The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2)

by Braden, Jill

  “Rent!” Panting, she put her hand out for the coins.

  There was no avoiding her. Reluctantly, he counted out the payment. She counted it again, gave him a sharp look, and toddled down the stairs.

  He unlocked his door and walked in.

  Someone was in his apartment.

  It felt as if he’d suddenly been yanked back to his first day in Levapur. For a moment he didn’t even dare breathe. He was afraid if he moved or spoke, QuiTai would disappear like a shy maishun spirit fleeing through the jungle.

  Sunlight filtering through his typhoon shutters cast stripes of light and shadow across the bare wood floor. The bright band of gold around her vertical pupils glowed out of the darkness that fell over her eyes. On the day they’d first met in this apartment, she’d been dressed much the same, like a Thampurian lady rather than a Ponongese. His trunk was even in the middle of the room as it had been when he’d discovered her waiting for him. She’d sat on it just like that, her hands folded in her lap, ankles crossed, back so straight it made his spine ache, her chin lifted just a bit as if inviting him to speak first.

  She had to be real. He smelled that elusive mixture of spice and wood that clung in the hollow of her throat. She had to be real. He blinked to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. She had to be real. No one else could make him want to punch the wall without saying a word.

  “You!” If he remembered correctly, that’s what he’d said to her that first day too. He’d been no less furious with her then than he was now.

  She didn’t so much as flinch when Kyam stomped over to her, bent down, and punched the trunk on either side of her slim hips. He leaned forward on his knuckles and glared into her impassive eyes. He felt her slow exhale on his cheek. Not a spirit, then. He could grab her by the arms and she wouldn’t evaporate like mist through his fingers.

  The corners of her mouth curved up and she blinked languidly, the way she had after he’d pleased her in that narrow cabin bed on board the Golden Barracuda. Now he knew exactly why the Devil’s fingerprints were so often on her throat. He wanted to shout, to shake her, to kiss her so hard she’d back away from him in alarm. Just once, he wanted her to be frightened of him. He wanted her to regret how much he’d worried about her. Instead, he gathered every pittance of control he had left and slowly growled, “Did it ever occur to you to let me know you were still alive?”

  Even though a long moment passed before she spoke, he didn’t believe for a second that she’d given her answer any serious thought. At best, she seemed mildly surprised by his question. “No,” she said.

  Kyam strode back to the door. If it hadn’t been his home, he would have walked out and slammed the door so hard the building would have collapsed. Did she really say no? His thoughts were so intense he couldn’t put them into words. All he could do was make sounds of disbelief and contempt as he tried to get himself under control. He ran his fingers through his hair while he stared at the wall. Why did this woman make him so insane?

  “Are you unwell, Colonel Zul? You seem less articulate than usual.”

  The anger he’d tried to rein in exploded. He spun to face her. “Why?”

  “I’ll thank you not to bellow at me. I can hear perfectly well, as can your neighbors. And if you want an answer, please include at least one verb – and a pronoun if you’re feeling generous – with your interrogatory. ‘Why’ is a rather vague question.”

  A year ago, she’d robbed him of his possessions. Now she stole his ability to talk. A million words came to mind but none could pass through his tightly clenched teeth. His hands rose in a gesture of angry pleading and shook.

  She waited for him to speak with the patience of a cat on a sunny perch.

  He wasn’t angry that she was alive. He had to remind himself of that. She was so cold, calculating, and unfeeling. He thought he’d earned better from her. His lips pressed together as he shook his head. He’d made a fool of himself over her.

  “Scoot over.” He lightly swatted her thigh and plopped down beside her on his trunk.

  She stared straight ahead. He refused to be caught stealing glances at her, so he did too. Neither of them spoke. She could make silence do terrible things to his mind.

  “Thank you so very, very much for almost getting me killed on Cay Rhi, Lady QuiTai. Half the soldiers we needed to fight the Ravidians chased you instead,” he said.

