by Keri Arthur
At the far end, within the darkness of the ramada, a light flickered. In its pale glow, I could see the elongated outline of a man. It didn’t take him too long to see me.
“Lady N,” he said, as he stepped fully into the light. His gaze skimmed me and came up hungry. “You’re not who I was expecting, but you’re surely a sight for sore eyes.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” I slowed my pace, as much an effort to delay the inevitable as heighten his expectation.
“Am I to take it that you, too, have been stood up?”
“Perhaps.” I handed him the glass. I hadn’t yet placed the potion in it, simply because I no idea if Ewan actually drank wine. He certainly hadn’t been carrying a glass when he’d pursued me the first night. “And perhaps not. A woman doesn’t want to appear too eager to a possible suitor, after all.”
“Indeed.” He placed the wine on the nearby table and stepped closer. “And what must one do to turn the possible into a definite?”
“I don’t know.” I allowed my gaze to drop, skimming his body in much the same manner as he had mine. “It would depend, of course, on the offer.”
“And what should the offer entail for it to be successful?” He placed his hands either side of my hips, drew me close, and then leaned in for a kiss. I shifted slightly, allowing it to brush my mask rather than my lips.
“Someplace warmer would be a good start.”
“I’m sure we could create enough heat here to warm us both if we but tried.” His hands skimmed up my waist then under my crop top, and, after a moment, he brushed his thumbs across my nipples. They peaked, but it was an automatic response rather than one born of any real sense of desire.
“And I’m sure I’d be far more comfortable in warm surroundings.” I stepped back, away from his touch. “If that’s not an option—”
He laughed softly. “Of course it is. I was only teasing.” He swung to the side and offered me his arm. “Our carriage awaits.”
He escorted me back down the pergola and around the covered outside of the building. His carriage—a small brown vehicle not dissimilar to the one Trey had used—was indeed waiting. A soggy-looking man in silver stood by the open door, a sturdy umbrella held at the ready.
We quickly climbed in. As before, I took one side, Ewan the other, but the inside space was smaller, the benches harder and more upright. The footman slammed the door shut and, in very little time, we were underway.
“And where do we go, Lord E?”
“To my suite at the Harken residence. And please, call me Ewan.” He leaned forward and caught my hands—one of them gloved, the other not. “There’s been many a whisper about you. I have to admit, I am desirous to see what might lie under the pretty wrapping.”
“And what if it is something you don’t like, my lord Ewan?”
“Like what?” He slid his hand up my left leg, the material of my dress parting before his touch like a silken sea. “It’s not like you’re stained, my lady.”
My smile held a bitter edge, but he didn’t notice. “You have something against the stained?”
“No, but they’re hardly worth the waste of time or seed, are they now?”
“I think you do them a grave injustice.”
“Perhaps.” His touch paused when his fingers hit the knife scabbard, but it was anticipation rather than fear that began to ride the air. “The lady bares a stinger.”
“The lady also knows how to use it.”
The warning seemed to inflame his passion rather than thwart it. He chuckled softly, then leaned forward and tried to kiss me. Again I offered him only my mask-covered cheek.
“I think you play with me, lady.” His touch slid to the inside of my thigh. “Perhaps I should play with you.”
“Perhaps it’s more that I prefer to anticipate an event rather than simply dive in.” I paused, and took a drink of wine. “And perhaps it’s the fact that I prefer the taste of alcohol on a man’s lips.”
“Ah.” He pulled his hand away. “I’m a mead man myself. It’s rough and rustic, but it suits my palate.”
“Rough and rustic is more than suitable for this sort of occasion.”
The scent of desire became sharper. He knocked on the wall between the carriage and the driver and said, “Hurry it along, man!”
The vehicle slid forward fast but smoothly. Ewan didn’t say anything; he just watched me, his gaze hungry. I returned the look evenly and sipped my wine.
Within minutes we were pulling up to another grand house. The storm tore at the carriage as it stopped and the wind howled in fury. Not at me, not at what I was doing, but at something that was happening within the building. Curiosity stirred, but I couldn’t risk speaking to the wind or even investigating what was going on until Ewan was sleeping.
If he thought there was anything out of place or unusual about the sudden ferocity of the storm, he didn’t mention it. Maybe he was simply too enflamed by possibilities to hear her. The carriage door opened, revealing a long, metallic tunnel being pushed out toward us. Once it was strapped to the carriage, Ewan stepped out, then offered me his hand. I gave him my glass and then said, “Please, lead the way.”
He laughed again but spun and strode through the rattling and somewhat insecure tunnel until we reached the main building. There he handed my glass to a waiting manservant and ordered another red and a tankard of mead for himself.
The inside of the Harken household was every bit as ornate and as colorful as that of the Rossi. The only difference I could see was the color of the stone—it was slate gray rather than silver, and shot with veins of dark blue.
Ewan’s suite was, according to Kiro’s map, on the second floor right wing of the structure. Pyra’s room adjoined his, but there was no door connecting the two. Lord and Lady Harken lived in a similar situation within the other wing of the building.
