Despite the umbrellas overhead shielding them from the sun’s most fervent rays, Jax continually fanned herself to ward off the uncomfortably warm air. She, too, wouldn’t mind retreating to the Hestian coast at this point. Where was the refreshing breeze from the cold spring she’d promised her companions?
“It has been unreasonably hot of late,” Abra murmured. “I encourage you all to seek refuge in the pools after lunch.”
The double doors swung open, briefly revealing the inside of the villa as Samira rolled out a gold cart heaping with covered dishes.
“I hope you all have worked up an appetite,” Abra purred as the cart rolled to a stop at the head of the table. “We have a wonderful spread of various salads native to our region.”
Samira scrambled to dole out plates and utensils before her mother began circling the lengthy table with the cart of goodies. Jax selected two salads, one made of beans, carrots, and pesto, while the other was more traditional leafy greens and shaved pheasant, topped with a spicy dressing.
Samira poured tea in her mother’s wake. Jax smiled at her graciously as the aroma of chocolate and cherry swirled into her nostrils. “I can’t wait to try this blend.”
Samira’s lips parted to respond, but a silencing look from her mother left her pale, her words dying in her throat.
Jax’s eyes flashed to Abra, who busied herself serving Hendrie and Uma. Her erratic attitude continued to puzzle Jax, but she knew better than to make a scene.
“This is delicious.” The formidable woman Jax had been studying earlier closed her eyes as she savored a bite of braised beef and mushroom.
“I’ve never had anything like this before.” Jax held up her spoon, laden with the bean salad, keen to strike up a conversation with the couple.
The man’s fiery eyes burned brightly against his dark skin. “We are lucky enough to have some Kwatalarian cuisine in our homeland, but it pales in comparison to the real thing.”
“Where are you visiting from?” Jax dabbed her napkin across her lips.
The woman gave her an assessing look that was not unkind, but laced with wariness. “My husband and I are from Zaltor.”
Jax kept her face neutral, hoping she would continue her hesitant introduction. Zaltor was to the south of Kwatalar, covered in a desert of its own, but pockets of lush jungle flourished throughout the region. Zaltor was also the home of the largest practicing faction of the Ancient Faith. Long ago, the Ancient Faith had been the sole belief system across the continent, enslaving all to the will of unnamed gods and demons. Since the creation of the Realm of Virtues, when the oppressed overthrew corrupt priests, the Ancient Faith had all but died out across the duchies. Only in Zaltor did the religion continue to thrive, much to the chagrin of its own Duchess.
When neither of the Zaltorians offered more information, Jax edged the conversation onward. “I’ve never been,” she said, playing the part of Lady Victoire.
“Nor would we expect you to have been,” the woman replied coolly. She reached for the pendant hanging around her slender neck, which Jax recognized as a relic of the Ancient Faith.
Many of those who followed the path of the Faithful had no love for the Children of the Virtues. It was a mutual feeling across the realm. Jax herself struggled at times to accept the archaic religion. She had been brought up to trust the principles of kindness, humility, bravery, and intelligence, and often questioned how people could believe their fate was in the hands of silent gods who never revealed themselves. But her father had promoted tolerance of the religion, instilling in her that every person had the right to believe in what he or she wanted, and as long as those beliefs did not bring harm to another, who was she to make them change their ways?
Jax was undeterred by the woman’s icy stare. “I hear it is beautiful. Your temples, despite their age, are said to be some of the finest structures in the realm.”
Her tight lips curved into a thin smile as something akin to approval flashed in her amber eyes. Clearly, Jax had demonstrated she was worthy of the woman’s time. “I am Edrice and this is my husband, Ammon.”
Jax dipped her head. It was evident from their wardrobe and refined demeanor these two were of high nobility within their duchy, even though Edrice offered no title with her name. As a meager lady from Mensina, she owed it to them to show respect. “Lady Victoire. I am here with my husband, Lord Rapaste.” Jax motioned to Perry, who was in deep conversation with Hendrie and Uma.
