by Lish McBride
“He’s right,” Val said. “I won’t.”
Merit decided to ignore all of this and focus on the pertinent details. “Which one of you is Tevin?”
The quiet one raised his hand without turning, keeping his back to her.
“May I speak to you, please?”
He stood and turned then, moving slowly to the bars, his cards hanging forgotten in his hand. Her first impression was that he was tall, with wide shoulders and eyes that were a startling shade of green. A few days of stubble covered a masculine jaw, seeming to highlight lips that looked so soft she almost reached out to touch them. She watched him move all the way to the bars until the tip of his hat touched the metal. Merit swallowed. It had to be a trick of the light. No one could be that handsome. She surreptitiously pinched herself, and yet Tevin DuMont remained completely, unbearably, almost ridiculously good-looking.
Tevin tilted his head, taking her in quickly. She had to fight to not straighten her dress or fuss with her little half boots. Merit assumed he would, like most men her age, glance at and then dismiss her. Instead, he kept watching, like he was attempting to figure out a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite line up. “You don’t look like a beast.” His voice—the deep velvet of it—made her knees actually weak.
She felt something then—almost a push. A strange desire to please him. Merit didn’t like that feeling. She’d spent too much of her time the last few years feeling pushed into things. It also reminded her unpleasantly of Jasper. She shook off the compulsion, like a dog casting off pond water. “You, however, are exactly as advertised.”
A slow, smug grin spread across his face. “Am I, now?”
“Yes, when your mother was trying to sell you to me. Practically singing your praises.” That wiped the grin off his face. She hadn’t meant to be so petty, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t appeased by the results. Merit wanted him as off balance as she was. Still, it was something she would have been more likely to say as a beast. Not as herself.
He didn’t look over at his parents, but Merit got the feeling he was focused on them all the same. “What did my mother do, exactly?”
“She went off the path in my family’s estates and took a cutting of Caen’s flower.”
“That’s the plant they use to make bloom, right?”
She hadn’t seen Val walk up, only noticing her when she spoke. She’d been too focused on Tevin. “Yes. It’s one of our main exports.”
Tevin leaned his shoulder against the bar, his eyes unfocused. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s a difficult plant to grow. Very sensitive,” Merit said, focusing on Val. It was easier to look at her. “And for the cursed who need it, it’s priceless. It’s not a cure, but it gives people four hours of relief from their curse.”
“That’s why you’re—” Tevin waved at her.
“Yes, my mother insisted I take it earlier.” Merit pulled her father’s watch out of her pocket, glancing at the scratched face. “I have about three hours left.”
“So my mother cut your plant, of which you have many. Now she’s in jail?” Tevin asked. “Seems a bit much.” Merit didn’t think it was possible for him to move closer, but he managed, letting his voice grow soft and conspiratorial. His disarming smile had a practiced ease as he leaned down to look her in the eye. “What say we apologize and everyone can move on about their day?”
Merit couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately obtuse or was simply that cocky. She tucked a strand of her brown hair back into her updo. “We welcomed her as a guest. She broke hospitality and stole from me. A cutting of bloom is worth a great deal, yes, but she also endangered the plant.” She pursed her lips. “Well, it’s more of a shrub, if you want to get technical. The cutting wasn’t done carefully, and it’s left the plant open to disease and parasitic infection. It’s not only the theft—it’s also the loss of priceless medicine for a lot of people.”
Tevin glanced at the neighboring cell. “Mother never does anything in half measures.” He focused back on Merit. “Where does that leave us?”
“Your mother offered you to cover the expenses and serve her time.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking at him again. “The only thing is, I’m not sure what use you’d be beyond decorative.”
Val barked a laugh. “That’s a first.”
“Decorative?” Tevin ran his thumb along his lower lip as he weighed her words. Merit hated that she was automatically drawn to the motion. “Like a vase?”
Merit shook her head. “I don’t wish to be disrespectful. I have a guard, a healer, and a full staff.” She dropped her voice low. “I only considered the trade because I was tired of dealing with your mother and thought she deserved to sit and stew over the loss of her eldest son.”
She didn’t need to glance at Florencia to know she’d been wrong.
Tevin’s full focus was on her now. His gaze had an almost physical weight to it. It made her want to squirm, but instead she stared back, her spine straight, her chin level.
The corners of his lips tipped up. “Surely the Beast of Cravan needs something.” His voice promised her so many things, if only she’d be brave enough to ask.
“What makes you think that?”
“Everyone needs something,” Tevin said. “Besides, I’m very good at reading people. Family skill, I’m afraid.”
Merit really thought the deep velvet of his voice ought to be illegal. As she considered his words, the beginning of an idea occurred to her. She turned the idea around in her mind, looking at it for sharp edges. Tevin didn’t rush her as she thought, which she appreciated. The more she considered it, the more she liked it.
“You’re very good at reading people—what does that mean?” She found she couldn’t really look away from him. It was like the jail, the other people, all of it fell away.
