She sighed, watching Zachary stride down the corridor, Travis trailing after him. The only thing that would keep her king safely behind the line of skirmish was winter’s onset. It would soon be upon them, and she hoped that by spring he would come to his senses.
DANCING AROUND
“I would kill for a long soak in a hot bath,” Karigan said the next morning over porridge. She had undone her braid for the first time in days and spent a good amount of time trying to work a comb through her hair, only to have to rebraid it again so it would fit neatly beneath Tam Ryder’s cap. She had caught Cade sneaking glances at her as she worked on it. He’d got that look on his face, the intense one.
“I’m not sure a scruffy servant boy like Tam Ryder is supposed to be the bathing type,” Cade replied.
“Hmph. Harley Dace could stand a good washing, too. And a shave.”
Cade fingered his beard growth. “Part of my disguise.”
She reached across the table and stroked his chin. “Prickly. It does kind of suit you.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest, then shut it. She chuckled. She was feeling much more herself. No blurred vision, no headache, no weakness, and she was fully awake. However, she still had to pretend sickness when they left the bunkhouse, she leaning against Cade, and he holding her closer than ever. He had stashed the satchel with her uniform in it in the secret compartment of the wagon soon after she woke up. She had fallen asleep right on top of it.
For the first time, Karigan felt well enough to sit up front with Cade on the bench while he drove the mules, Luke jogging ahead on Gallant, as usual. Raven signaled his disapproval of this change with whinnies. Luke rode back to check on the stallion, then urged Gallant up beside them.
“What’s wrong with him?” Karigan asked.
“At a guess, I’d say he’s jealous,” Luke replied.
“Jealous? Of what?”
“Cade, here.” Luke smiled and urged Gallant ahead.
Cade and Karigan exchanged glances, both hastily looking away.
There was no sign announcing they had entered the outer reaches of the Capital, except having to pass through yet another checkpoint. Something changed in the air, however, and Karigan realized there were no tall chimneys spewing smoke. It smelled cleaner. There were no signs of industry as there had been elsewhere. They passed through neighborhoods of tiny whitewashed houses. The grass looked greener, the trees taller and fuller, farm fields neat and filled with crops.
Ditches, irrigation ditches, she thought, angled off from the canal, reflecting clouds.
Cade, who observed her interest, said, “Workers who serve the important people of the Capital live in its outer districts. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”
It made sense to Karigan, after all she had learned about this world, that the elite would wish to remain segregated from the laboring classes. It did look, however, like these servants lived better than those packed into the cities and the grim little villages they’d passed through.
They rode in companionable silence. Karigan watched boats chug by on the canal and studied the foot and wagon traffic they met on the road. This had been L’Petrie Province once, but she did not recognize it—maybe some landforms in the distance looked the same, but overall it was as though the land had been remade, and she might as well have been traveling in a different country altogether. She supposed that really, she was.
She tried not to think about what had happened to her home, the G’ladheon estate. It must no longer exist, certainly not in a form she would recognize.
“You seem a little sad,” Cade said.
“The Capital is basically the province I grew up in,” she replied.
“Ah. Not much like you remember it then.”
She shook her head. It was not, she reflected, as much a shock as having seen the ruin of Sacor City for the first time. Between that experience and the map of the Capital she’d taken from the professor’s atlas, she’d been expecting change. She was not shocked, but it was still painful.
Their travel that day was uneventful, and when they stopped for the night, the grounds of the roadside inn Luke chose were better-kept than the others they had stayed at, with trimmed hedgerows and colorful flowerbeds. When Karigan and Cade received their bunkhouse assignment from Luke, they made their way to the building where they’d be spending the night. Even the bunkhouses, where lowly servants stayed, had window boxes full of flowers, the siding looking like it had received a fresh whitewashing.
Once they stepped inside, however, they discovered the bunkhouse was not unoccupied. A man snored away on one of the beds, and two burly, tough-looking drovers sat at the table playing cards. Karigan and Cade stared. The card players stared back. A fourth man suddenly emerged from the privy, entirely unclothed and hairy enough to be mistaken for a bear. Karigan bit her lip to suppress a gasp of laughter.
Cade slowly backed her out of the bunkhouse. “There must be some mistake,” he told her. “Wait here, and I’ll be right back.”
Karigan sat on a bench outside the bunkhouse. From the outside, it had looked so promising and pleasant, a fine respite for the two of them. What would they do now? Would they have to find another inn? She couldn’t stay in the bunkhouse with those other men—she’d be found out. Even worse was imagining not being alone with Cade.
Soon, Luke, Cade, and a short man she took to be the innkeeper trooped out of the main building.
“. . . highly contagious,” Luke was saying. “I have paid you good money to reserve the entire bunkhouse.”
Karigan slumped in a sickly manner in an effort to corroborate Luke’s words.
“Yes, Mr. Mayforte,” the innkeeper said, “but it would be some trouble to remove those drovers. I know them. They are a tough lot.” He paused as if thinking the matter over. “There might be another possibility.”
