The Kiss of Deception (20 page)

I thought of Pauline, no one more pure and humble of heart than she, which made her prey to the darkest of hearts. Though it was the holiest of days, I let a mumbled curse escape under my breath for Mikael. An older woman near me smiled, thinking my earnest muttering marked me as devout. I returned her smile and turned my attention back to the priest.

Only a small remnant of the whole earth remained. They endured three generations of testing and trial, winnowing the purest from those who still turned to darkness. The dark of heart they cast deeper into the devastation. But one alone, First Daughter of Harik, a humble and wise girl named Morrighan, found special favor in the sight of the gods. To her they showed the path of safety so she could lead the chosen Remnant to a place where the earth was healed, a place where creation could begin anew.

Morrighan was faithful to their guidance, and the gods were pleased. She was given in marriage to Aldrid and for evermore Morrighan’s daughters and all generations of First Daughters were blessed with the gift as a promise and remembrance that the gods would never again destroy the earth as long as there were pure hearts to hear them.

The rites continued through midday until the First Daughters administered the breaking of the fast, just as the young girl Morrighan had done so long ago when she led the hungry to a place of plenty. I spotted Pauline on the shadowed portico steps placing bread in the hands of worshippers and Berdi on another side of the Sacrista doing the same. Another First Daughter served me, and when the last piece of bread was distributed, at the priest’s direction, everyone partook together. By this point, my knees ached and my stomach was rolling with curses, bellowing at the insultingly small morsel of bread. When the priest said the parting words, “So shall it be—” everyone woke up and offered a resounding
for evermore.

The worshippers rose slowly, stiff from a long day of prayer, ready to return to their homes for the traditional and full breaking of the fast. I walked back alone, wondering where Kaden and Rafe had gone.

I stretched my shoulder, wincing. There was still work to be done at the inn for the evening meal. It was a holy feast, and most observed it at home. Many of the out-of-town worshippers attended the public meal offered at the Sacrista, so only a few guests of the inn would likely dine there. The fare was roasted pigeon, nuts, bush beans, berries, wild greens, all eaten from a community dish, the same as the first simple meal that Morrighan had served the chosen Remnant, but there were other ceremonial details that had to be attended to, especially preparation of the dining room. As much as my stomach rumbled for food, my bruised body yearned for a hot bath, and I wasn’t sure which I craved more. The last small climb to the inn did particular injustice to my ankle.

Between food and a bath, I thought of Rafe and the garlands he had brought. Bringing me the dropped bundles was one thing, but the effort to find the same garlands to replace the crushed ones still mystified me—especially with the other vile task he’d had to attend to. He was so hard to understand. One moment his eyes were full of warmth, the next ice cold—one minute he was attentive, the next he brushed me off and walked away. What battled inside of him? Replacing the garlands was a gesture beyond kindness. There was unspoken tenderness in his eyes when he held them out to me. Why couldn’t I—

“You’re still limping.”

Warmth flooded through me, my joints becoming loose and hot all at once. His voice was soft in my ear, his shoulder casually brushing mine. I didn’t turn to look at him, only felt him keeping step with me, staying close.

“You’re devout after all,” I said.

“Today I had need to speak to the gods,” he answered. “The Sacrista was as good a place as any.”

“You went to offer thanks?”

He cleared his throat. “No, my anger.”

“You’re so brave that you would shake your fist at the gods?”

“It’s said the gods honor a truthful tongue. So do I.”

I looked at him sideways. “People lie every day. Especially to the gods.”

He grinned. “Truer words were never said.”

“And which god did you pray to?”

“Does it matter? Don’t they all hear?”

I shrugged. “Capseius is the god of grievances.”

“Then it must have been he who listened.”

“I’m sure his ears are burning right now.”