“What brings you to Ogdam Oasis, Lady Victoire?” Ammon asked, his jovial manner a sharp contrast to his wife.
“My husband and I were married not long ago, and decided a trip was in order to celebrate.”
“Congratulations to the happy couple.” Ammon raised his cup of tea before lowering it to take a sip.
Edrice ignored her husband’s niceties. “From what duchy do you hail?”
“Mensina,” Jax replied, suddenly regretting starting a conversation in which she would be peppered with questions.
“We just came from Mensina,” Ammon burst out. “What a coincidence.”
Jax’s eyebrows rose. What were two servants of the Ancient Faith doing in her grandfather’s duchy?
“Indeed,” Edrice added in a clipped tone. “We are making the long journey home after a rather tense visit.”
“Do you have family in Mensina?” Jax’s curiosity was at a near boiling point. She saw out of the corner of her eye that George, too, was listening to her conversation with interest.
“Heavens, no.” Ammon chuckled. “We were meeting with that Duke of yours.”
Jax forced herself to remain composed. “Really? I didn’t realize Duke Mensina kept Zaltorians in his confidence.” She prayed she did not sound rude, but this development shocked her. How had this information gotten past her courtiers and spies?
“We were hardly there as his confidants.” Ammon folded his arms across his barrel chest.
Edrice did not look pleased by her husband’s loose lips, and she put a hand on his arm, presumably to silence him. Jax suddenly wished she had pretended to be from anywhere other than Mensina. Had that been the case, perhaps Edrice would have been a little more forthcoming about the purpose of their journey to her grandfather’s court.
“Well, it sounds like you two are eager to return home,” Jax said once it was clear she would learn no more about their ties to Mensina.
Before either Edrice or Ammon could respond, a loud clatter drew everyone’s attention to the end of the table.
“What is this, chicken spit?” A dark and hairy man stood up from his seat, tossing his teacup to the ground. The beautiful ceramic dishware shattered into tiny pieces as the growling man marched away from the table, disappearing around the back of the house.
Jax turned to her husband, shocked. “What in Virtues was that about?”
Perry’s mouth hung open a beat longer before his face contorted into a scowl. Jax followed his gaze and watched as Samira rushed to scrape the cup pieces into a dustpan.
Abra appeared out of thin air, as if she had been watching the luncheon from the bushes lining the stairs of the patio. “We’ll have this cleaned up right away.” She then addressed the middle-aged woman sitting at the end of the table. “Lady Ines, is there anything we can do to apologize to your brother?”
The woman’s face had gone white. “Apologize? It is I who should be apologizing for his behavior.” She turned a sobering gaze to Samira, who was frantically trying to clear the patio of debris. “I am so sorry for my brother’s insensitivity. The herbal blend is wonderful, dear.” With grace, Ines stood from her seat and took off after her brother.
“I’ve seen wolves with milder tempers.”
Jax inched her seat back from the table so she could look upon the owner of the gravelly voice. Her gaze landed on a massive figure, who even from his seated position appeared to be a giant. Wild tangles of red hair hung around his face, his frown nearly obscured by a bushy beard, streaked with gray.
Whether
he felt her looking at him or not, the hulking man addressed the guests at the table. “His poor sister merely asked for the key to their suite before he exploded.”
Jax casted a glance at Samira, the contents of the dustbin in her hand rattling as the girl scurried away. Jax wondered if there was more anger behind the man’s gesture than just his sister’s request, something the bearded mass at the end of the table either didn’t know or failed to reveal.
Abra clasped her hands, having offered no assistance to her daughter while she cleaned up the mess. “I shall have Master Ferran provide Lady Ines with her own key to avoid any future outbursts.” She turned and waltzed through the swinging doors into the recesses of the villa.
Does she really think a key will do the trick? Jax had her doubts, for there seemed to be something else darkening the foul man’s mood. Jax scraped her fork across her plate, assessing the remaining guests around the table. They certainly made for an eclectic group. She leaned forward in her chair, trying to catch the eye of the wild-haired man. When she did she quickly said, “Forgive me, sir, but I did not get your name.”