“Most people,” he said, his voice soft, “think their secrets are their own, and no one could possibly guess them. Everyone thinks their secrets are special, because they assume the rest of the world is upstanding and perfect. Only they aren’t. Once you know how to read the signs?” He gave a small shrug, flipping his hands open like he was holding a novel. “Open book.”
Merit felt a little thrill rush through her as she considered her idea some more. It was outlandish. Her mother certainly wouldn’t approve, which was an added bonus, really. A flush of triumph swept through her. “You’re right. I do need something. I need a husband.”
Surprise slapped his face. “Pardon?”
“I need to get married.” When he continued to stare at her in a blank, uncomprehending manner, Merit began to question his intelligence. “Because of my curse.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully. When that didn’t seem to help, she turned to Val. “Is he well? I was under the impression that he was quite bright, but perhaps his mother exaggerated?”
Val leaned closer, a small, mirthful light dancing in her eyes. “Give him a moment.”
“You want to marry me?” Tevin said abruptly. “For a plant?” He spluttered the words, casting the last part at Val. “I’m worth a flower?”
“Hold out, Tev.” Her grin was wicked. “You might be worth the whole shrub.” She patted his shoulder. “If Kate negotiates, that is.”
“Stuff it, Val.” Tevin crossed his arms. “I’m not marrying you. No offense. There has to be something else.”
“Full offense.” Merit mimicked him, crossing her own arms. “I didn’t ask you to marry me.”
That seemed to cut his indignation off at the knees. “I beg your pardon, but that is what you implied.”
“Then you inferred wrong.” Only years of training kept Merit from rolling her eyes. Honestly. Why was it that so many men thought they were the answer to a question no one was asking? “My curse states that I need to marry by my birthday, which is six weeks away. Specifically, I need to marry someone who meets my mother
’s approval, which doesn’t include you, or someone who loves me, which also doesn’t include you and seems unlikely.”
“Why?” Tevin said, looking her up and down again. Not leering, but assessing. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a brain,” Merit said dryly. “They don’t like it.”
“Yeah,” Val drawled. “That’ll do it.”
Tevin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked at her. “Since when have you thought brains were a negative? You like smart women.”
“We’re not talking about me,” Val said. “I’m reasonable. We’re talking about peacocks.” She waved a hand at Merit. “Someone like her? Trust me, that’s what she’s dealing with.”
Merit nodded approvingly. “Small brain and lots of plumage shaking. Very apt.”
Tevin grimaced. “Right.” He turned his attention back to Merit. “Still a little hazy on my part in this.”
Merit tented her fingers around the ring of keys in her hands, attempting to find the best way to phrase it. “Your family is very comfortable here, which leads me to think this isn’t your first time in a cell.”
“Not even this week,” Val offered, her grin cheeky.
Merit let that pass. “From your mother’s account, you’re charming, witty, a good dancer, and smart.” She waited for Tevin to confirm or deny any of these assertions, but he simply took them as his due. “In the past, I chose . . . poorly. I let charm and a pretty face blind me. I don’t wish to do so again. My options aren’t without limit; nevertheless, I wish to make the best of them.” She gestured to Tevin. “You’re the very definition of everything I’m trying to avoid. I’m hoping you can recognize your own and help me avoid them.”
Tevin ran his fingers down his jaw, his eyes unfocused. Merit could almost see his brain sorting through the information. Perhaps he was intelligent after all.
“To clarify—you can’t avoid marriage, but you want to approach it on your terms and get the best bargain?”
She nodded.
“How did you choose poorly before?” Tevin asked. He must have seen her stiffen, because his gaze softened. “I mean no harm, honestly—but it’s a question I must ask.”
“I was betrothed to someone I didn’t wish to marry, which left me very unhappy. When a boy closer to my age started courting me on the sly, it seemed like a sign of what was meant to be. He was enchanting and handsome. I lost my head. When I told my mother we’d marry, she gave him a counteroffer in coin behind my back.”
“He took it.” His words were more confirmation than any hint of a question.
“Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“You think he set you up?” Tevin asked. There was something carefully neutral in his gaze now that Merit didn’t like. She would have expected outrage on her behalf, or perhaps not outrage—maybe at least mild indignation.
“Yes, I think he did.”
“You were conned once, and you don’t wish to be conned again. That’s why you want me to accompany you on your husband hunt.” He was amused now, which Merit didn’t understand. It seemed like a sound idea to her.
“Yes. Like I said, you remind me of him.” She waved a hand at him. “All of this. The handsome and charming thing. I don’t want to be charmed. Marriage is until death, Mr. DuMont. I’d like to make it at least a few years before I start considering poisons and a shallow grave for my husband.”
Amusement lit through him. “You’re too practical for a shallow grave. If you murdered your husband, no one would ever find the body.” He looked at Val and they busted up laughing.
It irritated Merit, that laughter. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
When he finally stopped, leaning on the bars and gasping for breath, he managed to shake his head. “On the contrary, I think it’s brilliant. And you have no idea how qualified I am. How long did you say you have?”
“A hair under six weeks.”
“And I’ll stay with you until then? In exchange for my mother’s freedom?”
Merit nodded.
