Shades of Truth (The Summerlynn Secrets) (37 page)

Cadrian,

Time is short. Come quickly. Tell no one.

Father

My father was alive.

Of course I would go to him. But where was here? He only said to come quickly. Did he mean to the island, as Liberty initially suggested, or the place on the map? The letter was undated, meaning it could be days, or even weeks old. How did he know where I was? Was he nearby? Perhaps in Crutten?

Oh, right. I had been spending quite a lot of time with the royal family of Goran. News like that traveled fast in newspapers and though word of mouth. My father probably even knew what color gown I wore at the moment.

This letter coupled with Liberty’s comment last night meant there was a strong possibility my father was alive. While my heart lightened, it also tightened because Sorin lied again. Or not. I cautioned myself not to be so quick to believe the worst of Sorin. The comment may have been made to separate me from the protection of the Norths.

My head was spinning. What if the letter was a fake designed to force my hand on the pendant? I hadn’t reacted to the news of my parents’ deaths very well, and the author could very well know I would leap at any evidence for my father’s continued existence. Whoever sent it might be watching my next moves, hoping I’d reveal whether I knew anything of value.

I couldn’t trust anyone. Not the Tallons, or the Norths, or even my father. I was surrounded by people with hidden agendas. Until I knew what was going on, I would keep my own counsel. That meant leaving for the X on the map and telling no one.

Yes, I knew it was wrong to set off for Bolien alone, especially when it came to navigating the Galeon Pass, but what choice did I have? My gut told me I should find whatever it was to be found on the map. I couldn’t believe the letter. My father was dead. If I thought otherwise and was wrong, I would have a second breakdown.

Besides, I held the map and the pendant. Sabean implied the two must be combined for the secrets to be found. I didn’t pretend to understand anything. But I must bring the two together to see what happened.

With preparations to be made, I refolded the letter and prepared to stand. The opening door caused me to abruptly turn, shoving the letter into the pocket of my light blue morning dress. I hoped whomever it was wouldn’t too closely examine the slight bulge pulling the fabric along my side.

“Cedric told me I would find you here.” The chocolate texture of Sorin’s voice poured over my spine. Accordingly, my muscles tightened. If anyone would notice the letter in my pocket, it would be him.

“The secret’s out, then.” Casually, I prepared to stand. If I spent any length of time with Sorin, he would be able to determine something bothered me and was tenacious enough to make me tell him.

“Please. Stay.” He lifted a hand in my direction. Dressed in grey riding breeches, tall black boots and black coat, Sorin appeared every woman’s fantasy of a hero come to ride her off into the sunset. Of course, I’d experienced that and found it not quite as the storybooks had it.

“As I am currently not speaking to you, there is no reason to stay.” Once I mentioned my anger, I felt a fresh surge of it. Not only had he left me on the dance floor in front of three hundred of his parents’ friends, he had the audacity to flirt with an old love in front of me.

Not his best night.

Sorin closed the door behind him. “Not quite the reaction I expected.” He lifted an eyebrow at me. “What has you in a temper?”

Had he fallen from his horse this morning? Onto his head?

“Making faces does not help matters.”

Unaware I’d been scowling, I smoothed my features into blankness.

“Sulking is for two year olds.”

I locked my jaw around the words I wanted to say. Instead I arched my eyebrows at him. A faint annoyance lengthened the normal curve of his bottom lip into a firm line. It was rather amusing irritating Sorin with my refusal to speak.

“If you expect an apology for our dance last night, do not hold your breath.” Now thoroughly annoyed, Sorin’s eyes were navy, his jaw set. “That was quite the best dance of my life.”

When I felt my anger dissipate, I reminded myself of Lady Constance. An image of the two of them, so perfect and beautiful, sprang to mind. Her delicate beauty, only enhanced by the perfect peaches and cream of her complexion, had drawn Sorin like a magnet. How close he’d leaned, his eyes lingering on exactly what Lady Constance wanted noticed.

Apparently this was quite acceptable behavior in front of the woman one recently proposed marriage to.

I lifted my eyes heavenward. At this rate, I would be trapped in the drawing room for ages while Sorin attempted to figure out why I was upset. Then I’d have to draw a diagram for him. Men were so dense. “Lady Constance.”

“Yes?” There wasn’t an unnatural pause or anything else about his reply to catch my attention. He sounded completely normal.

“You seemed very pleased to see her.”

“It has been a long time since I saw her.” I made a noise of disgust in my throat. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“For the woman you nearly married, she is quite beautiful.”

He sighed. “Who told you?”

“Rob.”

“Remind me to kill him.”

“It is not his fault you collect fiancés.”

“For a woman who refused to become one, you are quite concerned with the old one.” A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.” I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the pendant shift within my bodice.

“I thought you were through lying.”

“I’m not lying! I could care less if you decide to elope with Lady Constance!” All right. That was going a bit too far.

“Excellent. Then you shall have no problem knowing I just returned from riding to see her.”

A brutal slash of pain hit my heart. My breathing stalled momentarily, but I managed to keep everything except a quick grimace off my face. “Lovely. May I be the first to wish you every happiness?”

He frowned. “Cadrian, do you think so little of me that I would propose to one woman the day after I proposed to another?”

Desperate to salvage some of my pride, I said, “It hardly matters. I will be gone before long.”

Sorin took a step closer to where I stood. “Would you stay if I told you Lady Constance is nothing to me?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then consider the subject of Lady Constance closed.” His voice hardened.

“Very well. I shall not trouble you further.”

Settling himself on the sofa, Sorin spread his arms along the back of it. “Sit.
We have much to discuss.”

