Undaunted, she saddled a horse from the stables. (Not one that had come along with them from Laironn, because they were understandably tired. A few horses were kept here at Haid’s estate, though they were fat and old.) She rode to the nearby village here in Darain, where she set about using what coin she had to buy the things she needed for Cadon.
Then, of course, she realized she could not load it all on her horse, and so she hired a man with a cart to bring it all out the estate. That was when she discovered the place had a name, something she’d never known. It was called Olaimpis, but Haid had certainly never referred to it as such.
She realized that going to the village was going to start rumors, and word would now spread that Haid had come home. She wondered how long it would take for word to get to Laironn, and whether Madigain would take it upon himself to attempt to rescue the Cowntess.
She hoped she hadn’t made a mess of everything.
Cadon was bewildered as she brought the blankets and linens and rugs into his room. “You don’t have to fuss over me.”
“If you decide I’ve done this as some elaborate attempt to manipulate you, or because you think Haid is paying me to keep you happy, I am going to strangle you.” She tossed an armful of rugs onto the floor. “I paid for all of this myself, and I only did it because it’s not fair that you have to be down here in the dungeons like a prisoner.”
“Lots of things aren’t fair,” he said. “Who made you the one who has to right those wrongs?”
“You could just be grateful,” she snapped and stalked out to go and get more things.
When she got back with the rest of it, he’d made himself useful and spread out the rugs on the floor, which made it feel better in there already. It was frightfully cold, though, and she dearly wished they could have a fire. She supposed Cadon wouldn’t freeze if he stayed below the ground like this, because the temperature was usually a bit warmer here, even in the winter, but it wasn’t comfortably warm.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I am grateful, of course.”
“Good,” she said. “Because if you didn’t like it, I was determined never to speak to you again.”
“Have I done something to displease you?” he said. “We talked on the ride here before we fell asleep, and all seemed well between us then. What’s happened since?”
“Nothing.” She stalked through the room and began to work on the bed down here. She’d insisted a real bed be brought down, one that was full sized, not the narrow cot that had been chained to the wall with its moldy, thin mat on it. Even still, she padded it out with a few blankets below before she tucked sheets around it.
“All right,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “What can I do to help you?”
“Well, have you ever made a bed up?”
“I haven’t.”
“So, just stand there.” Her tone was sharp.
“I can learn. I’m not useless.” His tone had a bit of iron in it.
“Fine. Get on the other side and tuck the edges under.”
For some time, they spoke of nothing but putting the bed together, and with each exchange, they grew more terse with each other. By the time the bed was made, they were both snapping at the other.
She sat down on top of the blankets they’d just smoothed, shaking her head. Why was she so angry? He was obviously angry only in retaliation. She’d started all this, but she wasn’t actually angry with him, she was only…
“I can’t believe I’m taking care of you like this!” She clenched both of her hands into fists.
“Well, no one asked you to!” He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, back to her. “I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s going to make you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said. “Obviously, I don’t hate you. I’m worried about your comfort, and I’m seeing to you, so I obviously care about you.”
“But you don’t wish to?”
“No!”
He sighed heavily. “All right, then. I’m very sorry.”
She turned around to face him, even though he couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t see him, and even though she was fairly certain he had his back to her anyway. “We talked about this, Cadon. We’re supposed to be going slowly. I told you that I always start caring too easily. All it takes is your fingers rubbing me, apparently, and I just fall all over myself. I can’t help it.” She wanted to cry.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “I see. That’s why you’re angry.”
“Why do you have to be so… so perfect?”
He let out a disbelieving laugh. “I hardly think I’m perfect. We can’t see each other in the light or I’ll go berserk and hurt you.”
“Well, that’s not your fault.”
“And I’m distrustful of you,” he said. “Seemingly for no reason, because I feel as though you’ve proved to me more than once how genuine your feelings are for me, and yet I can’t… believe it.”
“Well, neither can I,” she said.
He sighed again.
She sighed too. She released her fists.
“Why don’t you go?” he said. “You’ve clearly done enough for me. We’ve been together in that carriage all night, and you’ve been thinking of nothing but me all morning. We should be apart. It’s better.”
“Fine.” She stood up from the bed.
“Fine,” he said.
She walked over the rugs toward the door of his room.
“I really am grateful, you know. It’s very nice what you did for me. I don’t deserve it.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. She stopped in the doorway and hesitated. “I’ll come back after it’s dark. We can go outside for a walk on the grounds in the moonlight.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
“All right.” And now she was smiling.
HAID WOKE UP and didn’t know where he was. It took several moments to remember it all. The iubilia. Capturing the Cowntess. The things he’d said in the carriage. He cringed.
Oh, blazes, why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
And then, the plan to come here.
