The Unwilling

by KELLY BRAFFET

  “None of the courtiers are trustworthy. They all have agendas. But I can list any number of dumb, good-looking boys who’d throw themselves at your feet if they thought it would get them in good with me. And if I were to make a list of courtiers I’d recommend you avoid, Firo would be at the top of it. He’s lost a lot of power, politically, since the whole mess with Tevala, but he’s still got a hook in every fish inside the Wall.” He sounded like a tutor, explaining something to a recalcitrant child, and she could not help bristling. “And frankly, he’s spent the last twenty years going after every young lord with a pretty face. So for him to suddenly become interested in you—”

  She yanked her hand back. “Go hang.”

  “I don’t mean it’s surprising for somebody to be interested in you, you know I don’t mean that. But he’s only been with men, Jude, and lots of them. He did marry that woman back in Cerrington, because he’s obligated to have an heir, but he didn’t stay long enough to actually meet his son. He didn’t even go back when she died.”

  “Maybe I know all this,” she said. “Maybe I’m quick enough to realize that there’s only one reason somebody like Firo would be interested in me. Maybe I don’t care.”

  “So maybe you’ll tell me what you think that reason is.”

  “You already said it. He wants to go through me to get to you.” Then she pretended to consider. “But not for sex, I don’t think. At least, he’s never mentioned you that way.”

  “You’re teasing,” Gavin said. “That’s fine. Tease me all you want. Just promise me you’ll keep your eyes open.”

  “Fine. I’ll keep my eyes open.” It would be an easy enough promise to keep, since her relationship with Firo was entirely fictional.

  “You have to be careful.” He took her hand again. “Elban let us go once, but—” He didn’t finish the sentence. Probably because he thought he didn’t need to, and he didn’t, but not for the reasons he had in mind. Elban hadn’t let them go at all. By the time the city was Gavin’s, he would be scarred inside and out. It would be Judah’s fault. Probably he would hate her for it. She knew this. He didn’t.

  Gavin’s obvious concern, though, was enough to make her spend the next morning searching, single-mindedly and methodically, for Firo. She found him in the solarium, a letter open on his lap. “Hello, foundling,” he said, unreadable as always. “How lovely to see you.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not ending things. I’ve so enjoyed our dalliance.”

  The rumors had reached him, too, then. Every courtier left in the House seemed to be in the solarium; she assumed they were watching without bothering to check. “As you like.”

  “Any way I like?” His voice was mocking. Then, more quietly, “Smile, darling. This is a lover’s meeting.”

  She didn’t respond. He folded the letter and slid it into an inner pocket of his coat. Then he stood up. “I was about to visit the baths. Join me?”

  He extended an arm. She suppressed her distaste and took it, allowing herself to be led out of the solarium, through the corridors and main hall, down to the bathing rooms. People they passed watched them curiously, even those who pretended not to. When they came to an empty bathing room, he opened the heavy wooden door for her, and locked it behind them. The air inside was damp and fragrant. Firo dropped her arm unceremoniously, took off his coat and began to unfasten his boots.

  Alarmed, Judah said, “You’re actually bathing.”

  “I am. I enjoy baths.” There was a wardrobe in each bathing room. He put his boots in the bottom of it, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Also, there are signs, you know. Pink cheeks. Shriveled fingers. A freshly-pressed look to clothes that have been hanging, unoccupied, in the steam. And if you think that nobody is going to be watching for those signs, you’re more naïve than I thought. Turn around.”

  She took a step backward. “Why?”

  “So I can help with the lacing on that horrible garment you’re pretending is a gown.” He continued to undress. “Really, Judah, if we’re going to continue this affair, you need to do something about your attire. Telling people I’m in it for the power will only go so far.”

  “I’m not taking my dress off,” she said.

  “Then nobody will believe we’re having sex right now. It’s nothing to me, but since you’ve come this far, I assume it’s not nothing to you. The choice is yours.”

  A sick feeling filled her stomach. He was taking his trousers off. “They say you prefer men,” she said. Nervously, stupidly.

