by Cara Witter
Kenton had nothing to offer her but what he had already given—discomfort, danger and a life that was likely to be cut painfully short. The others needed to come with him to Peldenar, but in truth, provided Hugh was not, in fact, their blood mage, Perchaya might be infinitely safer here, farther from Diamis’ grasp. She was already wearing the ring to call the chosen—covered now with pearl-dotted gloves—so all that remained for her part was to stay alive and uncaptured. Even if they miraculously succeeded at their quest, he could never give her the kind of life a woman like her should have.
Hugh could give her the stuff of dreams; Kenton, only that of nightmares. And he knew which she deserved.
This didn’t stop him from continuing to stare over the top of too many glasses of wine this evening, watching miserably as the woman he loved fell in love with another man. And really, why shouldn’t she? Hugh was a gods-damned duke.
He was interrupted by Jaeme and Daniella, who seemed to loom suddenly over him, though Kenton imagined they must have approached more gradually than it seemed.
“Well,” Jaeme said, with a falsely energetic tone Kenton had heard him take much more frequently since they arrived in Grisham. “I see we’re all enjoying the ball.”
“You might want to get your eyes checked,” Kenton said.
“Yes,” Daniella said. “You do seem short on enthusiasm.”
Nikaenor snorted. “They’re always short on it.”
“Kenton’s currently drowning his loneliness,” Sayvil said. “And Nikaenor’s eating his way through his. I’m merely accepting mine.”
Kenton resented that, but he also clearly resembled it.
“Ah,” Jaeme said. “I’ve been neglecting you all. Didn’t know you would wither so desperately in my absence.”
Nikaenor looked confused. “I’m not lonely. Well, I do miss Saara, but not as much as I thought I . . .” He trailed off at seeing their eyes on him. “Oh right, I’m not supposed to talk about her in public.”
Kenton raked his fingers through his hair. “Have we suggested the plan of not letting you talk at all?” He felt slightly guilty at seeing a flash of hurt cross Nikaenor’s face before the kid turned back to look out at the crowd. The room seemed to be getting too warm; the colors too bright. Kenton’s eyes found Perchaya again without meaning to. The rest of the room seemed a bit fuzzy, but she was clear as a luminous day, ribbons and curls trailing down the skin of her neck. Hugh leaned close to her, whispered something in her ear which made her laugh before the dance called for her swing out again.
“All right,” Kenton said. If he remained sitting here, he was clearly going to drink himself to oblivion and by doing so allow Greghor—or whoever it was that had betrayed Mortiche—to capture all his people in the night. Kenton needed to stay on his feet. “Daniella. Would you join me for a dance?”
Daniella’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
Kenton nodded grimly. “I can dance, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Daniella nodded, though she and Jaeme exchanged concerned looks, as though Kenton might be planning to attack her on the dance floor. Though if that had been his plan, the rest of the dancers—not to mention Kenton himself—would have been in far more danger than Daniella.
As the next tune began, a jaunty number that Kenton recognized, he led Daniella out onto the floor. The stunned look on her face still hadn’t faded, and he was beginning to wonder if this hadn’t been a terrible idea. The first part of the song called for the couples to gather in groups of four, circling around with right arms pointed to the middle, and then back the other way. Kenton felt slightly more comfortable when the dance called for the groups to split back into the individual couples again, but even as he stepped through the movements with Daniella, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Perchaya and Hugh, only about ten feet away. His mouth felt unaccountably dry.
As he led her through a twirl, Daniella followed his gaze. “Are you ready to admit now that it bothers you?”
Gods. He much preferred the days when his traveling companions seemed to worry more about him killing them in their sleep than his affections. “I’m worried she’s drawing too much attention,” Kenton said. “That’s all. It must be attracting gossip, Hugh spending all his time with a commoner. The more people look into our backgrounds, the more likely they are to discover something amiss.”