“Yes?” Luke asked.
“A guest cottage, rather more exclusive and usually reserved for the Preferred.”
“How much?” Luke asked in a resigned voice.
The innkeeper named his price in imperial terms Karigan was unfamiliar with, not having been allowed to handle currency. But from Cade’s gasp, she guessed it was an exorbitant sum.
He turned to Luke. “Sir, we can try someplace else.”
“Just a moment, Harley. Innkeeper, you promised me that bunkhouse, and have now gone back on your word. It is on you to make good.”
The innkeeper scratched his chin, named another price, and after some haggling an agreement was reached, followed by the clinking of coins as they passed from Luke’s hand to the innkeeper’s. Cade was given the key to the cottage, and he lifted Karigan into his arms. With the audience present, she dared not protest. She could feel his silent laughter through his chest. Only when they reached the little cottage, without their audience, did he set her down. She poked him in the ribs, eliciting a chuckle.
Though the bunkhouse had looked nice, the cottage had a sweet demeanor, set in the midst of gardens smelling of sea roses and honeysuckle. Intricately carved gingerbread curled beneath the eaves. Inside it was light and airy. There were two beds, larger than the usual bunks, and thicker looking, with down quilts. There were even rugs on the floor and curtains pulled aside from the windows. Upon further investigation, she discovered an actual bathing room with running water. It was not as ostentatious as the one at the professor’s house, but it possessed all the plumbing and mechanics with which she had become familiar, and, most importantly, an enormous tub. What had initially appeared to be bad luck with their bunkhouse, had turned into something far better. She could barely contain herself and came bouncing out into the main room.
“You are feeling better,” Cade said.
“I shall have a hot bath tonight,” she informed him.
“Good. Now you won’t have to kill anyone.” She must have given him a quizzical look bec
ause he added, “Last night you said you would kill for a hot bath.”
“I will if anyone gets in my way.” She gave him a playful pat on his cheek.
The bath was as blissful as she could have wished. She washed away days of travel and illness, scrubbed her skin with a lavender-scented soap, and washed her hair. She settled into languor as she soaked, steam billowing up from the water, and thought about how perfect a setting this cottage was. A setting for her and Cade.
They had been dancing around each other for so long now, and it left her confused. He’d declared his celibacy as a Weapon, yet seemed to signal the opposite by expressing his desire to travel back in time with her, presumably to be with her, and asking if she had a suitor back home, so he could “know the lay of the land.” In other words, he wanted to find out what competition he might have to face for her attentions.
So which was it? she wondered. He could not have it both ways. Was he celibate or not? If the latter, she could not imagine wanting to share her most intimate self with anyone else but Cade.
Well, there was one other, but he was so far away and so inaccessible even when within physical reach. He could not be hers. Cade could.
Except for the fact he was a Weapon. She slapped the water in aggravation. Why was she always reaching for the impossible?
Would he consider breaking his declaration of chastity to . . . to be with her? No matter what she might wish, she could not, would not, ask it of him. She respected him too much, admired the honor of all Black Shields. He would have to make the decision on his own.
She shifted in the tub, sending wavelets rippling across the surface of the water and against her skin. If, by chance, he had a change of heart, she was ready, a conclusion she’d come to only recently. After years of internalizing the teachings of her four strong-willed and conservative aunts who ensured she knew, in no uncertain terms, that an unmarried woman bedding a man was unacceptable, her expedition to Blackveil had given her occasion to reassess her beliefs. On the eve of entering the forest, lonely and realizing she might never return from her perilous mission, she had desired nothing more than the comforting touch of another. As fate would have it, she’d begun her journey without it.
In addition to her aunts espousing their morals as they raised her, she’d grown up wanting to emulate her parents, thinking it honorable to wait for that one true heart mate, only to find out her father had consorted with prostitutes. Not necessarily while he was married, but it had still dashed her illusions about his perfect love for her mother.
Could Cade be her heart mate? She did not know, but thought she’d like to find out.
As for honor? She had challenged that notion, as well. Some of her friends among the Green Riders had placed no restrictions on their personal lives, and were they any less honorable for seeking human companionship during respites in their otherwise hazardous lives? No. They were the most courageous, honorable people she knew. They were the ones to emulate, though, being particular in her attachments, she could not give so freely of herself as some of them.
Karigan was an adult now. She did not have to answer to her father, her aunts, or anyone. She’d watch out for her own honor.
She soaked till she wrinkled and the water cooled. She pulled the plug and, as the water drained from the tub, she felt as though the last of the morphia whirled away with it. She was once more whole and herself and ready to take on anything life flung at her.
Wearing only one of her oversized shirts, she peered out of the bathing room. She did not see Cade anywhere, so she entered the main room, sat on her bed, and engaged in battle with the tangles in her hair.
Before she’d gotten far, the door opened, and Cade stepped across the threshold. He smiled easily. “What have you done with Tam Ryder?”
