“I’ve been spending your coin,” I realized.
Shera adjusted the belt knife and reassured me that my mother had seen her generously reimbursed.
Quintin was waiting in the common room with the same miserable scowl he’d worn to the garden that morning. My second lesson had proved just as brutal as the first, though this time he at least deigned to be present for it. Under the guise of improving my footwork, he’d matched me with a single blade and spent the better part of two hours sidestepping, parrying, and tripping me in every way possible until my backside was black and blue. I could go the rest of my life without hearing the word ‘up’ ever again.
Reminded by the mere sight of him of my aching muscles and searing, blistered palms, I threw an unpleasant sneer his way as I passed by, heading for the foyer and my parents’ reluctant sendoff.
After riding Valor for so many years, the small dun gelding beneath me felt graceless and puny. He ambled lazily alongside Quintin’s own similarly common mount down the sparsely-populated streets. No one in Dockside paid us any mind, though. The boy at the hidden stable admitted us without question. As we were relieved of our horses, I peered into the dark of the warehouse at where a crew of men were hard at work opening a stack of crates. As their shadowed figures shifted, I barely caught a glimpse of a familiar sigil: a trio of white roses on a crimson field.
The crest of Theria, Leon’s home province.
They began transferring the contents – a plethora of small, gleaming bottles – into a handful of unmarked crates nearby just as Quintin and I stepped back through the door and out onto the street. While my mind twisted to make sense of what I’d seen, I clutched my cloak about me against the cold and trudged after my dour companion toward the much-appreciated warmth of the Greyshor.
I had expected the raucous noise and crush of bodies of my previous visit, but the common room was largely abandoned. A few small clusters of folks talked quietly at tables, sharing a drink or a meal. At one such sat Natalia and Alec, along with two of the cousins from before. Our corner table was empty.
“Relative privacy, as promised.”
His silken voice cut through my thoughts as he approached us from the bar. Behind the counter, the stalwart woman I’d seen at the stewpot the last visit, and who I guessed likely owned the establishment, tucked a bulging pouch into her apron and headed for the kitchen. We made our way through the room toward familiar faces.
“Elivya!” Natalia stood and embraced me, kissing my cheek. Alec flashed me a kind smile and turned to Quintin.
“Would you join us?” he offered. “I was hoping to get your opinion on smiths. I’m in need of a new sword and some seasoned advice.”
I could feel the Tuvrian stiffen beside me, his gaze sliding my way. “I’m afraid I’m on duty this evening, my lord.”
“One need not preclude the other. You will be well within sight of your charge, I assure you.”
I didn’t think Quintin would bite, but he did. Positioning himself with a clear line of sight, he sank reluctantly into one of the chairs and Natalia called for a fresh round. I knew without needing to watch that his would sit untouched.
Adrian and I settled ourselves into our empty corner table near the hearth, two mugs of mead already waiting. Despite the chaste distance between us, my heart raced in my chest, the memory of that scandalous caress bucking all attempts to bury it. He leaned on his forearms on the table, cradling his mug between both hands.
“So,” he started, fixing me with a slate gray stare. “Tell me what you want to know.”
In light of Aubrey’s revelations, I had prepared myself well for that question, building up a veritable fortress of mental armor around myself. That rugged charm and fearless familiarity might hold the power to melt my very core, but I wasn’t about to let that silken touch enslave me.
“Should I expect honesty or diplomacy from your answers?”
He worded his reply carefully. “I will be as truthful as I may.”
We all have our secrets to hide.
“Fair enough.” I took a sip and a deep breath, gathering my resolve. “First, I’d ask why this place is so empty.”
“Many of the barges shipped out, I expect.” He lied well.
“Mm. And it’s nothing to do with the coin you passed to the tavern keep just a bit ago, of course.”
He grinned, clearly amused by my rather obvious deduction. “Certainly not.”
“How long have you known this Tommy fellow?” I pressed innocently and watched his eyes sharpen. “The one who runs the livery stable. Or is it a warehouse? Seems an unlikely sort of acquaintance for a nobleman.”
“An old business associate of my father’s,” he replied steadily. “From before the War, I believe.”
“Suppose I should ask him, then,” I mused, watching his features slowly shutter.
“Suppose so.”
“And how much of a cut do you get from the goods he so skillfully redistributes for you?”
His gaze took on a predatory glint, the telling hesitation that followed only confirming my suspicions.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
I quirked one brow in reproval. “Those seals won’t paint over themselves, I expect.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and not quite abandoning his painted Court smile.
“You seem to think you know an awful lot about me already,” he crooned in warning, but his body language betrayed his retreat. On the back foot. Finally. I angled my head at him and pressed the advantage.
“I think you’ve enlisted the help of your siblings on several occasions to beguile me into socially compromising situations. Possibly to incur unflattering gossip and force my family into an alliance. Possibly just because you find it good sport. Either way, I think you enjoy the hunt here at Court as much as the one at sea.” I jutted my chin at the bar on the far side of the room. “I think you’d buy out a Dockside tavern for an entire evening just for the opportunity to try your way into my bed. I may not be a Hydraxian princess, but I’d wager I’d make for a decent diversion all the same.”
