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Authors: Sharon Shinn

Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) (59 page)

BOOK: Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses)

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“You find them repulsive?” she asked, because she wasn’t sure what he meant. “We could blow out the candles so you don’t have to see them.”

He shook his head. “No. No, no, no. Not repulsive, and certainly quite honorable. I just—I don’t like to think that at some point you were hurt and in pain.”

She let that pass, because she didn’t know how to answer. To her, pain had never seemed to be the point; surviving was the point. Instead, she flattened her hand against his chest, the unmarred flesh partly covered by a light sprinkling of curly gray hair. “And look at you,” she said, her voice half teasing, half admiring. “Skin as smooth as a baby’s. I never touched an aristocrat’s body before. It’s so clean! I think you must bathe every day and then cover yourself with scented oils.”

“I have some of those very oils in that cabinet over there,” he drawled. “Shall I fetch them? I think you might like the way they feel.”

She laughed back at him. “I think I might.”

He hooked his fingers in the loop of her trousers and began to pull down. “In a minute,” he said, his voice a little husky. “First, let’s see what else we’ll find.”

What he found was her ankle sheath strapped to her left leg, with the small, deadly dagger still in it. She snorted with laughter at the expression on his face. “You never know when you might need another weapon,” she explained.

“Could you—do you think—take it off? Just for a while?” he asked.

She pretended to consider. “I don’t usually. Not for any reason.”

“Not even in situations such as this?”

She raised her eyebrows in a skeptical fashion. “When I’m sharing a bed with a new man for the first time? When I’m at my most vulnerable? That’s the
last
time I’d want to give up all my protection.”

“I assure you,” he said solemnly, “I have no designs on your life. Only your virtue.”

“And I could fend you off if you tried to overpower me,” she said.

“I’m bigger and heavier than you are,” he pointed out.

She gave him a derisive look. “You’re weak and untrained,” she said. “No conditioning.”

His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “And yet, I think you’ll find my endurance remarkable.”

She sat up just enough to unbuckle the sheath, though she very ostentatiously laid it on the nightstand within easy reach. “I hope so,” she said. “Let’s begin the demonstration.”

WEN
had thought she had enjoyed making love in the past, with partners who brought a range of passion to their encounters. Sometimes she had found the sex act to be a laughing romp, other times a brief and intense coupling, other times a clumsy and unsatisfying physical bout.

But Jasper Paladar made her laugh and made her gasp and made her feel cherished and then started all over again. She found she liked the sweet-scented oils. She liked the feel of the fine linen sheets against her skin. She liked the way the aristocracy considered lovemaking a leisurely pastime, as much to be savored as good wine or good food.

Or maybe that was just Jasper.

She was pretty sure not all Thirteenth House lords recited poetry to their bedmates once the lovemaking was over. He ran his fingers with a delicious lightness over the curves and surfaces of her body as he murmured verses about someone remembering a night of abandoned passion.

I am awake now, but then I was surely dreaming.
Few hours come so laden with content.
Few pass with such luxury, gorged and heavy-seeming,
And I know this, and I will not repent—
No, not though six days or sixty years pass by,
Clamorous with struggle, tense with strife and plot,
And holding no other treasures . . .

She liked the words more than she would have expected. “Who wrote that?” she asked. “You?”

“Hardly. I have put my hand to a verse or two, but never with particularly felicitous results. That was Martolin Brassenthwaite. Related in some distant fashion to the current marlord.”

“Write it down for me,” she said.

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you one of his books.”

She was doubtful. “I don’t know that I want to just sit around reading poetry. And, you know, I pack light. I don’t keep too many unnecessary possessions.”

“It’s a very small volume,” he assured her. “Illustrations on half the pages. Anyway, books
are
necessary possessions.”

“Weapons are necessary possessions.”

“Then I suppose you might give me a dagger to commemorate this night?”

“You ought to have one. Just in case. But since you don’t know how to use it, I don’t know that it would do you much good.”

“You could give me private lessons.”

“Oh no,” she replied. “If you’re going to learn to fight, you should learn it in the training yard like Karryn does.”

He sighed. “You have such a soft and romantic way about you.”

“I’m a practical girl,” she said. “It’s what you like about me.”

“It’s
one
of the things I like about you,” he corrected. His hand continued its idle stroking, but she had the sense that his mind had moved on to another matter. Fair enough. She had matters of her own to attend to. She pushed off against the pillows and sat up.

“Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up beside her.

“You didn’t expect me to stay the night, did you, and risk being seen leaving in the morning?”

His face was blank. “I hadn’t thought about it at all,” he said. “Though I would like it if you could stay a little longer.”

“I could come back tomorrow night,” she suggested.

His eyes widened. “Of course you can! I mean, I assumed you would! Must I issue an invitation every day, or will you understand that you are always welcome in my room?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think, with all our restrictions, we will have to make sure we are both free any night we want to meet,” she said. “There are people who are paying attention to my movements, even if they can’t call me to account, and there’s no end of people watching you.”

“So we must accept the necessity for a certain degree of subterfuge.”

“Yes,” she said, grinning again, “but sometimes that’s half the fun.”

He didn’t smile back. In fact, he looked a little worried. “I have something to tell you that you won’t like,” he said.

She casually reached for the dagger and began restrapping it to her ankle. She wondered if he was about to confess some long-standing betrothal or other commitment, something that would make it clear how very different their stations were, how transitory their relationship. “Yes?”

“Remember, though, that you promised you wouldn’t leave for another month? At least?”

“I don’t think I did make that promise.”

“Well, make it now.”

The sheath in place, she settled back on the bed facing him. She was quite comfortable being naked, and he didn’t seem discomposed, either. At least by his nudity—something else was clearly on his mind. “This seems like a bad time to be making you promises,” she said. “Just tell me what you’re so worried about.”

He took her hands in both of his, holding them rather tightly. “The royal consort will be arriving here sometime in the next week,” he said. “Accompanied by a cohort of Riders.”

She jerked back, feeling a hot spike of inchoate emotions—rage, fear, panic, resentment, longing, loss. It took only one fierce twist for her to free her hands, but he instantly caught hold of her again and this time she let him keep his grip. She was surprised to find that she was shivering. Less surprised to find her stomach a hard and bitter knot. She didn’t meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to read on her face.

“Why is he coming here?” she asked at last.

“He has been touring the southern Houses. He will be leaving Rappengrass soon. But, Wen, I didn’t mean to be concealing this from you. I have known for some time that Cammon was on his way, but it is only recently that I realized what such a visit might mean to you.”

She shook her head as if to ask for silence, and he immediately stopped talking. It took her a moment to achieve calm, but she was determined to rein in her galloping heartbeat. If Cammon was coming to Forten City, he would be attended by a half dozen Riders at least. Some might be new recruits, but there was no chance he would have left the palace grounds without some of the most seasoned Riders at his back. Tayse, for a dead certainty. Justin, just as likely.

She could not face either of them. She could not face Janni or Hammond. Too many questions, not enough explanations, not enough peace in her heart. She would leave in the morning, she would slip outside the hedge this very night, pack her bags in stealth the minute she made it back to the barracks. Serephette would probably be glad to see her go, and Karryn would soon enough overcome her disappointment. . . .

But someone wanted Karryn dead.

Whoever had tried to kill her once would undoubtedly try again. The guards Wen had assembled were good, but were they good enough?

What if Wen left? What if another assault was made, and this one was successful? What if Karryn was murdered? Would that not be as unforgivable as allowing Baryn to die practically at her feet?

But I cannot stay here forever,
Wen thought. Her fingers spasmed within Jasper’s grasp, but he did not release her and she did not try to pull away.
Even if I stay until this present danger is past, some new threat will arise. A marlady is never completely safe.

But if I wait until this crisis is resolved, I can ride away with a clear conscience, knowing that I have discharged my duty during my prescribed time.

But this crisis is very far from over.

I cannot leave her. I cannot leave Jasper. Not now. I cannot ride away tonight.

She took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. His face was creased with concern; his gray eyes were narrowed with a combination of hope and worry. “I can’t be at Fortune while Cammon is here,” she said flatly.

He nodded. “I know that. But—”

“But I am not ready to leave for good,” she added. “I will stay on the grounds until just before he arrives. And I will take lodgings in the city while he and his entourage are here. If anyone needs me, I’ll be easy to find. And I’ll return when Cammon is gone. I don’t think you can ask more of me than that.”

He looked inexpressibly relieved. “No, indeed, that is quite generous,” he said. “Now if you will only forgive me for concealing information from you, your generosity will be complete.”

“I will think that over,” she said darkly, and he sighed.

“Could you think it over from here?” he suggested, tugging her in his direction.

BOOK: Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses)

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