“Uh . . .” Karigan blushed, wanting to cover her legs. Accidentally she yanked on the comb. “Ow! Damnation.”
Cade latched the door shut and strode over to her. “Here, let me help.”
She let him take the comb from her hand, and he started working it through her hair.
“Whoever you are,” he said, “you smell much nicer than Tam.”
Heat flamed in Karigan’s cheeks. She tried to tug the shirt farther down her legs, which only made the collar gap in front. She pressed it back into place. Had she really smelled so bad before her bath?
Cade was tender in his ministrations, and as the tangles came apart, the stroking of the comb became soothing, made the rest of her relax. If she’d been a cat, she would have started purring. He stroked her hair with his hands, then draped it all over one of her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her bare neck. Surprised, she stiffened, and he stepped back, no longer touching her.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said. “That was forward of me.”
Forward? After all their dancing around? She turned to face him. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t . . . forward. It just startled me. I thought as a Weapon you wouldn’t be interested in—” she gestured ineffectually at the air.
“Er, interacting with women?”
“That’s one way to phrase it.”
“I learned a few things talking with Joff and the others at the Heroes Portal.” He looked away bashfully. “It appears I misinterpreted the codes of conduct of the Black Shields as passed down to me by the professor.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, her interest piqued.
“Yes, pertaining to, um . . .”
“Interactions with women?” she provided.
He nodded. “Celibacy. It—it is not a requirement, as I had thought. However, marriage is not permitted until retirement. Abstaining is an individual choice. Some Weapons are very strict in practice, others are not.”
“And what is your preference on the matter?”
His answer was to sit beside her and take her into his arms and kiss her, a long, sound kiss that left no room for misinterpretation.
For her, it was as though everything that had held them apart—propriety, immediate danger, her illness—was finally melting away. There were now no barriers between them, and Karigan, who had so assiduously set aside her feelings for others and denied her own needs so often, found that she was hungry, hungry for the touch of another, and not just anyone, but Cade.
Cade, however, was apparently still struggling between desire and propriety, for he pulled away. “I—I am not being a gentleman. It is not acceptable for me to—”
“I do not want a gentleman. I want Cade.”
“But—”
She laid her fingers across his lips and smiled. The cottage darkened as dusk settled in. Neither of them moved to light a lamp. “I can’t help but think,” she said, lowering her hand to twine her fingers with Cade’s, “that it was no mistake we met and have been brought together through time. What are the chances?”
“Fate?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Fate, destiny, the gods? Take your pick. Maybe it’s pure coincidence. I do not know. What I do know is that you are here, and so am I. It seems to me that between all that has happened and all that is to come, it would be wise to make the best use of our time.”
“Are you sure?” Cade asked.
“Let me show you,” she replied.
STARLING
Karigan was determined to show Cade all she had set aside. No more holding back. She shook with suppressed excitement as she kissed him.
Cade, perhaps surprised by her ardor, responded a heartbeat behind her, but quickly adjusted, drawing her close into his arms. Her hands fell upon the muscles of his chest, and she was filled with the desire to get under his shirt.
As she attempted to do just that, amid a flurry of kissing and nervous laughter, they rolled right off the bed and hit the floor with a thunk. Barely distracted, they rose up, still kissing and touching, and entangled in Cade’s suspenders. Karigan growled in frustration, wishing she had a knife on h
and to cut them away, and his trousers, too. In retrospect, she guessed Cade would have been alarmed by her using a knife near that region of his body. Her persistence paid off, however, and soon his suspenders, along with his trousers, lay crumpled on the floor beside their bed. What she had once seen of him in threes while in the grip of the morphia, she discovered was just as impressive singularly.
Cade was more patient than she, opening her shirt one button at a time at a leisurely pace, kissing her exposed flesh as he went, his lips lingering. The wait was excruciating, and she wanted to tear her shirt off for him, but in the end, when it did finally fall away, the wait proved worthwhile as his mouth and hands found her breasts. She blazed within.
He paused, pulled away from her just the slightest bit, but it felt like a gulf as wide as the ocean.
“Don’t stop,” Karigan said.
“But . . .” He blushed. It was interesting to observe that not only his face reddened, but so did parts of his body usually concealed by his clothes. “I have never . . . I never, um . . .”
“Me either, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“This is your . . . first, too?”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Are you afraid I will sully your honor?” Karigan asked, eyebrow raised.
“What? No! But you . . . Yours . . .”
“I thought we’d settled this.”
“That was before I knew—”
“That I was some chaste maiden with her virtue at stake?” Karigan smiled, amused by Cade’s renewed blushing and that he hadn’t realized it was her first time, too. “Look, Cade, I love that you are concerned. I know it’s because you care about me, but this is my life, my body. I am of age to choose what I do with both. At this moment, I choose this. With you.”
“You are certain?”
She kissed him deeply enough to show him how certain she was. As her hands and mouth traversed his body on new adventures, he did not ask any more questions.
Mirror Sight Page 57