Taxing Courtship

by Jaycee Jarvis

  The pretty mystic’s eyes sparkled as she laughed. “It is true we are year-mates, a bond which is in many ways stronger than blood. Though if you think Quintin has any romantic notions about me, you are quite mistaken.”

  Em gritted her teeth, the woman’s tinkling laughter grating on her ears. “I was there. I saw him greet you, and the way you two snuggled together on the divan. You cannot deny—”

  “I have a water gift.”

  Em frowned. “Then you have no excuse for dissembling.”

  “I mean my gift is why Quintin was so happy to see me.” Her smile softened, and her tone turned earnest. “He had been seriously injured, and his water has never been strong. He was glad to have me take over the task of keeping his blood in his body. We snuggled together, as you say, because physical contact makes water work easier.”

  The back of Em’s neck itched with warmth. “Oh.”

  The mystic cocked her head. “I wonder why you were watching so closely.”

  Heat spread over Em’s face. “He had been injured in my stead. Naturally, I was concerned for his welfare.”

  “It’s a pity he’s not here for you to thank personally for his gallantry.” Speculation gleamed in her eyes. “If you like, I could arrange a private audience at a later date.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Em’s throat closed as she remembered their last meeting. Her gaze dropped to the wooden statue in her lap. “Nothing would ever come of it.”

  “Worried your Trilord father won’t approve?”

  “If my father knew what we had done . . .” Memories of their kisses and exploits curved her lips into a secret smile.

  “Then is Quintin not worth fighting your father over? Do you find a mere auditor shameful?”

  Em lost her smile. “It’s more like he is ashamed of me.”

  Quintin’s year-mate raised an elegant eyebrow. “Ashamed of a Lady of the Realm?”

  Em’s lips tightened. She had said too much.

  Chapter 39

  The next day Quintin stared at the pile of quipus on his table without seeing them. Instead, his mind was back at Aerynet, experiencing again that perfect moment of completion and wishing—again—it didn’t have to end.

  “Quintin, come to my chamber.” The Bursar stood in the doorway to his office, slapping his staff of office against his meaty palm. The buzz of conversation filling the main room died at his tone.

  “Yes, Bursar.” Distracted, he jostled his table as he stood. With his inability to focus, he would be lucky to be done in time to meet his friends for their weekly repast.

  As Quintin navigated the maze of tables, the bustle of auditors finishing up their work resumed. In four days, once the new year had begun, the landholders in the area would be presented with what they owed, and the hard work of collecting tributes would begin.

  Leaving the chaos behind, Quintin pushed through the curtain into the Bursar’s office.

  Fredrick sat behind the lone table in the room and motioned at the mat opposite. He tapped a fat finger on a quipu on the table. “Do you want to explain this?”

  “It looks like the Merdale account.” Quintin leaned closer to study the quipu. His brow furrowed and he poked a lumpy knot at one end. “Why have these knots been undone?”

  “This is the quipu you made,” Fredrick said, “though it’s true your knots have not been as precise since your injury.”

  “I was done with the Merdale account before my injury.” Quintin ran his fingers over the loose knots and tried to recall the original.

  “She must have been very persuasive to convince you to drop the Merdale tribute by so much in one year.” Fredrick tsked. “Such an obvious ploy! Yet you are young, and so naive. I can understand the temptation to please a lovely woman. I am willing to overlook your weakness yet again, but this time it’s going to cost you.”

  Finally registering the import of the Bursar’s words, Quintin jerked his head up. “You’re accusing me of altering the Merdale accounts to lessen their tribute?”

  “It is patently obvious you did so, and not hard to guess why.” Fredrick lowered his voice. “Have no fear, we can come to some other, shall we say, mutually satisfying solution.”

  “This quipu has been tampered with.” Quintin straightened his shoulders, his back as stiff and unyielding as the Bursar’s staff of office. “I did a fair and honest audit of the Merdale Estate as befits a Hand of Destin and a trustworthy Collector for the Luminary.”