He tipped an invisible hat her way. “Call me Alasdair, young lady.”
Jax’s eyebrows rose at his flippant address, and she heard Hendrie and Perry chuckle at the man’s cavalier attitude.
“Where are you from, Sir Alasdair?” she pressed on, curious about this rough and rugged man gracing their presence.
He folded his beefy arms. “It’s just Alasdair, miss. I’m not a man of title, nor do I wish to be.” He snorted, as if making a private joke to himself. “I come from the wilds of Beautraud.”
“Wilds?” Perry cast a quick look at Jax before continuing. “I’ve never heard Beautraud described before in such a manner.”
“Well, then, ye must be talking to the wrong people,” the man answered, and for the first time Jax recognized the brogue common among the lower class in Beautraud.
Unsettled by the darkness stirring in the man’s eyes, Jax redirected the conversation. “What brings you to the Oasis?”
“I’m a hunter. There’s a wild animal causing trouble for the Ogdams and the nearby village, and I’m here to deal with it.”
Uma sat up straight, looking alarmed. “An animal? What kind of trouble? Should we be worried?”
Alasdair chuckled, the sound like coals crumbling in a fireplace. “Nothing to be nervous about, little maiden. I’m on its trail. I just advise ye to be on alert for any of meh traps, should ye go off the property exploring.”
“What kind of animal are you hunting?” George spoke up, apparently unable to hold back his concern for the Duchess of Saphire and her companions any longer.
Alasdair’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’re an awful inquisitive group for a bunch of nobles. Usually yer kind have their heads up in the clouds while we do all the dirty work.”
The disdain in his voice was clear as the cloudless sky above them.
Chapter Seven
The blazing heat from the afternoon sun did nothing to warm the chilly air that had descended around the table. Clearly, Alasdair did not relish being in the presence of nobility.
Edrice stood, her tall, lithe body casting a shadow over Jax and Perry. “Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you and your companions, Lady Victoire.” She bowed her head slightly, motioning for her husband to follow. Her poise and smooth movements reminded Jax of a desert panther.
“I think I’ll retire to my rooms for a bit, dear brother.” Uma addressed Perry in character as she spoke, but gave Jax a quick look to silently convey her request for a private word. Jax had seen that glare enough times to know she was being summoned by her friend.
Vita and Hendrie followed wordlessly behind Uma, and the three disappeared around the patio toward the back of the villa.
Perry cleared his throat and took the lead. “It was a pleasure dining with you, gentlemen.” He stood up and acknowledged Louis and Alasdair.
Jax realized her husband waited for her to do the same. It would call too much attention to herself if she stayed behind. As much as she wanted to question Alasdair further about his views of Beautraud and see if she could gather any useful information about the Duke’s relationship with his own people, it would strike everyone as odd and could also lead to unwanted questions about her own past.
“Good day,” she said, primly dipping her chin in reverence to both curious guests.
She followed George and Perry until they were out of earshot of the table, at which time she remarked, “What an odd group. I wouldn’t have expected any of them to vacation at a desert resort.”
The frown George had worn through the entire luncheon deepened. Taking her and Perry by the arm, he ushered them to a deserted corner of the back patio, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t like the temper of the Tandorian or the attitude of the Beautraudian hunter.”
“Tandorian?” Jax asked.
“The one who stomped away. He had the royal seal of Tandora pinned to his lapel.” George gave her a surprised look. “You didn’t notice?”
Jax felt her face blossom with embarrassment. How had she overlooked such an important detail? She was usually very good at picking up on things others missed. “No. Charles’s dye must be affecting my vision,” she offered lamely.
Perry stroked his chin. “What would a member of the royal court of Tandora be doing here in the desert?”
“I’m not sure I want to ask him.” Jax shuddered at the man’s abhorrent behavior. “Perhaps his sister will be more forthcoming.”
