The secret door swung open with a slight creak. She paused in the darkened hallway, unsure whether Taryn’s maids were in the chamber beyond. When no sound came to her, she pushed aside the heavy tapestry, leaving the door slightly ajar.
The bedchamber was small but adequate for someone of Taryn’s supposed rank. To Marissa’s trained eye, nothing looked out of place. She felt along the walls for a place large enough to fit a sword. A set of three cupboards lined the wall opposite the bed, two of which opened at her touch. The third remained locked. When she sent a thread of Mari through it, a shock of cold ran over her skin. Someone had placed wards on the cupboard.
She had set about untying them when voices in the outer room disturbed her progress. A moment before Baehlon—the giant knight her mother favored—and two girls came into the bedchamber, she slipped into the corridor. The secret door clicked shut, and she stood for several moments, breathing heavily.
When certain Baehlon could not hear her footsteps, she raced to her rooms. Two of her maids from Talaith and two the duke had lent her jumped when she entered the suite, flushed and out of breath. She gave orders to the duke’s girls that would keep them occupied elsewhere. To her ladies, she gave a gold crown and bade them to find any information they could about the duke’s special guest. They were to discern who Taryn spoke with, where she went, what kind of food she ate—anything at all. When her maids had gone, she locked the door, placing several alarming wards on it for good measure. She needed complete privacy, and although her maids were accustomed to her peculiar entertainments, it was best if they weren’t there for what she needed to accomplish.
She called forth her seeing bowl and several strips of fabric. Before she struck the flint, a funnel of smoke issued from the bowl, snaking its way up her mirror, coalescing into words.
Will be in Paderau by the twin moons.
Marissa stared at the mirror before blowing the words into the air. Would it be just Valterys, or would Zakael join them as well? The all too familiar jag of lust ran the length of her. The last time she and Zakael were alone, he’d wrapped her in his Dark Shanti, giving her the most exquisite pleasure; it was almost better than their lovemaking. Almost.
But there was no time to think about her physical needs. There was much to do to prepare for their arrival.
Chapter Fifteen
Dinner at Paderau Palace did not mean sitting at a quiet table, partaking of a meal with one’s immediate family. The event was orchestrated, timed perfectly to His Grace’s wish. A hierarchy existed in the seating arrangements, and when the duke led Taryn to a table with the princesses, she tried and failed not to notice the stares of the other diners. He held a chair out for her between Sabina and Tessa, both of whom seemed pleased to have her as a dining companion.
Duke Anje signaled the start of the meal, and servants in fine livery brought out dishes on stunning silver trays. Exotic birds Taryn didn’t recognize were cooked and then reassembled to look as if they were still alive, their feathers so meticulously placed Taryn didn’t know where to cut. Freshly caught fish stared up at her, while other dishes—she hoped they were beef—glared at her with dead eyes. It was most unappetizing.
Servants roamed the tables, cutting through the masterpieces and serving slices of succulent dishes. More food than Taryn had ever seen in one place drifted through the hall, balanced on the servants’ fingertips. They drank wine and toasted the duke when he stood to give thanks to his guests. He welcomed them all to his hall and bade them good fortune. When he confirmed the rumors Empress Lliandra would be at Paderau to celebrate Hayden’s birthing day, as he called it, the room vibrated with excitement.
Hayden rose to thank his guests for honoring him by attending the masques. They held their glasses aloft, toasting the young marquis. When he winked at Taryn, Sabina pouted until Hayden looked her way, raising his glass.
Throughout the meal, performers walked among the tables, juggling knives to the astonished cheers of the guests. A group of tumblers entertained them with gasp inducing tricks while minstrels strolled the room, singing jubilant tunes. The dazzling display of pomp surprised Taryn. On their journey to Paderau, the duke seemed low-key, but the spectacle of wealth at his palace and the extravagance of the evening reminded her that people weren’t always as they appeared. Sometimes they came with a title.
With effort, Taryn avoided looking at Rhoane, who sat at the high table beside Marissa. Although she couldn’t say why, she was bitterly hurt and angry with him for concealing not just his betrothal but that he was a prince. Not that it should matter, but it did. The rational part of her mind argued that a title did not change who he was, but somehow Taryn felt less than because of it. When he was just Rhoane, he was like her. Regular. Ordinary. Not a prince betrothed to a princess.
When dinner concluded, Hayden offered to escort her and Sabina on a walk through the gardens. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they meandered through the sculpted hedges, surrounded by the heady scent of summer blossoms. Taryn made idle chatter while the other two would comment or nod but made no effort to offer conversation of their own. It was as if they both had forgotten how to speak.
They sat on a bench beneath trees laden with ripening sargots, a fruit that looked like an orange but tasted more like a mango. Taryn loved them from the first bite she’d taken at Ravenwood. After Taryn expended herself of topics, she stood to leave.
“What are you about?” Hayden asked, a note of alarm in his voice.
“I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I can’t help but think of that wonderful bed in my room.” She plucked a sargot from the tree. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sabina said, standing slowly.
“Stay here with Hayden. There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy such a lovely evening.”