  She coughed delicately into her gloved hand.

  In his experience, the only time women made that little throat clearing sound and sat up that straight was as they prepared to verbally flay a gentleman. Somehow, he knew she’d speak in a low voice, at least to start. That was the way it was done.

  “I made it quite clear that our business arrangement had come to a natural end, and that I would seek my own path from that point forward. My actions shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, Colonel Zul.”

  He shook a finger at her face. “I –” She had a point. He hadn’t been surprised, but he wasn’t about to let facts douse his righteous indignation. “A few of the soldiers accused me of helping you. If Captain Voorus hadn’t shut them up, I could have been thrown into a fortress cell.”

  “Could have been, but you weren’t.”

  He hated the mocking tone dancing through her voice, as if she were on the verge of laughing at him. She tilted her head and smiled at him, charming and heartless as a viper, while she waited for him to speak.

  “I’m beginning to hate you.”

  She shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

  Kyam rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. “The slaves you freed.”

  “Ah, yes. We must not forget about them.”

  Voorus’ warnings about a Ponongese rebellion came back to him. Was she hinting that he and the colonial government shouldn’t forget that she could incite her people to riot?

  “Or the Rhi who remain in slavery,” she said. Her smile was gone. She didn’t bother to soften her tone with flowery words or flirtatious looks, but there were layers of meaning behind that statement. He wasn’t scared of her, and had never been, but the chill she cast reminded him how very dangerous she was.

  “Is Petrof dead, or are you still chasing each other?”

  He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw the dimple by her lips deepen, as if she were suppressing a wry smile. She knew he’d deliberately changed the subject. He couldn’t ever hope to fool her. Yet she went along with it. Suddenly, she was charming and gracious.

  QuiTai straightened the tassels of her skirt’s waist scarf. “How kind of you to ask, Colonel Zul. Yes, it seems that my unfortunate little tiff with Petrof has come to a satisfactory resolution.”

  He was in no mood to play her word games. “You’ll never use the word ‘killed,’ will you?”

  “I have enough rope, thank you. I’m not about to ask you to give me more with which to hang myself.”

  Normal conversations weren’t competitions, but each one with her was a battle. Had he ever won?

  Resigned to losing this battle, he asked, “How is your sea wasp sting?”

  She pulled off her glove and lifted her hand for his inspection as she fixed her gaze on the door. He gently wrapped his fingers around hers and watched her profile as he pressed his lips to the dark pink scar. Nothing, as usual. Not even a hint that she felt a thing. He turned over her hand and kissed it. At least that time she blinked. Did he imagine a slight movement of her mouth or a narrowing of her eyes? Kyam wondered why he craved a response from her.

  “Someone in the government paid Petrof to kill you,” he said.

  “Hmm.”

  Did that mean she already knew?

  She finally turned back to him, but her expression was still unreadable. He could feel the warmth of her thigh against his, but she was distant. She was dressed as a Thampurian, which meant she was here on business. Was she once again completely the Devil’s woman? Had she ever been anything but that?

  Kyam couldn’t stand to be near her ano
ther second. He jumped to his feet. “What do you want, Lady QuiTai?”

  Was that a flicker of relief on her face? Maybe it was a trick of the light and shadow she used like a veil.

  “Why are you still here, Colonel Zul?”

  “It’s my apartment.” How did she like word games used against her?

  “Why are you still in Levapur? You have signed articles of transport.”

  “For all the good they do me.”

  Her eyebrows rose.

  His wagged his finger at her. “Oh no. No, no, no. We are not going to discuss that. We aren’t going to discuss anything. As you said, our business is concluded. You got what you wanted from me.”

  “And vice versa.” She rose.

  This wasn’t the reunion he’d pictured. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. They’d drawn close during their adventure, and it was hard to accept that moment was gone forever. Yet he sensed this was exactly the way she planned it to be. As usual, she was in complete control of the conversation, steps ahead of him.