“I don’t see a need to ask them. You’re here to relax, Ja—Lady Victoire.” George caught himself just in time. Even though they were alone and using hushed tones, there was no telling when someone might pop up.
“Don’t you think we should know who we’re up against?”
George’s dark eyebrows knitted together. “Up against? May I remind you, Lord Arthur and Lady Victoire, you are two nobles on a romantic holiday. If you pretend to do anything else, suspicions will arise.”
Jax bit her lip. He was right, of course. She was supposedly here to enjoy herself. As long as she continued to play her part, it didn’t matter if the other guests seemed uncomfortable staying at the glamorous retreat. “I suppose you’re right. It takes a bit of time to shake old habits, that’s all.” She cleared her head, putting thoughts of the peculiar time at the table aside. “Shall I meet you both at the cold spring?”
George’s cheeks reddened. “I think I’ll let you two have some time alone. There’s a private gazebo near the pool. I’ll be lounging there if you need my assistance.”
Perry’s eyes danced as he took Jax’s hand, rubbing her fingers. “I think we’ll be fine on our own.” His tongue ran seductively along his bottom lip.
Jax whipped her hand back, smacking Perry’s arm. There was no need for his raunchy display in front of George. “I’ll meet you there. I need to speak with Lady Marsina.” She had not forgotten the look Uma had given her before departing the table.
Perry shook his head, his snarky whisper barely reaching her ears. “I’ll probably end up memorizing everyone’s false identities by the time we leave.” He and George shared a chuckle before heading down the path leading to the springs.
With a withering look, Jax gathered her skirts and retreated inside. As soon as she stepped into the confines of the cool stone, the sweat rimming her brow chilled and sent a shiver down her spine. She had nearly reached the staircase in the foyer when she decided to make a quick detour to the kitchen and see if she could rustle up some iced tea. Following the same wafting smells that had led her to the patio for lunch, Jax expertly found the lengthy corridor leading to the service rooms. She had just about reached the kitchen entryway, when heated voices assaulted her ears from the door opposite her. Curious about who was speaking so angrily, Jax quietly tiptoed, careful to muffle her footsteps against the stone floor.
“Are you trying to disgrace yourself?” Abra’s hissing voice pummeled against the side of a c
losed door.
“I wasn’t trying anything, Mother. I was simply serving tea. Please believe me. Ow! You’re grabbing my arm too tight.”
Jax leaned her ear against a small crack in the door. Samira’s quiet sobs greeted her as she continued to protest. “It was the house blend. Sir Olavo had it just this morning after his arrival and said it was delicious.”
“Well, you must have done something to make him angry,” Abra snapped. “Why would he send such venom your way? And goodness, what will Tarek think when he hears you’ve angered a member of Duchess Tandora’s court?”
Jax poised herself to spring back as she heard footsteps approach the door, but they continued pacing around the room.
“His father will be mortified if he hears about the incident,” Abra continued. “I won’t remind you how important it is to be on your best behavior. That includes looking your best. Go get changed. You look like you slept in the stables.”
Jax clenched her fists, wishing she could give Abra a piece of her mind and intercede on Samira’s behalf. The poor young woman not only received abuse from guests, but from her own mother as well.
So consumed was Jax with her brewing anger that she failed to hear Abra’s approaching footsteps, and a moment later, the door Jax had been leaning against flew open, sending her pitching forward into the room.
“What in the name of the god—Virtues?” Clawed fingers gripped Jax’s shoulders, heaving her up from the ground. Abra steadied her with two hands before stepping back with a critical gaze. “Lady Victoire? What are you doing down here?” Her tone, although restrained, dripped with suspicion.
Jax brushed at her skirts, frantically searching her mind for an excuse. What had she been thinking, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong?
“She asked for a barrel of loose-leaf tea for her suite,” came Samira’s voice. “I told her she could find me here.” She moved to Jax’s side, placing herself in the middle of her mother’s wrath.
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