by Sarra Cannon
“My mother warned me. She told me all along that I had best be on my guard around you. She said that you might seem lovely and sweet, but you were treacherous, and that aligning myself with you threatened my position in the House. I laughed her off, thought she couldn’t stand to see another woman influence me. I refused to believe anything but the best of you.”
“She can’t stand my influence,” Cianne said, her face reddening with a mixture of confusion and fear. What was happening? Who was this man standing before her, this man she had sworn she knew? Everything about the encounter was grotesque, from the way he was looking at her, to the even tone with which he spoke, to his words themselves.
“Well, I suppose there is some truth to that, isn’t there? But the fact of the matter is, Cianne, my mother was right. I see that now. My feelings for you have long been my greatest weakness. They made it easy for me to overlook your flaws, to ignore your lack of a sense of duty to our House, to laugh off your rebelliousness. I misinterpreted them, thinking you were spirited, and I loved it.
“I’ve been spending a lot of time with the Elders lately, you know. They’ve explained things to me, made me understand things I didn’t understand before. They told me how bad things were becoming for our House, how restrictive the new laws the king and queen wanted to pass were. The nobles were growing increasingly jealous of our successes and wanted to curtail us. We stood to lose so much, and the Elders couldn’t tolerate that. It’s their sacred duty to look out for our House, to care for us and protect us all.
“And it’s not just their duty, but ours too. House above all, Cianne, you know that. You simply refuse to accept it. I thought you were misguided and could be made to see the error of your ways, but your actions have proven otherwise.”
The blood drained from Cianne’s face. With every word Lach was hollowing her out, scooping out and flinging aside things she had thought were truths.
“You have been my weakness,” he said, his voice low, threat creeping into it. “But this is the last time, Cianne. This is the last time I will protect you, the last time I will let you manipulate me. I swear to you, when I return from this voyage, I will never be weak again, especially not where it concerns you.”
“Lach,” she said, her voice hoarse with desperation. She was sick with terror. Her friend was gone, but she couldn’t accept that. She could bring him back. She could make him see reason. She could. She had to. “Can’t you see what they’ve done to you? They killed your father, and they made you think it was necessary, that it was a good thing? You can’t believe that, Lach, you can’t! You can’t believe that’s what it takes to show devotion to the House. You can’t think such extremes are worth it!”
“Oh, I can and I do,” he said. His face spasmed in pain and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were wet with tears. “Can’t you see? My father would have exposed what he had discovered, and the others would have concealed their part and let our House take all the blame. It would have destroyed every last member of the House. How could my mother, your father, and the Elders allow that to happen? I had hoped that you would understand. I had hoped… Sometimes, Cianne, we have to do things that cause us great distress. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the good of all.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. She couldn’t believe it of him. She wouldn’t. “No.”
“Yes. This gives me no pleasure, none at all. I wanted you to be my wife. I would have made you happy, I truly would have.”
Her stomach heaved and she thought she might be sick all over his shiny boots. She clamped her hand over her mouth. His eyes pinched in sorrow, he pulled a ring from his finger, the ring containing her lock of hair, and held it out to her. When she refused to take it, revulsion causing her to shudder, he set it on a table with a faint clink.
“Goodbye, Cianne,” he said, giving her a sad smile as he headed for her door. “Your secret is safe with me, for now. I have to believe it is still possible for you to reach acceptance, given some time for serious reflection, and I will grant you that. But don’t forget what I said. I will conquer this weakness, that I promise you. I have to. I cannot allow you to destroy our House. When we meet again, I trust you will have a new outlook.”
As he closed the door behind him, the last piece of her world fell away.
Chapter 32
Worry over Cianne’s safety stole any hope of Kila’s being able to rest. He paced every inch of his lodgings, its walls confining even as they seemed to shield him from the city’s dangers.
What could they do? Kila didn’t know if he truly wanted to remain in Cearova. Burl didn’t suspect him of anything, so he could continue on as he was. He could take pains to conceal from her his true motivations, continue to work his way into her trust. She was contemplating bringing him in on her participation in House Staerleigh’s plans, and if he could worm his way into the inner circle he would be able to provide Chief Flim with invaluable information. He could work from the inside to bring down the trade Houses, to expose their role in the royal family’s murder, and do his part to bring about justice.
Was he concerned about that justice, though? And how long could he continue with such a charade? No matter how meticulous he was, Burl was as gifted an Enforcer as he, and he could not guarantee that he wouldn’t betray small indications that would eventually lead her to the truth about him. Was he willing to risk his own life for the good of a realm that had never claimed him as one of its own?
What of Cianne? It didn’t appear that anyone in her House suspected her, and Vivie was proof that not everyone in House Staerleigh was content to go along with the House’s dictates, to trust that the Elders were looking out for their best interests, and to turn a blind eye toward anything that didn’t seem quite right. Perhaps Cianne could work with Vivie. She was more of a House insider than Kila could ever hope to be, and she had already proven how effective she was at being a shadow. She could continue to move about the city, collecting evidence and spying on House meetings. It was thanks to Cianne that they had gained the proof they had so far, and with time she would be able to obtain even more.