  He was surprised when she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’m relieved that you weren’t blamed for the events on Cay Rhi. It would have pained me if you’d been arrested. I couldn’t have done anything to free you, of course. That would have distressed me even more. Helplessness leaves a vile flavor in my mouth.”

  She seemed sincere.

  He had to stall her until he could say the right things. “Is that why you finally decided to reappear? To tell me that?”

  “No, Colonel Zul. I came to say goodbye.”

  He was surprised how final that sounded. If only he could start over from the moment he walked into his apartment… but she’d slipped away from him again, elusive as ever. “I never finished your portrait.”

  “We don’t need that ruse anymore.”

  Again, she was telling him that she didn’t expect them to meet again. He didn’t know what to say to change that. Regrets already haunted him, and she hadn’t even stepped out of his apartment yet.

  “We made a good team, QuiTai.”

  Unlike before, this time she seemed to give a great deal of thought to her reply. “Smugglers can take you to any free port on the continent. From there, you can travel overland to Thampur. You know LiHoun. Tell him if – when – you’re ready.”

  She opened the door.

  The one emotion she’d never hidden from him was sadness. He didn’t know if the glimpse of it on her face was her final gift. It struck him that she was being kind in her peculiar fashion. She pitied him, and he didn’t know why.

  Before the door even closed, he’d sunk his head between his hands.

  Chapter 16: The Rice Riots

  Ma’am Thun shut the front door of her schoolhouse. She checked the sky. Puffy white clouds drifted in the blue expanse, roiling from within – that meant the weather would change soon. She patted the handle of her umbrella on the crook of her arm and walked down the steps to the street.

  She had enough money to last a few more weeks, unless QuiTai demanded she return the tuition already paid for classes that might never meet again. Those damn soldiers. Who told them they could march into her school and ruin her life?

  She nodded smartly to her neighbors as she passed them. Everyone seemed tense. Some people didn’t return her greetings. She felt as if she were being snubbed, which burned her pride. What had she done to deserve such curtness?

  If QuiTai wanted the money back, what could she do? She might have to sell some of her possessions. The humiliation felt unbearable, even though it hadn’t happened yet. Perhaps if QuiTai stopped by she could ask her former student for a loan.

  Her step faltered. Taking tuition money was one thing, but borrowing from a girl who had once been so poor that she’d worn the same sarong every day was quite another. And where did QuiTai get her money? From such unsavory business! From that criminal, the Devil. That was the puzzling part; not that she’d ever understand the way the Ponongese thought. QuiTai didn’t need the Devil to make her way in the world.

  Years ago, she’d had such hopes for QuiTai. Such a mind! Going to university in Thampur had been completely out of the question, of course, even though QuiTai had asked to take the entrance exam and passed it. Thampurian universities didn’t admit women, and they certainly didn’t admit barefoot natives. She’d offered letters of reference for QuiTai to enter service in Thampur, although she couldn’t think of anyone who would hire a Ponongese servant. To this day, she shivered when she remembered the look on QuiTai’s face – and yet, QuiTai sent students to her and often paid their tuition. The quiet, serious child had blossomed into something rather mystifying.

  But she had money to spare. As filthy as it was, it spent the same.

  Perhaps there was something to be said for abandoning polite society. Ma’am Thun sniffed through her fleshy nose. There was no such thing as polite society for the Ponongese, and no matter how civilized they behaved, they’d never be allowed into the tight circle of privileged Thampurians in Levapur. She’d led an exemplary life and hadn’t received so much as an invitation to a salon or lunch from the compound dwellers.

  Would QuiTai let people know if she asked for a loan? No. The girl had always kept her own council. You never knew what was going on behind those strange eyes. And oh, the endless questions! QuiTai would never take anything at face value. You had to prove everything to her. It was almost a relief that she only came to the school to deliver the tuition payments because even now she asked uncomfortable questions.