My heart hammered in my chest as I held that hard gaze without flinching, committed to unearthing the truth of this man who could undo me with a single touch.
“My, my,” he drawled, hovering on the edge of anger. He sat dangerously still in his chair across from me; a predator, cornered. “You do think you know me. Allow me to disabuse you of this notion.”
Adrian leaned forward slowly onto the table, every ounce of the movement tightly controlled, a whispered warning. My breath hitched a moment at the advance, but I dared not retreat.
“I enlist the help of my siblings because they are the only people in this world I know are capable and trustworthy enough to keep our encounters out of Court gossip,” he corrected pointedly. “I make no apologies for enjoying the same game of courtship that every unmarried noble plays in this city. I make equally few apologies for excelling at it. And Princess Hasha was a beautiful, spoiled brat and a cruel soul, and I thanked Adulil when my father’s proposal was refused.”
He paused to let that sink in, the two of us still locked in silent challenge; two predators unwilling to yield, circling one another with hackles up. I wasn’t sure which of us would outlast the other until he dropped his eyes in an abrupt and startling gesture of surrender.
“And I didn’t buy out the tavern for the night,” he added, taking a measured sip of his mead. “I bought the tavern.”
I gaped at him a moment before a short laugh escaped me, the tension evaporating. “You are joking.”
Shaking his head, he smiled, no trace of that formidable anger remaining. “Eleanor is a stubborn old woman. It was my only recourse. Father will be furious when he finds out.” As I clutched my sides, he turned his gaze on me again, dark brows darting together. “Whatever prompted this unexpected dressing-down?”
I collected myself and co
nsidered him a moment, remembering why I’d made such careful preparations.
“I have it on good authority that you’ve a history of toying with women. I can assure you, I’ll be no-one’s plaything.”
The smallest hint of a smirk tugged at his mouth. “I’ve not always been the most considerate of courtiers, but I’m not nearly fool enough to toy with Lord Damien’s daughter.” He lifted his mug, glancing past me toward the nearby table filled with his kin. “Likely to get a foot of Tuvrian steel through me if I even tried.”
We sat in silence for a short while, the low din of other conversations filling the space between us. I considered pressing him about Aubrey’s cousin Claire, but to pursue the matter would only serve to make me look petty and jealous. So he’d been careless in his youth. Arrogant and selfish. Who was I to stand in judgement, when I’d been just as careless with James?
“Why do they all call you wolves?” I asked at length, eager to shift the topic elsewhere. By the flicker of relief in his eyes, Adrian was equally glad to change the subject.
“It’s a moniker traditionally held by the commander of the Darian fleet,” he explained. “Every commander earns a nickname, given to him by consensus of the men he leads. My father was the Fanged Wolf, his father the Red Wolf. The variations are endless, all the way back to the first Van Dryn to defend the White Sea.”
“What did they call him?”
The corner of his lips twitched in some private thought. “The Sea Wolf.” Before I could press him further about it, he fixed me with a narrow-eyed stare and a sly grin. “You’ve had your go at me. It’s only fair I get a turn.”
“Is that so? Let’s hear it, then.”
He leaned back in his chair and made a show of taking my measure. “I think you’re hiding something. Something you don’t want circulated at Court. I think you’ve trained your whole life to maneuver in this nest of vipers, but now that you’re here, you feel out of place. I think your father was much less upset about our secret rendezvous than he let on at dinner last night. Perhaps because he sanctioned it outright.” I snorted unattractively. He smiled and leaned forward onto the table once more, reaching across to me. “Or perhaps because your mother did.”
At the first touch of his fingers, what remained of the bulwark in my mind shattered, leaving me raw and exposed before that penetrating gaze. His hand caressed the delicate underside of my forearm, fingertips trailing from my elbow down toward my wrist. His husky voice rumbled across the space between us, low and sensual.
“And I think you’d rather freeze to death on a balcony to spend five minutes with me than enjoy a lifetime beside a warm fire with Aubrey.”
My flesh rejoiced at his touch, betraying all my attempts at guarded dignity. I wanted his hands on every inch of my skin.
Focus.
“Aubrey is a dear friend, but nothing more,” I forced out, my own voice tight with the effort.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Another smirk. “He spends more time with you than anyone. He doesn’t look like he’s drowning.”
I watched the storms swirling in his eyes and feared he could look straight into my scandalous thoughts as his fingers continued their slow caress down my arm, an echo of that moment on the balcony.
“And you?” I asked, battling to keep my voice steady.
“Very nearly.” His hand slid down onto my palm and I winced as he brushed my still-raw blisters. He narrowed his eyes in concern and took up my hand in his for examination. “These are fresh.”
I shrank in my seat, mortified. “Yesterday.”
“Seven hells, Elivya.” Gods, I would never get tired of hearing him say my name. “What were you doing?”
My eyes flicked to Quintin, who sat cross-armed at his table, watching us with a disapproving scowl. “Drills.”
Adrian released me, retreating to his mug. “I take it you aren’t left-handed.”
“No.”
“Well, that’s one way to build calluses, I suppose. Why bother training with your non-dominant hand?”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t know. Ask my commander,” I sneered and jerked my head toward Quintin’s dreary visage. The entire arrangement was ridiculous. I was no soldier.