He looked around the sitting room, which was familiar but not, stripped of everything that had ever made it belong to his family. The furniture here, for instance, was only what Madigain hadn’t wanted, what he’d left scattered through the house. It didn’t match and it had been shabby ten years ago. Now, it was downright decrepit.
He grimaced.
There was some food set out, under a silver dome, not warm at all but still edible. He ate bread and meat and drank some cold tea. Then he went looking for Sefoni. He would have asked for assistance from a servant, but there were none to be found.
The bell pulls in the sitting room didn’t work. He could see the ropes were frayed. That would all need repairing if they were going to stay here. They probably needed more servants as well. He should have thought this through, but he hadn’t wanted to think about the house.
Now, here he was, and…
For some reason, he thought the servants would have put Sefoni in a guest room, but the guest rooms were all empty—truly empty, not even containing any furniture. They were bare rooms full of cobwebs and dust.
Then he had a horrible thought, that they must have obviously put her in his mother’s old room.
Why hadn’t he said anything to anyone about this? He should have explained that he didn’t want her in there, that no one should be in that room.
He went there, rushing there, his heart in his throat, pushing aside memories of his mother, some happy—her twirling in her tiara, the one Haid would steal back from Madigain, laughing and smiling—and others painful—her reaching for him, screaming his name, bleeding—
He threw open the door.
Nothing there.
The bed was there, but it was stripped, the mattress stained and bare. Everything else was gone.
That was when he realized where they had put Sefoni.
His
entire body rebelled at the thought of it.
No, I’m not going in there.
But then, as if moving of their own volition, his feet turned and began to walk down the hallway, because his father’s bedchamber was quite close to his mother’s. He was shaking. His heart was squeezed painfully tight and yet somehow pounding against his wrists and temples. Sweat had gathered at the back of his neck and it was pouring down his spine.
He tossed open the door.
There she was, in his bed, curled up in a ball, fast asleep.
He couldn’t breathe.
Part of him wanted to scream at her to wake up and get out of this room, and that they must never go into this room ever again.
Part of him wanted to conquer the room somehow, to take it back from the memory of his father—his father the monster, his father the murderer—part of him wanted that man to have no more power over him anymore.
This part won out, and he took hesitant steps across the room to the bed.
There, he peered down at her. He untied his neckbow (how had he slept in it?) and took off his waistcoat. He untucked his shirt and his finger strayed under his shirt to the spot just below his ribcage. His fingers moved there.
He let out a noisy breath.
Then, kicking off his shoes, he climbed into the bed with Sefoni and gathered her into his arms.
She made a noise in her sleep, turning to him, snuggling against his body.
He held onto her and shook.
Maybe the shaking woke her. He didn’t know.
She opened her eyes, and she stretched a little. “Haid,” she whispered.
“Sefoni,” he whispered back. He kissed her.
She made a little surprised sound, but she didn’t resist him. Instead, she pressed close and opened her mouth to him.
He deepened the kiss.
He reached inside the nightdress she was wearing and found her breasts, which were unbound and glorious.
She gasped.
He rolled them over, her beneath him, and he put his mouth on her nipples.
Her hips bucked against him. Her back arched. “Haid,” she breathed.
He pinched one of her nipples.
She made a yipping noise. “What are you doing?”
“Didn’t like that?” He lifted his head to look at her.
“I’m not awake,” she said.
“You’re awake enough to tell me you’re not awake,” he said. “I need to… this room… we have to take it back somehow. I can’t be here if we don’t do something, and I need this.”
“Need what?” She was pulling on her nightdress to cover herself. “When you were in the carriage, when you were under the influence of the iubilia—”
“Oh, don’t remind me of that,” he groaned. “Why are you covering yourself? If it were up to me, you’d never cover these. When we were alone, you’d just parade around naked from the waist up and whenever you’d come close, I’d taste you.”
She turned bright red. “Haid!”
“What?”
“You can’t… say…” She wriggled out from beneath him. “I’m not awake.” She climbed out of the bed.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“I need a chamberpot.” She turned even redder.
He flopped back on the bed and then rolled over, face in the pillow.
Sefoni disappeared.
He was still shaking.
She came back. She perched on the edge of the bed and yawned. “I’m still tired.”
“I disturbed you.” He was lying on his stomach now, face turned sideways into a pillow. “My apologies.”
“You don’t like us being in this room,” she said. “I should have thought of that. It was only… Haid, this place, it was a shock.”
“Was it?”
“You’ve let it go,” she said. “It’s barely habitable.”
He buried his face in the pillow again. Maybe this pillow did smell abominably of mildew. He groaned.
“You didn’t even tell them we were coming,” she said. “How hard is it to write a letter?”
“I didn’t want to come.” His voice was muffled. “I might have just pretended it wasn’t actually happening.”