Our drinks were already waiting on the low table when we arrived. The suite was smaller than the one I shared with Trey and there were no dividing walls or curtains separating the sleeping chamber and bathroom from the main room. The only room that had its own space appeared to be the privy. Thick curtains covered the row of windows to our right.
As Ewan strode toward the table, I found the light switch and plunged the room into utter darkness. He spun around immediately. “What on earth—”
“Were we not talking about anticipation before, my lord?” I walked toward him, my steps light and sure.
“But I can hardly see you!”
Hardly was good. Hardly meant he possessed no Sifft blood and therefore wouldn’t see my stains and raise a ruckus. “Sometimes it’s what you feel rather than what you can see that brings the sweeter victory.” I reached into my pocket and pushed the potion’s stopper free, then pressed my free hand against his chest and lightly guided him backward. He all but fell into the cloudsak. “I believe that we should proceed my way first, and then perhaps try yours? Would that be agreeable to you, my lord?”
“I believe it would.” Hunger stretched his lips. “I am in your hands, dear mystery lady.”
“As indeed you could be very soon, if you play your cards right.” I knelt at the table, my back to him, and poured first the mead and then the potion. After swirling it around, I lightly raised it to my lips, pretending to drink it even though the liquid didn’t touch them, and then said, “A rough and ready brew indeed.”
I turned and handed it to him. He took one long drink then placed it to one side. I pointedly cleared my throat and, with a grin, he finished the mead. How long, I wondered, would the drug take to work? Kiro’s definition of fast might be very different to mine.
I pushed to my feet, then took off my mask and tossed it to the nearby hassock. His eyes should have had time to adjust to the darkness by now, but he didn’t react in any way to the stain on my cheek; his night sight really wasn’t good. I pushed aside my skirt, undid the knife sheath, and tossed that beside the mask. The crop top and my skirt slowly followed.
The breath that escaped his lips spoke of desire.
“Stand, my lord.”
He did so, rapidly, and reached for me. I lightly slapped his hands away. “Anticipation, remember?”
He laughed again and obediently stood still. I slowly stripped him, then, when he was naked, stepped forward, pressed my body lightly against his, and whispered in his ear, “Now for the fun part.”
He didn’t move. He just waited. I let my fingers roam across his face, neck, and shoulders, making my way slowly downward. His breath hitched when I brushed his shaft, though I didn’t linger there, but simply continued downward. He was shaking by the time I’d finished, his desire so fierce that I was almost drowning in the scent of it.
But he was swaying now, and it was very evident he was fighting to keep his eyes open. I lightly pushed him back into the cloudsak, then picked the tankard, filled it with mead, and offered it to his lips. His eyes closed, snapped open, and then closed again. I ran my hands lightly up his legs and brushed my fingers against his ball sac to test his awareness. He didn’t react. He was asleep.
Relief slithered through me. I strapped on my knife then hastily dressed. The air stirred around me, filled with whispers of wickedness. Something had definitely happened in this place, even if she wasn’t exactly telling me what.
I padded to the door and carefully looked out. According to Kiro’s map, there were guards at either end of this corridor, but neither were currently visible.
I slipped out of Ewan’s room and padded down to Pyra’s. It was unlocked, so I quickly went inside and closed the door behind me. Whatever the wind had seen, it hadn’t happened in this room. Indeed, the place was so immaculate it was hard to believe Pyra had spent much time here.
She didn’t, the wind said. She and Hedra were kept together.
Kept?
The air stirred, but she provided no answer. Maybe she figured I’d find out soon enough.
I walked on, my feet making little sound on the warm stone under my feet as I approached the sleeping area. There wasn’t much in the way of possessions to be found, nor was there any evidence of wrongdoing. I frowned and went over to the bathing area. Again, there was very little here, and what there was—shampoo, washcloths, and soap—hadn’t been used.
I pulled out Kiro’s floor plan and studied it. Six sets of guards stood between my next target and me. But those guards weren’t expecting any sort of intrusion—not on a night like this, when the wish of the goddess was one of merriment and celebration rather than intrigue and danger.
So rather than trying to slip past them, why not do so openly? Or, better yet, get them to escort me there? The voices already wanted me dead, so what did I really have to lose? The worst that could happen would be for the guards to refuse—and truly, how likely were they to do so when the request came from someone who at least some of them had seen walking in here with a guest of the house?
I tucked the plan back into my pocket, then pulled the mask back into place and strode out the door—which I slammed to ensure they heard me coming.
I’d barely gone three paces when a silver-coated footman came running around the corner. He slowed when he spotted, me, tugging down his waistcoat and clearing his throat. “Can I help you, m’lady?”
“Your lady has summoned me to her quarters—and at quite an inconvenient time, I might add. Lord Ewan is most displeased.” I paused and leaned forward, adding in a conspiratorial tone, “I wouldn’t recommend anyone disturb him until I manage to return.”