“I refuse to discuss Lady Constance.” I sat back down in the window seat. Nothing could entice me to move and sit beside him. Sorin had ways of persuading me from an already decided course of action.

“Actually, I already closed that subject. Word has reached me of a possible sighting of your father near Sal de Mar.”

“What?” I didn’t have to fake my astonishment. Did Sorin know about the letter? Having closely watched my reaction, he continued, “We are not certain it is he.”

“Then why tell me?”

“To see if he has attempted to contact you.”

“Why would he contact me?”

“Besides the obvious fact you are his daughter, you have something he wants very badly.”

“Which is?” I had a few ideas, but wanted confirmation before I committed to anything.

“His pendant.” Sorin’s blue eyes dropped to the top half of the pendant visible above the neckline of my dress. I had taken to wearing it, not knowing when I’d be presented with the opportunity to leave.

“I thought it was my pendant.” Protectively, I placed my hand over it.

“May I?” Beckoning me over, I, the fool, unhooked the pendant and walked to give it to him.

Tilting it this way and that, angling it toward and away from the sun, Sorin examined it. His thumb traced the indentions of the icon, before giving it a push so it spun on the chain. As I watched the spinning pendant, something clicked in my brain. I had seen something that reminded me in the angle the pendant dangled.

I gasped.

“What is it?” Alarmed, Sorin reached for my arm, his eyes searching my face.

“It’s a key.” I sank onto the sofa beside him, burying my face in my hands. I was only allowed that luxury for a minute, because I knew Sorin expected an explanation. “Or more accurately, a key mold.” Which is why my father told me the pendant unlocked the secrets.

“Explain.”

“It would be easier to show you.” Sorin extended the pendant toward me, but I was already waiting at the door, impatiently tapping my foot. “Well? Are you coming?”

He joined me. Forced to look upward to meet his eyes, I didn’t smile. “Though I have most probably already seen whatever it is you want to show me, I am yours to command.” His eyes swept downward over my body.

I was not in the mood for flirtation. “Can you not be serious for even a moment?”

“You have enough seriousness for the both of us.” Still holding the pendant, he brushed it gently against my cheek. “Stop worrying, sweetheart. Everything will be fine.”

I stepped through the doorway and briskly walked down the hallway toward the stairs. If I remembered correctly, the portrait gallery was on the second floor and stretched the entire length of the middle wing of the palace.

Though I heard Sorin behind me, I didn’t slow. I marched all the way to the portrait gallery, not stopping until I reached the painting of King Richard. The scene was the same. Sitting upright on his throne, the grey eyes stared off in the distance, a haughty look on the coldly arranged North features.

“I had no idea you liked my father so much you wish to stare at his painting.” Sorin’s voice startled my concentration.

“It is not your father who interests me.” Stepping closer, I focused my gaze on one of the two men pictured behind the king. The one that interested me was the younger, shorter of the two. Though his face was shadowed, a wealth of reddish gold hair hung below his collar as he stood at attention behind the throne. At his waist hung two objects: a flagon, and a set of keys.

Finding what I sought, I pointed, not daring to touch the actual paint. I imagined I could be killed for such an affront. “There.” From the key ring, a strikingly familiar key hung.

Sorin came forward, his eyes dropping to the man’s waist. He leaned over, shoulder brushing mine. I inhaled his cologne and wondered if I could simply press him against the wall and kiss him until we both forgot all about the pendant. “What am I looking for?” His question reminded me we weren’t here for amorous purposes.

“Look at the key.” On the painting, I indicated the prongs of a key that perfectly matched the icon on my pendant.

Raising the pendant, he nudged me gently out of the way, leaving me to lean against the wall. He maneuvered the pendant so it hung at the same angle the key did. They matched. Finished, he turned to me with a warm glow in his sapphire eyes. “You are amazing.”

My cheeks colored. “Only sometimes.”

“Always.” We stared at each other for a breathless moment. I was positive he would lean over to kiss me, and was disappointed when he tore his gaze away to look again at the painting. “When did you even see this painting?”

“Rob took me on a tour the day of my wardrobe fitting. I remember thinking there was something familiar about this painting but couldn’t place it then. It wasn’t until you spun the pendant that something clicked in my brain.” Unable to keep meeting the admiration evident in Sorin’s gaze, I looked back to the painting. “Who are those men?”

“I cannot be certain. Father must know, but I hesitate to tell him about the key.” At my inquiring look, he explained, “With the way things are going, I’d prefer to keep certain information secret.” I wondered what happened to make Sorin suspicious of his own father.

“For now, let’s keep this between ourselves.” I looked at his perfect features, thinking about every other private moment I wished to keep with Sorin. “Do we know what it unlocks?”

“I am not entirely sure.” His gaze skittered from mine, returning to the portrait. He really meant to keep me in the dark after I’d gone to all the trouble to tell him about the pendant! He wouldn’t even know it was a key if not for me!

He was not going to escape so easily this time. Reaching for him, I said, “Sorin, darling, I must tell you something.”

His head came around. “Did you call me darling?” He didn’t fight my grip on his arm pulling him against me and away from the painting. Encircling his waist, I grabbed handfuls of his shirt. Sorin was not going anywhere at the moment.

“Did you like it?” Feeling a little breathless from the shockingly intimate feel of his chest against mine, the words were less confident than I hoped.

His eyes closed briefly. “Too much.” One of his hands cupped my shoulder. The other nudged my chin upwards to more fully look into my eyes. “What is it you wish to tell me?”

Blankly, I stared at him. His closeness frayed my ability to marshal my thoughts. Well, any thoughts not involving kissing him, which, admittedly, were few at the moment.