All of that might have worked had she not insisted that she had to tell the captain the truth about his father’s death. Kila understood why she felt it was necessary, had even felt a twinge of envy that the captain had such a true friend in Cianne that she was willing to put herself at great risk to do what she felt was right by him. Yet Kila couldn’t bring himself to trust the captain. He could be an invaluable asset, there was no denying that, but would he be able to keep such a thing secret? Would he be able to continue to work with the Elders, to maintain the pretense of a relationship with his mother, all while concealing his knowledge that they had conspired to murder his father? Wouldn’t the information eat away at him, erode his conscience until he either unwittingly exposed the truth or did something drastic in order to salve his sense of self? Kila wasn’t willing to risk it. Cianne’s life was far too precious.
What if the captain doesn’t believe her? a voice he wanted to ignore whispered at the back of his mind. What if he blames the messenger and decides to take his grief and rage out on her?
When Kila put it all together, when he considered things from every angle, he knew that only one thing mattered to him: Cianne. What had happened to the royal family was a travesty, filling him with a sense of revulsion. The conspirators deserved to be exposed and brought to justice, but he wouldn’t trade Cianne’s life for that justice. The thought of her entrapped in the pit of vipers that was House Staerleigh terrified him. Whether to stay or to go was her decision to make, but he wouldn’t deny that his worst fear was that she would decide to stay.
“Cianne,” he gasped when she came through his door.
Her gaze turned his way, but she didn’t seem to see him. Her eyes were wide, the whites luminous, and the look on her face made his blood run cold.
“What is it? Tell me what’s happened,” he said, closing the distance between them in two s
wift strides, grasping her arms with gentle fingers. His pulse throbbed with such force it was like a drum, beating out a steady, frantic rhythm.
“Lach, he…” Her voice broke and she swallowed in a huge, gulping sob. “They got to him. I don’t know how they did it, Kila, but they convinced him what they did was the best thing for the House, and he’s gone along with it.” Tears streamed down her face, and his heart fractured.
“I’m so sorry, Cianne. I am so very sorry,” he said, drawing her into his arms.
Her sobs broke, her body convulsing with the force of her grief. “He called me his weakness, warned me that he wouldn’t be weak when he returns from his voyage.”
A ferocious chill froze Kila’s bones. “He’ll expose you?”
“If I don’t prove my loyalty to the House, yes.”
Shuddering, he brushed loose strands of her hair away from her face, cupping it and tilting it back so that he could see her. “Cianne, you’re in danger. How can you…” His frenzied mind couldn’t find the right words.
“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to see my mother.”
Relief flooded him, sorrow swift on its heels. “Oh, thank the gods. It’s not safe for you here anymore.”
“It never was,” she said, a spasm of bitterness twisting her features.
“I know Captain Stowley was dear to you. I’m sorry that you’ve lost him.”
Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at him, and he swore he could see her every raw emotion, stripped bare and exposed to him. “It hurts, Kila, but I can live with it. What I can’t live with, could never live with, is if something were to happen to you.”
He caught her hand as the backs of her fingers brushed his cheek. Turning it, he kissed her palm, her wrist. “I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to you either. I want to beg you to leave the city, but I promised myself I wouldn’t. I told myself I haven’t that right.”
“But if I leave—” she began, her voice choked with agony.
“I’m coming with you. If you’ll have me,” he said.
Shock widened her eyes even more, and she stared up at him in disbelief. “But, Kila, I didn’t… I thought…”
“Cianne, I’ve been falling in love with you since the first night you broke into my lodgings.”
Her mouth twitched at his mention of her uninvited presence in his home, but she still appeared to find his words inconceivable. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something when I told you how I feel about you?”
“What could I say? What could I offer you? I knew you could never be with me, not while you were a member of House Staerleigh, and I couldn’t ask you to defy your House for me. I couldn’t ask you to abandon everything you’ve ever known.”
“Kila, there is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for the chance to be with you. You are the only true friend I have ever had. Do you not know how precious you are to me, how infinitely dear you have always been?”
“You’re equally precious to me, which was why I kept my feelings to myself. That may sound strange, but, Cianne, I feared what might happen if we were to run away together, because that’s what would have been necessary. What if you grew to resent me for having taken everything from you?”
“Taken everything from me? All you’ve done, all you have ever done, is give. You gave a wounded little girl a place where she felt safe, where she knew she wasn’t alone. You gave a frightened woman a sanctuary, a place where she could be her true self, for once in her life. There is no one else in my life like you, Kila. No one.”
Her hands were on his face now, and she pulled his mouth down to hers. Their dire situation gave their kiss a frantic edge.
“I’m not certain this is wise,” he said to her in a jagged voice, hating that he caused hurt to flicker across her face. She started to pull away from him. “No, please, Cianne, stay. What I meant was that when I kiss you I never want to stop.”