Rafe laughed, but I stared straight ahead. There was no god of grievances called Capseius. The gods had no names at all, only attributes. The God of Creation, the God of Compassion, the God of Redemption, and the God of Knowledge. Rafe wasn’t devout. He wasn’t even learned in the most fundamental tenets of Morrighan Holy Truths. Did he come from such a backward place they didn’t even have a small Sacrista? Maybe that was why he didn’t want to talk about his roots. Maybe he was ashamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE PRINCE

I had spotted Enzo in the crowds just as we were arriving at the Sacrista. I surprised him, moving in close and clamping down on his arm. I made it clear with the tilt of my head that we were taking a little detour. We needed to talk. The sweat sprang to his brow instantly. At least he had the good sense to be worried.

I took him a fair distance away from the crowds, in case he was as much of a sniveling fool as I suspected. When we were out of sight, I slammed him up against the wall of the smithy. He raised his fists for a moment to fight back and then thought better of it, erupting in indignant wails.

I pushed him back against the wall so hard it shuddered. “Shut up! And listen to every word I say, because the next time we meet like this, one of us will be leaving without a tongue. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He nodded his head wildly, babbling yes over and over.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” I leaned close and spit out each word clear and low. “I was in the loft yesterday morning. I heard you talking to someone, and I heard you give directions to the upper road.” I paused, glaring long and hard. “And then I heard the jingle of coins.”

His eyes grew wide in horror.

“I never want another word about Lia to pass from your lips. And if one word should escape,
even by chance
, I’ll stuff every coin that’s in your greedy little palm down your throat right before I cut out your tongue. Do you understand me, Enzo?”

He nodded, his mouth firmly sealed shut in case I decided to make good on my threat now.

“And this will remain just between us,
understood
?”

He nodded vigorously again.

“Good fellow,” I said, and patted his shoulder.

I left him cowering against the wall. When I was a few yards away, I turned to face him again. “And, Enzo, just so you know,” I added cheerfully, “there’s no place on this continent where you can hide from me if I choose to find you. Wipe your nose now. You’ll be late for the sacraments.”

He stood there, still frozen. “Now!” I yelled.

He wiped his nose and ran, circling wide around me. I watched him disappear down the lane.

Don’t make matters worse.

It seemed they already were. If only I had been brave enough to refuse the marriage in the first place, she never would have had to run, she never would have had a knife held to her throat, she never would have had to work at an inn with a slimy lout like Enzo. If I had acted so she didn’t have to, everything would be different.

Don’t tell her who you are. Don’t make matters worse for Dalbreck or your fellow soldiers.

If I stayed here much longer, everyone would find out. Sooner or later, I would slip. Sven was smarter than I gave him credit for. He had known things would go wrong, but how could I have known that Lia would turn out to be someone so very different from the person I expected?

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE ASSASSIN

I sensed them long before I saw them.

It was the
settling
, my mother had called it, the balance of thought and intent pushing its way into new places, finding a place to settle, displacing the air. It made your fingertips tingle, your hair rise on your neck, it reached into your heart and added a beat, and if you were practiced, it spoke to you. The settling was strongest when those thoughts and intents were foreign, out of place, or urgent, and there was no one more out of place or urgent in Terravin than Griz, Malich, Eben, and Finch.

I skimmed the heads of the crowd, and Griz’s head easily loomed above the others. He wore his cap pulled low to shadow his face. His scars were a sure way to make small children shriek and grown men pale. When I was certain he’d seen me too, I wove my way through the crowd and slipped down a quiet lane, knowing they’d follow.

When we were a safe distance away, I spun around. “Are you nicked in the head? What are you doing here?”

“How long does it take to part a girl from her noggin?” Finch growled.

“You’re early. And there’ve been complications.”

“Curse it!” Griz said. “Pop her head tonight, and let’s go.”

“I’ll do it!” Eben said.

I shot Eben a menacing glare and looked back at Griz. “I’m still getting information. It might be useful to the Komizar.”

Griz squinted and raised a suspicious scarred brow. “What kind of information?”

“Give me one more week. The job will be done, and we’ll meet when and where I told you. Don’t show your faces here again.”

“A week,” Finch moaned.

