“I want to be there too,” Kaden said.
Jace had had to bite his tongue not to say it first. “So do I.”
Rayad was a little hesitant, but he gave a nod. “We can’t have everyone heading upstairs, but I think we could manage you two without undue suspicion.”
“Good, we’re all set then. I’d better head back inside before someone wonders.” Anne turned and walked back toward the front of the manor house.
Jace, Rayad, Kyrin, and Kaden followed several paces behind. Halfway across the courtyard, a young man strode in their direction. His gaze swept Anne as he drew near, much the same way Rothas’s had when they’d arrived. Heat crept through Jace’s muscles. The young man gave Anne a bold grin. “My lady.”
Tilting her chin, Anne didn’t check her stride.
Unaffected by her rebuff, the young man’s smile lingered as they passed each other. Then his gaze fell on the group behind her. His dark blue eyes—a cross between Rachel’s indigo and violet and Sir Rothas’s hard ice blue—locked on Kyrin. Every muscle in Jace’s body went taut when the man didn’t look away. Instead, he perused her in a way that was by no means honorable. The more he looked, the hotter Jace’s blood flowed, working its way through his arms, right down to his fingers, which curled into fists.
Finally, they passed by, and Jace was hard-pressed not to grab the young man by the collar and warn him never to set eyes on Kyrin again. Jace glanced down at her, where she walked between him and Kaden. She had her head ducked to avoid eye contact and looked up again once the man was past them.
“That’s James,” she murmured.
This hadn’t occurred to Jace in the heat of the moment. He twisted around for another look at his half-brother. James was looking over his shoulder as well, his predatory gaze still fixed on Kyrin. But then it caught on Jace. They stared at each other, and Jace sent him a glare that left no uncertainty as to the threat behind it. In spite of this, an infuriating little smirk grew on James’s face.
Jace joined his mother in the parlor again that afternoon. Lady Dunrick had gone back to Brandell, her nearby home estate, and would return later with Charles. As they settled in, Jace said to his mother, “There are things I didn’t tell you earlier, and some things I still can’t share, but I want to tell you as much as I can. You’ll understand the complications when I do.”
Rachel nodded slowly to this, her expression open. “Go on.”
“You know the so-called rebellion in Landale? Well, I’m part of it.”
His mother’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she didn’t react openly. “I see.”
“The reason I want you to know this is because I want to tell you about another of my friends. Like Rayad, without her… I’m not sure I’d still be here.”
He had her full interest now. Having received both Kyrin and Kaden’s go ahead, Jace went forward with the truth. “Lady Anne’s maid—we call her Corinne—is really Kyrin Altair.”
Her eyes widened now. “Oh?”
For the briefest moment, Jace’s stomach clenched with the awful feeling that he had just put Kyrin in grave danger, but he mentally reinforced his trust in his mother and nodded. “I went through a dark time after Kalli and Aldor died. Kyrin is the one who helped me through it.” Her face filled his mind along with the memories of that time. “I’m not sure what I’d do without her.”
A soft smile touched Rachel’s face, and Jace told her about the previous summer, when both he and Kyrin had come to Landale. Certain parts were difficult. He couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her everything he had thought then—everything he still believed now. Perhaps he was afraid of disappointing her. He had already confessed to the number of people he’d killed. He hated to add any more stains to his image.
They talked for a long time about Kyrin and Landale. His mother was curious, but never pushed for more information than Jace was willing to give.
A couple of hours later, Elian stepped into the room. “Lady Dunrick and Lord Ilvaran have arrived, my lady.”
Rachel rose, and Jace with her.
“Wait here,” she told him. “I’ll go find Elanor and bring them in.”
Jace nodded and watched his mother leave. Once he was alone, he blew out a long breath. This was it. What would they think of him? His mother said they would love to meet him, but what if she was wrong? After all, they didn’t know his story. Would that change their opinion of him?
He tugged at his jerkin and smoothed the front, but then winced. After lunch, he had changed into the best clothes he had with him. It felt only right to try to make a good impression when his mother introduced him to more of the family. Still, his clothes were suited for a more rugged life at camp, not for social gatherings in a house like this. Even Elian was dressed more appropriately. Jace had asked Kyrin what she thought. Her response was a smiled declaration that he looked quite handsome. Another surge of warmth built in him as it had then. He would take her word for it.
Setting his mind on the matter at hand, he rubbed his palms against his pants and moved about the room to try to loosen the tension. After several long minutes, he picked up the sound of faint footsteps. He returned to his place near the chairs and exhaled slowly, his heart rate defying him again. What would the new faces that came through the door be like?
The footsteps neared and the door opened. His mother stepped in first, along with Lady Dunrick. Right in after them came a young woman and a man around Rachel’s age. He resembled her closely, but his hair was a shade lighter, and his eyes deep green like Lady Dunrick’s. A couple days’ worth of stubble shadowed his chin, and though his clothing was clearly of fine quality, it was much simpler than Jace would have expected for a nobleman. This helped put him more at ease, but what further aided this was the man’s kind face. The slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth suggested that he liked to smile and laugh—an encouraging sign.