  Ma’am Thun gripped the handle of her umbrella tighter. What if QuiTai never visited now that the school was closed? It wasn’t as if they talked about old times over tea. Their monthly chats were always brief to the point of being brusque – a few questions about the students’ progress, who excelled at which subjects, and sometimes a discussion about books and equipment, and then the purse would come out and the coins stacked in that exacting manner on the edge of her desk, signaling that the conversation was over.

  If QuiTai would not come to her, she would have to seek her out.

  She realized that she’d already accepted that she’d have to beg QuiTai for money. After her exile from Thampur, she’d learned to take a realistic view of such matters, no matter how offensive they were. All you could do was pick the shame you’d have to live with. Borrowing money seemed far better than selling her possessions.

  Ma’am Thun wondered how one went about finding QuiTai. She’d never had to do that before. QuiTai always came to her. Levapur was small and rife with gossip; surely someone knew where one could find the most notorious woman in town. But what if she were seen asking? Oh, no. That simply wouldn’t do. Perhaps it was possible to simply pick a café near – but not too near – the Quarter of Delights, drink tea, and wait for QuiTai to pass by.

  At the corner, a group of Thampurians stood outside a rice merchant’s shop. They looked angry. Ma’am Thun needed rice, but the shops always charged more than the merchants in the marketplace. Whatever had caused the crowd was none of her business, so she crossed to the far side of the street and went past.

  One street before the town square, she saw another crowd of angry Thampurians outside a rice merchant’s shop. Fear and uncertainty prickled her mind. A Thampurian lady with twin boys tried to enter the shop, but a man grabbed her arm and yanked her back. The lady yelped as Ma’am Thun also squeaked in surprise. She’d never seen a Thampurian gentleman in Levapur act like a common ruffian, although his clothes proved he was no member of the top tier. Words were exchanged, but it wasn’t her problem, so she hurried away before she found out the reason for their argument.

  It was with no small amount of caution then that she hurried on to the marketplace. Unlike the past days when the few, forlorn stalls had been all but neglected, now there were long lines of Thampurians waiting at some of them. Her disgruntled frown deepened as she realized all the lines were for the rice sellers.

  With a tiny huff of exasperation, she picked what
seemed to be the shortest line and stood behind a fashionable woman in russet velvet. When the line didn’t move for a while, she leaned over to see around the woman’s large beribboned hat to watch the prolonged, animated discussion between the man at the front of the line and the rice merchant.

  The woman’s head turned suddenly. She leveled narrowed eyes on Ma’am Thun. “Do not even think of jumping the queue.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I would never think of doing such a thing. I simply wanted to know why the line does not move.”

  “The line does not move because people like you try to insinuate themselves ahead of others.” The women turned away. Her straight back and tense shoulders spoke volumes of outrage.

  “Even if one were exchanging social pleasantries, I do not see why it would take so long to buy a measure of rice,” Ma’am Thun grumbled.

  Someone bumped her from behind, sending her against the woman. After a frosty glare, the woman sniffed and turned around again, ignoring her protestations of innocence. Receiving no satisfaction in that direction, Ma’am Thun in turn scowled at the men behind her. He shrugged, slightly apologetic, and pointed to the five people behind him as the culprits.

  “This is insufferable. I should go to another line,” Ma’am Thun told him.

  The man spread his hands. “If I had no manners, I’d let you, but one of the merchants is out of rice already, so the lines have doubled at the other stalls. Best to take it in good humor or your morning will be wasted for nothing.”

  Finding the gentleman – although from the state of his shewani jacket, he was a mere clerk – much more agreeable than the woman in front of her, Ma’am Thun decided just this once to talk to someone beneath her station. “There were no lines yesterday. What happened overnight that every Thampurian in Levapur suddenly must buy their measure?”

  “I wish I’d bought some yesterday. The price was thirty percent lower then.”

  “What?” She turned around to glare at the rice merchant.

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?” Panic again fluttered in her heart. “What has happened?”