Malich looked around dramatically. “Must be quite agreeable sleeping in a bed, eating hot food out of a real pot, and enjoying who knows what other pleasures. I might like to share in some of—”

“One week,” I repeated. “But I can always tell the Komizar you were impatient and I had to forgo information that would benefit Venda.”

Malich glared. “I think it’s more than information you’re getting.”

“What of it?” I taunted.

Malich had never made a secret of his contempt for me. The feeling was mutual. He was jealous of my favored status with the Komizar and of my quarters in the fortress tower instead of the council wing, where he lived. I disliked his overly zealous methods. But he was capable in his duties. Deadly, shrewd, and loyal. He had covered my back more than once—for Venda’s sake, if not mine.

Griz stomped away without any more words to me, cuffing Eben on the back of the head as he left. “Let’s go.”

Finch grumbled. He was the only one among us who had a wife at home. He had reason to begrudge any further waiting. We had all been gone for the better part of a year. Malich rubbed the finely trimmed hair on his jaw, scrutinizing me before he turned and followed the others.

One week.

I had pulled it out of thin air. One week would make no difference. There was no information. No reason to delay. In seven days, I would slit Lia’s throat because Venda meant more to me than she did. Because the Komizar had saved me when no one else would. I couldn’t leave this job undone. She was one of them, and one day she would return to them.

But for now, I had seven more days.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“It wouldn’t hurt to add a little swing to your step when you walk in there,” Gwyneth said, tilting her head toward the kitchen door.

Pauline immediately voiced her disapproval. “This is a holy meal, Gwyneth.”

“And a celebration,” Gwyneth countered as she slid six roasted pigeons from the spit onto platters. “How do you think all those First Daughters came to be born from the Remnant? My bet’s that Morrighan knew how to swing
her
hips.”

Pauline rolled her eyes and kissed her fingers as penance for Gwyneth’s sacrilege.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I am not flirting with anyone.”

“Haven’t you already?” Gwyneth asked.

I didn’t answer. Gwyneth had witnessed my frustration as I came in the kitchen door. Once again, Rafe had gone from attentive and warm to distant and cold as soon as we reached the inn. I’d slammed the kitchen door behind me, and I’d said under my breath, “What is wrong with him?” Gwyneth heard my grumbling. I tried to cover by saying I was talking about Enzo, but she would have none of it.

“What about the blond one? What’s the matter with him?”

“Nothing’s the matter with him! Why are you—”

“I actually think he has kinder eyes,” Pauline said. “And his voice is—”

“Pauline!” I looked at her incredulously. She turned back to arranging piles of bush beans.

“Oh, stop acting so innocent, Lia. You know you find them both attractive. Who wouldn’t?”

I sighed. Who wouldn’t indeed. But there was more to how I felt than simple attraction. I spilled sorrel, rose hips, dandelions, and loquats onto the platters surrounding the pigeons in a colorful edible nest, and even though I didn’t respond, Gwyneth and Pauline continued to go back and forth on the merits of Rafe and Kaden and how I should proceed with them.

“I’m glad my friendships provide so much entertainment for you two.”

Gwyneth balked. “Friendships? Ha! But a sure way to get the attentions of one is to lavish yours on another.”

“Enough,” I said.

Berdi poked her head through the swinging door. “Ready?” she asked.

Each of us took a platter into the dining room, which Berdi had lit with candles. She had pushed four tables together to create one large one in the center of the room. The guests were already seated around it: Kaden, Rafe, and three others from the inn. The rest had gone to the public meal.

We set the trays in the center of the table and Pauline and Gwyneth quickly took the remaining open seats, leaving me to sit with Kaden on my left and Rafe adjacent at the corner on my right. He smiled as I sat, and my frustrations melted into something else, something warm and expectant. Berdi took her place at the head of the table and sang the remembrances. The rest of us joined in, but I noticed Rafe only moved his lips. He didn’t know the words. Had he received no instruction at all? It was the commonest of prayers. Every child knew it. I glanced at Pauline, sitting on the other side of Kaden. She had noticed too. But Kaden sang even and clear. He was schooled in the holy songs.