The two newcomers regarded Jace curiously as they waited for Rachel to make introductions. She stepped between them, appearing just as nervous as Jace. She took a breath.
“Elanor, Charles… I want you to meet Jace… my son.”
Their eyes rounded, their expressions going slack. Charles’s mouth opened as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came until his gaze shifted back to Rachel.
“I thought . . .”
She shook her head. “Father and Rothas lied.”
“Merciful heavens,” Charles breathed.
He approached, and Jace had to fight the ingrained instinct to maintain more distance. Charles offered his hand, and Jace clasped his forearm. Gripping him with both hands, his uncle looked him over, his eyes still wide.
“Forgive me,” he said finally. “It seems words have failed me, but it’s as if you’ve returned from the dead.”
“I understand.” At last Jace’s hesitation subsided.
“And you can speaking freely,” Rachel stepped in to tell her brother. “He is a believer too.”
Delight lit Charles’s expression. “Then praise the King for not only bringing you back to us, but guiding you to His truth.”
Jace couldn’t help but smile even when he had his doubts. The pure joy his uncle drew from this meeting gave him an indescribable feeling of peace and belonging he rarely knew. When had anyone ever accepted him so readily?
Elanor stepped forward, her smile genuine and eager. She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Jace, I am so very pleased to meet you.”
Jace was just as pleased to meet her, his sister. He could sense the same kindness in her that he did in their mother and uncle.
With the initial greetings past, they took seats—Jace and his mother on the sofa, while the others sat in the chairs facing them.
“How did you find him?” Charles asked, his voice still echoing disbelief.
“I didn’t,” Rachel replied. “He arrived last night with Lady Anne from Marlton. Elôm’s work, clearly. I recognized him right away, but then had to wonder if the very thought was fool
ish. That’s why I sent for Mother this morning. I needed her advice. But as soon as I spoke with Jace, I had no doubt.”
Charles shook his head. Jace could just imagine what a shock it was on the other side of this as well. His uncle’s gaze turned to him.
“Incredible. So, where have you been these last . . .” he glanced at Rachel, “twenty-one years?”
Jace couldn’t suppress a wince and the desire to avoid that question. It wasn’t that he wished to hide the answer, but the shame of the things he had done in his past weighed heavily. As of now, his image was unmarred for his uncle and sister.
“I apologize,” Charles said. “That was insensitive of me. I should have realized you may not wish to share.”
“No, it isn’t that so much . . .” Jace hesitated. He did want to share—they were family, after all—but would their view of him change? Would their acceptance disappear?
“He was a slave,” his mother supplied quietly. She laid a gentle hand on his arm as if she knew of the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Father must have given him away to a slave trader.”
Charles and Elanor looked at her aghast. The muscles in Charles’s jaw tightened, particularly when Rachel added in an even quieter and more regretful tone, “He was then forced to be a gladiator.”
Jace dropped his gaze to his hands, unable to stop the way his mind tried to scare him into believing they would think the worst of him. After all, didn’t he think it himself? To see it in their faces would break him.
Elanor let out a little gasp. “That’s horrible.”
Jace forced himself to look up. The repulsion on their faces was clear and terrifying, yet it was not for him. It was for the evil he had endured. The compassion and sympathy growing in their expressions proved that.
“It’s barbaric,” Charles ground out, his eyes hard until they fell back on Jace and softened. “I am so sorry it happened to you.”
Jace swallowed hard through his thickened throat. “Thank you.”
“How did you escape it?” Elanor’s eyes were large and riveted on him.
Once again, Jace condensed a retelling of how he had met Rayad and their life at the farm. In those moments that his sister and uncle focused on him so intently, he marveled over the rarity of meeting a group of people where not one of them looked at him as something strange and different. They each knew of his ryrik blood, but it was as if it didn’t even exist. Sitting in this room with these four people, for the first time in his life, he was normal.
He was family.
Anne pinned up a final curl and smoothed the bodice of her evening gown, this one a spring green brocade, and turned to Kyrin. They were both more than a little on edge this evening.
“I’d better go down. Will you be all right?” They all risked a lot by being here, but none quite so much as Kyrin.
However, she nodded with a look of intense determination. Anne could only imagine what sort of thoughts she might have lurking underneath, especially after what had happened to her father in Valcré. Still, she was willing to go through with it. The Altairs were certainly a brave family.
“You are confident you can find the office?” Anne had been very specific about its location, but Kyrin had seen little of the manor house. Rothas’s office was clear in the opposite wing of the place. The more time she spent wandering around looking for it, the greater the chance of being caught and having to try to talk her way out of it.
“I’ll find it,” Kyrin said with enough confidence to reassure Anne. “It’s not like I can forget your directions.”
They both broke into smiles, relieving some of the tension.
“I’m sure Rayad will be along shortly. Remain here a bit just to be sure supper has begun.”
Kyrin nodded again, and Anne turned to go but looked back. “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks.”
