by Sarra Cannon
Kila clenched his jaw, unwilling to let her words penetrate. They did anyway.
“It’s personal for you, isn’t it?” she asked softly.
He didn’t need her to clarify. “Yes, I suppose maybe it is,” he admitted, dragging a hand over his face.
When he’d found his father, the scene had been so chaotic, so messy. He knew this wasn’t necessarily the case with every suicide, but he also knew that his abilities didn’t save him from his own presumptions. It was why Toran Stowley’s tidy, orderly study had caught his eye.
“I wish I could find the right words to say to you,” she said.
“There are no right words, are there?” he asked.
“No. No, there aren’t.”
Her hand moved to cover his and he let it. They sat there for a long while, contemplating their losses.
Chapter 23
“There you are,” Daerwyn said when Cianne walked into the dining room to break her fast with her father. “I’ve not seen much of you these past weeks.”
“I’ve been busy with Lach,” she said, not bothering to hide her weariness from him. After all, there was nothing like making a noble sacrifice for the House.
Her father nodded his approval. “He’s depended on you a great deal,” he said, satisfaction warming his words. He, for one, showed no sign of being concerned that she was losing her grasp on Lach.
Cianne cast a pointed glance at the servant placing her plate in front of her, giving the young man a smile. “Thank you, Philius.”
Taking the hint, Daerwyn said nothing more. While she waited for the servant to leave the room, Cianne tried to decide how to play this encounter with her father. She wanted to see what information she could glean from him, but it went without saying that she would have to do so in an underhanded manner lest she let on to him that she had some inkling of what was going on in the House.
“Lach is in a real state,” she said to her father when they were alone at last. She sighed for effect, pushing a bit of ham around on her plate, using the distraction to study her father from under lowered lids.
“So I’ve heard. Moiria is quite concerned about him.”
“She has every reason to be. I’ve never seen him so despondent.”
“I understand there were some raised voices during one of your last visits with him,” her father said in a casual tone. He put some ham in his mouth and chewed, brows raised as he waited for her response.
Cianne permitted herself to blush, though in reality it was due to alarm and not embarrassment. Her father was spying on her? She felt a momentary surge of panic. What if he knew she was going out at night?
Lowering her head, she controlled her features, schooling them into an expression of deepest chagrin. “I’m afraid I lost my temper with him. He was… He’s not been himself, and it’s led him to say some things he shouldn’t say.”
“Such as?” Daerwyn continued eating as if they were making simple conversation, but she knew he was paying close attention to everything she said.
“He was unkind to me.” Fixing her eyes on her hands, Cianne conjured up some tears. Should she let her father see her welling or was it better if she pretended as though she were trying to conceal her hurt? Better to pretend to conceal it, she decided.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Daerwyn sounded displeased.
Time to salvage the situation.
Dashing her hand across her face to brush away the tear she’d allowed to roll down her cheek, Cianne pulled in a deep breath and met her father’s eyes, offering him a tremulous smile. “It was terrible, but he apologized to me. He’s told me he doesn’t know what he would do without me.”
There. Let him know she hadn’t lost her power.
How sickening this game was, how vile it made her feel. She didn’t think she was toying with Lach’s feelings, at least not to his face. She hadn’t encouraged him to act in any other manner than as a friend. But she couldn’t shake the sense of guilt and shame she felt at knowing she was using Lach’s feelings as ammunition with her father.
Make him the object of public speculation so that you may hide your own actions and motives. Well done, Cianne.
What else could she do? She wasn’t doing this solely for selfish reasons. It was to Lach’s benefit as well for her to do her best to discover if there was more to his father’s death than there appeared to be. It was to the benefit of the House as a whole to investigate whether the Elders, Moiria, and her father were deceiving everyone. Whatever they were caught up in, it would appear as if the entire House were involved, whether or not they were. Why should the House as a whole suffer punishment for the actions of a few?
Daerwyn looked like a cat indulging in a bowl of cream. “He’s fortunate to have you looking out for him.”
And you’re fortunate to have me to dangle before him, aren’t you?
“He’s having trouble accepting that his father is gone,” Cianne said, deciding to risk it. She wouldn’t tell him what Lach suspected, not after she had promised Lach that she would not, but she wanted to see how her father would react to this sally.
“It’s never easy to accept that someone is gone,” he said, his jaw tightening.
Deciding it wasn’t safe to press the issue, she said, “I think it would benefit him to go on a voyage again. There are too many reminders here. It’s best for him to get away for a while, so that he can begin to heal rather than remain mired in his grief.”
“I tend to agree. It would give Moiria time to get things in order, and when Lach returned he could concentrate more on the future.”
She knew full well what he was implying by that, and she lowered her head again, spots of color reappearing on her cheeks. “I don’t think now is the time to discuss it with him.”