  “I do. Vastly. Which makes our torrid affair all the more interesting for the casual observer.” He was naked now. His body was ropy and thin, if a bit soft in the middle. His shoulders were narrow and his chest slightly hollow; the few hairs there, unlike the ones on his head, were mostly gray. Embarrassed, Judah looked down—but that was even worse.

  “Now, dearest.” His voice was quiet and poisonous. “Does it look like you’re in any danger from me?”

  She had to admit that it didn’t. “I can undo my laces myself.”

  “Then do so.” He crossed to the sunken stone bathing pool, and lowered himself in. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Quickly, Judah undressed and hung her clothes in the wardrobe next to his. Then she, too, immersed herself in the pool. The water was very hot and the smell of lavender and eucalyptus was so strong that her skin tingled and her eyes watered. The pools, ringed inside with stone benches at sitting height, were big enough to accommodate half a dozen bodies; she stayed as far away from Firo as possible. She was sore all over from Gavin’s wrestling adventures. Under different circumstances, the water would have felt good.

  He lifted his head up and opened his eyes. He wore lash-blackener, she saw. “Well, my darling love,” he said, “whatever you want, you’ve convinced me that you want it very badly. But a bit of advice, dearest. When you’re naked in a bathing pool with someone you barely know and aren’t entirely sure of, it’s worth getting in first so you can ensure you’re closest to the door. Just in case.” With one finger, he pointed over his shoulder to the bolted door.

  She gritted her teeth. “It’s not a position I commonly find myself in.”

  “And yet, here we are,” he said. “Why are we here, my moon and stars? Why does the entire House think I’m fucking you?”

  “Didn’t you tell them so? Weren’t you disgustingly detailed about it?”

  He laughed. The tendons in his neck stood out and the flesh under his chin was loose. He favored high collars, and now she knew why. “I told them you threw yourself at me, and that I threw you some paltry attention for novelty’s sake. The speed with which our affair has progressed is news to me. Are you pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “Good. It would be highly inadvisable to try and pass a child off as mine.”

  “Because you already have an heir back in Cerrington?”

  His eyes went hard. “Do not speak of what you don’t know, foundling.”

  “I’m not pregnant. I’m not planning to be. We danced at the ball and you left right after I did, and that started rumors. Which you knew it would.”

  Nodding, he said, “We all expected Lady Amie to win, of course.”

  “Lady Amie,” Judah said acidly, “was never in the race. None of it was ever about her.”

  “Really? Interesting. I’d like to hear more about that, in the future. But for now: when poor Lady Amie was so cruelly rejected, you suddenly became potentially useful again, so yes, I expected the rumors. I did not expect Lord Gavin to act as if he believed them. And that, my ebony-eyed paramour, is what I’d like to hear more about now.”

  Judah sank lower into the water. “What do you mean, act as if he believed them?”

  “He’s been antisocial since the ball. Waiting for the dust to settle after the Amie
debacle, I imagine, although officially, he’s been too busy enjoying the company of his betrothed. There’s a rather rude word for it, but I’ll spare you. When he does appear, all he seems to want to talk about is me. My character, my habits, my proclivities. Do my friends like me. Do I have any friends. That sort of thing.” He tilted his head. “It’s almost as if somebody close to him, somebody he trusts, has given him reason to act the protective brother. It’s quite sweet, really.”

  “I never told him there was anything between us.”

  “But you let him think it. I assume you have reasons.” He stretched his thin arms out along the edge of the pool. “My darling love, are you untrue, so soon? Do we need to revisit the pregnancy discussion? If you’re relying on those sachets, I wouldn’t. Of course I don’t have much personal experience with them, but I’ve known ladies who swore they actually got pregnant faster while using them.”

  “None of that is any of your business.”

  “Oh,” he said, “but when the Seneschal has let it be generally known that any courtier caught unawares with you—as I might be, at this very moment—will experience the immediate removal of most of themselves back to their home provinces, it is, indeed, my business. The parts of me that he would keep—well, I would miss them, even if you would not.”

