Shades of Truth (The Summerlynn Secrets)

by C. L. Stockton

  “Or you’ll…?” His thumb rubbed my bottom lip.

  “Hurt you.”

  “And how will you do that?” His eyebrow lifted as he waited for my answer.

  “I will leave and never come back.”

  “I would find you.” The certainty in his statement rocked me. No matter where I went he knew he’d find me.

  “Perhaps but you cannot make me stay. I will leave every time your back is turned.” It would be difficult at first, but with each time I left, it would be easier.

  He studied me. His eyes contained enough regret to drown us both. Lowering his forehead to mine, he said, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  Of course he would fight through the ocean of words I’d flung at him to find the underlying cause of my anger. He knew me. I thought of laying down my anger but could not. Too much was unfinished. I would be haunted until my death with all the what ifs if I stayed.

  “Tell me everything you know about the key.” My tone had changed. I was completely serious and demanded it in return.

  He lifted his forehead from mine. “Very well. But I do not give this information freely. You must give me something in return.”

  “What sort of something?”

  “For every piece of information I give you about the key, you will kiss me.” Correctly interpreting my reaction, he clarified, “On the mouth.”

  Drat. Images of me kissing his hand or cheek while he looked progressively angry fled. “How much do you know about the key?”

  “Enough.”

  I considered. Sorin was crafty enough to play me along to ensure he received the most kisses. “Or I could kiss you right now and drive every coherent thought from your mind.” If he reacted to our kisses as I did, this plan might work.

  “It would have to be one hell of a kiss.”

  “It would be.”

  Intrigued, Sorin said, “Show me.”

  “Demanding, aren’t you?”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t know the half of it.”

  I didn’t answer, busy moving my hand from his waist to his hair. Of course, my hand only went so fast, and there was so much of him to touch that we were both breathless by the time my fingers found the first strands of hair at his nape.

  Unable to wait a second longer, I reached my mouth to his. Our tongues met, he shuddered, and I was pressed hard against the wall as our embrace threatened the painting beside us.

  Surprised the very air around us didn’t burn, I curled a leg around one of his, our calves rubbing together. With one hand in his hair, the other had to content itself with working to untuck his shirt, which was harder than I thought. No sooner did I have one side yanked up then the other refused to move. Sorin sucked my tongue and I went limp against him.

  This, this, made poets write, singers sing, and people lose their sanity. Kissing Sorin was like possessing everything I ever wanted, though I couldn’t remember ever wanting, needing, anything like I craved him.

  Need. I was beginning to appreciate the entirely new meaning behind that word.

  Breaking the kiss, the words were gusts against my cheek, “Stop. We must stop.”

  “No.” My voice was equally breathless as I kissed his neck.

  My name was a plea on his lips. I ignored him, having reached an intriguing area of sensitive skin beneath the hinge of his jaw. Even though he trembled, I sensed his withdrawal.

  I leaned my head against the wall, and dropped my leg to the floor. “The key?” I prompted, regaining the ability to rationalize.

  “Give me a moment to remember.” He kissed me once, lightly, and stepped backward. Walking to the windows, his voice trailed behind, “If my handle on Tallon history is correct, there have always been secrets only the elders know.”

  Following him, I asked, “The elders?”

  “A group of men from every generation voted into a position of leadership. Referred to as elders, they command the Tallons. They also possess certain knowledge.”

  “What sort of knowledge?” This is exactly why I was very wise not to agree to any sort of exchange with Sorin. He never gave information easily.

  “Secrets of the ancients, the key to world peace, where my father’s toothbrush is. Nothing too important,” he teased.

  I was not in the mood to be teased. “I assume part of this knowledge involves a key and lock similar to the one we have.”

  “Exactly.” Looking out the window, he took a moment to draw his thoughts together. “What I am about to tell you is not common knowledge. It is actually a rumor I heard once, from some servants in the palace.”

  “Go on.” I joined him at the window. Below us, the magnificent back garden of the palace stretched toward the pond. While others in the city of Crutten must travel beyond the city limits to fish, the royal family had their own private pond. It was good to be a North.

  “The Tallons did not always guard only the Norths. A long time ago, they protected the Caveats as well.” He named the royal family of Bolien. “They are our fifth or sixth cousins, I can never remember which. Anyway, that key in your hands is responsible for the fracture between the Tallons and Caveats. They quarreled over whatever it locks up, and have never spoken since.”

  “Which tells us absolutely nothing.”

  “Wait until you hear the rest.” After a dramatic pause, he continued, “There is rumored to be a secret place known only to the Tallons, where all answers will be revealed, including whatever that key unlocks. If we find that location, we find the secrets.”

  “So the reason they quarreled is tied up with the pendant and this secret location?” My heart burned with the knowledge I had both the key and the location of the lock. The secrets were within reach.

  “Exactly. You already have the key. We need only the lock.”

  “I could always ask my father.” If he was alive, that is. Unconsciously, my eyes dropped as I thought about the letter, and his request I join him. Could I trust him? What if he only wanted the pendant and not me?

