by Tanya Huff
Therefore, Aurek Nuikin was not a mere scholar. All the evidence suggested he was something far more—which not only explained his survival in the cellar, but also her twin’s interest in him. Jacqueline had always been drawn to power.
It was, in fact, a family weakness.
And it was time for a change of lord in Richemulot.
If Aurek Nuikin was more than he appeared, she had a use for him.
Smiling, she hung gleaming gold balls from each ear, then twitched the shoulders of her gown just a little lower. Until she had more information, she would not approach Nuikin himself—the potential risk was too great, and she was too fond of her skin to risk any of it. Touching her throat lightly with scent, she decided he would have to be reached through those around him.
Right through those around him, if it came to it. Someone else could clean up the mess.
Throwing a gauzy shawl around her shoulders, she hurried out of her suite and nearly ran over her nephew in the hall.
Jacques looked at her critically with emerald eyes irritatingly like his mother’s and finally smiled.
“You look very pretty, Tante Louise.”
He was obviously sucking up. Louise wondered what he wanted.
“Where are you going?”
“Hunting,” she replied with a cold, unencouraging smile.
“May I come?”
“No.” She swept the gold-bead-encrusted hem of her skirt around his small body and continued along the corridor.
Right after I remove my sister, she vowed silently, I take care of her brat.
Occasionally, the fates are willing to cooperate, Louise thought as she watched the golden-haired young man swirl past on the dance floor, his arms around a third—no, fourth—cousin. Dmitri Nuikin was attending the evening’s festivities without the protection of his older brother. How nice.
Absently accepting a glass of wine from one of her regular circle—a circle made slightly smaller by the absence of Geraud—Louise noticed Dmitri’s new clothes. It appeared, given the familiar appearance of the glittering rags and tatters now fluttering from broad shoulders and smoothly muscled arms, that certain younger members of the family had decided to play with him for a while. The white hair of the girl he danced with was unmistakable: Chantel. And if Chantel was involved, could the rest of her little clique be far away?
She crooked a finger and a portly man, his face gleaming with sweat, leaped forward. “Find Yves Milette,” she commanded. “Tell him I want to speak with him.”
Nearly babbling in his amazement at being asked to serve, the portly man hurried off, almost knocking over a stout matron in a purple turban who happened to be in his way. He returned a moment later, a sullen Yves in tow.
A curt gesture and the circle faded back, giving Louise and Yves as much privacy as possible. Those who were not able to go far enough, given the press of the crowds, immediately fell into covering conversations with their neighbors. Those who overheard Renier family business seldom profited by it. Or survived it.
“I didn’t do anything,” Yves announced, scowling.
“Of course you did, you always do, but as it happens, I don’t care.” Louise smiled poisonously at him. “I want to talk to you about your new little playmate.”
“What? Dmitri?” His eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
“I don’t want him hurt.”
“We weren’t going to …”
She reached out and lightly closed her hand around his arm. “Don’t treat me like a fool, Yves. You wouldn’t enjoy the consequences.”
Yves swallowed and hastily shook his head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t think of it. We just thought that we should protect him, you know, from things, because Jacqueline seemed interested.…”
“I am interested.” Her grip tightened, and the points of her nails pierced his skin through a rent torn in the wide sleeve of his shirt. “I am interested,” she repeated, “and that should be all that concerns you now.”
“Yes, Louise.” He wanted to jerk his arm away, but he knew better. His defiant posture softened to submission. “But I thought, that is, we thought you were interested in the other one.”
She shook her head, ebony curls whispering across the back of her neck. “Don’t think. You’ll live longer.”
“Yes, Louise.”
“As it happens, I am interested in the other one. I’m interested in both of them.” The delicate arch of one brow lifted higher. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, Louise.”
“Good.” A final squeeze for emphasis, then she released his arm. “Continue protecting him. He’s just the type to attract disaster, and I can’t be with him all the time.” She bestowed an approving smile on her young cousin. “You may even play with him if you like. I’ll ignore the odd scratch or bruise, but I don’t want him hurt. Do you understand?”
Yves nodded. “Yes, Louise.”
“Bring him to see me a little later. Prime him. I want him … malleable before he gets here.”
Malleable? He thought of how Chantel and Annette had maneuvered Dmitri into the café without really trying. How the human accepted everything said to him at face value, questioning nothing. “That shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Good.”
Recognizing a dismissal, Yves bowed, thankful to be getting off so lightly, and hurriedly retreated.
“What was all that about?” Chantel demanded as Yves finally threaded his way back through the crowds surrounding the dance floor. Although she tried to sound imperious, her voice squeaked out, tight with worry. Attracting that much attention from either of the Renier sisters was never a good idea and usually not entirely healthy.
Having handed Dmitri over to the fawning care of Joelle when she saw Yves summoned to an audience with Louise, Chantel had joined the protective clump the others had formed in a defensible corner. For the younger members of the family, no longer afforded the neutrality of children but with their positions not yet established within the hierarchy, numbers were their only safety.
Wishing that he were closer to the buffet, Georges took a fortifying swallow of wine.