Daniella didn’t look like she believed him in the least. “I’ve heard some of the gossip. No one’s looking past the face of it. They’re all sure he’ll tire of the dalliance before the tournament is over.”
Kenton blinked at her. “Dalliance? What, they think she’s his mistress?”
“Of course,” Daniella said. “That’s how people are at court. Hardly anyone has pure intentions. Jaeme says that Hugh is as honorable as they come, but Perchaya’s presented herself as a lady-in-waiting, for the gods’ sakes. No one thinks he’s serious about her.” Daniella looked over at Perchaya and shook her head. “Despite appearances. They do look charming together, don’t they?”
Kenton knew he was glaring, but this time he didn’t care. “If he’s using her, the people of Bronleigh are going to find themselves short one duke.”
“Really,” Daniella said. “And who is it you’re worried is drawing too much attention?”
The song ended, followed by a scattering of polite applause. Perchaya curtsied gracefully before Hugh, who leaned his face closer to hers as she came up. His lips moved; he was saying something to her. A light flush spread across her cheeks, and she smiled back in response. Another song began, a slower, almost melancholy tune. Kenton watched as Hugh moved into position behind her as the dance required. The room was definitely growing too warm as the dancers spun slowly through the first beats of the song.
“Kenton,” Daniella said. “Are we done? Because if we stand here uselessly on the dance floor, we’re going to be trampled.”
“Sorry,” Kenton said, and he offered her his arm to escort her properly back to Jaeme. On their way, he caught sight of a few people pointing and whispering, probably wondering why Lady Daniella had been dancing with her lowly bodyguard. It was a question worth asking, and Daniella was right. Perchaya wasn’t the only one drawing attention.
Still, as they reached the edge of the dance floor, Kenton couldn’t resist another glance in their direction, just in time to see Hugh’s right hand, which should have been placed on her waist, move up towards her face, stroking her cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles. Her head ducked a bit, a bashful smile touching at her lips. Hugh dipped his face indecorously toward hers.
“That’s it,” Kenton said.
Daniella called his name, but he had already started dodging through couples. One woman gave him a miffed look as he stepped on the long hem of her red gown.
He approached Perchaya and Hugh, finding himself directly in front of them sooner than he expected. Perchaya gasped as she looked up at him. Hugh looked slightly startled as well, but his face regained composure almost immediately.
“If I may cut in,” Kenton said, trying to keep his voice even.
Perchaya eyed him uncertainly. Hugh paused, his lips tightened. Then, with a small smile, he said, “Of course. I fear I have kept the pleasure of her company to myself all evening. Perchaya, I hope I haven’t prevented you from spending time with your friends.”
“No, it’s fine,” Perchaya said. Then with a dubious look at Kenton, she added, “I hadn’t realized my friends were inclined to dance.” She smiled at Hugh as he bowed to her, kissing the back of her gloved hand before passing it to Kenton, as if bestowing on it his personal seal of ownership. Hugh seemed to ignore Kenton’s glare at him and walked away.
“What’s wrong?” Perchaya asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve discovered another body.” He didn’t hear anger in her tone. Maybe annoyance. He felt himself flush anyway, unsure how to answer her question. He
felt disconcerted; Kenton hated feeling disconcerted.
“Are you all right? You look kind of . . . flushed.” Any trace of annoyance was gone from her voice as she watched him.
“Flushed? No, I’m fine. I’m just . . . people are looking at us. We’d better start dancing.” Gods, he sounded like a fool. One who had already had too much to drink. Perchaya nodded, but still looked concerned. He positioned himself behind her, interlocking their fingers. Hers felt cool despite the warm room, and he cringed at how his heart beat faster when pressed against her back. Across the room, he could see Daniella still standing at the edge of the floor where he’d left her, a look of alarm on her face that he was reasonably certain he was mirroring back at her.
They only managed two turns before the song ended. He pulled away as the music stopped, dropped her cool hand as if it burned him, and clapped politely with all the others.