Taryn wove her way through the garden room with its glass ceiling and tall windows that afforded grand views. Several clusters of people milled about, and Taryn kept her head down to avoid being snagged into conversation. She slipped through the door and wandered down a darkened hallway before she realized she’d made a wrong turn. Voices a few feet away made her pause.
Marissa’s throaty words floated toward Taryn. Instead of leaving, she kept near to the wall, inching closer. “Mother misses you, as do we all. You really should spend more time at the palace, Rhoane.”
Taryn’s heart jerked in her chest.
“I have been busy, Marissa. You know that.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Tessa practically announced your betrothal today. Mother will be here tomorrow. You could make it official then.”
“Do not start with that again.” A cut of anger sliced his words.
“But Rhoane,” fabric rustled against fabric, “if not now, when?”
Taryn spun to leave, catching her foot on a chair. The room twisted for a brief second before her head hit the floor with a resounding thud. Marissa muttered a curse, and then Rhoane was standing over her.
“Taryn? Are you all right?” He looked more concerned than angry.
“I was trying to find my room, and I got lost.” Ignoring Rhoane’s outstretched hand, she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
Rhoane called her name, but she ran from them, not stopping until she reached her room. She slammed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock with a savage twist. Her breath came in jagged gasps as she leaned her head against the wood.
When she turned around, Lorilee and Mayla stared at her. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was much harsher than she’d meant.
“We’re to help prepare you for sleep, miss.”
Taryn kept silent while they unpinned her braids, but when they tried to help her into a nightdress, she drew the line. They were getting too familiar with her, and boundaries needed to be set.
THE next morning, Taryn woke early and slipped from her room before Mayla or Lorilee could arrive to help her dress. She wasn’t accu
stomed to having someone assist her with things she’d been doing her entire life. After wandering lost for a while, Taryn finally asked a servant to help her locate the kitchens.
She knocked on the open doorframe, but the busy workers ignored her. Two steps into the interior, however, drew the attention of a woman Taryn’s height with dark curls and a pretty, heart shaped face.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze locked on Taryn’s face. A hum of voices tickled her mind, and her pendant thrummed pleasantly.
“I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’d like something to eat.”
“And you thought you could walk into my kitchens and help yourself, yes?”
“Well, kind of. It seemed a bit silly to have someone bring me food when I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself.”
The cook bit her cheek, making a hollow below her lovely green eyes. “And who shall I tell the duke is an impertinent guest?”
Taryn grinned at the cook’s brashness. “Taryn, and I’m sure he won’t be surprised.”
The humming heightened and then lowered to a hush. A subtle change came over the cook. “Ah yes. The mysterious guest of the duke. Sit here while I have a meal prepared for you.”
She sat alone at a table while she ate, ignoring the strange looks and barely tempered whispers. They could say whatever they wished. She was not, nor would she ever be, one of the stuffy courtiers upstairs, and the sooner everyone realized that, the better.
Meal finished, she called out her thanks to the cook, who gave a quick nod, adding, “You are welcome to dine in my kitchen anytime you wish.” A few maids looked up in surprise.
Taryn inclined her head, hiding a smile. “I hope you can join me sometime.” The look on the women’s faces kept Taryn grinning wickedly all the way to the yard.
After an especially brutal training session with Baehlon, Taryn sought refuge in her room but was waylaid by Margaret Tan. She bustled into Taryn’s suite, giving directions to her assistants and ordering Taryn to strip, all in one breath. Mayla and Lorilee scampered out of her way while she set up equipment in the sitting room. When Taryn saw the pile of clothing her assistant held, her stomach dipped at the growing debt she owed the duke.
Taryn stood self-consciously, wearing what Margaret Tan called “small clothes,” which were nothing more than a few strips of fabric, and willed the minutes to tick past. The seamstress and her assistants didn’t care if Taryn wasn’t accustomed to undressing in front of people. When one of the assistants stood to adjust her blouse, she blanched. Shorter than her by half a head with a face prettier than some of the girls at the palace, she’d mistaken him for female. She sucked in a breath as he tucked the fabric around her waist, certain he could hear her racing heart.
Margaret Tan slapped her leg, commanding her to stop squirming. “Don’t mind Tarro. He doesn’t like girls.”
The pretty young man looked up at her and nodded. “All of this,” he waved at her breasts and privates, “is wasted on me.”
Despite his claim, she was mortified he’d seen her naked. She rushed through trying on each outfit. But when Margaret Tan held out her dress for the masque, Taryn’s breath caught. Brandt would have been overjoyed to see her in the beautiful creation.
Ice blue gossamer folds swept the ground, with tiny rhinestones dotting the skirt, giving the gown a starlit radiance. The silk bodice hugged her form, accentuating her curves in just the right places. Tarro handed her matching silk slippers and a mask made of silver with light blue feathers.
“It’s gorgeous. I feel like a princess.”
Margaret Tan nodded. “You look like a princess. Now, take it off before you ruin it.”
Tarro carefully hung it in the dressing room.
As the seamstress arranged her supplies in a basket, Taryn surreptitiously looked through her fabrics.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Tarro’s vibrato voice whispered beside her.
Taryn jerked her hand away, blushing. “I was, um, looking for leather.”