  “Cadrian.” When I didn’t react, he placed his hand beneath my chin and lifted. “Has he contacted you?”

  Heart smarting, I whispered, “Yes.”

  “When? “

  “This morning.”

  “How?”

  “A letter.”

  “What is it with your father and letters?” Carefully inspecting my face, he asked, “What will you do?”

  Surprised he hadn’t surged forward with a demand to see it, my jaw dropped. Thankfully, his hand remained beneath my chin, so my teeth merely clicked together unattractively. “I haven’t decided.”

  “Please tell me when you do.” At my questioning look, he smiled softly at me.

  “You don’t want to see it?”

  “No.” Gently, his fingers squeezed my chin. “Your father is alive. Nothing else matters.”

  I wondered if he was feeling well. His skin didn’t feel feverish and his eyes remained their usual sapphire. But if he wasn’t sick, what was wrong with him? Sorin never willingly ceded a decision to me. “If I decide to leave, you won’t stop me?”

  “I certainly won’t throw a party, but yes, you may leave.” He stroked a finger along my hairline. “I would never keep you from those you love.”

  “If I’d known you’d be so amenable to finding my father, I would have fabricated a letter long ago.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked then.” I regarded him strangely. “Things are different now.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. Suddenly I wanted to tell him about the map. I would welcome his company on the trip.

  No. I couldn’t trust Sorin. I didn’t know what he was after. On the surface he appeared to be concerned with preserving the monarchy and following orders from his father. Anything I told him went straight to the king’s ears, as well. Since I didn’t want King Richard to know about the map, I couldn’t tell his son.

  Beneath the surface, I wasn’t quite certain what he wanted. I knew he wanted me to stay here, but my instincts war
ned me there was more to it than an emotional attachment. There was something to be gained by my presence here. Liberty’s comment nagged at me. Sorin knew more than he let on.

  Aware we had been standing in silence for quite some time, I looked at Sorin. He was calmly watching me, one shoulder angled against the windowpanes. When our eyes met, his were a soft blue. “Sorin, where is my father?”

  Immediately, his open expression dimmed. He shrugged. “He sent the letter, not me.”

  “True,” I began, only to be stopped by the opening door. A footman bowed and informed Sorin he had a caller. I missed the name, but had a feeling that was a good thing.

  “I will be down shortly.” He waited until the door closed. His smile held a touch of relief. “Duty calls.”

  “Yes, but my question will be waiting the next we meet.”

  “If you remember.”

  “I’ll remember.” He left the gallery. My gaze fell upon the view before focusing on my reflection. My expression was determined.

  To even function in a reasonable way, I needed to believe my father was dead. Too many what ifs waited if he was alive, the least of which was what would happen to me. So I would ignore anything pertaining to him, find whatever the X indicated and hopefully, discover the truth behind this entire nightmare.

  Good intentions aside, I couldn’t completely dismiss my father. Sorin knew something, something important, and refused to tell me. Or maybe he had, only I hadn’t paid close enough attention, but really, if he wanted me to know something, why couldn’t he just tell me, like normal people?

  Of course, this announcement of a possible sighting of my father might pave the way for him to tell me my father really lived without me attempting to murder him. If I discovered Sorin knowingly concealed evidence of my father’s existence, death would be too painless an ending.

  He’s dead, remember? I reminded myself. To find the location on the map, he must be dead to me. Otherwise, I would devote myself to finding him, which is exactly what everyone wanted me to do. But what gain to the Norths would it be if I found my father?

  Unless they were looking for him. Unless the news of his death had been given to me in the hopes I’d deny it and confess some secret location or correspondence between us they could track. If I had the pendant, and the key to unlocking all Tallon secrets, why did they still need my father? What did he know that I didn’t? I could probably fill the entire room with the answers to that question, but an overwhelming fatigue weighted my shoulders.

  Exhausted, I retreated to my room for a nap.

  Due to my afternoon nap, I found myself unable to sleep that night. The patterns from the moon through the curtains were enjoyable to watch, but only for five minutes. Then, they became misplaced points of light designed to irritate me into wakefulness.

  “Ugh!” I pushed the covers back, reaching for the wrapper beside my bed. It wasn’t the moon’s fault I was awake. Having resolved to find the X, I was plagued with doubts and wondering how to say goodbye to Sorin. I suppose I could simply disappear one night, but I wanted to leave in a way that would make him less inclined to follow me. Promises notwithstanding, I knew he would attempt to stop me from leaving but if he tried to stand in my way, I would club him with the nearest object. Perhaps I should select a suitably heavy book from the library now, so I would be prepared should Sorin accost me the next morning.

  The journey down the staircase to the second floor was accomplished in relative silence, though I did stub my toe on a wooden stand holding a marble bust of some North relation beside the stairs. Other than that, I was able to slip inside the library, gently closing the door behind me without being seen.

  Or so I thought.

  “Go back to bed, Cadrian.” I nearly missed Sorin, his position reclining on the wine red couch hiding him from the doorway.

  “I can’t sleep.” I knew he would understand.

  “Have you reached a decision?” He closed the book in his hands, placing it on the lamp stand behind his head.