“Kenton,” she said softly as the music started again. Her sea-green eyes regarded him carefully. “Are you sure everything’s all right? You are definitely flushed.”
He was flushed; he could feel it along his neck, his slightly sweaty palms. “I think I could use some air.” He tried not to look too pointedly in Hugh’s direction as Perchaya followed him across the ballroom floor towards a set of doors leading outside.
Kenton felt better as he stepped through the double doors onto the small terrace. The evening air, warm though it was, felt like a balm against his skin, although it didn’t clear the fog in his head. A few lanterns had been set up along the garden’s main walkway, but not nearly enough to dispel the dark blanket of night, only casting small circles of light along the budding bushes lining the stone path. A few other couples chatted on the terrace, lost in their own coy banter or soft promises. One woman giggled as the man she was with led her out onto the garden path. Kenton swallowed and found his tongue too thick in his mouth.
“Are you feverish?” Perchaya asked. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “If you are, I should fetch Sayvil. I’m sure she has something that would help.”
“No,” Kenton said. “No. It’s Hugh. I don’t trust him.”
The annoyance was back on Perchaya’s face. “Frankly, Kenton, you telling me you don’t trust someone shocks me as much as Sayvil informing me she’s interested in plants.”
“I’m concerned about his intentions,” Kenton found himself saying. Gods, he wasn’t sure where he was going with this. Was he really going to warn her again about the dangers of rich, powerful men, as if she was too stupid to have figured it out herself? Or was it that he expected more pure intentions, and that was the problem?
He watched Perchaya’s lips as she spoke. “Yes, you’ve expressed that before. Twice now. Because you can’t believe that a duke would have pure intentions towards a girl like me.”
Kenton felt her flat statement like a slap across the face. He couldn’t think of anything to say to take back what he had insinuated. Again. His thoughts churned like wagon wheels caught in a bed of mud. His lips parted to speak, but nothing came out.
“Everyone thinks you’re his mistress,” he finally managed.
Perchaya put a hand on her hip. “Yes, but we both know I’m not. They also think I’m a lady-in-waiting, and I’m not that either. Kenton, why would we suddenly care what these people think?”
She waited for a response that Kenton didn’t have and flinched when it didn’t come. “Have a lovely evening, Kenton,” she said, turning to head back into the press of people.
Back to Hugh.
“Perchaya, wait,” he said, and when she didn’t stop, he took several steps to catch up to her, his legs leaden. She turned to face him when his fingers touched her arm, her face a mask of composure betraying hurt only in her eyes.
Kenton couldn’t take it any longer. He brought his hand up to cup her soft cheek and swiftly pressed his lips against hers. Warmth spread through his body despite the chill in the air. It was only for a moment, a moment that felt more pure and right than any other in his life, and he pulled away, watching her beautiful face as she stared up at him in breathless consternation.
It was then that he realized the enormity of what he had done. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let it. He couldn’t become distracted from stopping Diamis, couldn’t let any interest compete with the final goal of preventing the release of Maldorath.
Most importantly, Kenton couldn’t stand to have another family to lose.
He swallowed, hating himself for not keeping himself under better control. “I’m sorry, Perchaya,” he said quietly, before striding away from the darkened terrace and stalking through the darkened gardens, not knowing where he was going except away.
Thirty-nine
Perchaya stood on the terrace under the balconies of the interior courtyard of Castle Grisham, wondering if she died in the first attack on the bar back in Ithale. That would certainly explain a lot. Perhaps she had not, in fact, led a successful rebellion or been courted by a duke of Mortiche. Perhaps she’d passed through the Shadowvale, and the heights were really some sort of dreamscape of all her strangest, most wildly imaginative fantasies.
And yet, the ghost of Kenton’s lips on hers felt as real as the terrible ache in her chest at the look of horror on his face when he’d broken away. No, if this was a realm composed of her fantasies, he would still be standing here, holding her, kissing her like she was the very air he breathed.
