren mused, eyeing Hale sidelong.
Sable cackled. “It looks like I’ll be paying my dear Mistress Violena a visit. Hale, you’ve been going on about wanting to meet her for years now. Here’s your chance.”
“I’m coming too, right?” Wren said.
Hale and Sable exchanged a glance.
“I’m coming, too, right?” Wren said, more forcefully. “It is my neck on the line.”
“She lives in Leads, the wealthy enclave across Lake Crima. To the east of Maradis. We’ll have to take the ferry and stay the night. It will be a long trip.” Sable seemed unconvinced.
“It’s not like I have anywhere better to be. I’m going. And that’s final.”
“That’s final, is it?” Sable looked at Hale, as if Wren’s mulishness were somehow his doing.
“She learns from the best.” Hale chuckled. “Let her come. If we leave her here to her own devices, she’ll probably get into trouble. Stay out too late, consort with questionable characters.”
Wren narrowed her eyes at Hale over her coffee cup.
He grinned wolfishly.
“Fine, you can come. But we’ll have to go tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“Today, we have the distinct pleasure of suffering through an afternoon-long Guilder’s Council meeting. Right now I strongly feel I would rather gouge my own eyes out than attend, but Callidus asked the grandmasters to be there to show support to his new leadership, blah blah blah. Plus, I think it would be good for you to see one. So we suffer.”
“Will Guildmaster Chandler be there?”
“Probably. Why?”
Wren looked around and lowered her voice. “We found something.”
Wren explained in hushed tones what she and Lucas had learned, including the note they had found in the inside of the whiskey bottle. She kept out the minor fact that she had snuck into Callidus’s room, stolen a list, and subsequently had ruled him out as a suspect.
“Charger’s Estate. It sounds familiar,” Sable said. “Do you know where it is?”
Hale stroked his chin, considering. “I feel like I’ve been to a party there.”
“That doesn’t narrow things down. You’ve been to parties across half the city.”
“I won’t apologize for being popular,” he retorted.
“Lucas is looking into finding it,” Wren said. “I think we need to go to the meeting.”
“Go to the meeting?” Sable paused over a bite of celery. “Just sneak in and hope there aren’t guards, or dogs, or worse? If the person who set this meeting killed Kasper, what makes you think they won’t hesitate to kill you?”
“I have to do something,” Wren said.
Sable let out a longsuffering sigh. “First, let’s find out where it is. Then we’ll plan accordingly. We’re not doing nothing. Understood?”
“Understood,” Wren grumbled.
Sable’s dark eyes narrowed. “Wren, I want you to promise me you won’t go to that meeting without arriving at a plan with me or Hale.” She looked at Hale and revised her assessment. “With me.”
“I promise.”
“Now, I think I’m awake enough to hold down a biscuit. Excuse me.” Sable stood a bit unsteadily and marched to the front of the dining room.
Wren looked at Hale with a spark of amusement. “She’s almost motherly when she’s hung over.”
Hale nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Most people are horrible on the inside but hide it well until the drink brings out their true nature. Sable’s the opposite. She does her best to hide what a caring and generous person she is. But sometimes it slips out.”
“She’s not who I thought she was,” Wren admitted.
“Yes, Sable’s an enigma that took me years to decipher. It was worth the effort. Stick with us, chickadee. We won’t steer you wrong.” Hale grinned and stole the last piece of bacon off Wren’s plate.
Chapter 26
When the hour came for them to leave for the council meeting, Sable was looking much more like her old self. She had bathed and changed into a scarlet dress with a geometric design in black thread marching across the fitted bodice. Her jet-black hair spilled in glossy waves down her back, and her aquiline profile was inscrutable in the light of the afternoon sun.
Wren stood beside her on the stairs of the Guildhall, casting sidelong glances at her sponsor. “Are we going to go?” she finally asked.
“We’re waiting for someone else.”
“Who?”
“Wren, a word of advice, if I may. I learned a long time ago that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
Wren looked at Sable with a puzzled expression. “Are you telling me… to be nicer? You strike me as someone who gets her way by showing strength, not simpering to those around you.”
“Astute observation. But you have to catch a few flies before you make the bees fear you.”
“This metaphor… is getting confusing.”
Sable turned to Wren. “You’re making this wise but obscure mentor bit very challenging. There’s a time to be strong and a time to be humble. Learn the difference, if you want to have any hope of succeeding here.”
“All right,” Wren said. “Why are you telling me this?
The words barely flew from Wren’s lips when Callidus thundered through the doors of the Guildhall, uniformed in a black suit and crimson waistcoat.
“What’s she doing here?” Callidus asked Sable, speaking of Wren as one might complain of an infestation of weevils in a bag of flour.
Sable shot a pointed look at Wren, and a cold wave of understanding washed over her.
“She is continuing her education. Something that you, as guildmaster, should take an interest in. Seeming as she is the next generation of Gifted in our guild. She and Hale will take over the reins from us some day.”
Callidus looked at Wren then, his expression one of calculated appraisal beneath his thicket of ebony hair.
Wren ground her teeth, wanting to smack the pompous look off his face, but Sable’s words stilled her anger. That, together with the memory of his delicate fingers dancing across the mandolin strings, bringing forth a song of such sorrow and depth of feeling. There was more to this man than he let on, and if she had any hope of making the guild her home, she needed to win him over. And as she considered her options, it chaffed at her, but she knew what she needed to do.
“Guildmaster,” Wren said, stepping before him. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. But I want what’s in the best interest of this Guild, just as you do. And I don’t believe that you think of me as a murderer anymore, though perhaps you once did. So I ask… I hope… that we could start fresh.”
Callidus’s telltale sneer threatened to creep back on his face, but he held it at bay. “You presume to know me so well?”
“I don’t know you,” Wren said. “But I’d… like to.”
She was surprised to find it was true. Somewhere along the way, a tiny see
d had dug into the dry sand of her life and had sprouted a hope. A hope that this could be her home. That she could find a place here. A place where she could be safe.
He nodded once and swept past her down the stairs, striding onto the sidewalk.
Sable took Wren’s elbow and pulled her down the stairs after him. “That was very well done,” she breathed.
“He might as well have spit on me,” Wren grumbled.
“That was progress,” Sable said. “I promise.”
They hurried to catch up to Callidus, and the three of them walked through the Guild Quarter to Maradis’s bustling town center, where the government buildings were housed.
“Have you heard the agenda for today’s meeting?” Sable asked Callidus.
“No,” Callidus said. “I’m guessing more of the same. The Piscator’s Guild will complain about the Centu pirate incursions, the Baker’s will moan about the low quality of grain coming out of Tamros, the Distiller’s will go on and on about how their well is running dry and it’s not fair that we have three of the best… never mind that our forefathers simply negotiated a better treaty than theirs… Oh, and I imagine we will have the pleasure of Pike complaining about the fire in his mercantile. Like that is a problem for the council.”
“Have they made any progress in the investigation?” Sable asked.
“They might as well all have their thumbs up their bums over at the inspector’s office,” Callidus groused, and Wren’s eyes widened a fraction. “It’s like they don’t want to investigate.”
“They don’t understand why it’s so important to us,” Sable murmured.
“They’re incompetent,” Callidus said.
“Why’s it so important to us?” Wren asked Sable, her voice low.
“It wasn’t just a mercantile…” Sable began, but Callidus cut her off.
“You’re telling her?” he said. “Are you going to spill all our secrets?”
“She’s one of us, Callidus,” Sable said. “The secret has been spilled. There’s no reason to keep her in the dark about the details of our situation.”