Tevin stuck a hand through the bar, only to have Val grab him at the wrist. She clucked her tongue. “Six weeks is a very long time.”
“It’s a bargain when you consider what his mother owes me.”
“Excuse us,” Val said, not waiting for an answer before she yanked Tevin away to speak to him at the back of the cell. His siblings joined them. They all whispered harshly back and forth, Tevin doing most of the actual talking. After a few minutes, Tevin cut everyone off and returned to the front.
“Forgive me,” Tevin said, his smile wide. She felt that weird push again, the one she didn’t like, and once again she shook it off. Something must have registered on her face, because Tevin lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “If at all possible, Lady Merit, I’d like to discuss the terms of our contract alone.”
She nodded, using the key to unlock the cell and let him out. “That seems like a solid notion.” Once he was through, she relocked the cell and motioned him on. “After you.”
CHAPTER 6
A DEAL IS STRUCK
Tevin followed Lady Merit through a door, down a hall, and into a snug room with two chairs separated by a table. A long, narrow window sat high on the wall, letting in light and air, but keeping any enterprising criminals out. She’d taken him to an interrogation room. Tevin wondered if she meant something by it, but determined from her demeanor that this was likely the closest space for them to have privacy. He took the chair that had manacles dangling from it, waiting to see if she would make use of them. Merit settled into the chair in front of him, her posture straight. From that posture alone, Tevin could have guessed her social class. Merit stared at him, her gaze direct, her hands folded.
“There are a few things we need to discuss.” Tevin leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table in front of him. He took her measure for a long moment. Tevin hadn’t been lying when he said he was an expert at reading people. In order for this to work, Merit was going to have to trust him. As someone who’d had her trust snapped in two, that wouldn’t be easy for her. They needed a solid foundation to work from, and Tevin had an idea how to do it, but it was a gamble. If the gamble failed, he might end up cooling his heels in Veritess Jail until his hair turned gray.
“Before we go any further, I’m going to need to be completely honest with you, which is a bit of a novel concept for me.” He tapped his finger on the scarred wooden table between them. “You’re not going to like it, I promise you. All I ask is that you listen.”
Merit stared at him, and Tevin got the feeling she was flipping through his own pages; he didn’t care for it. Lies were weapons, but they were also shields, and he was used to having that armor. With no small amount of hesitation, he let them drop.
“The boy that ran off—what was his name?”
“Jasper Sullivan.” Merit said the name with no inflection, treating it like any other word, but Tevin wasn’t fooled.
“Jasper. Right. What he did, there are lots of names for it, but it’s a kind of honey trap. Do you know what that is?”
Merit shook her head.
“It’s a type of con. The grifter wants something—money, information, a horse, it doesn’t matter. In your case, they wanted money. Jasper was the bait.” He kept his eyes on hers. It would be so easy to look away, but he needed her to believe him. “They probably watched you for weeks. Talked to your friends, maybe. Talked to your servants, your butcher, your dressmaker—anyone who knew you. If they couldn’t sneak the information, they’d bribe them. Jasper knew all about you before you even spoke a word. Everything from your favorite dessert, favorite song, even the color of your bedroom walls.”
“You can’t know that,” Merit said.
“Yes, I can.” Tevin watched as Merit swallowed hard, struggling to absorb this new information.
“How are you so certain?” S
he was still prim and proper looking, but Tevin was paying attention and caught the fine tremor in her voice. It was the only indication she gave that their discussion was upsetting her at all.
This was it. No going back after he told her this part. Still, he didn’t rush it. “Because my family has pulled every kind of cheat and swindle you can think of. We might have even made up a few.” He tapped his chest. “My specialty? The honey trap. I’m bait, Merit. Professional bait.” Several emotions flickered across her face, so faint that anyone else would have probably missed them. Dismay. Pain. Anger. Her eyes welled, and she blinked, causing two tears to trail down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his own throat suddenly tight. “But I needed to tell you before we went any further.”
Her voice was completely steady when she spoke. “Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t put you in that cell and toss the keys in the sewer.”
“Because I can help you. With me at your side, Jasper won’t happen again.”
“You’re exactly like him,” Merit said, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “How can I trust you?”
“Because I don’t think the Beast of Cravan should ever cry for the likes of a Jasper Sullivan.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I will never be a Jasper to you.”
“Of course not.” Her voice was stiff as she scowled at him. “You are not, nor will you ever be, an option, Mr. DuMont.”
He tapped his thumb on the table, all of his focus on her. “Believe it or not, I understood that after you said ‘full offense, I didn’t ask you to marry me,’ earlier. What I mean is, I won’t lie to you, Merit. I might tell you things you don’t want to hear. I may keep secrets that aren’t mine to tell, but I will never lie. Not to you.”
She growled, a very beastlike noise. “How do I know I’m not being foolish right now?”
Tevin wondered if she knew, just by asking that, that she’d already decided to trust him. “You were never foolish to begin with, Merit. I’ve seen some of the smartest and wisest fall for the honey trap. It’s very hard to not reach for something that you want, and he made sure you’d want him.” He gave her a hint of a smile.