Grace jolted straight. “Near Arrosa.”
“I wouldn't say that.” Alex tilted her head, mischief brimming in every line of her body. “Out loud, at least.”
“But why are they going missing?” Grace pressed her hand against her thigh, found the hem of her tunic. There was a loose thread. She pulled on it.
Alex quirked an eyebrow. “A dastardly conspiracy amongst the mountain squirrels?”
“It’s not funny!” Grace shot off the seat, furious.
Contrite, Alex visibly reeled it in. “It’s not, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
“There had been a fire,” Grace said, drawn a step closer but still on her feet. “We found Jack and Nell’s cottage, and there had been a fire.”
The look of pleasure faded from Alex’s face. “Could it have been an accident?”
Grace sank back down onto the bench. “I had hoped maybe. It would have been bad, but not terrible. If there’s a pattern-- were there fires in Geneana?”
Alex shook her head. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t know to look for it, and I didn’t personally verify. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I wanted to get back to Coura.”
A curl of pleasure began to displace some of the churning fear. Grace leaned a little closer. “It’s a shame I missed you at last night’s end-of-bazaar reception.”
Alex cleared her throat. “Actually, I didn’t miss you.”
Grace blinked. “What?”
“I’d hoped to see you. You seemed distracted.”
A flash of memory hit Grace-- a murmured pleasantry and the clasp of hand on hers-- so much like the hand that rested on the bench next to her. Grace seized the hand. “It was you in the hallway.”
The corners of Alex’s eyes crinkled. “I’m hurt,” she drawled. “You didn’t recognize me?”
Grace flushed. “I was busy worrying about Petra haring off to this symposium thing.”
Alex cupped Grace’s chin in her hands. “And Arrosa has had such a history of welcoming visitors.”
It was casually said, but the horror of it dawned slowly and irrevocably between them. Alex let her hand drop. Neither of them were in the mood to flirt anymore.
There were two weeks left before Dylan would leave. Two weeks to find out what was going on. It would have to be enough.
Grace walked back to the manse, thoughts no more cheerful than they had been on the way out. She just had to gather enough information to show Dylan had no consideration for any interest but Arrosa’s. It couldn’t be that hard.
Anyone who had paid any amount of attention should have known that this new reconciliatory behavior had to be bunk.
It turned out, however, that two weeks to prepare an international trip for hundreds of people meant everyone would be very busy. No one had time to explore anything beyond their assigned tasks.
After finding no one useful at the manse, Grace sought out Petra, because Petra usually helped her cut through the dross of the pompous and self-indulgent chatter to the meat of the activity. She spent the rest of the next day visiting each of Petra’s usual haunts and didn’t find her sister in any of them. A late-season heat wave had swept the city, and she eventually found her by chance in an out-of-the-way café. She was eating a fruit-based dish that looked lusciously cool. Dylan sat opposite her. His hands moved as he spoke, and Grace didn’t care what he was saying. Petra looked engrossed.
Swiping at the sweat that beaded over her forehead, Grace abandoned the search and went home. The water at the manse was just as good as that at the café.
Going home meant that she got swept up in the preparations for the trip. The flurry of activity didn’t impress Grace, who could pack in half an hour if needed. She remained unimpressed when her mother bumped into her in the hallway and beamed.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Queen Maura said, holding out a slip of parchment. “You can help find pack beasts and wagons to carry food and supplies for the trip.”
Grace looked down at the extensive list. It was written in Petra’s hand and ran onto the back of the page. She looked back up at her mother and asked, “Really?” It seemed seriously overkill. The trip to Arrosa wasn’t the stuff of easy jaunts, but the packing list seemed more suited for a month-long stay in the middle of the wilderness.
“It will be a leisurely journey,” the queen replied, serene. “Many of the people who live in our capital are not used to traveling.”
Sighing, Grace looked over the list again. It still seemed overboard. “It’s a pretty short time to get this much stuff together,” she said.
“It couldn’t be avoided.”