“That’s not like you.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Oh, you’re an expert on me now?”
“No, I suppose not,” she said. “Sometimes, you do things, and I realize I don’t know you at all.”
Like attacking her in bed when she was half asleep? “I hate this room. I can feel him in here.”
“Your father, you mean?”
He decided not to answer that. He sat up, leaning his head against the headboard. “But we’ll want to be here when the child is born, I think, and the country is much better for children. We’ll want him to play outside and rollick in the fields under the sunshine. The city is no place for a child.”
She got up off the bed. “We don’t need to worry about that now.”
He eyed her. What was it about her manner? “It’s not too late for the tea, I don’t think. If you’re starting to realize you don’t wish—”
“No, no,” she said. “I don’t need the tea.”
“But you don’t want to talk about the child?”
“Not right now,” she said, and there was an irritated edge to her voice.
“You are under no obligation to carry this child, you realize that? I don’t truly want children, and if you don’t want—”
“Stop.” She wrung out her hands. “We have a lot of other things to think about besides that.”
He regarded her. “All right. We can leave the subject for now, but we will need to come back to it. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Haid, flames take you, what are we going to do about this house? We can’t live here. We need new…” She gestured. “Everything. New everything. And food will need to be purchased, and servants will have to be hired, and you should have sent word ahead, so that the staff here could have been preparing, but you didn’t, and now we’re…”
“Apologies,” he said. “I see your point. I suppose it’s not the best atmosphere for the woman carrying my child.” He looked around the room. Blazes, how many spiders had taken up residence in the corners?
“Can’t you go two moments without mentioning my being pregnant?”
He blinked at her.
She sat down on the bed, rubbing at her forehead. “I’m sorry. I… I’m tired. You slept in the carriage, but I couldn’t, not with the Cowntess there, and I really don’t think I got enough rest.”
“Of course. I should not have interrupted you,” he said. He got out of the bed. “You lie back down, go back to sleep. I’ll… see to the house.”
“You can’t just see to the house in an afternoon.”
“Go back to sleep and allow me to worry about it.”
“I’ll never be able to get back to sleep now.”
“Well, try.” He tucked his shirt back in and snatched up his neckbow and waistcoat and boots.
“Haid, really, I’m…” She sighed.
“It’s fine.” He started for the door.
“What if I’m not pregnant?” she called after him.
He stopped at the door. “It’s been over a month.”
“I… I’ve skipped months before.”
“All right,” he said. “So, you wish to wait until another month has passed before we talk about this?”
“I don’t have any other signs,” she said. “I’m not tired or sick to my stomach or anything like that.”
“You’ve just got done telling me that you’re tired.”
“But because I didn’t sleep, not because of anything else.”
He scratched the back of his head. “All right. You would know your body better than me.” He didn’t know anything about pregnant women, anyway, not truthfully. Perhaps he should ask questions of someone who did.
But who would that be? Pairce? Tristanne?
He didn’t know anyone who knew abo
ut pregnant women.
“I’m going.” He turned back to the door.
She didn’t stop him.
So, he shut the door on his father’s room and went downstairs. He descended another level down to the kitchens, and he found Maisses Yeine.
He spent hours sitting with her at the kitchen table working out what needed to be done in order to make the house livable, and then he dispatched her to make it happen.
After that, he went to check on Cadon and the Cowntess.
Cadon told him that Pairce had seen to his room, and that he was quite comfortable. The Cowntess only spat at him from within her cell.
“Why ransom me?” she said. “Why not just steal everything I have?”
“I don’t want your money, Yvain,” he said. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to fix your stepson so that he doesn’t go mad in the presence of flame.”
“Oh,” said the Cowntess. “I suppose you must have stolen him for a reason other than simply annoying me.” She laughed softly. “I don’t know how to fix him, so you’ve wasted your time.”
“You weren’t my first choice,” he said. “But I was assured by those knowledgeable in such things that the person who cast a spell is the only one who can reverse it.”
“You’ll never convince me to do anything for you.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
When he got back upstairs, Sefoni was with Maisses Yeine, saying that they must move the bed from his father’s room to another room, and he intervened to say that Maisses Yeine had far too much to do without that worry.
“But you said you don’t like it in there,” said Sefoni.
“Of course you don’t, poor dear,” said Maisses Yeine, looking him over. She hadn’t been a servant here when it happened. All those servants had fled, quit the place, never to return. However, he’d hired her immediately after it was over, and she remembered him as a fifteen-year-old duex with no family. Of course she pitied him.
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“What about another room for the duecess?” said Maisses Yeine.
“We don’t need to put you out,” said Sefoni. “I’m sure we can share for a few nights until some more help can be found. We don’t mind, do we?” She gave him a bright smile.
Scars and Swindlers Page 11