  “Do you think anyone is going to believe you?” Fredrick tapped the table. “Your quipu tells a different story. While I do not want to expose you, I will if you do not cease in this nonsense.”

  “Did you tamper with it?”

  The Bursar flushed. “There has been no tampering.”

  “You wanted to use this Merdale audit against me all along. How disappointed you must have been when I turned in an honest account of their holdings.”

  “You alone have touched this quipu, this I vow.”

  “Really, Fredrick,” Quintin said in his most patronizing tone. “You and I both know your vow is worth nothing. You haven’t the slightest notion of honor. This entire conversation has been a ploy to blackmail me. It won’t work.”

  Fredrick snatched the quipu off his desk. “I was going to help you to save your reputation, your job. Now I am forced to report you to the Luminary, along with all the sordid details of your affair with Lady Emmanuella.”

  At the mention of Lady Em, Quintin’s irritation burgeoned into a dark pressure on his lungs. After all they had been through, after all he had done to restore her to her rightful place, this contemptible worm’s threats were intolerable.

  He hurt Lady? Elkart’s outrage mirrored his own.

  Not if I have anything to say about it. Aware of the auditors in the next room, Quintin leaned forward and growled, “You will say nothing about Lady Emmanuella.”

  The Bursar’s gaze turned calculating. “She’ll be in big trouble, you know, for interfering in an audit. If you don’t work with me, she could be thrown in the stocks—”

  “I told you not to speak of the Lady.” Quintin made a sharp pulling motion with his right hand, yanking the air out of the Bursar’s nose with his gift. “To anyone.”

  Fredrick’s eyes widened as he clutched at his throat. The quipu slithered forgotten to the floor. His mouth hung open as he tried to suck in air.

  “Whatever issue you have with me, Lady Em is not a part of it.” His stitches ached and pulled as Quintin moved his fingers, drawing the air away from the Bursar. “Do you understand?”

  Fredrick nodded frantically. A horrible whistle emanated from his throat, while his hands clawed at his neck.

  Quintin dropped his arm and released the air.

  Coughing and gasping, the Bursar collapsed against the table.

  Furious, Quintin leaned close to Fredrick’s ear. “I will do a lot more than choke you for a pair of heartbeats if I ever hear of an unkind word about Lady Emmanuella passing through your lips.”

  Fredrick pushed against the table in a struggle to sit up. “How dare you!”

  Elkart yowled from the other room, reminding them a Hand is never alone.

  Fredrick turned sallow at the sound.

  Quintin bared his teeth in a feral smile. “My waccat is very fond of Lady Em, you know. Imagine what he might do to someone who harmed her, either with word or deed.”

  “You can’t threaten me.” Fredrick’s eyes flashed as he rubbed his throat. “I am your bursar.”

  “Not anymore you aren’t.” Quintin scooped up the quipu. “You can find yourself a new collector because I won’t be back.”

  He swept into the main room, pausing only when he reached Auditor Sarah. He dropped the tangle of string on the table in front of her. “T
his will need to be fixed.”

  She flinched away from him.

  “I’m sorry for my tone.” He pressed his hands together and gave her a low bow, using the simple ritual to calm himself, though his pulse drummed in his ears at the threat to Lady Em. “You are the only one I trust for this delicate and important task.”

  Her spine straightened as she reached for the quipu. “Is this your Merdale account?”

  His mouth twisted. “Yes and no.”

  “What are these clumsy knots? They’re worse than mine. Surely you didn’t make those.”

  “I did not. That’s what needs to be fixed.” His fingers itched to untangle the strings and retie the knots, but it wasn’t his job. Not anymore. “You can use last year’s account as a guide. They are very similar.”

  She stared up at him, her face troubled. “Why can’t you do it?”

  He squared his shoulders, feeling both frightened and freed. “Because I am no longer an auditor.”