Her mother paused in a way that made Grace suddenly and profoundly nervous.
It was a relief when all the queen said was, lightly, “Perhaps you should go along. It would be good to have a second representative from the family.”
“I don’t know,” said Grace. Going to Arrosa sounded like a recipe for every torment she’d ever endured when forced to spend time with Dylan and his ilk. Moody, she went off into town to see what was available.
After a frustrating day spent sandwiched between sweaty animals and sweaty handlers, Grace traipsed back to the manse. This was the problem with splashy last-minute announcements, she thought darkly to herself. There hadn’t even been the unofficial hat-tip that would have let the hostlers and merchants know they should discreetly move in extra beasts.
She would have to do it herself. Riding out to other cities to see if they had beasts they might lend had not been in her plans.
They hadn’t been in Alex’s plans, either, Grace learned the next morning, when Alex caught up to her in the stable. “Going somewhere?”
Alex’s face fell. “I guess you can’t do dinner, then.”
Grace adjusted the saddle on the horse. “I’d love to,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be back in time.”
“I’ll stop by anyway,” said Alex.
Grace smiled as she mounted. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” she said.
The trip was not quick at all. Grace got back after midnight, filthy, exhausted, and commensurately cranky. She had gotten about seventy percent of what they’d need for the trip, and would have to go partway into Geneana in order to see about bridging the gap.
It didn’t matter that her mother had suggested that a trip to Geneana might be necessary, Grace thought sourly as she stripped her dust-infused trousers off and tossed them into the hamper. Everyone could be spared the effort if only certain highly-placed attendees would only forgo a select list of creature comforts on the trip.
She groaned with relief the moment heated water hit her shoulders. Scrubbing mud off her ankles, she relaxed under the spray and thought longingly of her bed.
Chapter 8
Halfway through her shower, Grace heard two sharp taps on her bedroom window. Alarmed, she wrapped a towel around herself and went to investigate. There was nothing amiss in her room: her dirty clothes remained where she’d left them. Peering out the broad glass doors, nothing seemed out of place outside.
Grace stepped out onto the balcony. A cursory glance around revealed Alex, half concealed in a shadow and looking extremely sheepish.
“Sorry, I can go,” said Alex, pushing off the wall. “Only it's been a while, and I couldn’t reach you, and I'm only in Coura for the night. I leave again early tomorrow.”
Alex had barely gotten back from her last trip. “Tomorrow?” Grace asked, disappointed.
“I have an assignment in Irigona. Bank security. Half their gold went missing and they want me to plug the gaps.” Alex shoved a hand through her hair, leaving chunks of it messy.
Grace wanted to reach up and put it right. Quashing the impulse, she began to fidget with the corner of the towel instead. It began to slip, and she tugged it hastily back into place. “When will you be back?”
“No idea. Depends on how quickly I can sort it out.”
Grace tried to school her face into some sort of cheerful expression
and apparently failed miserably, because Alex rolled her eyes.
“Come here, you.” She tugged on Grace's hips. “Don't look like that. I'll be back, I promise.”
Grace decided that she was not, in fact, too proud to cling, and pressed in for a kiss. The evening had brought respite from the heat of the day. Even half-clean and dripping, the air swirled around in its own embrace. The moment was everything the day hadn’t been: a sheer creature comfort.
“You know, Highness,” Alex said after a moment. Her hand was high on Grace’s thigh, and it was distracting. “You might have mentioned you wanted to put on a show. I could have arranged for an audience.”
Grace went red and clutched at her towel. “We should go inside.”
Alex tucked a wet strand of hair back behind Grace’s ear from where it had slicked against her cheek. “Are you sure? I know it's late.” Moonlit shadows flickered as clouds crossed the sky, and the breeze turned cool.
“Come inside,” Grace said, firmly, and then more nervously: “We've-- we've got the night.”
“Are you sure?” asked Alex again, more seriously, smoothing a hand over the back of Grace's head. Her fingers clasped gently at the base of Grace’s neck.