Instead he’d run off, leaving her standing alone, aware that some of the other guests were beginning to stare. She wondered what in all hells had just happened.
Kenton kissed her. Kenton, who had slept beside her for dozens of nights, an arm’s reach away, breathing beside her in the dark and never once even made a hint of wanting to touch her. Kenton, who had spent the entire evening drinking and glaring at her, as if by enjoying the affections of a man she was committing some kind of betrayal. Kenton, who two breaths before had as much as said that there was no way Hugh could be interested in her except to take advantage.
Perchaya stood on the terrace for so long, lost in her confusion, that when Hugh called her name, she startled.
“Perchaya,” he said again. “Are you all right?”
Perchaya didn’t know how to answer that. Her skin prickled, every drift of air playing over her, as if she was suddenly more sensitive to its flow. “I’m fine,” she said, but her lips felt strange as they moved, and she was briefly afraid that if she spoke too much, she would lose the memory of how it had felt when he’d kissed her.
The memory of him running away remained fresh enough.
Hugh was still looking at her in concern. “I saw Kenton leave through the gardens,” he said. “He was moving with some speed. I wanted to come immediately to see if you were well, but I was trapped in conversation with Count Halthrop about the goat trade and could not escape.”
Perchaya forced a smile, her eyes fixed at her feet. “Thank you for your concern.”
Hugh stepped closer and put a hand on her arm. While his skin felt pleasant against hers, she couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t as aware of him as she had been of Kenton.
Had always been of Kenton.
“I’m surprised Kenton left you out here,” Hugh said. “He strikes me as the protective type. More so of you than his charge.”
Perchaya’s mouth felt like she’d taken a large bite of honey. Hugh was clearly hinting at something—inviting her to tell him the truth. And Perchaya found that she wanted to. Despite Kenton’s accusations, Hugh had always seemed perfectly earnest in his attentions. It wasn’t fair of her to let him think she was open to his advances if she couldn’t be.
She felt her Drim ring through her gloves. Hugh’s gaze was focused on her face and she could see him holding his breath as he awaited her answer, much as he had earlier when asking her to dance.
She didn’t want to lie to him, but she’d see
n too much of other people’s reactions to tell him the entire truth. “Kenton is a complicated man. I must admit that even I don’t always understand his motives.”
He visibly tensed, but he spoke gently. “You are very close then?”
She knew what he was asking. “We’re not lovers.”
There must have been something in her voice that revealed her, because he added, “But you love him.”
Perchaya felt herself flinch at his words, although she didn’t break eye contact. “Yes.”
Hugh smiled sadly. “I suppose I had suspected I had a rival for your affection.”
“I didn’t think it was a competition,” Perchaya said. “He’s never expressed any interest in me before now.”
Hugh looked at her with open surprise. “Truly? I was under the impression you’d been traveling together for some time.”
“We have,” Perchaya said. “From Drepaine to Tirostaar and onward here to Grisham. But something’s changed, somehow. I don’t understand it myself.” In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Why couldn’t he have done that before? And if he’d discovered that kissing her was an entire disappointment, why couldn’t he have faced her instead of running away? Did he think her so weak that she couldn’t handle a simple rejection? The gods knew she’d been enduring that for months on end.
“I don’t trust him,” Hugh said. “He seems like a dangerous man.”
Perchaya looked up in surprise. “You’re not wrong,” she said. “Though I used to believe he would never hurt me.”
“And now?” Hugh asked.
She thought of the look on his face right before he’d run. Horror. Regret. And perhaps disgust. “He’d never let physical harm come to me. But when it comes to my heart, I have far less confidence.”
Hugh sighed and looked out over the gardens. The terrace had emptied for the moment, all of the other revelers having either returned to the ball or delved deeper into the garden for privacy. “I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “And I hope you will do me the service of being candid one more time. I’d like to know, what with your feelings for him—” he drew a breath— “do I have any chance?”