“I don’t either. I do think being away would give him time to sort out his feelings, and I think it would give you time to do so as well. A trial such as this isn’t an easy thing, Cianne. You and Lach have both known more grief than anyone as young as you are should know. You weathered your mother’s loss with Lach’s help, and he will weather his father’s with yours. Not every relationship can stand such a test. And for all the bad, the good is that you’re forging the kind of bond that makes for the strongest of foundations.” He had softened his voice, going for the tenderhearted father concerned about his daughter’s well-being.
She couldn’t deny the truth of his words, but she didn’t bother pointing out to him that the same could be said of friendship. Trying to discuss the nature of her feelings for Lach would get her nowhere. The size of the House didn’t change much from generation to generation, and there were a limited number of eligible women and men with each generation. Her father hadn’t remarried after losing his wife because there had been no eligible candidates. Cianne suspected he wouldn’t have been interested in remarrying at any rate, but he would have subjugated his own wishes and done so for the good of the House, had the opportunity presented itself.
Were Cianne to reject Lach, there were other young women who would be glad to marry him, to secure themselves to both the wealth and social standing he would bring them. That he would marry went without question. He was far too valuable an asset to Staerleigh to live as a bachelor. Cianne held his heart, but he would do his duty as required. Love didn’t matter; even had he been one of the House members who preferred the company of his own sex over that of the opposite sex he would still have to marry in order to have children, though House members who found themselves in that situation usually made discreet arrangements to carry on affairs on the side. Their spouses had to agree to the arrangements, of course, in order to ensure harmony, and it was common in such cases for several married couples to work together to reach mutually beneficial arrangements. But the bottom line was that no good possibilities for breeding could go to waste.
Which was why Cianne had chosen the tactic she had, arguing that she wasn’t a worthy wife for Lach because of her lack of Adept abilities. It was the only reason h
er father hadn’t pressed her even harder than he had, because even he couldn’t argue with that logic, regardless of how ambitious he was for his daughter.
Yet his patience was coming to an end, increasing her sense of urgency. She would have to get to the bottom of this mystery, and she would have to do it soon.
“I-I wish I were… That I…” she said. The words came from between gritted teeth, but that made them sound as if her distress were so great she found it difficult to speak, so her father didn’t notice anything was amiss.
“It cannot be helped,” he said, giving her hand a perfunctory pat. She heard the mixture of disgust and disappointment in his voice. In her more generous hours, she worked to convince herself that her father was ashamed of feeling such things for his own daughter, but even in those generous hours she wasn’t able to entirely convince herself.
“I think you’re right,” she said in an unsteady tone. “I am fortunate Lach and I understand one another as well as we do.”
It was the truth, but she also said it for her father’s benefit, to reinforce the point that she had a claim to Lach that no one else did.
Someday, she thought, perhaps someday I can do something to make up for my transgressions against him.
They continued their meal in silence for a while, then Cianne turned a falsely bright smile on her father.
“I heard some of the Elders came to see you a few days ago, while I was still asleep?” she asked.
“They did. We were discussing Lach, in fact. I’ve told them as well that I think he ought to be sent on another voyage, and they’re considering sending him to Leonovia.”
“I’m not certain he’ll like that,” Cianne said, wrinkling her nose, curious to see how much her father would disclose to her.
With a rueful smile, he said, “You sound like Elder Florius. Don’t take it as a slight against Lach. I merely feel that it might be wise to get him back to sea with an easy voyage. From what you’ve said, I’m not certain he’s ready for something more demanding.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” She was surprised that he’d made the comment about Elder Florius. It was unusual for her father to critique the Elders, even obliquely.
“Elder Florius has Lach’s best interests at heart,” he said. “As do we all. We simply have a difference of opinion as to what that might be. Given that you also think it would be good for Lach to return to sea, my belief that the Leonovia voyage might be just the thing is even more firm. Would you speak to Lach about it?”
“Of course. I do so want him to get better,” she said, employing her most earnest tone and expression.
Nodding his approval, her father wiped his mouth and stood. “I must get to the Council Hall. We’ve a meeting with one of the other captains, and I’m anxious to hear her report. As I’m sure you can imagine, Lach’s absence from the roster has left us with something of a hole—not that I want you to share that with him. I don’t want him to feel guilty, not while he’s still grieving his father. It would be best for us all, though, to get him back onto his ship.”
And there was the twist of the blade. Whatever her father might claim, he knew guilt over the damage he might be doing to the House would prove a powerful motivator for Lach.
“Cearus protect us,” Cianne said, creasing her brow in a show of distress. “Is the House—”
“No need to trouble yourself, truly. It’s a matter of a small wrinkle. It will all be resolved once Lach is back on the roster.” Gracing her with a reassuring smile, her father gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “Will I see you for dinner tonight?”
“No. Lach has asked me to dine with him and his mother.”
“It’s just as well. Gorian Mather is coming to dine, and I know how it bores you when he and I discuss innovations in ship design.” For the first time in far longer than Cianne could remember, her father’s smile was genuine, and she was unable to resist smiling back.