“Yes,” said Grace, suddenly very sure. “Come in.”
“Sorry for interrupting,” said Alex once they were inside. “I can wait while you finish, I brought a book.”
Grace shut her balcony door, secured the catch. “You brought a book?” She fiddled with the latch, making sure it had engaged.
Alex gestured with the book. “Lurking on balconies can get boring if your girlfriend doesn't answer her window right away.”
Grace still had soap in her hair. “You could,” Grace said, nervous again. “If you wanted to. Join me.”
“Really?” murmured Alex, only half a question as she stepped into Grace's space and slid her hands up Grace's hips to her waist under the towel. “Making offers like that, Princess, I might get ideas.”
Grace hummed, pleased, and pressed her body against Alex, realizing too late that Alex might not like soap all over her clothes.
“A bath maybe,” mused Alex out loud. “Rinse you off, and maybe I could help wash your back.”
That sounded good to Grace; there was always a spot she couldn't quite reach. Silence stretched, not uncomfortably until Grace realized Alex was waiting for an answer.
“Yes,” she said. She hated the way her voice sounded tentative and breathy. A moment later, decided she didn't mind when Alex's hands slid over her bottom, cupped, squeezed, and released her.
“If you want to get things set up, I'll get there in a minute,” said Alex, and Grace went. Because the tub had room for two and then some, Grace adjusted the dial and let the water bubble up from the pressurized reservoir in the mountain. It was hot, always hot, and didn't have much temperature control once the flow started, but it was a sweet luxury when she had the time. She had thought, when she was younger, that the hot-springs plumbing was one of the best parts of being Couran, that maybe it could make up for having to be a princess and nice to people. Then they'd given her command of the militia, such that it was, and things had gotten a bit better. Also, she wasn't a teenager any more: that helped more.
Grace had settled under a layer of bubbles when Alex walked in and Grace's breath caught.
She was completely naked.
As much as Grace had thought about this, fantasy paled in comparison to reality. Every muscle in Alex's long body exuded confidence. She was completely at ease with the situation, even though she was naked in someone else's space.
“Seems to me I promised someone help washing her back,” Alex said, stepping into the tub.
“Oh,” said Grace, scrambling for a washcloth to offer.
Instead of grabbing it, Alex grabbed Grace. “Where's your soap?”
Grace passed it over and found herself held pressed against slick, soapy woman by slick, soapy hands that weren't staying still. There were curves everywhere, soft and slick and solid and utterly distracting.
The hot springs under the palace normally kept the bath water reasonably toasty, but this was hotter than Grace remembered.
“Is this supposed to be washing?” Grace squeaked.
“Are you feeling clean already?” murmured Alex. “I can stop.” Her hand snaked around the inside of Grace's knee to stroke along the soft spot in the hollow behind the joint, and really, Grace had no objections. She pressed her jaw against Alex's shoulder and purred.
Grace let herself float as Alex's hands stroked waves over her body. It was everything she’d dreamed of, everything she’d imagined based on words Alex had whispered hot over her neck.
Her body felt heavy in the water, a deeper pleasure than the sheer comfort of a long soak. It pulled at her. Water lapped at the lip of the tub as they moved together. She was, she realized giddily, almost starting to get dehydrated from the combination of sweat and heat.
After a bit, Alex said, “How is the water still so warm?”
“Oh, there are hot springs,” Grace replied, distracted by the lazy spirals Alex was tracing over her breasts.
“Spoiled,” Alex whispered, smile in her voice.
Grace hummed noncommittal agreement and reached back for Alex, but Alex grabbed Grace's wrists and brought them to her sides.
“Not tonight,” she said. “Tonight is for you.”
Grace could feel the pulse of blood low in her abdomen in time with the lazy ripples of the bathwater Alex's motions had caused, itchy and insistent. She ducked her head under the water, and when that didn't seem to clear the fog overtaking her brain, she said: “I think I'm clean now.”