Yves snorted, snatched the tarnished goblet from his cousin’s hand, and downed the contents. “We’re not to hurt the little Nuikin,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “She wants him.”
Georges looked out to where Dmitri was circling the dance floor with Yves’s sister. “But I thought she wanted the other one.”
“She wants them both.” Yves rubbed his arm, wondering how long the memory of her touch would linger. “And we’re not to think. She says we’ll live longer.”
Aubert and Henri wore identical concerned expressions. Considering the source, it was not a threat to be taken lightly.
“What about Herself?” Annette wondered, dark brows drawn into a deep V over her nose.
“Jacqueline’s not here, and Louise is,” Yves reminded them. “And unless Herself gives us a direct order …” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Even together, they weren’t strong enough to stand up to Louise Renier. Leaning back against the wall, he told them the rest of what Louise had said.
When he finished, Chantel’s lips had lifted off her teeth. “I hate being told what to do.”
Georges shrugged philosophically. “It sounds as if she’s told us to do pretty much what we were going to do anyway.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Chantel snarled. “She told us what to do.”
Yves laughed humorlessly. “So you tell her we won’t.”
Chantel half-turned, and for one heart-stopping moment her cousins thought she was actually going to confront Louise. Then she sighed and shook her head. “Only Herself can argue with her sister.” All at once, she smiled and repeated, “Only Herself.”
Yves quickly drank another glass of wine and grumpily contemplated how much Chantel’s smile was beginning to look like Louise’s.
“She wants to meet me?”
“That’s wha
t she said.” Yves dug Dmitri in the ribs with his elbow, just a little too hard. “She thinks you’re pretty capiteuse.”
“Capiteuse?” Dmitri frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Attractive.”
“Me?”
“You.”
Dmitri’s hands went to where the edge of his vest should be, found only a tattered fringe of fabric, and tugged at that instead. “Actually, your sister introduced me to her last night.”
“Well, you obviously made quite the impression.” A hand in the small of the back steered Dmitri around a gossiping cluster of fat and prosperous townsmen. “She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you?”
Dmitri paused. Something in the tone of Yves’s voice answered his own question—and the answer was “Any chance I get.” He’s your friend, Dmitri reminded himself, and he hasn’t lied to you yet. You’re doing him an injustice.
“The thing to remember about Cousin Louise,” Yves continued as they crossed the last bit of open floor before they reached the outer edge of the circle of fawning admirers surrounding her, “is that she can have any man she wants, and she told me, she wants you.”
“Me?”
“You.” He shoved Dmitri forward, hard enough to make him stumble. Wouldn’t that be funny? he mused. The little Nuikin throwing himself at her feet.
Dmitri took an extra step to keep from falling and suddenly found himself face-to-face with Louise Renier. She’s so beautiful. He took another step, Yves forgotten. And she wants me?
Reading his thoughts from his face—as hard as it was to believe, he really seemed to be almost completely without guile—Louise drifted toward him, hands outstretched. “You came,” she said softly. “I’m so pleased.”
Cheeks flushed, Dmitri took both her hands in his and pressed his lips first against one and then the other. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so adept. “You have only to command,” he murmured, mesmerized by her smile.
Some time later, Chantel and Yves leaned on a worm-eaten banister and stared down into the entryway as Dmitri laid Louise’s gauzy shawl across her shoulders, tucked her hand up in his arm, and led her out of the house.
“That seems to be working out,” Yves muttered irritably, picking off pieces of the flaking paint and letting them fall to the tile floor below.
“She knows the strings to pull,” Chantel agreed, her expression half admiring, half annoyed. “I just hope she remembers that we had him first.”
“Oh, definitely,” Yves sneered. “I mean, Louise cares so much about what we think. Let him go, Chantel. The best we can hope for now is that she leaves a few leftovers lying around for us.”
Chantel straightened. “I don’t want Louise Renier’s leftovers!”
Rolling his eyes, Yves wondered why the women in the family were all so dangerously extreme.
A candle had been left burning on the hall table. Dmitri threw the trio of bolts that secured the door and gratefully picked it up. He hadn’t been looking forward to making his way up steep and not entirely secure stairs in the dark. Limping slightly, he crossed the hall and actually had one foot in the air when Aurek’s voice said softly, “Do you know what time it is?”
He turned, careful not to let the candlelight fall too fully in his eyes, and peered through the shadows. Aurek was standing in the doorway to the sitting room, arms folded on his chest, pale hair loose over his shoulders.
“After midnight?” he answered brightly.
“Long after. It’s nearly dawn.” Aurek stepped away from the wall, expression stern. “Where have you been?”
Dmitri smiled. “I have been to paradise.”
“Paradise?”
“That’s right.” Louise Renier had made him feel as though he were the most important man in the world. He wasn’t going to let his brother steal that feeling away. “I was with a beautiful woman.” His voice rose and picked up a sardonic tone. “And I was doing things you’ve only dreamed of.”
“Does this woman have a name?” Aurek asked grimly.
Dmitri tossed his head. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“A gentleman doesn’t brag either,” Aurek reminded him.