  There was a collective gasp following this pronouncement.

  Sarah dropped the quipu. “No.”

  “I will not work for a dishonorable man.” Quintin gave her another bow. “I am sorry.”

  Ignoring the buzz of questions and whispers, he returned to his table and gestured for Elkart to follow.

  There was a clatter of wooden beads as Bursar Fredrick burst from his office. He thumped his staff of office against the wall next to the door. “What is the meaning of all this noise? Get back to work.”

  Quintin’s hands tightened into fists. He strode toward the Bursar.

  “Is it true?” an auditor near the curtain asked. “Is Han-Auditor Quintin leaving?”

  Fredrick raised the thick black staff over his head. “I said get back to—”

  Quintin yanked the staff out of his grip and pitched his voice to be heard throughout the warehouse. “It is true I am no longer an auditor. I am no longer duty bound to obey the Bursar. Now I am only a Hand, whose duty lies in protecting and serving each and every citizen of the Troika.”

  He threw the Bursar’s staff through the bead curtain before meeting the worried gazes of the other auditors. He was not abandoning them. Did they understand his duty as a Hand? “Once I tender my resignation at the Troika Hall, I can be found at the Salty Dog or my home should my services as a Hand be needed.”

  Fredrick hunched his shoulders and glowered at Quintin. “What are you saying?”

  Elkart let out a low growl, his tail lashing.

  Quintin wiggled his fingers, tickling the air in the Bursar’s nose and reminding him of what his gift could do. “I’m saying you don’t want to give me an excuse to come back here.”

  Fredrick cringed. “You’ll have no cause to return.”

  Quintin gave a short nod. “In that case, I need a drink.”

  Chapter 40

  The clerk at the Troika Hall pinched the bridge of his wide nose. “What do you mean, you resign? Whatever for?”

  Quintin’s stomach turned somersaults in his belly. To convince the clerk he was serious without implicating Em, he needed to select his words with as much care as when he persuaded Madi to free her. “I conceived an unseemly attraction to a member of the household I was auditing. My conduct has been most unprofessional.”

  The clerk’s brow beetled. “You altered the accounts?”

  “No, no. I did the audit to the best of my ability, but I was distracted.” Quintin tugged at his queue. “I should have quit the case immediately.”

  “Well, why don’t you do so now, then? Sending someone else out to redo the audit would be better than having you resign so close to the end of the year.”

  “It’s too late. The Bursar knows of my attachment and holds my behavior against me. I must resign.”

  “The Bursar showed you the door?”

  “No.” Quintin flinched and bit his honest tongue. While confessing and quitting were the best ways to counter the Bursar’s blackmail, the clerk didn’t need to know that. “I resign. It is the only way to restore my honor.”

  “Well, there is no getting between a Hand and his honor,” the clerk muttered. “Come back in the new year and we’ll see what we can do about finding you a new position.”

  “Thank you.” Quintin gave the clerk a low bow and exited the building. He headed straight for the Salty Dog, though it was too early to meet his friends. He ordered a pitcher of watermelon wine and hunkered down at a table in the back.

  Elkart flopped next to him and rested his chin on Quintin’s knee. What we do now?

  Now we wait. Quintin took a swig of wine. A woman laughed, reminding him of Em. He hunched his shoulders. He was sure to get utterly lost in painful memories before his friends arrived.

  His third cup was almost gone when Ulric thumped down next to him. “Boss let you off early before the big holiday?”

  “I don’t have a boss.”

  Ulric frowned. “What happened?”

  “I quit.”

  “Quit? How can you quit? What are you going to do now?”

  Quintin held up one finger. “First, I’m going to get drunk.” He extended another finger. “Second . . . Second . . .” He stared at his cup. “I don’t know what I’m going to do second.”

  “Well, you have to think of something.” Ulric poured himself a mug of wine. “Never heard of a Hand without a job.”