“Leather?” A wicked smile lit up his face. “For what?”
“Well, pants for one, but also I want to make a ball. You know, to kick?”
He shook his head, the smile growing wider. “You are a mystery. I like that.” He glanced quickly at Margaret Tan. “Let me see what I can do. Is there anything else you’d like?”
Scribbling quickly, Taryn sketched out a ball and several items she wouldn’t mind adding to her wardrobe. Decent small clothes topped the list. Tarro took the paper and tucked it into his pocket with a wink and quick shake of his head toward Margaret Tan.
After they left, she stared at the dress for a long time, wondering how much something like it would cost. She needed to find a job if she were ever to repay Anje. The only problem was she didn’t know what she was qualified to do.
The warmth of the summer day beckoned, and she rooted through the clothes in her armoire until she found loose-fitting slacks and a deep-blue blouse. They were the closest things she could find to shorts and far more comfortable in Paderau’s heat than the fragile dresses Hayden had selected. She avoided the garden room and skirted the orchards to the river, where she walked along the shore and mulled over her predicament. Her archeological skills wouldn’t help her unless Aelinae had a need for such a person, which she doubted. She could certainly learn a trade, but what and where?
Rhoane moved in step beside her, startling her. “For gods’ sake, Rhoane. You scared the crap out of me.” The black court doublet and leather pants gave a dangerous edge to his look. As always, he wore Eleri boots polished to a high sheen.
“I did not tread lightly. I thought you heard my approach.”
“I was distracted.”
“I spoke with Baehlon this morning. He says your sword work is coming along well and you taught him some of your fighting techniques. He is impressed with your speed and dexterity.”
“He’s too stiff. He needs to do stretches to loosen up. Some of the other soldiers were watching and want to join us.” She glanced sideways at him. “Do you think Duke Anje would mind?”
“I think he would be most grateful. A soldier can never be too skilled.” He took her hand in his, tracing the runes on her wrist. “I owe you an apology, Taryn. I should have told you I was a prince.”
“Why didn’t you?” She cursed herself for the hurt that sounded in her voice.
“It was, and is, important to me that you know me as a man before you see me as a prince.” His eyes sought hers. There was an emotion and meaning behind his words she didn’t fully understand.
“I have to admit, if I’d known you were nobility, I don’t know whether my perception of you would’ve been different. I’d like to think not, but who’s to say?”
“I appreciate your understanding.” He kissed her fingertips, holding them against his lips a moment too long before she pulled them free.
They walked along the shore to where the massive Kiltern River split in two, making a natural moat around Paderau. Boats floated up and down stream, bringing goods from Ulla to Paderau and then on farther south to Talaith.
“As for the other matter,” Rhoane said in a quiet voice.
“Your betrothal to Marissa?”
“I am not betrothed to Marissa.”
“I heard you talking last night.” Taryn absently traced the runes on her hand.
“Marissa and I have been friends since she was a young girl. I have never once looked at her in any other way.”
“So you’re not betrothed?”
“Not to Marissa, no.”
“Someone else then?”
He glanced out over the river toward the north. “A betrothal is an agreement that two people will be married at some time in their lives. It can be broken, and I believe it should be if the two do not love one another. When I was born, it was foretold with whom I would mate. Eleri mate for life with only one partner, and I have known about this match my entire life. But the woman in question is as y
et unaware. I will not force her to be my partner unless she loves me and agrees to the conditions set forth by the Eleri.”
He stopped, and she turned back to him, not wanting to hear more about his betrothed and yet needing to know every detail.
“Do you love her?”
Rhoane took her marked hand in his and traced the runes with his thumb. “Tell me, Darennsai, why is this so important to you?”
She liked the way her hand felt in his, the flow of his Shanti over her skin. She liked it a little too much. She forced herself to withdraw her hand, the words heavy on her tongue. “I’ve decided to ask the duke to help me find Nadra so that we might undo our bonds. I thought you should know before I leave Paderau.”
“Where will you go?” A thrum of panic lifted the undercurrent of his words.
“When I promised Brandt I’d stay with you, it was mostly so you’d help me avenge his death. But now, I don’t know. Everything’s changed.”
“Nothing has changed, Taryn. Not me, if that is what you are implying.”
“I didn’t know you were promised to another. Not that I mind, but it wouldn’t be fair to her to have me hanging around. It will just be better if I go and leave you to your life while I make my own.”
He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb over her runes. “I never meant to hurt you. If I had thought for one moment that someone’s loose tongue would cause you pain, I would have told you everything on that first day in the cavern.”
“Brandt told me I could trust you. And I want to with all my heart.”
“I will never lie to you, Taryn.”
“You kept a couple of important details from me—that’s like lying.”
“No, I was trying not to frighten you. I have lived a long time, and there is much to tell of my story. I did not want to burden you with everything at once. If we are to be friends, you will have to learn to trust me implicitly. I will have to do the same.”
“You have no idea how much I’d like that, but I don’t like secrets.”
“Neither do I. However, there might come a time when you will have the choice to tell me something that could hurt me or to keep it to yourself to save my feelings. I will understand, should that ever happen.”
The Stones of Resurrection Page 14