  Startled, she said, “They’d do that?”

  “They do it quite regularly to the staff. Not as a matter of course, but it happens—particularly if there’s a valuable skill worth preserving. If I remember correctly, the last one was a carpenter. Apparently quite good with his tools, as it were. The laundry girl he got pregnant wasn’t so lucky, of course, but they rarely are. Now, a courtier—that hasn’t happened in many years, but it has happened. The House Magus does it, in that case. They’ll usually take the fruit but leave the tree, which is something, I suppose. Still, not an experience I’d like to have.” His tone made her feel cold despite the hot water. “If I’m at risk, I expect to be compensated, in the only coin you have worth spending. Bare your soul, my love. You’ve bared everything else, after all.”

  She felt a flutter of panic and pushed it down. She needed Firo on her side. “There is someone.”

  “And this someone is inappropriate.”

  “For me,” she said bitterly, “everyone is inappropriate.”

  He rolled his eyes back toward the ceiling. “That’s a situation I’m familiar with,” he muttered. Then, more normally, “Well, if it were a courtier, I’d know. The young lord isn’t clever enough to carry off the subterfuge, and he’s too obvious, anyway. The other young lord is too—oblivious. So it must be staff, or one of the guards.” An unfamiliar expression came over his face. It took her a moment to recognize it as puzzlement.

  Before the question she saw there could make it to his mouth, she said, “Will you warn me if you plan to leave the city?”

  “Why? So you can write me love letters?” Suddenly, with a swoosh and swirl of water, he was directly in front of her, one arm on either side of her body, pinning her against the edge of the bath. He wasn’t touching her but if she moved at all—even to curl her body into itself—he would be. She froze. The steam had smudged the kohl and lash-black around his eyes and left him looking haunted, and very fierce, as he gave her a hard, piercing look.

  “Before the ball, the Seneschal asked me if I’d ever considered marrying again,” he said. “Was he thinking of you?”

  “Not anymore.” Her voice sounded tough, she was glad to hear. Inside, she was horrified: by his proximity, by his nudity, by her own.

  “Why are you so confident about that?”

  “He told me so.”

  “He told me he wouldn’t give you to me, specifically? Or anyone?” She didn’t answer. Firo’s eyes narrowed. “Is he the one you’re fucking? Does he intend to keep you for himself?” She managed a disdainful glare and he said, as if thinking aloud, “No. He’s stone, through and through. So he’s staff, your secret lover—or she is. But why does it matter?” He still looked fierce, but now the ferocity was tempered with fascination. “Courtiers go through staff like kindling. Nobody cares. You’re not a courtier, but—”

  Suddenly she’d had enough. “Get away.”

  He didn’t move. “Why can’t you fuck staff, dear? What’s so special about you?”

  She put both hands on his chest—cringing at the feel of his wet skin and the sparse crisp hair under her palms—and pushed with all the force of her arms, pressing her back against the stone edge of the pool for leverage. The water churned dramatically, but he only pivoted, settling down on the bench more or less next to her. Far enough away that her skin no longer crawled, at least. “Intriguing,” he said. “All right, foundling. I’ll warn you if I go, so you can find some other excuse for your tryst. But there will be conditions.”

  “I would never imagine otherwise,” she said, still alight with anger.

  “Tell Lord Gavin and Lady Eleanor how much you love me. At great length, with particular emphasis on my intelligence, knowledge and trustworthiness. Within two weeks, I want to be seen publicly with them. Lunch in the solarium, perhaps. By their invitation.” As an afterthought, he added, “You needn’t be there. In fact, it might be better if you weren’t.”

  Judah didn’t like it, but she said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Please do. I’m not exactly welcome in Cerrington, but occasionally business does draw me out of the city, sometimes with very little notice. I’ll expect to be asked to your rooms, as well. Again, publicly. An invitation from Lord Gavin himself would be ideal.” The idea of Firo sitting in the parlor made her feel greasy. He pointed a long, thin finger at her. “I’m going to figure you out, foundling. And when I do, I’m going to plant a hook so deep in you that you’ll think you were born with it.”