Anne stepped out of the bedroom and walked down the hall. After a plea to Elôm for Kyrin’s safety and the success of their mission, she set her thoughts on enduring yet another meal at Sir Rothas’s table. Tonight she didn’t dread it as much as she might have. She had a keen interest in meeting Jace’s uncle, the popular Viscount Ilvaran. She had not seen him before, but many in her parents’ circles spoke of him with high regard.
When she entered the dining room, she spotted him easily. He was a handsome man with a genuine smile—quite the opposite of Sir Rothas. The viscount followed his sister around the table for introductions.
“Pleased to meet you, Lord Ilvaran,” Anne greeted him.
“And you as well, my lady,” Charles responded kindly.
If only his brother-in-law could learn from his manners.
Just as the night before with the countess present, Sir Rothas was forced to behave himself, and even James ceased with his incessant flirting. The one time he did attempt to charm Anne, Charles sent him a disapproving frown. She found it quite refreshing, if not a bit amusing. How nice to know the family had one man of honor.
She quickly corrected herself. They had two. Jace was a part of the family as well.
As pleasant as it was in Charles’s company, Anne didn’t have much of an appetite tonight. Though she was careful to keep up appearances and remain outwardly attentive to the conversation, her mind always centered on Kyrin. If only she could know when she made it to the office and was safely back in their room. It was hard to stomach anything, what with the churning dread of what would happen if any of them were caught.
Not too long into the meal, the butler approached Rothas.
“Excuse me, sir, this just arrived for you.”
He handed him a sealed letter. Anne caught only a brief glance, but her pulse spiked at the gold seal that could only belong to Emperor Daican. Rothas tore it open and scanned the contents in intent silence. After a moment, he snorted in apparent disgust.
“Word from the emperor?” Charles asked casually.
Though Anne avoided looking too curious, she listened closely.
Rothas only murmured confirmation as he perused the rest of the letter. Finally, he looked up. “News from Samara, specifically. Apparently, there is a man masquerading as some sort of miracle-worker. The unenlightened Elôm worshippers in the area are claiming he’s some sort of savior.”
He sent his wife a condescending glance. Though Rachel’s face remained poised, Anne caught a glint of curiosity that grew inside her as well. Timothy’s words concerning a Savior at the sacrifice she and her parents had attended came back to her. Surely this couldn’t be what he spoke of, could it?
Rothas gave another rather undignified snort and rose abruptly.
“If you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. I’ll be in my office.”
Anne’s heart slammed her ribs. Kyrin! She gripped her chair with her free hand, resisting the urge to jump up.
Rothas’s gaze fell on Charles and his mother. “My lord, Lady Dunrick, I will be late so allow me to bid you good evening.”
They each nodded, and Rothas strode from the room.
Working hard to suppress a rising flood of panic, Anne folded her napkin and laid it on the table, using that time to banish the fear from her voice.
“Actually,” she said, praying to sound normal, “I’m afraid I am suffering from a bit of a headache and can’t find my appetite. Would it be very rude if I excused myself as well, just to rest for a bit?”
“No, not at all.” Rachel smiled, but a curious look in her eyes suggested that she might know something was up.
“Perhaps you will feel up to joining us in the drawing room later?” Charles said graciously.
Anne forced a smile despite her urge to run upstairs and find Kyrin. “I hope so.”
Leaving her chair, Anne walked from the room in as poised a manner as she could manage. Only after she was out of sight and earshot did her steps hasten. Please, Lord, let her still be in our room!
Jace fought to keep still. He wanted to get up and pace—no, he wanted to be the one to go instead o
f Kyrin—but he stayed in his seat as Kyrin and Rayad discussed what to look for in the office. He didn’t wish to make her any more nervous by his own fidgeting. His thoughts were so focused on what she was about to do that he almost didn’t hear her speaking to him.
“What was it like, meeting your uncle and sister?”
His gaze jumped to her, taking in her calming smile as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m not sure how to describe it… I’ve never truly belonged like that.”
Her smile widened. “I hope I can meet them all one day.”
“So do I.” More than she probably even realized.
She studied him for a long moment, and his heart skipped strangely. Just because of concern, surely.
“I can see your mother in you,” she said finally.
“Really?” All he and others ever saw was the dominance of his ryrik blood.
Kyrin nodded. “Yes, you have her smile… and her eyes. Well, not the color, but there’s something of her in them.”
Jace let this sink in, and found it a comforting thing. It was something to hold on to whenever he thought of his birth father and the undesirable traits he had inherited from him.
A few moments later, Rayad spoke up. “I think we’ve waited long enough.”
Kyrin pushed up from her chair and took a deep breath. Jace rose too. He would never be able to sit still while she was gone.
“Just find what you can, but don’t linger,” Rayad instructed her. “And remember, make sure to leave everything as it was.”
“I will.”
Rayad walked her to the door. As she stepped out, Jace said, “Be careful.”
It was not what he wanted to say. He wanted to beg her to stay and pull her back into the safety of the room. Somehow he stopped himself, though everything about it felt wrong.
She looked back and gave him a quick smile and a nod. Rayad closed the door behind her. The room grew quiet. Jace ran his hand through his hair and looked over at Kaden. Unspoken concern passed between them. They would both lose their minds before she returned.
Samara's Peril Page 10