“I am more grateful than ever to have escaped,” she said in a fervent tone, making him chuckle.
Staring at the empty archway after he’d left, her mind was busy. Her father hadn’t disclosed much, but it was obvious that he thought she might be able to persuade Lach where the Elders might fail. He’d also mentioned that Lach’s absence would give Moiria a chance to set her affairs in order. The implication that Moiria wanted Lach out of the manor while she did so made sense, given Lach’s resistance to his mother’s suggestion that they go through Toran’s things, but Cianne suspected there was more to it than that. If Lach were gone, Moiria could go through Toran’s office with meticulous care, ensuring he hadn’t left anything behind she didn’t wish others to see, and Cianne doubted she would do so alone.
She might have been reaching, but Cianne felt a strong conviction that getting Lach out of the way was of the utmost importance to the group she was beginning to see as conspirators. Had Lach not arrived home early, they would have had time to search Toran’s office before Lach returned. Having him in the manor while they were uncertain whether there was something for him to uncover must be stretching their nerves taught.
The exchange with her father had also left her with a sense of longing. How different could her life have been had she and he known more than a moment of harmony here and there, had they managed to capture more than brief snatches of contentment at being in one another’s company. She didn’t think things had always been this way between them, though it was admittedly difficult for her to call forth a clear recollection of how things with her father had been before her mother’s death. She did know that they had once been a happy family, that the three of them had spent some wonderful times together.
Since her mother’s death, however, nothing. Her father had held her at arm’s length, growing increasingly discontented with her. Perhaps she reminded him too much of her mother; she had been told that she favored Annalith.
Be cautious, Cianne. It’s tempting to think life could be nothing but easy waters, but could it? Blind loyalty to your House, dutiful obedience, aren’t guarantees of peace. You need only look at Lach to realize that.
Chapter 24
“I haven’t been able to discern much of anything,” Kila said without preamble when Cianne let herself into his lodgings that night. “I suspect these may be dates, these may be figures, and these may be initials, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
He showed Cianne the relevant columns and left her to examine his notes while he went into the common room to make tea.
“Let me help you,” she said, coming to join him. With a shrug and a self-deprecating smile, she added, “I’m not likely to find anything you’ve missed, am I?”
Remaining silent for a moment, he decided to do away with all pretense of formality between them. She wanted to confide in him and he wanted to confide in her. Circumstance had made them partners, but his wish to be her friend came from within.
“They’re not infallible, you know,” he said.
“What aren’t?” she asked, glancing at him as she measured the tea leaves.
“Adept skills. We make mistakes, just as everyone else does.”
He couldn’t interpret the expression on her face.
“They make your life much easier,” she said, the words clipped. He had the impression she was spoiling for a fight.
Curiously, this didn’t offend him. He suspected she so rarely was able to speak to another person with any real candor, and he wouldn’t try to deceive himself by insisting that he wasn’t flattered she had chosen to speak candidly with him.
“Oh ho, is that what you think?” he scoffed.
“Yes, it is,” she said, turning to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to level a neutral expression on him, but every line of her body was aggressive, and her eyes were mulish.
“Did it ever occur to you that the opposite is true?”
“Please! Spoken like one who has no idea what it’s like to have no gods-given powers to rely on,” she said, the words bursti
ng out of her. One hip jutted forward, and she planted her hands on them.
“Spoken like one who thinks gods-given powers are all that’s important in life.” The moment the words were out he regretted them. He had gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, and he was afraid he had said something truly hurtful, something that would deeply offend her.
She flushed and hurt did flicker in her gaze, but then she relaxed her stance and turned back to the teapot. “Very well, perhaps you have a point,” she said, mumbling the words in a grudging tone.
A smile flashed over his face, and he hid it before she could see it. “Neither of us know what it’s like to walk in the boots of the other, do we?”
The kettle whistled and he poured the boiling water into the pot. She hadn’t moved aside to allow him more room to work, and he could see it was because she was lost in thought. Their bodies were close, close enough for him to feel the warmth emanating from her skin, to smell her tempting scent. He caught himself leaning in even closer, drawing in a deeper breath than normal.
“No, neither of us does,” she said, her eyes meeting his.
“You have lovely eyes,” he said. More words escaping. Did he intend to make a habit of this?
Her eyes darkened, her lips parting slightly, and he knew how gratifying she found the compliment. “Thank you,” she said, her voice throaty. “I’ve always liked your eyes as well.”
Dangerous territory. Extract yourself at once.
“Shall we sit?” he asked, seizing the tray.
He could have sworn it was disappointment that momentarily marred her features.
“Yes.”
He poured for them, feeling far more conscious of himself than he had ever felt. Making a fool of himself over a woman was something he wasn’t in the habit of doing. He hadn’t extensive experience with romance, but there had been a few women in his past, women with whom he’d passed a pleasant enough time but with whom he hadn’t shared the sort of bond his parents had shared.