Alex stepped out of the bath and managed to wrap Grace in a fresh towel while Grace was still trying to point out where the towels were kept.
They had barely reached the waist-high counter near the mirror when Alex's hands were on her again, arresting their progress.
“Warm enough, Highness?” Alex asked, hand on Grace's waist.
Grace managed: “Plenty,” before Alex had stolen the towel and let it drop on the floor of the hallway leading out of the bathroom. The tile was warm from the mountain core and Grace's feet appreciated it, but not nearly as much as Grace appreciated the way Alex guided her elbows to brace against the counter, bent over a bit but stable. Still air meant slow drying, and Alex used it to full advantage: drops brushed into tiny droplets over expanses of skin, and then evaporating into the warmth of autumn.
Not sure that her legs would continue to hold her, Grace pointed out: “You know, I have a bed.”
Alex slid her lips over Grace's neck. “You're still all wet.” A hand snaked up the inside of Grace's thigh from the knee. “And I can’t keep my hands off of you.”
Somehow, the softness of Alex’s voice was more intimate than her fingers against Grace’s inner leg. Grace’s breath caught for a thousand reasons, and she could feel sweat beading on the inside of her wobbly knees. Thinking, it transpired, wasn't nearly as smooth as the slide of Alex's hand, or as slick as the press of Alex's body against hers.
She held on to the counter and let Alex’s hands hold her steady, twist inside her, bring her up and over until her knees went out from under her and Alex was there to catch her and bring her gently to the floor.
Putting her head on Alex’s shoulder, she took the moment to breathe. “Come to bed?” Grace asked, once she thought her legs would last. She swiped at the worst of the sweat with the damp towel and cast it vaguely in the direction of the hamper.
“Easy there, Princess,” said Alex, catching Grace when it turned out her legs weren’t as steady as she’d thought.
They toppled into bed, Grace’s skin still humming with the memory of touches. She pressed her cheek onto Alex’s shoulders and trailed a hand down Alex’s flank. “Are you sure you don’t want me to--”
“Shhhh,” Alex interrupted her. “Sleep now.”
Under the covers, Grace traced the lines just below her elbows where
she'd leaned too heavily on the counter. It had been worth it, she thought to herself as the fatigue caught up with her.
There wasn't any light in the bedroom. Grace had no idea why she had woken up, and tried to pull the blanket more firmly around herself, but it had caught on something. Grace sat up to untangle it, and warmth fled the bed.
“Oh good,” said Alex, brushing hair away from where it had fallen into Grace’s eyes. “I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't want to just leave.”
“Don't leave,” said Grace, feeling childish about it and grabbing anyway. They couldn’t have slept for long: there hadn’t been much night left when they’d finally gotten into the bed.
Alex paused, boot half-laced under her fingers. “You should know that I want to stay,” she said, at last, “but if I don’t get moving I’m going to miss my boat.”
She tried to settle back into the bed and found that she couldn’t get back to sleep. After tossing for about ten minutes, she gave up and rolled reluctantly out of bed. She might as well be productive if she couldn’t rest properly.
It was too early to head out, but she could set her route and take care of the half-dozen administrative tasks she’d been too tired to handle the previous evening.
She had a sheaf of paperwork by the time it was a reasonable hour to leave her room. She tucked it under her arm and went to go scrounge breakfast.
“You're humming, Grace, did something good happen?” asked William as he and Petra passed her in the hall.
Grace stopped short. She hadn't noticed.
“You know, being happy isn't a crime,” William said. He ruffled her hair, and Grace realized she hadn’t brushed it yet. She pushed by them.
Petra shot Grace a meaningful look as she and William continued down the hall to a breakfast meeting that, thankfully, Grace didn't need to attend.
Hustling the other way, Grace ducked her head down and hoped, without any real hope, that Petra would forget about it before she could corner Grace. Actually, upon reflection, Grace hoped she could simply avoid Petra, who would not forget but could perhaps be delayed long enough for Grace to figure out what to think about it.
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