He nodded, but his expression was unhappy. “Lady Hedra relayed no such orders to me, m’lady, and that is most unusual—”
“Yes, yes, but your lady is not unknown for unusual behavior of late, is she?”
He had the good grace not to confirm that particular statement. Instead, he simply half bowed, and then said, “If you’d follow me, we can clear this up very easily.”
“Thank you.”
I gathered my skirts and followed him through the long, silent halls until we reached the section that belonged to the lord and lady of the house. He paused at the door and gently knocked. Unsurprisingly, there was no reply. He glanced at me. “She’s not here, m’lady.”
“Well, she can’t be too far given she directed me to come around immediately. I’ll wait for her inside.”
“I don’t think—” He paused at the sound of a long moan. I knew it was the wind, but it sounded very human. He frowned again, and knocked harder. “Lady Hedra, are you all right?”
Again, it was the wind that answered, but softer this time. He paused, glanced at me, and then opened the door.
Though I’d fully expected the room to be empty, it wasn’t. But it was certainly empty of life.
Marcus Rossi lay sprawled in the middle of the room, a knife sticking out of his back.
7
The footman gasped and opened his mouth to call for help. I gripped his arm fiercely. “Think, man. The lord of a major house murdered in your mistress’s bedroom? How do you think that will play out for the guards in this house?”
Not to mention any hope I had of understanding what had gone on here.
“This cannot be covered up—”
“No, it shouldn’t. But the appropriate people must first be advised. It’s not for you nor I nor anyone else to disturb this room until then.”
He studied me, his expression troubled. “What would you advise us to do, m’lady?”
“I think someone should be discreetly but immediately dispatched to fetch Lord Kiro.” I hesitated. “Tell him that Lady Neve has discovered something he needs view immediately. He will know what to do.”
“And you, m’lady? You cannot stay in this room of death? That would be—” He paused. “—unseemly.”
I smiled at his concern and couldn’t help but wonder if the sensibilities of the Reaches ladies really were that delicate. “Someone has to ensure no one disturbs this room.”
“There are other guards, m’lady—”
“Yes, but one of them might well have let the killer in.” I motioned to the closed and curtained windows. “How else did he get into this room if not by the main door?”
He glanced at the curtains, his expression troubled. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to stay in here alone—”
“Fine,” I said, a touch impatiently. “Ask a guard you trust beyond doubt to stay here with me.”
He hesitated, and then nodded. In a very short amount of time, a guard slipped into the room, his face becoming ashen when he spotted Rossi’s body. But he didn’t say anything, simply stood at the door and watched me suspiciously—even though he was well aware I couldn’t have done this deed. Not when he’d witnessed me coming in with Ewan only half an hour previously. Rossi had obviously been dead longer than that; the blood on the back of his tunic was already stiff and dry.
After what seemed an interminably long time, there was a soft knock at the door. “Who is it?” the guard asked, one hand on his gun.
“Lord Kiro. Open up.”
The guard drew his gun, then cautiously did so. Kiro brushed him aside and stepped into the room. Behind him was Trey. Both men stopped when they saw Marcus.
“This isn’t what I had been expecting.” His gaze met mine. “You’ve searched the room?”
“No. We merely ensured the room remained untouched until you arrived.”
He nodded and glanced at the guard. “Outside. Ensure no one else enters here, but speak no word of this to anyone else. Understood?”
The guard nodded and retreated. Once the door was closed, Trey walked across and touched my arm lightly. “Are you okay?”
I smiled. “I’m no tender Reaches lady. I’ve seen more than my share of death, and most of it far more gruesome than this.”
“I wasn’t referring to this event, but rather the reason you came to be here.”
My smile grew. “Ewan dreams of things he’ll never get.”
“Ah. Good.” He returned his attention to the body.
“Why on earth is Marcus here? In Hedra’s room, of all places?”
“I don’t know.” Kiro walked across to the body and squatted beside him. “As far as I’m aware, he and Hedra could barely tolerate each other.”
“Maybe his anger with Saska drove him here,” I said. “Maybe he hoped Hedra could somehow reach her.”
“You’re the only one that can apparently reach her,” Kiro said. “And that hasn’t gone down well with Hedra, let me tell you.”
“Hedra’s in league with the voices, so that’s no surprise.” I walked across to the windows and pushed aside the curtains. The doors were definitely locked. “Is it possible someone’s setting Hedra up?”
“It’s possible, but a body is no easy thing to move over such a distance, and other witches would have at least sensed something odd was happening.” Trey stopped on the other side of Marcus’s body, his gaze sweeping him critically. “I saw no such awareness rippling through the masque.”
“Then he was killed here?”
“Yes,” Kiro said. “There’s a good amount of blood on the floor underneath him.”
“And the knife?”
“Is ceremonial, and one that bears the markings of the Harken house.” Kiro pushed upright. “We’ll need to arrest Lady Hedra, but to do that, I must first discuss the matter with the Forum leaders.”
Trey glanced at him. “You think she did this?”
“No.” Kiro grimaced. “There is a taint of passion about this murder. Hedra has no such emotion left in her.”