  Gavin had used the same metaphor. She almost laughed. As if the hook she’d begged Elban to sink into her left room for anyone else. “Good luck with that.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, my precious love. Now, I would bet any money that as soon as we leave this room, some curious soul is going to duck in to see if it smells like sex. They needn’t be disappointed, but if you don’t want to help, you should probably leave now.”

  “That’s all I want to hear about that, thanks,” she said. “Turn around.”

  “I’ll close my eyes,” he said and did just that. She turned around and pulled herself out of the water. With her back to him she dried off and dressed as quickly as she could. When she glanced back, his eyes were still closed. His fancy purple coat hung next to the hook where her dress had been, and she considered dumping it in the bath. But, loathsome as he was, she needed him, and so she left him.

  * * *

  That night, as they sat on one of the big rocks in the pasture, she asked Darid if Firo’s story about the carpenter was true. “Most likely,” he said. “It was before my time, though. Elban’s father tried gelding all of the staff boys when they came in, but too many of them died, and the ones that lived didn’t ever reach their full strength. Not worth it. Now it’s just a punishment. Or a solution to a problem, if a man has a skill too valuable to lose.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said.

  “Beats hanging. And they’ve gotten better at it. They hardly ever kill anyone anymore.”

  Sick with horror, Judah said, “I thought it wasn’t common.”

  “It isn’t. But it happens.” Darid hesitated. Then, “When I came inside, one of the kennel boys I worked with, he...well, I think he’d been—damaged. Worked hard enough, and did what he was told, but he had trouble controlling himself.” He shook his head. “Jon never meant to hurt anybody. He just didn’t understand. Which didn’t help the people he went after. So they gelded him. It was a mercy. They could have killed him.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Works in the midden yard.”

  “And does he still—ha
ve trouble?”

  “Different trouble. One of the reasons he works in the midden yard. I know what you’re thinking, by the way.”

  One of his arms was underneath her, cushioning her head from the hard rock. The hand attached to that arm was lazily stroking her hair. The motion didn’t falter, didn’t even slow. “What am I thinking?”

  “You’re worried that if they catch us, they’ll do the same to me.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Lots of people are good with horses. They’d probably just kill me.”

  She sat bolt upright. “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m not going to die of old age, Judah.” His smile was amused. “Every day I wake up and there’s no way of knowing: is this the day a courtier gets kicked by one of my horses, or falls because their tack breaks? Or I say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing? Every month, my mother waits for the coin that means I’m still alive. One day, it won’t come.” Suddenly he sat up, too. “Wait. You’re not a courtier.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve been thinking of you as if you were. Courtiers can do whatever they please, but—” He took her hand. “I know what I’m risking. Do you?”

  “I’m risking nothing. They can make my life unpleasant, but they won’t take it away.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked so open, so unguarded, that she almost told him. Instead she said, “I have a skill that’s too valuable to lose. At least, Elban thinks so.”

  The openness slammed shut. Disgust, resentment, righteous anger—at least, he probably felt it was righteous—all flipped across his face like pages in a book. “Of course you do. Nothing around here gets kept without a purpose.” His voice was bitter. “Elban takes staff girls sometimes, you know. They don’t come back.”

  “It’s not like that,” Judah said.

  “Good,” he said. “Because you’re meant for more than that.”

  And the staff girls aren’t? she almost said, but didn’t. “None of us are meant for anything. We’re tools in a box, that’s all. Pieces of wood carved like stablemen and courtiers and—and foundlings.” She heard the words come out of her mouth and was grimly satisfied to realize that she believed them. It was easier to feel that way, to think that the course of her life couldn’t be changed. Elban would have figured out how to use the connection anyway, eventually. Or—and this realization came so clear that she knew it must be true—Gavin himself would have, the first time he lost a regiment or a province because there was no way to deliver messages as quickly as he needed them.