“I find it difficult to believe anyone could command you.”
It was an attempt at flattery, but something about the topic bit deep and soured me against it. Adrian needed to be generous because there was no way a woman could measure up to the skill of a man in combat. My few lessons with Quintin had laid that reality painfully clear to me, not to mention my humbling summer at the garrison. A man’s strength alone offered him a nearly insurmountable advantage. I could be quick, but with a sword, I felt sure I’d always be inferior to any member of the opposite sex.
All these thoughts, these doubts, constantly lingered at the back of my mind, no matter how determinedly I ignored them. I could learn, and I could improve, but I was no Tuvrian born with a sword in one hand.
“We all have our masters,” I mumbled into my tankard.
“…May I speak plainly?”
“Please.”
He shifted in his seat and I watched him choose his words with torturous care. “My duty,” he began slowly, “my lot in this life, is one that offers little to anyone who joins me in it. I spend months away at sea, and there’s little in the way of guarantees that each departure won’t be my last. Few men are fortunate enough to grow old, in the southern fleet.”
He took my hand gently, the barest hints of fear and loneliness in his eyes. “It’s not a life I would wish on anyone, to stay behind and wait for their loved one to never come home. If that’s not what you want, tell me now. I will understand.” When I said nothing, he pressed. “I cannot stand to know you any better if there is no place for you in my future.”
No man had ever laid their intentions so plain to me. The sheer honesty of it, so unlikely amidst the maneuvering labyrinth of Court, caught my breath and twisted it into knots inside my chest.
He wanted me. More than just a physical diversion, if the telltales on his face were any indication, though he longed for that as well. My mother had taught me to read desire just as readily as deceit. But no, he meant every word of it. That careful, calculated predator laid himself bare before me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever made such an offering before – and what it might have cost him.
At length, I cocked my head at him and bared my teeth in a wicked grin. “And what makes you think I’d stay behind?”
Confusion, understanding, and relief rolled across his face in the blink of an eye, and he lifted my hand to press against his lips. Gods they were soft. He replaced it gently on the table and I watched his carefully composed demeanor return.
Unsure of what to say, I gestured at Natalia. “Quite honestly, I’m surprised your sister isn’t still shimmying down mizzen masts while her children hang off her skirts.”
He laughed at that. “Well, her husband has never been much for sailing. Oliver is a bit more practical than that, I think.”
“And you?”
He flashed me a wolfish smirk. “Mad as a hatter. I’d have you teaching them how to load the ballistae.” The image of the two of us raising a passel of wild sea children was not at all unpleasant.
“You’d have to teach me first,” I pointed out, taking a hearty swig of my nearly untouched mead. He followed suit and we settled a bit.
“Will you stay, do you think, for the King’s gala?” he asked hopefully.
“It’s a ways off yet. I’m not certain. Father will likely return to Laezon before then, to see to the spring foaling and visit the villages.”
“And you?”
“Mother and I will probably stay to attend. It would be indecent to miss it, I think. I expect the Queen will announce herself with child at the event.”
“By all accounts, they’ve been making a valiant effort to that end.”
&n
bsp; I flushed, a ridiculous reaction, given my own fairly extensive experience in that arena. For a mercy, Adrian didn’t seem to notice.
“Your man seems to be growing tired of my siblings’ company,” he observed.
I turned to see Quintin practically squirming in his seat, eyes still locked on me as though I’d vanish in a puff of smoke if he dared to blink. His dark-haired companions laughed and jostled about him at the table.
“Should I take pity on him?” I asked. “He has been an insufferable cock the last few days.”
Adrian didn’t even blink at my crude slur. “I think that would be the wisest course if you ever want to slip his watch.”
I eyed him sidelong. “What happened to that voice of caution? Suddenly unafraid of my father’s wrath?”
Blue-gray eyes glinted with mischief. “I’d wager you’re worth the risk.”
“Scoundrel.”
In the end, I did take pity on Quintin and took my leave much earlier than I would have liked. There would be, Adrian assured me, plenty of time before spring arrived and duty called us both home.
On the ride back, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sour at my reluctant shadow casting a pall over the evening.
“You needn’t sit there staring daggers all night, you know.” He kept his gaze fixed on the street before us and didn’t bother to reply. “I see you came prepared,” I continued in a churlish drawl, eyeing the coil of rope hanging from his saddle. “A nice touch, but we both know you lack the stones to follow through on your ridiculous threats.”
“In that, you are mistaken.” he replied flatly.
“Please,” I dismissed. “Leave the theatrics to the Ultans. You northerners clearly have no gift for it.”
“I simply saw no need for it this evening. You appeared perfectly capable of discouraging your suitor without my intervention.”
I stiffened at his sideways slight. “Maybe you just enjoy watching me whore around.”
His voice remained steady, despite the glint of anger in his eyes. “You’ll not bait me. I have my orders, and I will see them fulfilled.” He turned that hard, pale gaze on me. “Even if that means trussing you up like a goat in full view of your friends. You’ll not dishonor this House under my watch.”
Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 21