  “I have.” I turned to the nearest bookshelf, pulling my wrapper tighter around me. I was supremely conscious of my bare feet and what I was not wearing.

  “And?” He sat up. It dawned on me that I should have left the library once I discovered him already here.

  “I leave tomorrow.”

  “So soon?”

  “There is no reason to stay.” My fingers skimmed the book spines.

  Though a good few yards separated us, the space in the library shrank as Sorin approached. I noticed he still wore the same breeches and shirt from this afternoon. Although the shirt was open at the neck, he projected utter control and confidence. His confidence was one of the most attractive things about him. No matter the circumstances, the man knew things would turn out his way.

  I wondered how I’d let myself become so attached. As if I had any say in the matter. Not getting attached to Sorin was like one magnet denying the other’s pull.

  “Isn’t there?”

  “I am only here to choose a book, not play guessing games.” I resisted the urge to pluck a random book off the shelf, knowing that would only net me a completely inappropriate book which he would then point out and we would argue until I’d forget I really should leave but he was so irritating and—.

  “I know.” He stepped toward me. I noticed the tautness of his shoulders, the way he bounced on the soles of his feet.

  “Then stop playing them.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Fine. Tell me what it is you want me to know.” Books forgotten, I put my hands on my hips and attempted to stare him down.

  “You have decided to leave. This involves stepping into a slightly volatile country with no protection whatsoever. Not to mention the people searching for your father now want you.” He shook his head angrily at my obtuseness. “Do you realize you could be killed?”

  I swallowed. “You are overreacting.”

  “I am not. You may leave, but you will do so in the company of twenty armed men.”

  “No!” Forgetting we were supposed to be having a rational discussion, I scowled.

  “Or you will not set so much as a foot outside this palace.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t do this!” I tamped down on the urge to hit him, stopping as my hand fisted at my side.

  “I promised I wouldn’t talk you out of leaving. I said nothing about preventing you.” I wasn’t certain how words were able to escape the clench of his jaw. “I am supposed to protect you, not send you to your death!”

  “Oh, stop being so melodramatic. I am not going to my death; I am going home.”

  “They could be one and the same.”

  “My family is not going to kill me.” At least I didn’t think Uncle Brett had been working with my father. Even so, my father wouldn’t hurt me.

  “Your father might.”

  I sighed. “My father’s dead.”

  “You may be wrong.”

  I could see arguing the point would be fruitless. “If my father is alive, he wouldn’t murder me.” I rolled my eyes so he would realize how absurd the thought was.

  “You have something he wants very badly.” His gaze dropped to my neckline, checking for the pendant I wasn’t wearing. “Your father has shown not the slightest concern for your safety these past weeks.”

  Stubbornly, I lifted my chin. “That changes nothing.”

  Sorin thrust a hand through his blonde hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “So I am to pat you on the head and wish you well when I know, I know I may never see you again?”

  “Sorin—“ I began, only he cut me off. “If I lost you…” His voice trailed off in a whisper. “I’ve only just found you.”

  Steeling myself against the real emotion in his voice and remembering again all that lay between us, I responded, “I am not yours. I never have been.”

  “That is not true and you know it.” A dangerous gleam darkened the sapphire of his eyes. Straightening to his full height, he advanced.
The fire in the grate threw shards of light at him, one moment flickering against the blonde of his hair, the next chiseling the lines of his jaw.

  “Stay away from me. “ I backed away, skimming my hand the length of a chair as I passed.

  “Impossible.” He took another couple of steps toward me. I retreated further. If I could just reach the door...

  “Sorin, please!” My voice went up an octave as I recognized I could not escape him. I wondered how much of my heart I would possess when he released me.

  “Words have no effect. I will make you listen another way.” His stride was longer, and he moved so quickly, I wasn’t quite sure how I ended up on top of him on the couch he’d been reclining on when I first entered the library.

  To say I was mildly attracted to the man was an understatement when his every touch scorched me to the soles of my feet. I was pressed flat against his chest, my head against his shoulder. One of my legs had fallen between his, and I was perched rather precariously atop one of his hips. My own arms were pinioned to my sides by his arms, so I could barely breathe, much less move. I was tense as a guitar string. Any pluck would send me straight over the edge.

  Against my will, tears pricked my eyes. I felt as though the dam of my private emotions was coming perilously close to fracturing. I refused to cry. Not because I feared he’d be embarrassed, but because I knew he wouldn’t. His eyes would soften and his voice would take that special tone, that tone reserved just for me.

  I would break.

  I fisted my hands at my side, falling still. “Release me.” My voice was an unsteady waver in the taut silence of the study. I pinched the skin over his ribs. He flinched, shifting beneath me to remove my hand from that area.

  Ignoring my demand, he rested his forehead against the top of my head. “Relax, sweetheart.” His arms didn’t loosen. He began adjusting his own body to more comfortably support mine.

  “I can’t.” With each additional brush of his body against mine, my resolve wavered.

  “You can.” Keeping an arm around my waist, the other rubbed the small of my back. My already overheated body shivered.