She stilled, her eyes locking with his, the intensity of her passion sweeping over him courtesy of her burning gaze. “Then don’t stop.”
Abandoning all sensible thought, he swept her into his arms. He couldn’t forget the imminent danger they faced, but he would never forgive himself if something were to happen and he had denied Cianne, had denied himself, this chance to be together.
“You have no idea how I longed for you,” he murmured as his lips grazed over her skin. From the sweetness of her mouth, he trailed his tongue to the hollow of her throat, making her gasp and arch her neck back as she thrust her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, urging him to continue.
“Yes, yes I do,” she said, her voice throaty. She broke away from his mouth so that she could kiss his neck, provoking a low groan of pleasure from him.
Their mouths met again and they kissed deeply. Her tongue teased him, tasting him, driving him to the brink of madness. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, of the intoxicating scent of her skin, and his fingers fumbled with her collar as he pushed it aside to allow him greater access to the sensitive skin of her neck. She shivered, clutching him, her hands bunching up his shirt until she freed it from his breeches. Her warm, soft hands slipped up underneath it, splaying over his skin, sending frissons of pleasure up his spine. She pressed her hands to the small of his back, bringing him closer to her, crushing his body to hers. The feeling of the length of her body against his made him shudder.
“I want you so desperately I can’t maintain a coherent thought,” he told her in a voice rough with passion.
“I want you too. I want to be with you, now.”
“Are you certain?”
“Please, Kila. I burn for you.”
The words nearly made him lose his head, and his fingers fumbled with the lacing at the top of her leather vest. He wanted to race, was desperate to feel her skin against his, but he wouldn’t rush this. With deliberate slowness he undid her vest, her breathing growing increasingly ragged as he proceeded. His fingers brushed against the curves of her breasts through her shirt and shift and she trembled, clinging to him.
Her hands continued their exploration of his back, making his skin flush. She teased him with kisses, working her way from his jaw to his ear, her breath hot against his skin, setting every nerve in his body on fire.
His hands shook as he slid her vest away from her body, and he drank in the sight of the thin linen shirt clinging to her form. Her nipples were erect, and she moaned as he slid his thumb over the right one. He cupped her breasts in his hands, learning their contours, the feeling of her stiff nipples against his palms so heady he could hardly bear it.
“More?” he asked her.
“More,” she said, followed by an incoherent groan.
Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to his bed, her vest discarded and forgotten on the floor. He sat her in the middle of the bed and knelt before her, studying her with tenderness. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and awaiting his kisses, her gaze for him and him alone.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her, running the backs of his fingers over her jawline.
“So are you,” she said. Her fingers mapped his face, then trailed down his neck and to his chest. She explored his chest through his shirt, and it was his turn to gasp as her fingers found his nipples. She slid her hands over his stomach, pausing as his muscles quivered.
“I want to see more of you,” she said, gathering his shirt in her hands. Slowly, she pulled upward, coming up onto her knees as she tugged it over his head and cast it aside. Her eyes never left him as she explored his skin with her fingers. “Beautiful,” she repeated, and then explored his skin with her mouth.
He was so flush with desire he felt he might combust. Sliding his hand up the back of her shirt and shift, he caressed her skin, drunk on the velvety texture of it. Unable to bear it any longer, he slipped her shirt and shift up over her head as well, his breath catching at his first glimpse of her.
“Oh, Cianne,”
was all he could manage to say as he devoured her with his eyes. He spent some time exploring her body with his fingers and mouth, making her gasp and moan. Grabbing his hips, she pulled him against her again, so that they were molded to one another, skin to skin.
She held him like that as he worked his fingers through her hair, finding the pins and pulling them out, releasing her hair section by section. It cascaded down around her, silken strands tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. The sight of that hair concealing and reveling the swell of her breasts, the firm muscles of her stomach, the curve of her shoulders, was enough to ignite every one of his fantasies. He wove his fingers through her loose hair, coaxing her face forward so that he could kiss her again, her swollen mouth warm and pliant under his.
They unlaced one other’s breeches, and he was shaking as he slid hers over her hips. She was trembling too, and her eyes fell closed with a gasp as his seeking fingers caressed her gently. Her hands slipped down to his hips, easing his breeches down until she closed her fingers around him, caressing him in turn.
Falling back on the pillows, they lay side by side, her leg over his hip as they learned one another’s bodies, moving unhurriedly, whispering to each other, guiding and encouraging. When she reached her peak, she gasped long and deep against his lips, her body shuddering, and he rolled on top of her, pausing to look down at her questioningly.
“Yes,” she said, her hands on his hips, pulling him into her. She arched up against him and her hands moved up his back, kneading him, urging him on.
But he moved as slowly as he had that whole evening, reveling in the sensation of her encompassing him. He reached for one of her hands, easing it down onto the pillow beside her head, lacing his fingers with hers.