“I wasn’t bragging.” But he had to let Aurek know. Had to throw it in his face. “What you think,” he said, “doesn’t matter, because Louise Renier had no complaints.”
Louise Renier. Aurek felt as though he were going to be sick. The thought of his younger brother and that … that thing was worse than he possibly could have imagined. “Stay away from her.” He had to force the warning through the bile in his throat.
There was something in Aurek’s voice—something very like revulsion—that Dmitri refused to acknowledge. “Why?” he asked. “Because she’s older than I am? If she doesn’t consider it, why should you?”
“It’s not because she’s older.” The Lord of Richemulot had said Dmitri was not to be told. And he’d agreed. But that was before … “She’s dangerous.”
“So?” Dmitri tossed his head. “I can handle her.”
Aurek gave a sudden, humorless bark of laughter. If Dmitri were told, he would lose Pont-a-Museau. Lose the hope it offered. “You have no idea …”
“I think I do.”
He would have to be told. This couldn’t continue. Natalia, forgive me. But he snapped his mouth closed when Dmitri continued talking.
“You may be happy worshiping at a shrine to your dead wife,” he scoffed, “but some of us prefer women of flesh and blood.”
The silence that followed was so complete, Dmitri could hear the candle flame hiss as it devoured the twisted nub of wick, could hear the blood pounding through the throbbing vein in Aurek’s temple. He knew he’d gone too far, knew he’d rubbed salt in a wound still open and raw. He didn’t know why he’d said it; the anger at this sudden interference after so many years of indifference had risen up and taken over his mouth. He wanted to take it back, but he had no idea how.
And then it didn’t matter.
His face twisted in pain, Aurek pushed past him, took the stairs two at a time, and disappeared into the darkness above. A moment later, Dmitri heard the door to his study open and close.
“Fine,” he snarled, wishing he could go outside and come in again and do it all over. “Don’t let me apologize. See if I care.”
“Has he found anything?” Louise asked, running her ankle along Dmitri’s calf under the cover of the table. “I mean, he’s out rummaging through abandoned buildings, all day, every day. He must’ve found something.”
Distracted by the heated contact, it took Dmitri a moment to find his voice. “I don’t think he’s found anything,” he said hoarsely. “He wouldn’t tell me anyway.”
“Why not? Is he afraid you’ll steal his secrets?”
“Secrets?” Dmitri shook his head. “He doesn’t have any secrets.”
Louise moistened her lips. “All men have secrets.”
Tugging at the black cravat spilling out from under the points of his collar, Dmitri had to look away. He swept his gaze over the other patrons of the tiny café and noticed—without really understanding—that they were all carefully directing their attention away from the shadowy corner where he sat with Louise. Her hand closed almost uncomfortably tightly around his wrist as she repeated her belief that all men had secrets.
“Not Aurek.”
“What, no hidden necromancy in the dark of the moon?”
Dmitri laughed, careful to make sure his companion knew he wasn’t laughing at her. For such a beautiful woman, she was very insecure—and quick to anger because of it. Yves had told him that he’d been lucky to have lost only a small bit of skin where it wouldn’t show. “All Aurek’s interested in is cramming more useless bits of information into his head. He’s a scholar. He’s always got ink on his fingers from copying and annotating, and he never actually does anything but make notes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” But under the glittering compulsion of her eyes, he told her everything he knew about Aurek’s life. He discovered he didn’t know much. In Borca, Aurek had lived in the country, while Dmitri had spent most of his time at the family’s townhouse. Now, Dmitri spent most of his days asleep and his nights partying with either his friends or Louise. He often saw a light beneath the study door, but he seldom saw his brother.
“I wonder …” Louise flicked her nails against the empty oyster shells piled on a tray between them. “… how his wife died.”
Dmitri shrugged. “A thief got into Aurek’s study, maybe a wizard, I don’t know. No one ever tells me anything,” he added, his tone sulky, remembering how he’d paced up and down the garden paths for what seemed like hours, waiting for Natalia to return with his brother. Finally, he’d gotten fed up, certain Aurek was refusing to leave his precious studies, and had ridden back to town. He found out what had happened the next day, when Edik sent a message to his sisters. “Natalia walked in on the fight, and her body was destroyed. Aurek won’t talk about it.”
Her smile made him feel short of breath. “Then he does have a secret, doesn’t he?”
Dmitri paused outside the dining room door and smoothed his vest. Knowing Aurek didn’t care for them, he’d given up Pont-a-Museau styles for the evening. He didn’t know why he should feel like an intruder in what was, after all, his own home, but he did. If Louise hadn’t wanted to know the answer so badly, he doubted he’d have found the courage to go in.
Which is ridiculous, he told himself, opening the door. What’s he going to do? Spill ink on me?
Aurek, sitting at the far end of a long table, looked up in surprise when Dmitri entered, but said nothing.
The silence lengthened, thickened, and Dmitri’s voice when he finally spoke sounded unnaturally shrill. “I thought I’d eat at home this evening.”
Reaching behind him for the bellpull, Aurek said only, “I’ll have Edik set another place.”