  Quintin swirled the dregs in his cup. The reddish hue made him think of Em’s hair, because everything made him think of her. He dropped the cup back on the table and buried his face in his hands.

  “Still craving the nameless woman?” Ulric asked.

  Quintin groaned. He was truly a wreck if Ulric could guess the source of his misery.

  “You need a distraction.” Ulric slapped his hand on the table. “Some fun on Allgoday.”

  “Or sooner,” Terin said smoothly as he joined them. “Since the bogbear is dead, I have nothing to do. Finding a new lover would be amusing. You want to come with me?”

  “Can’t. Overseer wants the aqueduct finished by the new year.” Ulric tipped his cup at Quintin. “Quintin needs a task, though.”

  Terin cocked his head. “Oh? Shall we seek out the fairer sex together?”

  “No thanks.” Quintin shuddered. Since poking Em, he hadn’t been able to string two thoughts together without her in the middle of them. It seemed wrong somehow to pursue another woman when he knew he would only think of Em.

  Terin shrugged at Ulric. “His standards are too high.”

  Ulric grunted. “Obsessed with a phantasm.”

  Quintin choked on a cough. Last week he had been dreaming about a stranger. Since then Em had become a real and complicated person in his life, as dear to him as any of his friends.

  Terin swirled his cup. “Does Quintin actually find her so elusive?”

  “Look, there’s Ophelia and Madi.” Quintin waved at the newcomers, grateful for the diversion.

  Ophelia headed toward their table, but Madi stopped at the trill of a pipe player near the far wall. She pivoted and sashayed over to the handsome man whose delicate features marked him as Ophelia’s twin, Jasper the Jubilant.

  Terin chortled. “Well, Madi has found her evening entertainment.”

  Ophelia stopped next to their table and looked over her shoulder at their friend, who was leaning in to smile at her brother. “Marana’s tears, I hope not,” she said fervently.

  “Hasn’t she already dallied with him?” Ulric asked. “Why bother a second time?”

  “I’m sure she’s just being friendly.” Terin’s sly smile implied how far Madi’s friendliness could go.

  “Well, Jas won’t object.” Ophelia sat down and pressed a hand to her chest as if it pained her. “My brother is too accommodating by half.”


  The musician finished his tune and flashed a grin at Madi. She spoke to him a moment before giving him a cacao bean, the hand off involving far more contact than necessary. She’d already turned away, when he kissed the bean and slid it into a fold in his clothes. Then watched her walk away with hungry eyes.

  Quintin’s stomach clenched. Did he get a besotted look on his face when he thought of Em? It was too humiliating by half. How could his friends do it? Fall in and out of relationships without losing their hearts each time?

  Terin poured Madi a cup of wine when she reached the table. “Dare I ask what you paid him for?”

  Madi shrugged languidly and dropped onto a sitting mat. “A simple tune and nothing more.”

  “Which one?”

  Madi grinned. “Guess.”

  As if on cue the minstrel began singing a mournful ballad about a dashing woman warrior.

  Ulric groaned.

  “Again, Madi?” Ophelia asked in a despairing voice.

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “Because your songbird wrote it for you?” Terin asked.

  Madi rolled her eyes. “That’s merely what Jas says to be charming.”

  “Are you sure?” Ophelia asked with quiet intensity.

  Madi glared into her mug, all good humor gone. “Yes. I am.”

  “Madi—”

  She turned abruptly to Quintin. “Sorry about Taricday.”

  “No, no.” His heart beat double time at the painful prospect of delving into his lies. “Think nothing of it. Please.”

  Terin’s gaze darted between them. “What did you do?”

  “I arrested his lover.”

  Ophelia frowned. “Quintin has a lover?”

  Ulric punched Quintin in the arm. “You sly dog.”

  Quintin rubbed his biceps. Three cups of wine wasn’t enough to dull the effects of Ulric’s affection.

  Terin arched his eyebrows. “While unusual, fornicating with Quintin is not actually a crime.”